A/N: I probably won't post the next chapter until I get at least thirty-five reviews. And I'm not talking two of you leave me a bunch of reviews, I mean go get your friends to read this. I don't intend to write a story for a small devoted following, and apparently I'm on the alert list of 34 people, so how about we show it? Alright, enough babble. Onwards!
Chapter Four
"Mom," Hermione was frantically trying to get her mother's attention. Victoria Granger was deep in conversation with Narcissa and several other ladies from the country club. "Mother!" Hermione tried again. She waved her hands slightly, trying to catch her mother's eye.
"Hermione!" Narcissa remarked, suddenly looking up. Hermione smiled.
"Finally, I've been trying to catch someone's attention," she informed the ladies, who were all now staring at her. Mrs. Granger beamed at her.
"You all remember my daughter," she gestured towards Hermione, as though they might have forgotten who she was. The ladies smiled at her. "What is it, dear?" Mrs. Granger asked, seeing the distressed look on Hermione's face. Hermione was now having an internal debate about giving her mother the news in front of everyone, or asking her mother to come aside. She had just decided to tell her mother the news right there, since she assumed that her mother would just come right back and tell them all anyway, when a large, snowy white owl landed on her shoulder. The women screamed, and Hermione jumped.
"Get that thing out of here!" Narcissa shrieked. Everyone in the room was suddenly staring at Hermione. Not knowing what else to do, Hermione began screaming as well and flailing about. After all, Hedwig had planted herself on Hermione's shoulder.
Hermione ran for the verandah, where she could easily access the garden and get some privacy. Once she was out of everyone's sight, she stopped screaming and quickly untied the letter from around Hedwig's talon.
"Come back once everyone has left," she whispered. Hedwig gave a sharp hoot as though she was displeased but understood. Descending to the garden, Hermione let out a sigh of relief.
"Well done," Draco's voice cut sharply into her thoughts. She turned to see him descending the marble staircase from the veranda with two full glasses of champagne in his hands. "I thought you would appreciate a refill. Care to take a stroll?" he offered, insisting she take the glass. Hermione took a gulp off the top and let the warm taste flood her mouth. It was a different sensation than she was used to, never having had more than the occasional sip of wine at dinner. Or at least not in her real life.
"That was humiliating," Hermione confessed, as they headed off under the tree-lined path. Ordinarily this path would have been comforting to Hermione, but tonight the trees had been strung with tiny white lights which made them look gaudy. It was as if there was no escaping the party and the embarrassing event that had just taken place. "I almost hope Harry gets in trouble for this," she added. Draco snorted.
"I'm sure Dumbledore will just get him out of it," he remarked. Hermione had to admit he was probably right. "Everyone will forget all about it in a few days," he said as though trying to comfort her. Draco looked at her for a few seconds and then motioned for her to sit down on a nearby bench.
"Hermione?" Draco asked after a while. She craned her neck to look at him. "What happened to us? I mean, we used to be like best friends," he seemed to be very carefully choosing his words, and for some reason, Hermione felt herself getting angry. "Don't get all mad like you normally do, can we please just talk about this?" he pleaded. Hermione took a deep breath and reminded herself that she had never given Draco a chance to really apologize for his actions.
"Draco, I," she could not even get a word out before she started to cry. He stared at her, bewildered for a minute, and when he realized she was unable to speak, he pulled her into his arms. Oddly enough, she felt comfortable there.
His embrace was not at all what she would have expected – some cold unfeeling nearly touching someone else but not really type of hug is how she always imagined Draco would hug someone. Instead, his arms were warm, and he smelled like expensive aftershave. Comforting, like the memory of her first kiss. Their first kiss.
"Do you remember seventh grade?" Hermione asked him, sitting up straight so she was not touching him anymore. Her voice sounded sharper and more wounded than she had expected it to.
"Vaguely, why?" he asked.
"Because, before seventh grade we were friends," she reminded him. He nodded, as though she were just restating what he had already said. "You were my first kiss, Draco," she added softly.
"Is that what this is about?" He asked, all of a sudden shocked. Hermione took another deep breath.
