Chapter 15

The Galleon warmed, instantly sending a thrill of excitement through Hermione. This was the first time Malfoy had contacted her. Eagerly, she reached into her jeans pocket to see what he had to say.

I want your mouth on my cock.

She blushed, even though there was no one around. He was so crass. But she only had herself to blame, didn't she? Meeting for sex was the only cover she could think of in case someone found his Galleon. She chewed on her lip and then thumbed the Galleon in reply.

Behave or I'll use my teeth.

She smiled, wondering if she was stepping over a line. His reply appeared.

Impossible when you're gagging on my length.

These quick communications of theirs somehow became a competition. They were fun and… flirty? She shouldn't be flirting with him. She reverted to insults and pressed her thumb on the Galleon.

It's possible to gag on a string bean?

Hah!

Clearly your experience impacted your expectations.

Every reply that she could think of would imply that she had sex with Ron or Harry.

And that they had small penises.

Arsehole.

She decided to drop it and let Malfoy win for now.

15 min.

Hermione changed out of her pajamas, donned jeans and a jumper, and Apparated into her bedroom. Malfoy was already there, her bedroom light was on, his wand was on her bookshelf and her books were rearranged again. It was good that he was reading Muggle literature but for Pete's sake.

Her shelves were disorganized.

He laid down on her bed, facing her, and his gaze shifted to the desk behind her. Hermione turned around to see a rolled-up parchment that hadn't been there before. Delighted at how her contact with Malfoy was replacing the hole Dolohov's suicide left, she nearly skipped over to see what he brought. Remembering that she had to appear uninterested, she sat down and – slowly – unfurled the parchment describing plans of what he had labelled as Rowle's estate. The layout drawings weren't complete by any means, but there was quite a bit of detail, and more descriptions of the wards than she could hope for. Malfoy's input would be incredibly helpful in a raid. Critical even.

And yet, why Rowle?

"I thought you were going to give us Lestrange first," she commented, still skimming over the plans.

He sneered in reply. "A 'thank you' would be more appropriate."

She flicked her eyes over to him. He was right. Maybe she was overdoing her attempts to make him feel like he wasn't that important. With Dolohov dead, he knew they needed him anyway.

"Thank you, Malfoy."

He waited in silence while she studied the plans. These would be really useful. Tonks should be able to figure out a raid strategy without problem.

Hermione noticed out of the corner of her eye that her CD player had moved and was immediately curious. If she pressed eject, would there be a disc inside? If so, which one? As with her books, she didn't want to push her luck. Malfoy was being civil. He had just given her plans to the Rowle estate and would hopefully be giving them more. She didn't want to test just how improved their relationship was, afraid he'd revert back to his hostile, prattish self.

"You can cast a fully corporeal Patronus."

His voice pulled her from her thoughts and Hermione glanced up at him from the plans. He didn't ask her, just stated a fact. Malfoy had seen it when she warned Harry about the taboo.

"Yes. Since fifth year."

She took her wand, performed the incantation and he watched, amused, as her silver otter burst forth and flew around the room a few times before she dissolved it.

Malfoy pushed himself up to sit on her bed.

"Teach me."

It was a command.

Perhaps she should have been affronted at his lack of manners, but Hermione realized that with his command, he was acknowledging that she was better in magic, at least for this. The superior Pure-blood was asking the inferior Muggle-born to teach him something. Furthermore, he was allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of her, and was compensating by commanding her.

Interesting…

Maybe teaching him would ensure the estate and manor plans kept coming. It was better than asking about a pardon again, something she couldn't guarantee, and didn't know how long she could keep making excuses for. It would be best that she tolerated his tone and teach him. There was no danger to the Order in doing so, and it was a benign request, all things considered.

Except he needed his wand to do it.

She glanced apprehensively at her bookshelf where the Hawthorne stick rested atop her books. He must have deduced her train of thought because he added with a wry smile, "I suppose swearing upon my honor as a Malfoy won't be enough to ensure I don't kidnap you for nefarious purposes."

