Madam Pomfrey looked up warmly, several cauldrons bubbling on a desk beneath her nose, various fumes of different colours giving her an odd sort of halo. The hospital wing had not been held as a sanctuary throughout the war. The beds had been stripped of their sheets, all save one which appeared to have been made up especially for anyone who may come in after the main fray. The rest of them were either fallen on their sides, or broken in several varying ways. Hermione eyed one of them in awe, as its legs were twisted upwards, the ends sharp points. Shattered vials of potions were left, smashed upon the floor, residues leaving interesting coloured stains upon the stone.
"Miss Granger! Can I-"
"No I don't…" Hermione started remembering the usually solemn woman sobbing in the great hall, as bodies were taken past her, a potion pressed into her hands. She began to back away, holding the door open for her to slip back out of. Madam Pomfrey's eyes narrowed at her, a stern expression drafted into action. Hermione felt a blush rise immediately, the shame she'd felt when bathing returning.
"Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey began, walking towards her, a hand outstretched and beckoning, "Think to whom you have come, and to whom you are speaking." She said simply, tapping a bed with her other hand expectantly.
It was enough, with a start Hermione thought back to all the times she'd come to her, when she'd messed up a polyjuice potion in her second year, when Harry had had one of his many quidditch injuries, when Ron had been poisoned. Each time, Madam Pomfrey had not said a word, but had helped. She'd healed. The healers' eyes were watching her carefully, a small knowing smile developing at the corners of her mouth.
"You're right," Hermione said quietly, stepping forward, far more confidently.
"I'm the only school nurse of a boarding school, if I spoke about everything I saw, I wouldn't be a very good nurse now would I? You can always come to me." She said gently, as Hermione perched upon the edge of the bed, looking as if she could run she would.
"Again, you're right," Hermione agreed.
"So?" Madam Pomfrey spoke expectantly, although not expecting an answer. She took Hermione's head in her hands carefully, looking at her skin, at the many cuts and bruises and burns that patterned her appearance. "Actually, I think I know why," she mused, "I'll summon a healer from St Mungos, they'll be better at getting rid of the mark on your arm. Expect that to scar, dark magic always leaves a mark of sorts. You'll have some vitamix now, and I'll give you more for the days to come. Thankfully, we have some burn and bruise paste."
"Ok," Hermione answered, shivering with nerves that she hadn't expected she'd owned.
:: :: ::
"How'd it go Hermione?" Harry asked her quietly, as they waited for Ron and Ginny to finish getting ready.
"It was better than I expected." She replied, rubbing her arm nervously, it had shrunk to a small starburst, her stomach was bubbling with the weight of liquid potions she'd been given to drink, and her skin felt like bubbles to touch, but the pastes had worked their magic. She looked and felt better.
"Good," Harry smiled at her as Ginny loosed a sigh.
"Be honest, does it suit me?" Ginny asked, eyeing a strand of dark blonde hair that she'd pulled between her fingers. She was now the proud owner of a long blonde mane, and dark blue eyes. Her appearance was the last to be changed by an auror from the ministry, and they all looked as different from their regular appearances. Hermione had also been turned into a blonde, a shade much more reminiscent of Malfoy than she'd expected. Her hair was also as straight as Ginny's, her eyes the same colour. The auror had clearly intended for them to look like sisters, and not friends. Ron was now sporting light brown hair, with brown eyes, whereas Harry had been given a glamour charm for his scar, his eyes were blue and his hair brown. His glasses transfigured into a different style. The effect was startling. If she hadn't known them all so well, Hermione would have sworn she was in a room with strangers.
"Sort of Ginny, sort of." Ron attempted to console his sister who was looking more and more worried by the moment. Ginny scowled viciously at him, as Harry; sensing the start of a possible sibling battle shoved all of them into the fireplace.