"No, that is not what this is about," she snapped at him, jumping to her feet. She began to shout, "This is about the first day of seventh grade when you told all of your new friends that I was no one and they should ignore me. This is about how for the rest of middle school I ate lunch in the library every day because I had no friends. This is about how for my entire high school career until now I have been nothing but a joke to you and your friends and the rest of the school.
"This is about how you were supposed to be my best friend, supposed to be there for me, but instead you just let everyone think that I was the biggest dork alive. How for five days a week for the past six years I have been that freak with her nose in a book, and then for the rest of the time I was Hermione, the girl you pretended to be friends with just because our parents were watching. What did I ever do to deserve that, Draco? Please, explain it to me, because for the past six years I have been wondering what I ever did to make you pretend like I was no one," Hermione finished, her voice barely above a whisper, straining to be heard above her tears. She took a ragged breath and practically collapsed into a sitting position on the ground.
Draco was silent for a long time, and Hermione began to wonder if he had left. She could not bring herself to look up and make eye contact with him, so instead she just cried quietly to herself and stared at the grass. After she decided he had to have left, she looked up, only to see him still sitting there staring at her.
"Have you been holding on to that for all this time?" he asked. Hermione nodded, crying louder. "Hermione, I had no idea you even heard me say that back in the cafeteria in seventh grade, let alone that you were eating in the library," he told her. She just shrugged. "This is so weird," Draco said suddenly sounding annoyed. Hermione looked up at him, confused.
"What is so weird?" she asked him. She had been expecting an apology.
"That none of this actually happened. All of that is just a magic-generated memory but somehow you're sitting on the ground ruining your Louis Vuitton party dress, mascara streaming down your cheeks like all of this actually happened to you," he explained. Hermione felt her teeth clench together and she scrambled to her feet. She tossed down her empty champagne glass and walked away.
Hermione was livid. Of course, she should have expected as much from his royal highness, who was constantly tormenting her, in both her lives. At least at Hogwarts he had not carried on the pretense of being her friend, no matter who was present at the time. Here he was required to act like her friend as long as their parents were around.
Draco watched Hermione storm off and stared at the broken shards of her champagne flute. He could almost hear her mother's voice in his head, appraising the cost of the glass.
"That was a Waterford crystal champagne flute," he remarked to himself. He sighed, drained the contents of his own glass and tossed it down next to Hermione's. At a slow jog, he quickly caught up with Hermione who was now crying angry tears.
"I should have known better than to tell you that," she said as soon as he appeared in her peripheral vision. She heaved a heavy sigh. "I should have known that was the only reason you were being nice to me," she added, shaking her head.
"That's not fair," he defended himself, "You can't possibly presume to know what goes through my mind."
"I don't care what goes through your mind," she snapped. "You think all those times you called me a mudblood didn't hurt? You think all the joking and the teasing was just fun and games for me? Well, think again, Malfoy. This is not just about some invented incident that never actually happened. Not for me."
"Okay, okay," he stopped her before she could catch her breath and move on. "Look, how about we call a truce?" he offered.
"Why would I want to do that?" she refuted. "I don't understand, Malfoy, why on earth would you want to do that?"
"Because it's so much more work for me if I have to be two-faced all the time," he replied honestly. "If we call a truce, then we can get along all the time. I'll stop calling you names and making fun of you, and you can call me by my first name."
"No way," Hermione refused. "I won't do it just because it makes your life easier. You are such a self-centered little prick," she began. Draco rolled his eyes.
"Fine, no truce. But that was my final offer, Hermione. I don't think you realize how much you needed that. There was a lot more in it for you than no more name calling," he informed her. He could see that she was struggling to think of what he possibly had to offer. "Just so you know, our parents are going to buy us a parking space – to share, because your parents are getting you a car for making the dance team. That's going to make life awfully rough isn't it? And while we're on the subject of the dance team, I hope you don't expect that just because the coach likes you, you'll be a hit with the other members as well, not to mention the rest of the school. So, Hermione, I hope you thought this over carefully. Let's not forget who helped you figure out your memory issues as well," he concluded, before walking away.
Hermione watched his retreating backside, feeling somewhat dizzy. He was right, she did need him. But if he thought she would willingly admit that, he was wrong.