Hermione blushed at the way he said 'nefarious purposes' and he grinned wider. Malfoy's insufferableness aside, this was different from asking for a pardon or for information. She knew his request was important to their working relationship. He had just exposed a vulnerability in himself and asked for her help.

If she taught him, he would trust her more.

"No. No." Hermione stood up and scanned her room. "Hold on," she tapped her finger to her chin. "We can do this."

He eyed her while she closed the door to her bedroom, thinking how best to allow him use of his wand. She put up an anti-Apparition ward on her four walls. It wasn't so difficult because the space was small and fully enclosed. With her lack of experience, she wouldn't have been able to construct the massive wards encountered during raids. Lastly, she cast a sustained Shield Charm on herself and a Repelling Charm for good measure.

Hermione was sure these precautions weren't necessary, at least, not while she taught him how to cast a Patronus. Clearly, he wanted to learn. But Tonks taught her to always consider a hostile, underlying motive, no matter what. The recently improved rapport between them could be a way to mislead her into letting her guard down, precisely so she would let him have his wand and attack her.

She didn't think that was the case, but had to act as if Malfoy attacking her were a possibility.

"Ok," she said, motioning to his wand on the bookshelf. "We're going to be here for a while. This might take several sessions, so let's get started. You probably know the basics. Think of something happy, cast the charm. Let's see how you do." She backed up so that she could hex him if it appeared he was doing something besides casting a Patronus.

Malfoy took his wand and spoke the incantation. She watched the muscles of his forearm flex. A silvery smoky wisp trickled out of his wand and disappeared as quickly as it formed. That was typical and Hermione expected as much. He looked at her as if to say, 'you see?'

She wondered how much he had been practicing.

"What memory are you using?"

He studied her for a moment, seemingly unsure as to whether or not he could share something so personal with her. But Malfoy must have decided that getting her advice outweighed the risk that she would use his memory against him. "Christmas morning with my parents. I got my first broom."

"Receiving a gift?" Hermione tried to keep the derision out of her voice. Was he really that spoilt and shallow? It was Malfoy. Pure-blood elitist bigot. Of course he was.

He shook his head. "No, it's more to do with my father. He was excited that I'd be learning to fly and he would start teaching me. I was happy to learn and..." He hesitated, watching her react to his words. She tried to keep her expression as neutral as possible. He was obviously uncomfortable talking about his memory. "And to spend time alone with him."

Oh.

Hermione chastised herself for judging Malfoy so harshly. Even bullies had daddy issues. Anyone with Lucius Malfoy as a father would have. That was probably why he was a Death Eater in the first place, wasn't it? Hermione felt a deep-seated sympathy for him, but knew he'd lash out at her if she said anything about it. He must really want to learn to cast a Patronus if he was confessing something this personal to her. It was also an unintended test of sorts. If she used the information against him in any way, she'd lose his trust completely. They'd go back to mutual hostility.

"Try again, concentrate on your father," she suggested. "Not the broom."

He did, the wisp was brighter, larger, and cast shadows on his knuckles and the muscles of his arm. But it wasn't enough. She remembered how much Harry had struggled with it in third year, and how much she had struggled with it in fifth. She watched his face as he concentrated on casting the charm. The light and shadows played across his nose, cheeks and jaw.

Hermione was tired of standing while watching him cast over and over, and sat down in her chair, wand at the ready. A sheen of sweat formed across Malfoy's forehead and his cheeks were slightly reddened with the effort of repeated casting. Every so often he ran a hand through his hair, which kept flopping down in front of his eyes. Finally, his hair stayed slicked back, slightly damp with exertion.

He had drive, she had to admit. The Patronus charm was a complex spell, and not many adults could perform it. He certainly didn't give up easily and kept trying while she watched patiently, but no further improvement could be made.

The success in casting the charm depended on the strength of the memory and how well it could be channeled. She had no doubt Malfoy was channeling correctly. He was an extremely intelligent, competent wizard, much as she loathed to admit. The difficulty must lie in the strength of the memory, and whether or not it truly was pure happiness.

