Hello again! It's me with an update! Woohoo!
I have been so frustrated lately... I've recently started a new job (which is great, I know) but my time to write has diminished significantly :( and it pains me. This story is like my baby and I want to see it grow. I have it all planned out and I constantly recite and recreate the scenes in my head, but to actually have the time to sit down and write (I'm a very slow writer)... Arrggggg .
Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Year 2003, June
The Ministry of Magic
Hermione didn't mind the rain. She liked the rain. Rain was a need, it quenched the earth's thirst. Rain was a necessity. It kept the trees green, the animals hydrated and it was Mother Nature's cry of joy; rain made water and water made rain. Water was the source of life, the main reason for everything that existed. Water created her, Hermione Granger. Water created all of this and the earth would never stop needing it; it hummed for the rain. It called for it, plead for it and, in England, it plead for it twice as hard, as if the country was always thirsty and if it went too long without the rain, it would dry up and wither and die.
England was addicted to rain as if it knew that water was the Queen of all things and the country wanted to pay Her its homage. So it kept asking for rain, bathing in it, succumbing to it.
At least, that is how Hermione saw it. That is what she told herself every time her clothes would get wet from an unfortunate wet stroll or a ruined outdoor sunny experience.
I don't mind it. No, I truly don't. I like rain. Rain good.
Even so, today, there was no rain. Today the sun had decided to make an appearance, something that had been lacking these past few weeks. It may be June, but when it came to rain and water, England doesn't really care for Summer. The country must maintain its tradition and continue its never ending shower throughout all the seasons. Hermione wondered if the King Sun simply got tired of arguing with the Queen. She thought about how it must have been earlier in the days, around a million years or so, when the present continents still haven't shifted and England wasn't stuck on this island in the middle of the ocean. Did the Queen pester the King like she did now? And if she did, did he fought back?
She shook her head, her bungling thoughts too much to bear. This was no time to be thinking about rain or Summer or anything at all. This was the time to stay focused, concentrated and on high alert. This was the time to be fierce.
Her brain needed some peace and quiet before heading back to the real world. No more Queens and Kings. Now it was just Hermione, her ham sandwich and a bench outside the Ministry's four walls, inside its small courtyard. Now it was just Hermione enjoying the sun and appeasing her stomach, treating it with some much needed nutrients, before going back inside and try not to lose herself to the panic that was her messy life.
Even though it was quite warm, a shiver still went up her spine.
What they feared was quite possible true. Former and aspirant Death Eaters were indeed gathering. For what? Hermione could only wonder.
This was not good. It was happening right under their noses, even though they were all being extremely careful. But still, it was happening, it was real. Death Eaters were back. They were back. Did that meant Voldemort was back?
Again, another shiver.
No. It couldn't. Voldemort was dead. Harry killed him. They saw it. Everyone saw it. He fell to his death. He was dead. Dead, buried. Dead, dead, dead. He had to be dead.
Not much was known. After she had been rudely addressed by Robards and waited for what seemed like ages in her office, Harry had finally decided to appear. And apparently Malfoy had, once again, been the bearer of bad news.
"He thinks the Carrows might be involved."
Hermione looked up to her best-friend sitting across her. Harry was looking pensively at the ground in her office, scratching the side of the chair.
"The Carrows?"
He sighed.
"Yes."
"But… You and McGonagall… and, and Flitwick! You had them!"
"Don't you think I know that, Hermione? The Battle was a mess… most of them we caught, but others we mainly assumed were dead." He scoffed "Pretty dumb, huh?"
Hermione didn't answer, trying to remember any detail at all that might lead her to contradict the information.
They had the Carrows. They had them.
Dammit, it was begging to blur. The most important day of their lives and it was blurring out. Shit.
"He talked about some others, but nothing too concrete."
"How does he know about this? How come he knows and we don't? It doesn't make sense!" She argued.
"He thinks Zabini's responsible."
Great. That's all they needed. Death Eater gatherings and another bloody psycho as their leader.
"He's pretty sure that they have been recruiting and that they are planning something."
"So, he's been in touch with Zabini?" Hermione couldn't help the slight pang that came into her heart. Malfoy and Zabini had this history, a history she knew well about, especially the ending part. That part Harry was fairly oblivious to it. He knew Malfoy and Zabini had been close and he knew that after the battle those two could never be friends again. Well, Malfoy did try to redeem himself and Zabini… wel,l he hid and no one had heard from him since. Until now that is.
