There's a freezer in this chapter, but I advice to have something at hand. Could come useful...
Oh,yeah. My dear Magzillasaurus used her beta wand to perfect this chapter!
Chapter Ten
Stuffed with the left-overs from their cooking test, the wizards waited for the witches. This kind of gathering at the end of each event to vent and exchange thoughts was quickly becoming a habit.
Naturally, holding a bag with dishes and eating the scraps, was not the way to occupy a table at the Leaky or any other pub. "Do you want to come over to my place? It's in Muggle London…" Hermione couldn't think of another option besides Grimmauld Place, though they'd done that already. She kept munching on the pudding, in between, fending off Ron who just wanted a taste from her bowl.
Pansy faked disgust, "Oh no! Full of Muggle germs."
"Like you're not already contaminated by Hermione's… didn't you snog her last." Ron side-eyed the witch, "You can always take your gang somewhere else… 'Mione, do you have some of that frizzy cola?"
"Ice cold." New spoonful in mouth. "What will we do?" Their little group shrugged in agreement, "Each of you grabs one of us, and we'll side apparate into my home." A pale hand held on to her hand.
-oOo-
The Slytherins were hardly able to take it all in, Hermione's ancestral home overwhelming them. It's was small by their standards, but it radiated warmth and a sense of welcome. The walls well decorated with pictures and other paintings, ornaments all over the cabinets and coffee table.
"What's this box, Granger?" Draco pointed towards the telly.
Grabbing the remote, she turned it on, grinning at the widening eyes. "It's called television."
"Are there little people in there?"
Theo took a look behind the device, "How do they get in? I don't see a door..."
The more the confusion, the more Harry smirked, until he broke into laughter. "Oh, this is good…"
Ron felt proud for once, he knew it already, saving his arse from embarrassment. "No, these are images already saved, and the Muggles send it by cable to the box, right Hermione?"
She nodded, "They shoot a movie or a show in a studio, and then they broadcast it into our television. There are multiple options, called channels; also different types of programs, you have movies which are complete stories, or sitcoms. Think of these shows as if you get a chapter at a time from your book, which is called episode." She flipped until she found BBC News Channel, "My father's favourite: a news channel non-stop. Sort of a live session of the Daily Prophet, with news from all over the world."
Pansy and Luna stopped listening halfway into to Hermione's clarification, the interest had flown away. The Wizards hung at her lips, this cable-issue a fascinating mystery. Theo inquired, "Images and sound? And your moovviees, what are they about?"
"You tell me. There's drama or action with loads of explosion…"
"Or romantic ones, just like our amorous novels..." Ginny added, dreamy.
"About fast cars…" Harry named his favourite.
"Oh, yes that one with the blond police officer and that guy who sold stolen VR's. Harry, I love you, but that guy has a set of arms of this wide." Ginny spaced out her hands.
Ginny's description of Vin Diesel's biceps drew Pansy back into the conversation, "VR's? Granger, can you show us this beefed up guy? I want to confirm Red's assessment." It was as if Pansy woke up all over again.
"I have it, it's Fast and Furious, and Ginny is right, Vin's pecs are yummy… Paul's too if I'm honest, I'm more into lithely built men. Ginny, it's VCRs the video recorders like this one…" She tapped on her black device sitting on the top of the television. "We can have a movie night on another day…"
"'Mione, will you have a box of ice cream for me alone? The one with the cookies in it." Hermione shook her head, Ron and his love for the cookie dough from Ben & Jerry's…
Enlarging the dinner table and conjuring some extra chairs, she saw to it that everyone had a place to sit. Harry and Ginny gave her a hand grabbing plates and cutlery, while Ron cared for the drinks, choosing a bottle of wine. He yelled from her basement, "'Mione, red or white wine?"
Blaise replied the ginger head, joining him downstairs "Red, Weasley. We have red meat." He admired the labels, "'Mione, you have some fancy wines here."