"THE LEAKY CAULDRON!" He bellowed so loudly they all winced, and Hermione's ears began to ring, she wasn't quite so sure if her hearing would be the same. Moments later, they stumbled into the well-known London pub to the disgruntled murmurs and comments of its clientele. Not one of them gave the four a look of recognition, and Hermione released a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding she began to untangle her limbs from the others, impressed with the way they'd managed to tie knots with each other during the journey and clambered to her feet.
"Right, let's go then." She said briskly, offering a hand to help Ginny up who seemed to be struggling against her squirming brother. When all were on their feet, they left to the Muggle part of London, instantly swallowed by the throng of the crowds, no one giving any of them a second glance. Harry had already grabbed Ron, and was pulling him into the first shop he'd seen. Ginny slipped her arm through Hermione's, and tugged on it hoping she'd follow.
"What's happened between you and my brother?" Ginny asked, steering Hermione into the women's section of the shop, her unfamiliar eyes flicking over to the less distinctive heads of her brother and boyfriend.
"I don't really know Gin," Hermione said, flicking through a rack full of shirts, checking them for her size as Ginny copied. "I don't think anything has really changed in all honesty, we're still friends. We just happened to have kissed."
"You don't think anything has changed, but he looks at you as if you were a puppy, and he's a child desperate for one." Ginny said disbelieving, her arm becoming weighed down with different coloured tops.
"I hadn't noticed; in all honesty, I mean… I love Ron, I do, but a relationship with him…" she trailed off, selecting her clothes from the rail and turning to the next one with an interested eye.
"Don't worry; Harry told me, and I understand. I don't prefer it, it would be wonderful to have you in the family by name one day, but you'll always be a sister of mine, and your happiness is number one." Ginny said comfortingly, as she began to pilfer another rail full of clothes, casually discarding things that weren't to her liking. "I just wish I knew what was up with Harry," she sighed, turning her gaze to the men's section again, checking the two boys hadn't abandoned them.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked slightly sharply, the concern pouring out of her like the rain in summer.
"He's… distant, with me. I mean. I don't expect him to be the same after the war, but he's barely looked at me twice in the way he said he would. He's told me he loves me, we're together, but… why doesn't it feel that way? We're not at war anymore. We're safe, people would love to know and see us together, but he keeps his distance. It's infuriating because he won't tell me why. It's even worse because of those blasted interview requests." She explained, as she picked up a leather jacket, inspecting it absently.
"I've not noticed any of that, but I have seen him look at you the way you say Ron looks at me. Perhaps… perhaps he just needs time to adjust, I can ask him if you like." Hermione offered as she shifted the load of clothes she'd picked up in her arms, heading towards the till to pay. "I think we're forgetting that life was completely different for us not even three full days ago, we're probably expecting change immediately."
"No… no, you're most likely right. Chances are this will all be something stupid and insignificant. You're right about the time part, perhaps I am being over the top at it all." Ginny said partially to herself as she followed Hermione, throwing her a grateful glance as the older girl took Ginny's purchases from her.
"Thanks, I don't get muggle money; I'll give you what I owe outside." She whispered, gesturing to the boys to come over and pay.
They'd visited several more shops, pausing to find somewhere where they could stuff the majority of their purchases into Hermione's purple sequined bag that had been hidden inside a larger bag of hers. She had spent most of her time chatting with Ginny in a care-free manner that reminded Hermione of why she loved the girl so much before Harry found his chance to talk to her. They'd entered a shop that specialised in jeans, and as they'd spread out, finding their own sizes Harry had found himself by Hermione's side.
"I spoke to Shacklebolt before he arrested Lucius Malfoy," He admitted bluntly, his face a strict mask of discipline.
"Oh?" Hermione asked simply, as the pair of them flicked through the labels of the women's jeans.