Apparently Malfoy knew pretty well where the dark skin wizard had been all along. And that hurt a little. He kept in touch with someone that had brought so much pain and suffering… And he hadn't had the decency to even tell her he was back?
Fuck, Hermione. Forget it. New life, remember? New life.
"No. But he did spy on him a couple of times."
"So is that what he's been doing for the past five years? Spying?"
"And travelling. And shagging. And other things not worth mentioning right now."
Another pang in her heart. This one was bigger. Ouch.
"Look, point is, Malfoy didn't really get into details, since he doesn't have a lot to go on."
"Doesn't seem like it. You seem to know a lot about his sexual activity." She bit, not being able to control herself.
"That was just Malfoy being Malfoy, Hermione. I could care less about what he is doing with his personal life." Harry didn't notice her anger, which was good
"And five years of spying and doesn't have a lot to go on? Doesn't look like he's good at it."
"He has some things. Writings, pictures, maps."
"Malfoy a detective? What has this world come to?"
"I know, right?" Harry snickered, before continuing "But he is willing to find out more. He wants to bring them down. He wants us to help him."
"So what, he's like a vigilante now? And we are just going with it?" She asked annoyed.
Harry pulled a face.
"Ok, now I am confused. You've always defended Malfoy and now when he genuinely tries to do something good, you get angry?"
"It's just… what do we really know about this, Harry?" She exasperated "You said it yourself, he doesn't have much to go on besides some reports and speculations. You hate speculations, Harry! I hate speculations."
"He showed me, Hermione. He has proof. And even if he didn't… why else would Malfoy approach the Ministry after five years of unknown whereabouts? Why else would he do this? Why would he show up again, here of all places to talk to us, of all people?"
She gulped silently.
Yep. The bloody question again. The fucking why.
Because he wanted to see me?
Fuck Hermione. You are fucking pathetic. Get a grip.
"Kingsley is on board. He wants to work with Malfoy."
Great. This was just great.
"Work? As in, Malfoy is part of the Ministry now?"
"Not so much as a part of, but he will be collaborating with us for the time being."
Oh, fucking brilliant. Just sunshine and peaches. Just bloody, fucking brilliant.
Harry must have noticed the look on her face, because he got up and went to grab her shoulders. Hermione wondered if he was seeing right through her. How her stomach had just turned on itself, how her heart was going so fast it would definitely herniate. How her breathing was almost none existent. Yep, Hermione was panicking.
"Look, I know this might be a bit overwhelming. We thought it was finally all over and now it seems like we have to face it all over again. We knew there was a possibility of that happening. We knew that, Hermione." He explained softly "And now Malfoy is back and I know how much of an influence he had on you…"
Her eyes doubled their size. Her heart came to a screeching halt.
What?
"Hey, we all know how much he tormented you and how much you really wanted to believe he still had some kind of salvation. We also know that something happened to him during the final year at Hogwarts and that he finally came around." He said, trying to slightly comb her difficult hair "So maybe you were right. Maybe he was saved. And now he wants to prove it. I'm not saying I trust the guy, Hermione. I don't. I hate his fucking guts. But… I just want a little hope. If life has taught me anything, it taught me to have some hope. I need hope. You need hope. We need hope. We need all the hope we can get if we want to fight this, all over again. Do you understand what I am saying?"
Hermione kept looking back at him. If she understood? Oh, Harry. Malfoy has been giving her hope for so long, she knew exactly what he meant. Malfoy had given her hope ever since that first night on the Astronomy Tower. And at first she had been shocked. Shocked and revolted. Malfoy wasn't a place of hope. He wasn't. And how he had turned from a guy who tormented her to her greatest saviour, during that final year, was something they would never understand.
But yes, Harry. I know what you mean.
"Yes, Harry. I do." She replied simply.
He gave her a small smile and pulled her into a tight hug. Hermione hugged back just as tightly, bringing her arms to his shoulders and squeezing his neck.
"And I talked to Robards. You are to be included in this. We need your help. We can't do this without you."
She just squeezed him tighter at that. A little too tight it seemed, for Harry started to struggle for oxygen. Hermione released him with a small "sorry" and asked:
"So, when do we start?"