Hermione cleared her throat and he turned to her expectantly. She didn't know how to phrase her concern without insulting him, afraid he'd just get pissed off and leave. She picked at the hem of her sleeve while she tried to think of a diplomatic way to advise him.

"Out with it, Granger."

She took a deep breath, hoping what she said wouldn't offend him. "Your memory has to be pure. Pure happiness." Malfoy looked at her, puzzled, and she continued in a soft voice. "The memory may be impacted by your feelings towards your father. Both back then and now."

He lowered his wand and sighed in resignation. She was right. He didn't need any more explanation, and turned to her in defeat. She felt sorry for him that his memory of his father, even one that was happy, was tainted to such an extent. Either by the war or whatever complicated relationship the two of them had.

"What's your memory?" Malfoy asked.

She brightened immediately at the recollection. But should she share it? It was personal. Would he use it against her? No, he wouldn't. He had trusted her enough to share something of himself. And perhaps her memory would help him find something that worked well enough to fuel his own Patronus.

"Teaching Ron the Levitating Charm."

Malfoy sniggered, then clamped his mouth shut trying to keep his laughter in. She observed, fascinated, as he squeezed his eyes shut while his nostrils flared, and then suddenly he released a big guffaw when he couldn't keep it in anymore. Hermione watched him laugh, bending over and holding himself on his knees as his shoulders shook. She had never seen him laugh before. At least, not in a way that wasn't antagonistic or bullying. This was pure, unadulterated mirth. How he might laugh when with his friends. His loud belly-laughs continued while she sat silently in her chair, unable to understand what he found so funny.

"Rude," she chastised, but without any anger. "I didn't laugh at your happy memory."

Despite the fact that her memory made him laugh, Malfoy had tried to keep it in so as not to embarrass her. It was a valiant attempt, but apparently her teaching Ron was so hilarious he had failed spectacularly. She didn't even have it in her to be angry that the humor was at her expense because it was completely unintentional.

At this point, she just wanted to know why he was laughing so hard.

"Only a-" he said, wiping his eyes and wheezing slightly as his laughter began to die down. "Only a swot like you would have her purest, happiest memory teaching someone proper wand technique."

His laughter lessened in intensity until he finally looked at her, face schooled in mock seriousness. The only indication that he had been laughing hysterically a half-minute ago the occasional quirk of his lips.

Hermione's mouth formed an 'O' in understanding. Okay, she could admit. That was funny. Turnabout was fair play, and she supposed she deserved that. Malfoy had misinterpreted the meaning of her memory based on his biases regarding her, just like she had misinterpreted his memory based on her biases regarding him.

"Well, it's not the teaching bit that's the focus of the happiness," she explained defensively. "Although a good stroke of the wand does tick all my swot boxes," she joked.

His mouth immediately formed a wicked smile. "Does proper wand stroking technique get you off?"

She blushed furiously and his grin widened. That was not what she meant.

"No," she scowled.

He crossed his arms across his chest and faced her, shit-eating grin still on his face. "So, you are opposed to proper wand stroking technique?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out an exasperated sigh while he laughed at her embarrassment. Again.

"You know, you can just go home and stroke your own bloody wand until it falls off."

"Okay, Granger," he said with a final snigger. "I'll behave."

Hermione glared at him. He had a completely and utterly devilish gleam in his eyes indicating that for all intents and purposes he would not behave. The smirk set to his lips made her stomach flip.

She startled. That was wrong. She shouldn't be reacting like that to him.

"Your memory of teaching the Weasel?" he prodded with an amused smile.

"Yes," she explained, completely flustered and trying not to notice how much she liked the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled at her like that. She composed herself and reverted to instruction mode. "It wasn't the teaching itself, it was the circumstance. He had been struggling with it all first year. There was a troll loose in Hogwarts, remember?"

He nodded.

"I was by myself without a wand in the bathroom when the troll barged in, scared shitless. I tried to hide. Harry and Ron ran in to help me-"

"Weaselbee and Wonderboy saved the day?" he snorted derisively.

"We all did," she countered.

He rolled his eyes.

"Do you want to know or not?" she snapped.

"My apologies, Miss Granger," he said with a mock bow and a flourish of his hand. "Please carry on."