"Yeah. I think I may be part of the reason Malfoy is under house arrest at Hogwarts. Call me insane Hermione, especially after how I acted in sixth year, but, Merlin. I asked Shacklebolt to be lenient with both Narcissa and Draco. I mean, I think we technically all owe our lives to his mother. She lied blatantly to Voldemort and if he'd just thought to use occlumency…" he was muttering wildly to himself as he started to pick jeans in Hermione's size off the rack and hold them up to her like a well-trained dog. Hermione found herself wondering of his childhood briefly before listening to the words that were coming out of his mouth again. "I just didn't want him to go to Azkaban facing the life sentences that every other Death Eater is. Merlin knows why, I just didn't want it for him and his mother. Lucius can go fuck himself, but those two… I dunno Hermione, I just saw him like I saw Dudley for the first time in my life. Spoiled, stupid, and doing the only thing he's been taught to do. I thought Malfoy could do with a new beginning." He paused, handing jeans to Hermione absently, and she took her chance to speak.
"Why are you telling me all this?" She asked him gently, sensing something was clearly wrong.
"I don't know if I should have spoken to Shacklebolt Hermione, I don't know if I did the right thing." He admitted, looking clearly conflicted.
"Harry," Hermione soothed, taking his hand gently and squeezing it softly, "you absolutely did the right thing."
"Then why do I feel like… I mean, now I think about it I don't know why. Malfoy let the Death Eaters into the castle a-"
"Oh; not this again!" Hermione spat; surprising both her and Harry. "Tell me what happened next! You found out he was being forced to do something he didn't want to do. You were obsessed with him that year. You saw how he behaved, sure he did it, but you even said he would have been killed if what happened didn't happen! He couldn't kill Dumbledore!"
"So why was he happy to be in the Room of Requirement after he was spotted looking really rather uncomfortable at his Manor? He may not have turned us in but he was still happy to join in!" Harry retorted to her outburst just as quickly.
"You know what, I don't know why, and maybe we'll find out why, but I believe, to the bottom of my heart, that you did the right thing. You wanted him to have a second chance at life, a new beginning, and so we know he wasn't comfortable to do the really horrendous shit in the war, he's just a bully, and does what he does best. Bully. Maybe having the person he likes to call 'Saint Potter' and 'Scarhead' save him from that life sentence in Azkaban will make him think. We both know he's going to that place for two weeks anyway. He's going to have time to think. Maybe your intervention was what he needed. Or at least a tipping point. I think he enjoyed the war as much as us." Hermione attempted to persuade, almost herself as much as the boy beside her, mulling the words Harry had said about the Room of Requirement about in her mind.
"I guess you're right. Everybody deserves a second chance." Harry begrudged her, rubbing his chin in a thoughtful manner. "Ron says he hopes Malfoy rots there."
Irritation burst into life in the pit of Hermione's stomach, and she rolled her eyes.
"Well he would wouldn't he?" She said quietly, checking to see that Ron wasn't about, "The Malfoy's are the people Ron just can't see past, he's not going to stop and think about what would happen should Malfoy be sent to Azkaban for life."
"What would happen?" Harry asked, curiosity ringing in his voice, his low tones filled with his thoughtfulness.
"Malfoy is one of the only Slytherins that are able to come back to Hogwarts," she began quietly, "If the new year goes ahead, and there are no Slytherin year eights, how is that going to look to all the first years? Slytherin may have a reputation for creating the most dark wizards, but we've just had a war. We need some eighth year Slytherins to return, we need them to at least be in the castle to start breaking people's prejudices. Yeah, I doubt Malfoy will change completely, if he changes at all, he'll probably still bully as always, but he'll be there. Just seeing the guy walk about the castle will mean that he's clearly not as dreadful as his reputation because he served the mandatory time in Azkaban and that was it. He doesn't even have a trial. If it gets out that you spoke to Shacklebolt concerning his punishment, then… think about it Harry. You're Harry Potter. Malfoy can't be that bad if you're willing to help save him. It pains me to say it, but Slytherin needs to be seen in a better light if we're to avoid another Wizarding War, having someone famous; and Malfoy is famous, simply for being a Malfoy, who fought on the other side in the war, walking about Hogwarts will do more good than bad. Even if it doesn't make sense to you right now." Hermione whispered to him, throwing pairs of jeans over her arm in slightly varying shades of black and blue. Harry appraised her carefully, his brows knitted together, but he nodded, his lips pulled together tight.