Apparently they start when Malfoy decides to start. At least that was the reason given for nothing happening during the next two days. After his visit, Malfoy went AWOL again, adverting Kingsley that it wasn't that safe for him to be so exposed, the reason behind that being undisclosed. So for two days they were left wandering again, implementing some research of their own. Hermione jumped right at it of course, making use of some of her contacts in her department, namely some elves and vampires she knew to have been in some way related to some Pureblood families. So far, nothing out of the ordinary.
After spending most of her morning and lunch hour cooped up in her office, today Hermione went outside for a break, bringing her sandwich, not really having the time to cook up something healthier. She and Ron were still a bit tense after what happened at the interrogation, even though she had apologized. She mainly apologized out of guilt, not one to back down so easily from her beliefs.
Ron had been childish but Malfoy had also been in the wrong. And Ron was her husband, her companion. He was the one who needed her understanding more than most, so she apologized. And he actually surprised her when he admitted he should have handled things differently. But he was still a bit hurt. And angry, although the anger was not directed at her. No, angry didn't actually cut it. Ron was pissed off. He was extremely pissed off. Working with Malfoy? He'd rather kill himself, or at least that is what he said.
She also knew Ron was the one stressing out the most. He of all people knew what it was like to lose someone to the war; to see someone he loved so dearly just vanish beneath his fingertips. They all did of course. They all lost someone. But Ron had lost a brother to a Death Eater and he took that very personally. So to be faced with that danger again was messing with his head.
Hermione wasn't a fool. They all got a little messed up after the war. It was Shrink 101. Ron had some very hard times. Her, Harry, Ginny… they all have some kind of post-war-something-syndrome. Everyone she knew had something horrible to say or feel. Everyone had nightmares from time to time, everyone had trouble sleeping sometimes. So to be back at it again, to the place and time they so desperately wanted to forget… it wasn't easy. No. It was grueling.
Taking another bite of her sandwich, she tried to enjoy the sun nuzzling her face and feet. Hermione always liked being barefoot, especially on a sunny day like this one. She struggled with cold feet, so to have this warmth tickling her toes made her feel content. Sun meant heat and warmth and… hope.
"I have to say, Granger, I'm not surprised."
And hope just decided to smack her in the face.
Hermione looked up to the ever annoying smirk of Draco Lucius Malfoy. He was clad in a simple green sweatshirt and black trousers. Of course green, go figure. It was almost as if he was doing it on purpose just to prove a point: he might be there surrounded by other 'houses' but he would always be proud of being a Slytherin.
Ok, so this was it. They were going to talk.
Hermione took a moment to reflect on that.
They were going to talk. They were going to talk. They were going to talk.
Shit.
Merlin, Hermione! Why the sudden nervousness? You are a fucking adult. You aren't a bloody teenager anymore. Why are you getting nervous? You are a married woman, an excellent professional, a hero of the War. Get it together. It is just Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. And he was here professionally. So she should be too.
"What doesn't surprise you, Malfoy?"
That's right. Keep it cool, play it casual. Act naturally.
"To see you out here. You were always a sucker for photosynthesis."
It was her turn to be surprised at the fact that he still remembered her little joke. Back in the day, when they were… whatever they were, Hermione would love to just lay outside in the sun when the opportunity would present itself. It was rare and almost none existent, but when the sun came out she made every effort to just sit or lay outside and enjoy it. Malfoy, on the other hand, hated having the sun directly in this face. He preferred the cold. So, when Hermione had to drag him all the way to a place where she could enjoy some rays of sunshine on her body, she would always joke around, claiming she was part tree. And trees need their photosynthesis.
"Nothing wrong with a little sun on your skin."
"No, nothing wrong with that." He trailed off. His posture was still and collected, with his hands in his pockets and he kept looking at her.
Hermione grew a little uncomfortable with his shameless staring. She tried to remain calm, but inside she was raging, wanting nothing more than to run for the hills. This was too awkward. She wouldn't deny she hadn't imagined this moment for years and years. Every now and then Malfoy would pop up in her head and she would wonder how their encounter would go. What they would say, what she would feel and what would he feel. Would they laugh about it all, like some old high school colleagues? Would they fight like they always seem to do? Would they stare silently at each other, trying to guess what each of them were thinking? Would he just act indifferent and cold? Or would he just pick her up and try to –
Ok. Enough. Not walking down that road. She cringed inwardly and tried to re-focus.
But Draco seemed to be struggling as well.