"I call the shower first," he called back to her. The words did not even register. What the hell was he talking about now? Hermione started to walk after him.
"Draco," she called out, hoping she could make him reconsider. He kept walking, but she noticed his pace slowed. She started to jog a little, and soon caught up with him. "Draco, can we please-" his sudden icy glare at her made her stop talking.
"We can talk later," he shot out of the side of his mouth. Hermione followed his line of vision and realized that their mothers were headed straight for them. She heaved a sigh and fell in step with Draco, trying not to look as miserable as she felt.
"Oh, Hermione!" Victoria Granger called out. Both she and Mrs. Malfoy had glasses in their hands.
"Our mothers are trashed," Draco remarked, not too loudly. Hermione sighed.
"Dessert is being served, it's your favorite," Mrs. Granger informed her daughter, coming up to the two of them, and taking Hermione's wrist as though to drag her back to the house. Hermione could smell the alcohol on her.
"Hermione, you look awful," she observed, looking Hermione over. "What on earth have you being doing?"
"We just went for a walk," Hermione replied, smoothing her hair. Her mother started to protest, but then a very knowing look came over her face.
"A walk? Well, isn't that romantic, Narcissa?" Victoria hinted. Mrs. Malfoy burst into a fit of giggles, which prompted Mrs. Granger to do the same. Hermione sighed and Draco turned to her, giving her a quick once-over.
"Here," he offered her his handkerchief. Hermione bit her lip so as not to laugh at him for being dorky enough to carry one. She wiped her eyes, and handed it back to him. He sighed, and pulled her towards him, gently but with enough force that it could not be misinterpreted as a friendly gesture of any sort. Very gently, he took his finger and, covering it with the cloth, wiped at the mascara streaks under her eyes.
A chill ran down Hermione's spine as he did this, and she looked up at him with wide questioning eyes. He stared back into her eyes with no abandon, his gaze not cool like she had expected it would be but full of emotion that almost shocked her. But he looked away before she could decide what emotion it was.
"We don't want to miss dessert," he commented, heading back toward the house. "It's almost been an hour since I last ate," he added. Hermione followed him, but then remembered that she had something to tell her mother.
"Can I have everyone's attention for just a moment?" Victoria Granger was standing on a chair in the middle of the ballroom. Hermione was sitting at her feet, seven shades of dark purple. A hush fell over the room, and soon everyone was focused on the two of them. "I just wanted to thank you all for coming tonight, it's been so good to see you all again," she paused for drama before going on. "I have a very special announcement to make tonight," she paused again, motioning for Hermione to stand up as well. Hermione obliged, but stayed on the ground. "My daughter, Hermione, made the dance team tonight," she announced to everyone in the room, who immediately burst into polite applause. Mrs. Granger held up her hand.
"So as a special treat," she paused, and pulled on Hermione's arm. "Get up here," she admonished. Hermione sighed and stood up on the chair next to her mother, wishing the ground underneath it would just open up and swallow her whole. "As a special treat, my husband and I have decided to give Hermione her very first car, for making us so proud," Victoria pushed a set of car keys with a little pink bow on them into Hermione's hand, and then gave her a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek. The entire room applauded some more, and then Mrs. Granger pushed Hermione away. "Go take it for a spin, it's in the other garage," she whispered.
Hermione hopped down from her chair and headed off. She could not help smiling, despite her embarrassment at being attacked by an owl and then presented with a car in front of all these people she barely knew.
She let herself out the garage door and across the driveway to the detached three-car garage on the opposite side. Punching in the security code, the doors opened to reveal three shiny cars. In the center space was her new car, a brand new Mercedes-Benz convertible with a pink bow on the hood. She knocked the bow off and hurriedly got inside it. The top was already down, so Hermione just pulled out of the garage, something that was slightly tricky to accomplish as a small crowd of people had gathered to see her present.
Draco stood on the other side of the car, his arms folded across his chest.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked, obviously a little bit jealous at the attention she was getting. Hermione grinned widely at him and shook her head no. She was not going to let anything ruin her first ride. Giving the crowd a regal wave, she sped off out of the driveway and down the street.
When she returned about thirty minutes later, she was pleased to see that the party was starting to break up. Not that her mother would be done partying until the sun came up.