"My father's other hobby," the homesickness showing through her voice, "He collected them from all over the world, even some South African and Chilean ones."
Spreading the warm dishes over the table, Daphne cast a reheating spell over the roasts and the soup. "What happened to your parents, Hermione?"
The brunette exchanged a look with her longtime friends, and a nervous one with Draco, "To keep them safe, I've obliviated them. They live now in Australia, with no recollection of me as their daughter."
Theo asked, "Can't you undo it?"
"I have tried, but I did the job too thoroughly." She took a deep breath, "They are happy where they live. It's my consolation." A hand wove her nostalgia away, "Let's eat. Blaise, your soup smells divine. Did you add thyme?"
"I have, Hermione." The reality of the war and its impact floated around, compassion shining in his dark eyes, and not only his. Calling her by her given name, was no more than his way of showing respect for her difficult decisions. "I love to give all my cooking the Italian touch I learned from nanna."
"I've noticed, and I've tasted it. The woman who catches you will be a lucky girl if you're so kind as to cook often for her." Hermione looked around the table. "Damn, I'm missing something." Blaise huffed, and she corrected herself, "I mean that I'm missing some bread to dip. I'll see if I have some in the freezer."
A quick back and forth trip to her basement later, and she heated a whole loaf in seconds using the proper charm. As for the last touch, she cut it in even chunks, took one and slurped the warm liquid from the bread. Grinning, Harry followed her moves, with his own bowl.
Although Blaise's soup was the best of all, she refused to hurt Draco's feelings and poured some from his stockpot, using the most of her chunk of bread to eat it as she used to do when she was a kid. When her piece was gone, half of his appeared in her sight, and she accepted it with a smile.
But the smile died away. His face showed compassion and regret, none of these emotions something she would associate with the man she used to know. It shook her beliefs to her core. Has he always been this way, or is it just a post-war change?
The fact was, none of the Slytherins had mocked or minimalised her reality. It was as if their respect for her grew exponentially, learning the harsh task she had to perform. They ate for a while in silence.
The soup was traded for the roasts.
"Weasley, has your meat fought in the battle?" Pansy broke the quiet. "I think you should take some of your mother's lessons yourself." The mood shifted one-eigthy degrees.
"I eat, Parkinson." Nonetheless, Ron flushed. "My mother cooks, and I eat."
"Devour instead of eating, would be more correct." Ginny found the perfect moment to tease her brother. "He devours food because our brothers steal it from his plate to be precise."
"That explains the lack of table manners a great deal…" Women flock together when it comes to taunting a man. Pansy was no different, considering it payback for his plan to send her to his mother.
"Fred and George take the easy way and instead of serving themselves some more, they steal what I have," Ron whined, and the women high-fived. Talking about Fred still brought some heartache to both Weasley's, and they shared a moment.
"Your brothers have always been my favourite Weasley's," Draco spoke up with respect. "Hell, when they taught a lesson to Umbridge…"
"Her face, mate, that was oh so good… I hated the witch." Theo jumped in.
"Strange that you sided with her." Hermione reminded him, "What was it called again? The…"
Luna completed, "The Inquisitorial Squad… I would have preferred you were part of our Army, Theo."
"Listen, it's part of a life I regret, Granger. I made the wrong decisions, my eyes were clouded with judgments from someone else. Many of my actions, if I made them now, they would be the opposite of the past. I can't change it." Draco didn't back down, it was the words he needed to say. "Blame it on the ignorant youngster I was. Believe me, a year with a noseless bastard in my house was enough to learn the bitter reality of the dark side."
"I understand…"
"No Granger, I refuse to let you minimise my part. I did what I did with full consciousness of my actions. The reasons were completely fucked up, and when I truly realised the consequences but also it's origin, I couldn't bear to stare at my face in the mirror. I didn't like the face that stared back at me. I can't, however, go back and undo my wrongs. Fuck, I was following a half-blood arse, as if he was the next messiah, proclaiming purebloods were superior. And I bought that shite."