He said he wasn't surprised but he actually was. Well, he wasn't surprised Granger was out here enjoying a little bit of sun. He just wasn't expecting to see her up close so soon. Teasing her and working her buttons during an interrogation was one thing. They were put into that situation. He had been counting on it, it was planned. He had had time to prepare, to delineate his exact course of action: what to say, what to do, how to stare, how many times he would take a breath. He had taken his preparations.
But now… Seeing her there, feet dangling on the bench, with a mouthful of food, a slight smile on her features… it shook him. And Draco Malfoy isn't one to be shaken up easily. He momentarily forgot what he was going to say or what brought him out here in the first place. He used to hate her ability to do that, to just make him forget whatever was going through his brain at the time being. How her features would distract him and how her body would just take him some place else entirely. His eyes would just stay glued to her, unable to focus anywhere else or see what was surrounding him.
Hermione Granger was blinding like the sun.
"Malfoy? Are you listening?"
His eyesight returned at the sound of her question.
"Sorry, no. You were saying?"
"I asked you what you were doing here." She said, not managing another bite of her sandwich, since her stomach was currently doing flip-flops.
"Why, Granger. You should know, by now, I have some unfinished business with this shithole."
"I think you should refrain from calling it a shithole, Malfoy. Aren't you working with us now?"
"I'm doing you guys a favour. Doesn't mean I have to like you or refrain from saying the truth."
"A favour? This is hardly a favour, Malfoy, since you will be benefiting from this as well."
"Oh? Why is that, Granger?" he asked curiously.
"Maybe this way you'll avoid answering for your crimes, of doing some time or community work. Maybe this is your way of making a big comeback as the hero and re-enter into our society. You say we are a shithole, but this shithole may have your ass if it wants to and you know it." She replied a little harsher than she intended.
This was just one of the many theories Hermione had come up with for his mysterious return. After learning about Malfoy coming back, Hermione had panicked, of course. She had wrecked her brain with all the possible outcomes his return might bring, all the possible reasons behind it, all the possible scenarios and explanations. In short, she made a mental list of all things related to the arrival of Draco Malfoy.
And this was her testing it out. This was her making the first move just as she had made many times before. This was Hermione being fierce.
Oh Tyra, you would be so proud.
Malfoy wasn't sure how to respond. He had given her no reason to attack him like that. Well, there was the fact that he had gone for five years… and the note. But he wouldn't dive in to that just yet. He wanted to savour this, savour Hermione Granger trying to figure everything out. Or should he say… Hermione Weasley.
And with that, he made his move.
"I keep calling you Granger but really I should be calling you Weasel."
Yes, he ignored her.
And Hermione scowled at that. So he didn't fall for her trap. He just decided jump this mine and plant another one near her ship.
This was classical dialogue between Hermione and Draco. They danced around the subject until of them became too exhausted to talk about it anymore. They would launch attacks while trying to dodge incoming missiles. Everything about them revolved around this game of witty words and mind reading. She would plant a bomb and he would hurl a grenade. He tried to take her pawns and she would just attack his towers. They would just throw moves at each other until one of them destroyed the board and surrendered. It was typical. So typical, she should have anticipated it.
And she did.
Quickly putting on her shoes, she got up and faced him. She momentarily dwelled on how tall he was, but that was never intimidating to begin with. She faced him, head first, like she always did.
"Don't insult my family, Malfoy. Or my husband for that matter. That little spectacle you put up at the interrogation? Not convincing enough." She really emphasized the word husband, hoping he would catch the hint.
"Convincing of what? That Weasley is fucking retarded? I thought I didn't need to prove that since it is pretty out in the open."
"Would you not, please? If not for Ron, for me. You owe me that much."
"Again with the owning. Since when do I owe you or the Ministry anything for that matter?" He replied coldly "It's not like you have been giving me galleons or protection or anything at all. You had one job, one fucking job and you can't even do that properly. Merlin."
"It's not like you gave us a choice, Malfoy! You fought with us, you made your choice and then you left. You bloody vanished from the face of the earth. What were we supposed to do? Go after you and beg you to join us?" She scoffed "You are not worth that much, Malfoy."
As soon as the words left her mouth, Hermione realized it was not the right thing to say.
No, it was the wrong thing to say. The very wrong thing to say.