"I hate that you make sense sometimes." He grunted, as Hermione laughed lightly.
"It's going to be weird coming back to Hogwarts without you and Ron," Hermione said, tactfully changing the subject as she jerked her head in the direction of the changing rooms, and casually picking a bag up off the shelf next to her.
"I'll be better off in the Ministry," Harry replied, a firm set expression on his face as he followed Hermione to the changing rooms.
"Why?"
"Think about it, think about the war we've just had, why it was started, and think about the Ministry we had to suffer through it. I can't just sit here and get N.E. W. T's while a whole new Ministry is being built right now. I need to do something, I need to be there to make press conferences look bad or great, or to say something here or there. I can't do a year of school then be ignored when I enter an established Ministry a year later. We can't handle another corrupt Ministry. We can't have people running the Wizarding World in Britain who still think Muggleborns are scum and that Dark Wizards don't exist just because some teenage boy says it." His tone had developed a hint of his famous fury, his expression pure fire. "As much as I hate to say it Hermione, I'm Harry Potter. I'm not going to get out of this war with no press invasion, no curiosity as to what I'm doing. If I'm at school again... what are people going to think? They won't listen to a schoolboy, but a man who works in the Auror department in the Ministry..."
"I understand," she nodded, remembering Scrimgeours' visit to Harry to determine 'whose man' Harry was, the incompetence of Fudge, and the hope Shacklebolt seemed to drip with every word he spoke, it was going to be more of a help to the changes Shacklebolt wanted to make if the Harry Potter was in the ministry, criticising those who would be problematic. "You are in a far better place in the Auror department, whereas I'm better off at Hogwarts."
"Why?" Harry asked reminiscent of herself moments earlier.
"I'm not… ready for a Ministry job. I know Hogwarts isn't completely free of scrutiny, it'll probably be worse now in all honesty, but it just feels safe there. I can't throw myself into anything challenging for ages. I just need something normal before I feel like I can actually contribute. What is more normal than… school?" She explained, as an amused grin split across Harry's face.
"I think you're forgetting something."
"Oh and N.E.W.T's," she sighed, exasperated, as Harry's laughter bellowed around the shop to the alarm of several people around them, Ginny looked over with an amused smile of her own, as Ron looked at the pair of them jealously.
"It's going to be hard work from here on out again Hermione," he sighed, and Hermione nodded.
"It will, but we're going to do it for the better. We can't risk the old prejudices lingering, and risking a new war. Not again. That's why Shacklebolt offered you and Ron those auror jobs at breakfast the other day."
"You're right, he was going to offer you one too, but I told him I didn't think it was the right department for you, I hope you're not-"
"Oh no, Harry that's perfect, thank you, I would have turned it down anyway; I can't say I'd like to have earned my way into the ministry on name alone anyway."
"Oi!" Harry gasped, looking a little hurt as Hermione found a changing room that suited her tastes and took the jeans from him thankfully.
"Oh you know exactly what I mean." She admonished him as Ginny began to make her own way over. "Harry, tell Ron when he asks what we were talking about, that I told you to be more "together" with Ginny. She's legitimately concerned." She told him, watching Harry's face pale.
"I'm ready to go home," Ginny laughed, as Ron wandered over, and Hermione smiled at her.
"I just need to finish up and pay, then we can go, shops will start to close soon any way." She told her as Ginny nodded, looking to Harry hopefully, holding her basket filled with clothing out.
"Sure, I'll get it for you." He agreed, as Ginny about sighed with relief.
"Don't blame you Gin; all the muggle coins are weird." Ron muttered as Hermione laughed to herself in the changing room.