"Are you?"
"What, Granger?"
"Are you superior to others?"
"I'm a Malfoy, first of all. But I'm no better than the Weasley's over there, and if there's someone at this table that forced me to realise how wrong my kind were than it's you." His gaze looked straight into hers, "I can only apologise for my actions, quite a few were done for the right reasons."
"Like what?"
"Try the threat of killing your mother, Granger."
"Not one wizard would have resisted against such a threat, Malfoy." Harry had listened attentively to Draco's passionate reasoning, arms crossed. "If it was my mother… I would have done the same." The man looked at his best friend, "Or am I wrong, Ron?"
The ginger-haired man shook his head, "No. But he's still a git."
"No much different than you, Weaselbee."
"I can live with that." Ron perused the table, "There's no dessert left, is there? The girls munched it all up."
"Ron, the peacemaker if there's food on the table." Harry summed it up.
"I think I have enough ice-cream in the freezer. Let me check it out." Hermione was out of her chair before anyone could stop her, heading to the basement. Alone she released a shaky sight, drying some tears before she got caught.
"Don't cry for me, Granger. I don't deserve your tears." She jumped in the air, utterly unaware of Draco approaching her.
"It's not for you." She opened the chest freezer, diving inside to search for the right basket. She fished a few pints out of the bottom, piling them up on the edge of the appliance. As she piled them, they disappeared out of sight.
Draco moved them somewhere else and using his wand to add a cooling stasis charm. "Another creative Muggle invention, storage under freezing temperatures. We need to renew the spells…"
"Yeah, Muggles are smarter than first thought, you know." The door closed with a bang, and she leaned against the whole machine, hands on the top of the lid. He turned her around, forcing her to look at him. His eyes roamed over her features, stopping at her nose, red from the cold. His thumb dried the last resisting wetness under her gaze while cradling her face in his hands.
Her lips were cold at first touch, but he warmed hers in seconds, claiming her mouth in a searing kiss. Her palms crushed his shirt in her grasp, keeping him close to her. Crouching slightly, he picked her up, sat her on the top of the freezer, inserting himself between her legs, that closed around his waist in a vice hold.
Their tongues battled, hands roamed over each others body. Holding his neck tightly, while the other felt his powerful heartbeat under her palm. His own, stroking her back, her tights, over her side, the outline of her breast, back to her face. Moans swallowed by the other, hair a mess from the fingers ranking through the tresses.
She pulled away, panting; he possessed her back, a hand on the lower back pulling her against his groin, rubbing his arousal against her core.
"Are you making the ice cream, Hermione? Do you need help?" Ginny's voice served as an ice cold shower, breaking the two apart as if stung by a hex.
"I'll be up…" Hermione cleared her throat while shoving Draco away from her, who kept peppering her face and neck with kisses. The trademark smirk shining brightly. "...give me a sec, Ginny." Hermione needed two hands on his pecs to push him off, "Stop it, git."
"Ah, you learned your lesson already. Good girl." He sounded smug, "Though, when the time comes, I prefer to hear you scream my name."
"Ferret, I believe."
He caught her bottom lip, sucked and nipped it. "My lovely swot, try once more."
"Which another name then? Ferret and Git are already said. Wanker? Overbearing?" The smug man was on her now, pursed lips included. Dead-panned, as in a moan, "Draco."
Groaning, he put his burden away, whisked her to him and kissed her deeply. "You'll be the death of me, Hermione." They barely moved ten steps forward, "I don't want to go home tonight. We have unfinished business."
"True, my cooking test, the job shadowing and finally, me ogling these..." Patting his abs, "During the pageant." It was her turn to rotate him, hitting his arse, "Move your booty before they send Pansy down to pick us up."
She could barely believe her eyes, but he followed her instructions meekly. Who knew?