"How was it?" Draco asked, as soon as she came back into the kitchen. She could not keep from smiling.
"Fabulous," she admitted, even though she had not wanted to share any of it with him.
"That's good," he allowed. "Here," he handed her a glass of champagne, which she accepted.
"Thank you," she said, taking a sip. She stood there with him for a bit, hoping he would bring up their earlier discussion, but he did nothing of the sort.
"I had Consuela save you some dessert," he said after a while. Hermione raised her eyebrows. "It's in the fridge," he motioned towards the largest of three refrigerators that lined the wall of the room. She crossed the room and opened the door to find a fountain of chocolate fondue, as well as a platter of strawberries and cheesecake for dipping in it. Her eyes widened and she pulled both things out of the refrigerator.
"Thank you," she said emphatically. He nodded, and helped himself to a strawberry. Hermione had not realized how hungry she had gotten in the past few hours, but she was extremely grateful for the fondue.
"Well, isn't this cozy," Narcissa cooed, coming into the kitchen just then. She grabbed a strawberry and took Draco's glass of champagne away from him. "I told you that you'd had enough," she reminded him threateningly.
"Look who's talking, Mother," Draco retorted. She ignored his comment and drained the glass.
"We're staying here tonight. You certainly can't drive us home," she said decisively a few moments later. Hermione shot Draco a questioning look, but he just rolled his eyes.
"Remember, I called the shower first," he said to Hermione before he dropped the last strawberry back onto the platter and walked away. Narcissa looked at it briefly and then picked it up and dipped it in the chocolate.
Hermione locked her bedroom door behind her and quickly changed into her pajamas. She opened her window to let Hedwig in and then sat down on her bed to read her letter. The envelope was really thick and when she opened it, three folded papers fell into her lap.
The first was a letter from Harry, talking about his classes and explaining that he had sent the Daily Prophet to her because there was an article in it about her Muggle Studies class. The next was a letter from Ron, saying almost the same thing as Harry's – classes were boring, Quidditch was going well, and they hoped she was doing alright. Hermione set these aside and unfolded the Daily Prophet to find a large picture of Madam Meurteuil under the heading "Playing Muggles."
The beginning of the article talked about Madam Meurteuil, and the project itself. Hermione skimmed this section, as she knew all of that information by heart. She noticed that Harry had starred a section, so she skipped down to the asterisk and began reading:
But how will this feat be accomplished convincingly? Meurteuil has convinced the Ministry of Magic to let her use one of Magic's most large-scale and complicated memory spells of all time. The spell is known only as Memory Spell 17 because it is only permitted for use under special circumstances requiring months of paperwork and an appearance before the full Wizengamut. The spell is more complex even, than those used for the Quidditch Cup.
In order to work properly, twenty wizards must be on duty at all times in each of the countries the students have been deployed to, as well as in the home country. This means there are forty wizards currently on task in our Ministry. How Meurteuil managed to convince the ministry that this was a worthy enough cause to spare 40 of their best wizards at all hours of the day is yet unknown.
The spell modifies the memory of all those that come in contact with the children instantly so to the best of their knowledge, they have always known each other. The students however, must work a little harder to remember detail, though a vague recollection is already present.
While they are completing this project, the students will be living in the lap of luxury, something Meurteuil felt was essential to the cause. "If they have to struggle, they won't learn anything," she explained. The students are also keeping their own names, another way to make the transition easier as having to remember to respond to a different name would almost definitely cause trouble. As far as their families are concerned, the children will be living with projections of their real parents, but any siblings will be omitted. Further details about the spell are currently unavailable to the general public.
"Imagine if that information fell into the wrong hands," Arthur Weasley told us yesterday afternoon. "Someone might interfere, and we would not only never see those children again, but it would also expose the entire magical world to the muggle world." As head of the office for Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, Weasley has a personal interest in this project.
Hermione set the paper down after skimming the rest of the article. She knew this project had taken a lot of effort on Madam Meurteuil's part, but she had never imagined anything like this. Although now that she thought about it, it only made sense. How else would they be able to convince anyone that they were real? A few little memory charms here and there would not be sufficient.