:: :: ::
Her trek back up to Gryffindor tower was slow as she trudged thoughtfully up to her dorm; she waved her wand over her features, her blonde tresses melting back into their usual wild chocolate state. Her eyes returned to their sparkling mahogany tones, as the bruises flowered back on to her skin. The walls of Hogwarts we're looking bare, portraits had been removed for cleaning and repairs, as had the many tapestries and suits of armour. The holes in the walls, or sheer lack of a wall in some cases was more pronounced than usual, the crunch of the stone dust making Hermione feel slightly guilty with every step.
Frantic pacing and muttering jolted her from her reverie, and she skidded to a halt, just as a hand shot out from the door, roughly tanking her inside the classroom.
The door slammed shut, and she reached for her wand, only to find it slapped roughly out of her hand, clattering on the floor several feet away. In retaliation she swung desperately at whoever had grabbed at her, and found herself restrained instantly.
"Stop being so bloody difficult Granger!" A familiar voice snarled at her, gripping her upper arms, and slamming her against the wall. The face of Draco Malfoy sneered at her; confusion and rage a blizzard in his winter eyes, his body unusually close against her, barring Hermione from an easier struggle.
"Malfoy." She acknowledged, setting her jaw in a furious return snarl.
"Why are you eaves dropping?" He demanded, roughly shoving her against the wall again, as if emphasising who was in control of the situation. She growled, irritated at the unnecessary confrontation, Hermione moved her feet to kick at the insides of his legs, only to find him apply light pressure with his knee on the inside of her thigh.
"Eaves drop what? I've literally just got here!" She retorted, her voice a hiss as she gasped with the pain of the pressure her was applying to her.
"My apology!" He explained his eyes ablaze with a fury Hermione couldn't even properly explain away. He nudged her again and she gasped, surprised at the sharp pains now coming from her leg. His face seemed to transform, the sharp edges of his face becoming lethal as his anger over took him, a deadly beauty over coming all else. His eyes glittered as the blizzard raged on. Fear blossomed in Hermione's blood, spreading with every quickened beat of her heart as he gripped her upper arms harder.
Hermione stared at him defiantly, unwilling to anger him further.
"I fucking knew you'd try to mess it up somehow." He spat at her, and the fear that had created vines across her body grew thorns as her rage exploded.
"You stupid ferret! I overheard nothing, you cock! I had literally just reached this corridor when I heard you walking over all the crap on the floor here and muttering to yourself! I had no idea you were even working on your apology. I don't even know when you need to do it! Even if I had come here intentionally it would be to offer my help, not ruin it you utter fuckwit!" Hermione spat at him, struggling against his body that still pinned her to the wall. He released her, stepping back as shock flooded him, his snow white skin paling further. Hermione pushed him roughly diving for her wand as he mouthed nothingness into the air, stumbling backwards onto a desk making no effort to catch himself. The swirling snows of emotions in his wintery eyes now blown out, as he looked at the door in confusion.
"You'd help?" He asked her weakly, turning to look at her livid form now pointing her wand at him, fresh red marks on her arms.
"Yes." She affirmed her murderous feeling still alive and well, "If there is one thing I have learnt being with Harry and Ron all these years is that men are dreadful at apologies, and I doubt you're going to get away with a simple 'sorry'. You know everyone is going to want to see you grovel, so you better make it good." She noted he had a fresh suit on, one that didn't seem to have seen the war at all, no stains that were almost impossible to get out and no evidence of blood, or a quick repair. He was pushing himself into a more comfortable position, shock still evident on her face and she sighed, slipping her wand back into her pocket as she realised he'd made no effort to get to his. He couldn't anyway, the trace still held too much sway in important decisions, and what good would it do him to be hexing people.
"So, you'd actually help." He repeated, watching her warily this time, his voice strained, and his posture unsteady.
"If you asked nicely. When are you even expected to give it?" Hermione replied, squaring herself up defensively.