The way he was looking at her… He wasn't angry, he wasn't pissed off or stressing out. He was hurt. Genuinely hurt. She had dropped an atomic bomb, something she rarely did even when she was so unnerved by him she thought she might kill him. But she had dropped it and Malfoy couldn't even blink as it exploded.
Even though they were used to fighting, even though they both said some pretty nasty stuff to each other, as Hermione began to know Malfoy and be with him and got to know his secrets, she was actually shocked to learn that he could be quite… insecure. Not insecure about who he was or his actions. Not insecure about his abilities and looks. Malfoy was quite arrogant and cocky. But when it came to self-worth and being worth something to others, his confidence took its toll. And she knew that Lucius Malfoy was deeply responsible for that.
Malfoy was taught to be better than anybody else, but who needed someone like that in their lives? The Malfoy ways weren't about trust or friendship or love. The Malfoys existed solemnly for power and social position. They wanted to be worshipped and feared at the same time. They could care less about being worthy, about being needed, about meaning something to someone special. And Lucius tried to root that same mantra into Malfoy, starting with their own relationship. He had wanted his son to be great, to be the best. But never once he had shown Malfoy that he was needed, needed as his son, as his friend. He even once referred to Malfoy as… disposable.
Draco knew they were into verbally insulting each other, which was their thing, but this had escalated way too quickly. He wasn't sure what to say next. He saw the regret in her features and he wondered if she wasn't pondering on apologizing. But… apologize for what? For supposedly hurting his feelings? Bollocks, he was a Malfoy. He would just have to suck it up, like he always did. And even if she did apologize, what good would it do?
Merlin, this was too much. All the pent up frustration, all the years that had gone by, his life, her life… everything. So many things he wanted to say and do…
The Ministry, her idiot husband, her fucking Potty, those shitty Death Eaters. It was all bringing back the memories he so desperately wanted to forget… This place right here. It was reminding him of Hogwarts, of them, of her, of Voldemort, of his parents… Fuck. He couldn't deal with it all… not yet.
So, he snapped.
"Glad to know you all still fucking hate me. Still, I stand by what I said. I owe you nothing. I'm fucking risking my life everytime I step foot in this place. And I treasure my life. If you or your pinhead husband don't understand that, it's not my fucking problem. I didn't come here to help you nitwits from the kindness of my heart. I came here because I fucking need you to stop being so bloody incompetent and start doing your fucking jobs. Or we are all fucking dead… Weasley."
He had her pinned under his harsh stare. Hermione could see that the hurt had been substituted by clear, undeniable ire. The first talk they had had in years and they were right back to how it ended: with a bloody fight. It seemed like they couldn't escape it. Hermione and Draco would always be battling even though they took the same side of the trenches.
And had he finally succumbed to call her by her real surname now? And if so, how come she was so uncomfortable with it? She was so used to him calling her Granger, having him call her anything else felt so foreign and distant… And there were still so many questions and so many thoughts that were troubling her. She needed to know. She needed to know about the damn note, about his whereabouts, about the Death Eaters, about him, about her, about everything. Merlin, she needed to know.
"Look, Malfoy I –"
"Save it. I'm tired of feeling I fucking have to prove myself to you or anyone. I have nothing to prove to you, Granger. Nothing."
Back to Granger, now. At least that made her feel more normal, even if the current situation was not.
He continued:
"I proved myself to you, years ago. And if risking my life to fucking stand near you isn't proof enough – "
"I don't need to you to play the bloody martyr, Malfoy! I still don't understand why the fuck are you back and how –"
"– I guess you don't need me to prove anything more. I'm fucking trying to tell you why I'm here! You are the one that keeps attacking and –"
"– you came to all the information you gave Kingsley and Harry. I'm attacking!? You fucking insulted me not 3 minutes after you –"
"– keep carding me on my fucking debts. Oh come on, Granger. Calling Weasley a retard is hardly a fucking insult. If I wanted to insult you I would just –"
"– came to talk to me and you expect what? That I'd welcome you with open arms and a smile on my face after all that's happened and treat you like –"
"– make a reference to your fucking heritage, just like I used to do back in the day. Or call you a tight-up bitch and be –"
"– some kind of hero? So we are fucking back to blood now, really? If that is the case then –"
"– all sarcastic about imagining you shagging Weasley with a stick up your ass –"
"– WHY DID YOU SEND ME THAT FUCKING NOTE?"
And there it was. The elephant in the room just decided to take a stroll.