She set the paper down on her desk and sat down at her computer. Ron would appreciate getting a typed letter, and even if Harry had seen a computer before he probably had not ever used one. Quickly, she wrote up a brief response to the two boys and sent Hedwig on her way.
"You insolent girl! How dare you use that tone of voice with me?" Lucius Malfoy snapped at Samantha Meurteuil. He had come to her office to check on his son.
"I refuse to let you ruin this for me, Uncle Lucius," she replied calmly. "Your son is just fine, everything is going well."
"I won't rest until I can see for myself," Lucius informed her. "You're going to have to let me go."
"Absolutely not," Samantha stood up. "I have everything under control, I don't need you to come along and stick your nose in it. Draco is fine, and you'll see for yourself when he returns in one piece at the end of the school year."
"I'm warning you, Samantha," Lucius stuck a long finger in her face. "If so much as a hair on my child is harmed by your silly little project…if anything goes wrong with this assignment, anything at all, I will have no mercy."
The next morning, Hermione awoke to see Draco sitting at her desk reading her newspaper article.
"You really shouldn't leave stuff like this lying around," he chided. Hermione grabbed the paper out of his hand.
"Most people knock before they come into my room," she snapped at him. He sighed and turned to the computer.
"You still don't have instant messenger," he remarked disdainfully.
"I thought I told you to put it on there!" she replied sharply. He rolled his eyes, and scrolled through his inbox. Hermione threw her covers back and angrily stormed across the room to the bathroom. To her dismay, she realized upon looking in the mirror that she had forgotten to wash her face the night before so she looked a lot like a raccoon this morning. Scowling at her reflection, she turned the water on.
After she had washed her face and brushed her teeth, Hermione returned to her bedroom to pick out an outfit for the day. Consulting her planner, she realized that she had the day off, so she settled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She put her pajamas in the hamper and made her bed before sitting down to figure out where to keep her letters from Harry and Ron. After a brief sweep of her room, she settled on the trunk at the foot of her bed that usually held extra blankets. She wrapped the newspaper article and letters up in the bottom blanket and closed it all up again.
Through out this entire process, Draco sat quietly watching her. To Hermione's relief he did not offer any snide comments, he just sat and observed which was creepy enough anyway. But now Hermione had run out of things to do in her room since Draco had taken over her computer. So she racked her brain, trying to think of things to do or say, but she was at a loss.
"Look, okay, I overreacted last night," she relented, unable to think of anything else to say to him. "Maybe you have a point. We should just put all of this behind us."
"Forget it," he snapped, "You blew your chance."
"Please, Draco," Hermione could not believe she was begging him. She was not even sure why she cared so much.
"So you're admitting that you need my help with this?" He asked her. "You've realized that you can't handle it on your own, haven't you? Well just give up, cause it won't happen," he informed her, storming away.
"Why, because for a few minutes you felt bad about the way you've treated me?" she called after him. He paused and looked back at her for a minute. Hermione felt her heart pounding in her chest and took a deep breath. Draco turned around and walked towards her until he was standing directly in front of her, close enough that if she just craned her neck a little bit she could-
"Hermione?" Mrs. Granger opened the door to her daughter's bedroom expecting to find her still asleep. When her eyes registered the sight in front of her, she pursed her lips. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she asked.
"Not in the least," Draco responded, not tearing his gaze from Hermione's until he had finished talking. Then he turned to her mother and asked, "Is brunch ready?"
"Yes, please come down now," Victoria responded, holding the door open for them. Draco walked right out of it, and Hermione followed, not wanting to hear a lecture from her mother about keeping the door open. "I have a surprise for you," Mrs. Granger called after the two of them.
"Oh no, did we make the paper again?" Draco called up the stairs to her. Hermione turned her head to look up at her mother, who was a few paces behind.
"I thought that would be a surprise," Mrs. Granger responded, sticking her lower lip out a little bit. Hermione looked at Draco, and in the same instant they both broke into a run.
"It's so mine first!" Draco yelled at Hermione.
"But it's my house!" she yelled back, catching her foot on the rug in the hallway and tripping slightly. She steadied herself quickly, not wanting to lose.