He paused obviously, allowing himself to look her over several times, appraising her figure under her least destroyed clothes she'd been able to wear; he swallowed, running his tongue over his lips thoughtfully.
"If you are truly willing, then I would very much appreciate any help you would be willing to give me over this matter." He breathed finally, looking utterly defeated, "I need to give the apology tomorrow."
"Then I'll help." She said before she could stop herself.
"Why are you helping me after all I've done?" He asked, shocked at her genuine agreement to help.
"Yeah, I'd love to know that too after this little show you decided to put on Malfoy." She snapped at him, placing her hands on her hips to stop herself from shaking from a fresh wave of anger. Panic slipped over Draco's expression for the briefest of moments before he could control himself again. Her rage subsided as fast as it had come and she breathed out audibly, closing her eyes to him.
"You are… right of course," he agreed as Hermione realised that was as close as she was going to get to an apology. It was awful.
"How far have you got?"
"Nowhere."
"Do you even know what you're apologising for?" She asked him in the same tone she'd used with Ron about homework so many times before. Draco bristled, obviously insulted, his upper lip curling into his ever so loved sneer.
"Obviously," he drawled, the lethal edge sneaking back into his tone and expression as Hermione made to perch upon one of the not so ruined desks.
"Then pretend I'm Madam Rosmerta, and apologise to me." She said, ignoring his petulance.
"I am sorry for placing you under the imperious curse, and forcing you to handle dangerous objects." Malfoy said insincerely.
"Oh Merlin. Is that it?" She asked, rubbing her eyebrows with one hand and slumping a little.
"Isn't that what I'm meant to be saying sorry for?"
"Oh for goodness sake, use your brain. You have a public apology. You really think a one liner is really going to cut it? I said it earlier; they're going to want to see you squirm. You need the most heartfelt apology ever known to man. You need to make it look as though you've thought about this. Think, what did you actually do to that woman?" Hermione snapped at him, angry again. Malfoy scowled at her, but strangely appeared to do as she asked. She watched his face twist with the effort and as if a bullet had shot through her she flinched. It was her war heroine status. Of course he'd listen to her. She held sway in the world now, whereas he didn't. He was under the trace with Azkaban hanging over his head, and unlike her, an uncertain future after his two week stint. The last thing he wanted was her going round telling everyone he truly hadn't changed.
Had he though? He'd just attacked her; her mind reminded her with a throb from her thigh and forearm.
"I threatened her in her own home, I took away control of her own body, I could have almost killed her for my own selfish means; I took everything away from her." He said quietly as Hermione watched him, her face flushing. Merlin, she thought, why did there have to be an intelligent side to him?
"There, that's what you have to say. You have to flesh that out of course, make it sound like you really thought about it."
He nodded, pushing himself away from the desk he'd been leaning upon and in an instant his demeanour had transformed once again. Where he had been happy to appear defenceless a moment before, he was back to being as deadly as an arctic tiger.
"Go on then Granger, blackmail me, what do you want to keep this quiet?" He snarled, humiliation rife in the glare he threw her.
"You think I'm as low as to blackmail you?" she asked him disbelievingly, "I knew you thought I'm the lowest of the low anyway, but blackmail? You think I'm that awful?" Disappointment fell onto her figure, as her shoulders slumped, and she fell against the wall for support. At least she now knew exactly why he'd attacked her, what she'd walked in on was something she could hold above his head. Draco Malfoy; failing at saying sorry. Confusion sparked to life in Draco's pose and he leaned towards her curiously.
"Isn't… isn't that what's supposed to happen now?" He asked her, his voice steady and careful. He obviously hadn't been expecting her reaction. She laughed humourlessly, and turned her sad eyes to him, her molten brown gaze dripping with pity and sympathy.