She was briefly reminded of him bowing before her in full Death Eater regalia so she could enter the Slytherin common room.

Aristocrats.

Hermione huffed a sigh and continued. "I taught Ron how to do the charm properly. He managed to levitate the troll's club above its head and let it go, knocking the troll out," she explained. Malfoy listened silently while twirling his wand and she continued. "It wasn't just defeating the troll, and it wasn't simply that it was Ron's first successful casting of the Levitating Charm. That memory marked the beginning of our friendship. Mine, Ron's and Harry's." He nodded, and she could see him racing through his own memories, trying to find something similar.

"It also…" she paused. Malfoy waited for her to continue. Well, he asked for it, didn't he? She plowed on, unapologetically. "It also made me feel like I truly belonged for the first time. Coming from a Muggle background I didn't know anyone or have any friends or family waiting for me at school. The wizarding world was completely unfamiliar to me and I was thrown into it by myself. Their friendship meant – means – everything to me."

Malfoy examined her curiously while he digested her story. She waited for him to say something. Anything. But he didn't, and she continued, not wanting to press the issue further.

"So you see, it's not just the memory itself, it's everything associated with it and what it symbolizes, what it leads to. That's my strong, purely happy memory."

"And what happens when you're pissed off at Scarhead or the Weasel?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Scarhead?"

He shrugged with an indolent smile. She supposed he didn't want to hear the choice names Harry and Ron had for him.

Rude nicknames aside, it was an interesting question he raised. A valid one.

"That happened sixth year," Hermione replied. "I was extremely hurt by one of them. At the time, it didn't affect my Patronus because the memories that I had still made me happy," she thought some more. "Maybe it would depend on how mad I was, or how betrayed I felt."

He considered her answer for a moment.

"What if one of them dies? Or if they both do?"

Another good point, and very relevant to the times they were living in. Malfoy asked really insightful questions. She supposed she'd find out the answer if she was right about Harry being an accidental Horcrux.

Hot tears formed in her eyes. She tried to swallow around the thick lump in her throat, but her voice still came out tighter than she intended. "I don't know."

Malfoy watched her for a moment as she struggled to keep the tears she knew were forming at bay, and then turned away quickly, perhaps somewhat embarrassed for her. He extended his wand and cast the Patronus again. It was larger, brighter, and lasted longer, but not corporeal. He tried again and the result was the same.

He let out a growl of frustration.

"You'll get there," she said brightly, having cleared her tears. "It took me a while before I was able. And that will certainly defend you against a Dementor. Maybe two."

He glared at her. "Don't patronize me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She simply couldn't win with this man. Malfoy tried again, but there was no improvement. She laid back in her chair and stretched her arms and legs while he practiced. Flashes of silvery light made hypnotic patterns of light and shadow on his face, neck and arms. She watched while he cast.

"Do you want to take a break? Have something to eat or drink?"

Malfoy turned to her, distracted, and then shook his head to the negative while casting again.

The git worked hard. It was silly to offer though. He probably thought Muggle food would make his blood turn to slime. She imagined herself chasing after him with her mum's cookies while he screamed in horror and had to Occlude before she giggled out loud.

And yet he was going through the things in her room…

She watched him, deep in thought while he struggled to get more out of the charm. Harry's memory was of the first time he rode a broom. He didn't have happy family or childhood memories that he could draw from until he went to Hogwarts. Flying had never been tainted for him. It was always pure exhilaration.

She tilted her head, watching Malfoy cast. She wondered if he would be the same. He was also a Seeker, and would enjoy flying. Like Harry, perhaps his family and childhood memories were tainted in such a way that he was unable to use them for the charm.

Curious.

"Malfoy," she started, and he turned to her in irritation. "Instead of the time you received the broom, how about the first time you rode a broom?"

His eyebrows rose in appreciative surprise at her suggestion. "That's a good idea."

He turned to cast again but absolutely nothing happened. The wand angle was wrong. Irritation had made his wrist movement too forceful. He'd been practicing the movement for a really long time. And saying the incantation so often made the words seem like they weren't words anymore as well.