"Have a nice trip?" Draco asked her moments before he ran into the doorframe of the kitchen. "Dammit!"
"Draco! We don't talk like that in this house," Mrs. Granger scolded "Besides, we had ten copies delivered this morning," she informed them. "So you'll each get your own copy to keep. Hermione, put some ice on his head before he gets a bruise," Mrs. Granger instructed, sweeping past the two of them into the kitchen.
Hermione tossed a bag of frozen peas at Draco before she headed into the dining room. Narcissa was already at the table, nursing a Bloody Mary. She motioned to the newspapers that sat at the empty seats. Hermione flipped to the style section, and immediately wished she could go back to bed.
"You're shitting me," Draco commented, peering over her shoulder. He was clutching the bag of peas to his forehead.
"Draco, I have a headache," Narcissa moaned.
"I thought it was cute," Victoria said, looking at her own copy of the picture. "Narcissa, when they take their senior portraits we ought to have some done of the two together," she decided.
No one was listening to Mrs. Granger. Hermione and Draco were too busy reading the article that accompanied the huge color picture of Draco consoling Hermione in the garden. The caption talked about the bizarre owl attack, and claimed that she had barely escaped safely. The first part of the article talked about the party and who had shown up wearing up. But then the talk turned to Hermione and her "brush with wildlife,"
"Hermione Granger will be a senior this fall at Kensington Preparatory School, where she is president of the photography club in addition to the president of National Honor Society, and a member of the dance team. The brutal owl attack was soon forgotten when she was presented with her first car – a brand new Mercedes Benz SL55-AMG," Draco read aloud. "Oh, spare me," he sighed, setting his paper down.
"Draco Malfoy, also a senior this fall at Kensington, has just been named captain of the football team, a position he will juggle with his role of Student Body President to which he was elected last fall," Hermione replied, quoting the next paragraph. "Don't even start," she added.
"Who wants waffles?" Mrs. Granger interrupted. Draco took the plate from her and speared the top waffle before taking the second and third as well. He passed the empty plate to Hermione, pretending not to notice he had taken all of the waffles.
"Good, I'll just get a nice hot one from Consuela," she informed everyone at the table and stormed from the room with the serving plate.
"Well, I thought it was a good article," Mrs. Granger commented. "I guess I'm all alone on that."
"When did Hermione become National Honor Society president?" Draco asked, taking a large bite of his syrup doused waffle.
"The letter came yesterday," her mother replied. "I thought she would pick up on that in the article, but she didn't even seem to notice. What's going on with her?" she wondered aloud.
"I have no idea," Draco replied sarcastically, between bites. At that moment, Hermione emerged from the kitchen with a fresh, piping hot waffle covered in strawberries and blueberries. Draco eyed the berries enviously, but remained silent.
"I do love a fresh hot waffle," she announced, taking a bite. But before she could rub it in any more, Draco's cell phone rang and he jumped up.
"Excuse me," he said, flipping it open. "Pansy! I was just about to call you," they all heard him say as the left the room.
"Draco, we're eating," Narcissa called after him. "Please, forgive him," she apologized to Hermione and her mother.
"Your father called," Victoria said suddenly. Hermione gave her mother a questioning look. "He says to tell you that he's proud of you for making the dance team, and on becoming National Honor Society president. And he says he's very sorry he couldn't be there last night to see you in your new car – he picked it out, after all. But he promises he'll be home to see your first performance," she finished. Hermione heaved a sigh.
"Yeah, right," she said under her breath. Vaguely, she could remember a string of broken promises very similar to this one. "I think I'm done eating," she decided, putting her fork down.
"Hermione, you only ate one bite. Don't be ridiculous. I know you're upset at him, but you need to eat," Mrs. Granger told her. Hermione sighed and picked her fork back up.
"That was easier than I thought it would be," Draco announced, returning to the room. "Pansy says hello to everyone."
"How was her trip?" Mrs. Malfoy asked, turning her attention to Draco.
"Just fine, she only spent two thousand dollars cause 'there just wasn't much to choose from,'" he imitated her voice, rolling his eyes. "Are you gonna eat that?" he turned to Hermione, who was picking at her waffle.
"Yes," she replied emphatically, taking a big bite.