"You fucking idiot." She told him, "You haven't had a real friend in your life have you?" She asked, not expecting an answer. Draco bristled slightly, still humiliated and confused. "You didn't ask for my involvement in this, and I didn't expect to over hear it nor do anything with what I actually consider to be useless information. I used to think you were so brainwashed there was no hope for you, but now I see you've never been around people who love you. You have apparently never experienced people who love you without expecting anything of you or from you. Nor have you ever had people around you who will do things for you just because; not because they'll get something in return, willingly given or not. So I pity you Malfoy above anything else." She sighed, looking at his slowly slumping figure.
"So I-" He began, confused and wounded.
"Look, if you want to play this the way I know you're used to, answer me this and I'll act like this never happened, the way I was going to anyway." Hermione interjected, suddenly exhausted and just wanting to be free of the transfiguration classroom and the turmoil of emotions it had put her through. He nodded, curious.
"What were you doing in the Room of Requirement with Crabbe and Goyle?" She asked, her words shook something inside of him and he flushed a peculiar shade of pink.
"I was keeping up appearances. My parents were here. My aunt was here. The Dark Lord was here, and I'm here running about with his fucking brand on my arm!" He hissed, shame and humiliation poisoning his tone, "You think I would have been able to just live had he known everything? Crabbe and Goyle may have believed everything that was said, and even enjoyed it, but I…"
"I get it." Hermione interrupted, making to leave as she threw him one last pitying glance. "See you tomorrow Malfoy," she finished, sweeping out the door and marching down the corridor briskly. A loud roar and a bang followed her, and she jumped spinning around to see Malfoy's lean figure with a desk held in his hands, the table part of it clearly slammed into the wall as it now sported a large crack. She stared at him in shock, only to see an emotion she knew all too well returned.
Pain.
:: :: ::
He threw the desk down, running his hands through his hair, his anger shook him to the core, and his body began to tremble with uncontrolled rage. He'd show her. He'd chase her down and make her feel like hell for talking to him like that. He left the classroom, chasing after her as he heard an all too familiar voice.
"Hermione! I thought you'd be in the common room by now, not behind me! Oh well, doesn't matter, I came to talk to you anyway."
It was the Weasel. His voice was happy and cheery, but lecherous tones rang strong and clear to Malfoy. He froze on the stairs, carefully sidling himself into a spot behind a suit of armour, and shielded by the remains of part of a wall. This had turned out better than he'd expected. He crouched down, out of sight, but able to hear.
"Oh, I was going to sort out my bag, I don't think I can get your clothes right now-" Hermione was saying, and Malfoy's brow creased with amusement, the idea that Hermione was practically his mother carrying about his clothes tickled something inside him.
"No, it's not about that, Ginny said she'll take them for us, but it's about… us, you know as you're my girlfriend I-" Malfoy's eyebrows shot up in unrestrained surprise, he'd seen it coming, but part of him had always thought that Hermione wouldn't be so low as to fall for a man who belittled her, and had to be practically babied by her.
"What? I'm your what?" Hermione was spluttering, her discomfort was obvious, but the oblivious Weasley member battled on.
"Well obviously, I mean after we kissed, but I was just asking if you'd like to move into my room with me in the Burrow now that Harry is thinking of asking Ginny to live with him." Weasley blustered on, ignorant to Hermione's efforts to interrupt him.
"Ron; no." She said sternly, "I really don't think I'm your girlfriend at all. Your friend; yes. Your girlfriend; no. I'm also not ok with moving in with you into your room in the Burrow. I need space. I don't think it's ok to be making these assumptions about Harry and Ginny either, not when she was saying something different to me earlier!" She fled, her footsteps becoming distant as she went up another floor.
The Weasel hadn't given up though, and gave chase for the briefest of moments, before swiftly turning on his heel, he strode towards Malfoy's hiding place, and Draco shrank back into the darkness, cursing Merlin for his lack of being able to use his wand, and stopped breathing as the red haired boy stomped past him. Ron's fists were clenched, and he was gritting his teeth. He hadn't taken the rejection well, and it was all Draco could do to swallow down a mocking laugh. He stayed put for several seconds, waiting for the footsteps to vanish altogether before revealing himself, his emotions in turmoil. He was still angry with Granger, but oddly proud of her for realising she could do better than the Weasley boy. He slipped down the stairs, pondering what he could do with the information, if anything, heading for the Slytherin common room.