His arm muscles flexed. He grunted, tried again. Nothing.

"Your wrist is probably cramped."

His lips quirked, despite his frustration. "My wrist can go as long as needed, Granger."

Hermione flushed instantly. Would he ever stop doing that?

Ignoring Malfoy's innuendo, she got up, walked over to him and – without thinking – grabbed his wrist.

"Loosen your grip for a moment."

He did and she moved his arm and wrist for him, demonstrating the correct angle.

Then she remembered just whose wrist she was touching and let go immediately, backing away a few steps. She had been way too close. She had touched him. She had touched the wrist and muscled forearm that she'd been staring at for the past couple hours. After she put some distance between them she glanced up at him timidly. Malfoy was also surprised that she touched him.

Hermione was about to apologize but bit her tongue at just how absurd that would be. He asked her for help after all.

She expected some comment about her being filthy or whatever, but he didn't make any indication that her touch repulsed him at all. He didn't even make another joke about wand strokes. Or wrist cramping.

Instead, he pursed his lips in determination and cast again. His wand emitted a white ovular shape that undulated while he held it in place.

He was close, and gritting his teeth as if he could will the Patronus into existence from the undulations of light.

"Drop it and try again," she instructed. She watched his face as he concentrated on his memory and cast the charm.

The ovular shape re-appeared, seemingly about to morph and break away from his wand.

"Again," she commanded.

He cast again, to the same effect. And again. And again. He was stuck and turned to her. The memory itself wasn't enough. She'd need to help him deconstruct it so he knew what to focus on.

"What is it about the memory Malfoy? What makes it happy? It's not just the flying."

"I was good at it."

She nodded. Harry was too, but that wasn't enough. For Harry, it was confirmation of his identity as a wizard. Similar to Hermione's memory, it confirmed a belonging to a completely new and different world, an escape from the Dursleys and the inclusion into a new family, the Weasleys. He flew with the Weasleys when staying at the Burrow, and there were the memories of Quidditch at Hogwarts. Lastly, flying was a connection Harry had with his father over a shared talent. Harry tapped into all of these things when he called upon that memory to cast his Patronus.

Choosing an appropriate memory wasn't simple by any means. And you had to understand what it meant.

"That's not the core of your connection to the memory though. You're good at lots of things." Malfoy eyed her and heat crept up her neck towards her cheeks. The compliment just slipped out. "What else?" she asked, eager to move on.

He sighed, hesitant. "My father was proud."

She blinked at him. Yes. Daddy issues. He had already admitted as much. But there was something else. Malfoy knew memories of his father weren't enough.

"You're nearly there, Malfoy. There's something else you felt when you rode a broom for the first time. That's what's gotten you this far. Can you identify it? That's what you need to focus on."

He raked his fingers through his hair, nearly wet with the exertion of performing complex magic for so long. He peered down at her in thought, quiet for a few moments. There was something about the way he fixed his gaze on her then. His eyes were pure and unguarded, being so close to achieving a corporeal Patronus. She'd never seen him like that before and was quite taken aback.

His lips parted, and he inhaled sharply. He had figured it out.

Hermione hadn't realized it up until now, but she was dying to know.

What would make Malfoy, the Pure-blood bigoted bully, happy enough to cast a fully corporeal Patronus?

"Freedom," he whispered.

Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. All he wanted was freedom. That's why he was spying after all, wasn't it? That's why he was endangering himself. Riding a broom made him feel free. Unrestrained. Not forced to serve Voldemort.

Something passed between them in that moment. Malfoy knew she would understand. She knew he was trapped. That his family was trapped. He heard the conversation with the Snake Charmer at Hogwarts.

"That's it, Malfoy. You can do it."

Extending his wand, Malfoy set his jaw in determination, took a steadying breath, and cast again.

They both watched as a shimmery, silvery fox emerged from the tip of his wand and circled around them. Malfoy had an expression of pure delight on his face, and his grey eyes shone with the reflection of his Patronus.