Her body was slightly quivering, her arms hanging by her sides. Her chest caved in and puffed out in erratic beats. Her eyes were glistening with profound curiosity and a little bit of anger, of fear, of… something. And her hands… the hand that was holding her sandwich had just destroyed it to pieces, just as she did when she had gotten the fucking note. Her hand was suffocating the sandwich, just as she wished she could be suffocating him right now. She wanted to hit him, to hex him, to just…
Merlin, Malfoy just fucking tell me. Tell me that it was a sick joke. Tell me that you didn't actually think I wasn't moving on with my life. Tell me that you didn't want me not to move on… Tell me that the note wasn't an omen… An omen to your return, to the return of war, to the return of everything. Hogwarts, them, Voldemort… all of it. Tell me, please. Tell me why you didn't want me to do it. Just tell me…
Draco seemed amazingly calm, even after her outburst and as she stood there, quacking and smothering what was left of her lunch. He suddenly remembered the first time he had kissed her… how she had trembled deliciously against him, how she had felt so soft and smelled so lovely. And it had started just like this, hadn't it? They had just been fighting and he felt that urge… the same urge he was feeling now. The urge that had never left him, that never will.
Yes, Granger. I sent you a fucking note… a pathetic note. Another one of my cowardly actions. I'm an idiot. A fucking idiot. You deserve so much better… and yet, I can't stop thinking about you. I never stopped thinking about you. Ever. But it is not my place to tell you any of that. And it never will be.
Malfoy let his head drop silently, sarcastically smiling at his own pitiful thoughts. He was a fucking pillock.
"It doesn't matter now, Granger. Forget the damn note. The note was a sorrowful period in my life. I regret sending it, every day. I just want this over with, so I can go back to not having to deal with the likes of you lot for a very long time. I've just come back and I'm already fucking sick of all of you." He said.
Hermione held her head up high as he, once again, danced around the subject and insulted her and her friends.
It hurt. It really hurt, but she was stronger than this. Stronger than a stupid dead sandwich in her hand. Stronger than he ever was. He was a coward and he will always be a coward.
Fine. She wouldn't bring it up again. Ever. And if he truly felt like that, than he was right. Let's just get over this, find those fucking wankers and go back to our separate lives.
Hermione decided to, as decently as she could, drop her dead sandwich in the nearest dustbin, close to the bench she had been previously seated on. She could feel Malfoy's eyes on her as she got rid of the bread crumbs and tiny pieces of ham sticking to her hand.
She felt like crying. She felt like hitting something. She felt so many things at once, she was scared to burst. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her like this. Not anymore.
Many times in the past that Malfoy had seen her succumb to her emotions: grief, joy, pleasure, anger. He had been there through everything, through that fucking war she constantly feared she wouldn't survive. He had been there. But this was different. They weren't… whatever it was they were before. Things had changed. She had changed. He had changed.
Forget the note. Ok, sure. She could do that. She just had to deal with him for the next couple of months, if everything went smoothly and then he could go back to Merlin knows where and she could actually focus on her new life with Ron. Yes. A New life as a Weasley. Maybe even children… Maybe. Yes. Who knew, right?
Proud of her wishful thinking, she grabbed her small lunch box from the bench and turned to him once more. Should she say something? He was still calmly and patiently waiting for her next move. Should she leave him with another sarcastic and hurtful response, or should she just ignore him and leave? She decided on the latter and went to go around him.
"Leaving already? Aren't we going to kiss and make up?" He asked ironically, turning to her direction.
"As much as you enjoy this, Malfoy, I have no time to deal with you right now, nor do I wish to." She answered, not stopping to look back at him as she walked away.
"You know, Granger, it is an act of solipsism to assume that others enjoy the things that you enjoy!" he called after her.
The glass doors that lead inside the Ministry shook, when Hermione abruptly opened them and closed them and Malfoy actually feared the glass would break.
It didn't.
I wasn't sure if I liked the direction I took with this chapter. Draco and Hermione weren't supposed to have a confrontation this early on (early on? it's been 13 chapters! duh!)... But as the action progressed it kind of felt right. I mean, it's Malfoy and Granger! They have this thing for fights and insults and sexual tension.
In the next chapter they will finally have a chance to act it out a bit *ahem* *wink wink*
Hope you liked it! And have a wonderful day/night wherever you are!
And yes, we are halfway through this story. Can you guess the obvious hint I left for that purpose?