:: :: ::
Irritated with Ron and her odd encounter with Malfoy, Hermione shimmed out of her clothing, eager to change in to a new set of clothes, relishing in the freshness of the fabric, the lack of rips; tears and unexplained stains a welcome sight to her eyes.
She tossed the ones she'd been wearing into the bin, where they joined the other abandoned clothes of hers. With a determined grit, she picked up her bag, removing the purple sequined one from within it. Sorting out her portable cavern was the last small step she could take in her post war life. The next ones would be big ones, like getting back to health, and finding her parents. Thankfully, she was able to use her old Gryffindor dormitory whilst she did so. The idea of intruding on the Weasley's with all her possessions seemed just too much. Especially in the same room as Ron. Not to mention her old childhood home was unavailable, due it being sold for funds for her parents, or the 'Wilkins' re-location to Australia. It was nice to have an official home of sorts.
She emptied the bag, tipping its contents onto the bed. The thunderous noise of books, clothes, vials of potions, food supplies and finally a portrait causing her to wince guiltily. Turning over the portrait of Phineus Nigellus, who was somehow still sleeping after the loud bangs and thuds, so that he couldn't see his location reminded Hermione of all the times spent on the run. With a deft flick of her wand, she separated her new clothes from old, her new purchases ending up in her wardrobes and draws, whilst her old set; the bin.
Harry, Ron and Ginny's buys ended up by the door, where she'd take them to the Burrow to be shared out. The portrait and Bill's tent also ended up there, while with a deft flick the books that did not belong to her flew out the door, headed to their rightful places.
With a final two flicks of her wand, she opened the window, and bound the clothes that had belonged to Harry and Ron whilst on the run into a tight sack. The stench of it had made her stomach turn.
She ended the charm on her bag, and then tucked it into a draw in her wardrobe, patting it fondly, pleased its service had ended.
Someone knocked at the door.
She jumped, confused, her fingers tightening about her wand.
"Hermione?" A questioning voice came, as the door opened ever so slightly.
"Oh, Ginny, come in, come in," she relaxed, shame bubbling in her stomach at her reaction, waving the red-head in. Ginny didn't need telling twice, and skipped into the room her features the same as they'd always been.
"Was going to take our clothes from you, I really need to see what I've bought, and what I can now throw out." She laughed, realising that Hermione had been doing the same. Hermione grinned at Ginny and gestured to the piled up bags of shopping she'd dismissed to behind the door were.
"It's all there, Harry and Ron's too; I was going to take all of this back to the Burrow considering its dinner there tonight." Hermione smiled as Ginny began to pick up as many bags as she could carry.
"You're right, and you can go with me if you're all finished here?" Ginny asked, attempting to tuck the portrait under her arm as gracefully as she could manage. Hermione turned her gaze to her room thoughtfully, looking at the bin that was now piled high with the refuse from her bag, and to her now filled bookshelves and wardrobe. Her bedside table had her various potions that Madam Pomfrey and the healer from St. Mungo's had given her, ready to be taken once in the morning, and once at night. On the bed were her brand new pyjamas, one for every day of the week which had bemused the shop assistant, at so much being bought at once, and a lone piece of dittany.
With a quick dart to the bed to retrieve it, she added it to her overflowing bin, picking up Bill's tent and the last remaining bags.
"You look as if a huge weight has just left you," Ginny said quietly, as Hermione finally turned back to her.
"I think one has Gin, I just sorted out the bag we used last year."
"Ah," Ginny nodded, a small expression of understanding flickering at the corners of her mouth. "Well, to food." She announced, leaving Hermione's dormitory.
"To food," Hermione echoed, following.