Hermione stood back and crossed her arms, enjoying the moment. She couldn't believe it. She was happy for him. Proud of him. He wore a silly grin that she had never seen before as the fox bounded around the room and off the walls. Suddenly, he turned to her with a look of pure mischievousness.

The fox leapt up to sit on top her head and she glanced upwards. It bent over, peering down at her from atop her head.

"Your hair makes for a good burrow."

She'd heard enough insults from him about her hair over the years that she didn't care, but even so, there was no animosity behind his comment.

"A fox," she said, stating the obvious while it blinked down at her.

"I suppose I was hoping for a dragon," he shrugged with a smile. "But I like him."

Hermione scoffed. "Everyone hopes it will be a dragon. Probably because they're overcompensating for something else."

"Touché, Granger," he replied with soft laugh, still eyeing the fox on her head.

The fox jumped off her head and she watched while he led it around her room with an almost child-like wonder. Malfoy looked… She blinked at him. He was beautiful like this. The shimmery light of his Patronus reflected off of his eyes, his hair, and his facial features. She had never seen him so happy before.

She remembered how she felt the first time she had cast hers. The memory of casting a corporeal Patronus for the first time could in and of itself serve as a good memory for the spell. The charm was circular in that fashion.

Hermione wondered what Malfoy would say if she told him he used the same memory as Harry for casting the Patronus. She wondered what Harry would say, and bit back her laugh at the thought.

Malfoy glanced over his shoulder at her with a sly smile. "Better than a ferret, 'eh?"

Her jaw dropped and he chuckled at her reaction. Another shared joke with Malfoy. And about that in particular. She didn't know what to think or what to say. Their interaction over the Patronus was so different from what she was used to with him. She didn't know how to process his laughter, his happiness or his self-depreciative humor.

Malfoy was in such a good mood; Hermione didn't know if she'd get a chance to ask him this again. But she was dying to. The fact that he lay on her bed, went through her things, read her books, possibly listened to her music, and she had just touched him. She hadn't asked before so as not to piss him off but she couldn't hold back her curiosity any longer.

"Malfoy?"

"Yeah?" he replied absently, still leading his Patronus around her room, grinning from ear to ear.

"Do you think I'm dirty?"

Slowly, he turned around and his arm dropped, dispelling the charm. The lighting in the room returned to normal. He became guarded again, and his expression was serious.

Play time was over.

"I think it's rather obvious that I don't."

"But you did?" she pressed, wondering how he would reply.

He crossed his arms defensively across his chest and stared at her, considering whether or not he wanted to answer her question. Perhaps her teaching him the Patronus made him feel more amenable to opening up. They had each confessed something personal to each other.

After a moment he replied, "Yes."

Well. That was interesting.

She wondered how much she could press her luck.

"Do you know who invented the Patronus Charm?"

He rolled his eyes. "Ever the swot, aren't you Granger? Marie Salisbury. She came from a long line of-"

"No," Hermione said, cutting him off and shaking her head. "Lots of wizards make that mistake. Salisbury is a Muggle name. She was a Muggle-born witch and started that damn bloodline herself."

He clenched his jaw but didn't say anything.

Hermione picked up the rolled parchments from her desk. "Thanks for the plans, Malfoy. Your Patronus suits you. A fox is a sly and clever survivor. Quite devious even."

A hint of the previous moment's amusement returned to his eyes.

She twirled her wand, still feeling playful from the effect of his fox bouncing around the room. Pointing her wand at him she continued, "With those qualities you don't need to overcompensate for a lack of something else."

One side of his mouth lifted in the beginning of a grin and she Disapparated.

Chapter end notes:

One of my readers on AO3 had this to say about Chapter 9:

"Running through my head the ENTIRE Draco scene... Buck nekkid Draco in Eden staring down voldy-serpent with a challenging smirk, uttering "Forbidden, eh?" before taking a big ass chomp out of the apple."

If that doesn't describe the Draco in this story I don't know what does! The imagery is fantastic. I actually tweaked a chapter later on because of this comment!

Does anyone want to take a crack at drawing that? I can draw somewhat, but I'm not so great at the male form. I'd end up drawing a pale, blond version of Gumby.