"Just checking. You made such a big deal out of loving a hot waffle," he reminded her. She glared at him and took another bite, letting the savory sweet taste linger in her mouth. He flashed her a toothy grin before taking a bit of his own waffle.
They all ate in silence, Draco eating all three waffles and a helping of eggs and bacon while Hermione barely managed to finish her one waffle.
"Well, Narcissa and I have appointments at the spa today, so you two are on your own for dinner," Victoria announced.
"Excellent," Draco pronounced. "May I be excused?" he asked. Victoria motioned for both him and Hermione to go ahead. Hermione headed straight upstairs to her bedroom, clutching her copy of the newspaper. She planned to write a long letter to Harry and Ron about everything that had transpired over the past three days.
"Knock, knock!" Draco called, barging right into Hermione's room. She jumped about three feet into the air and then turned to glare at him.
"Don't you have somewhere else to go?" Hermione asked him, wondering why on earth he was still milling about.
"Actually, I do, but I thought you wanted to talk. I can just leave if you want," he offered, heading for the door.
"Wait!" Hermione called. She sighed and put down her pen. "Okay, let's talk."
"Alright," Draco shut the door and came to sit on Hermione's bed.
"I've given a lot of thought to what you said about how much I need your help," she began. "And there's a part of me that's really proud, and doesn't want to admit that maybe I do need some help. But there's another part of me that thinks maybe it couldn't hurt to have someone on my side. You're here with Blaise and Pansy, and I don't have anyone. So, maybe I'm too proud to admit that I need you, but I'm not too proud to ask for a friend," she concluded. "Can we be friends?" she asked him, feeling nervous little butterflies dancing around in her stomach.
Draco was silent for what seemed like centuries. He stayed still, not moving or showing any emotion whatsoever. Hermione felt her heart sink, and she felt like crying. She knew she needed some help with this, and Draco seemed like her only option.
A commotion downstairs interrupted the horrifically awkward silence that had fallen between the two of them. Shouts and crashes, along with cries of "catch that thing!" were clearly audible. Hermione and Draco exchanged bewildered glances and Hermione crossed the room to open her door. As soon as it was cracked, a small creature darted into the room, slamming the door behind itself.
"Dobby!" Hermione exclaimed exasperatedly "What are you doing here?"
"Forgive Dobby," the house-elf pleaded. "Dobby had to come and see Miss- eep!" Dobby jumped behind Hermione upon catching sight of Draco.
"Go on, Dobby," Draco pleaded sarcastically. "I'm sure it was so terribly important to see Hermione that you had to break the law to do it."
"Draco!" Hermione snapped. "He's frightened of you, you're not helping," she chided. Hermione knelt down to Dobby so she could hear him talking.
"Miss Hermione must return to Hogwarts. Dobby has overheard some wizards talking about a project, and they mentioned your name," he whispered to her, making very sure that Draco could not hear what he was saying. "They was bad wizards, Miss. Dobby knows."
"You're sure?" she asked. Dobby nodded gravely. "Dobby, you could get in a lot of trouble for coming all the way out here to see me. I really do appreciate your concern," she told him, and then raised her voice. "I have something for you," she told Dobby, crossing to her sock drawer. She pulled out two unmatched socks and gave them to him. "These are your present for risking so much to come and see me," she explained. His eyes grew wide with delight, and he gave Hermione a huge hug.
Just then, Hermione heard voices in the hall. She motioned for Dobby to leave, and rushed to her door, to peek out. Her mother was out there with Narcissa, the cook, and the maid.
"Did you catch it?" Hermione asked them.
"No, did you see it come up here?" her mother replied. Hermione nodded. "Well, Narcissa and I have to be going or we'll be late. You'll give Draco a ride?" she asked. Hermione nodded again, and her mother placed a kiss on her forehead. "Ta-ta," she said, waggling her fingers at Hermione.
"What the hell just happened?" Draco asked. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Dobby overheard some wizards talking about a project, and they mentioned my name," she informed him. "I don't really think there's anything to be worried about."
"You've got to be kidding me," he said, rolling his eyes. "Now, where were we?" he asked, and then paused as though he were thinking. Hermione bit her lip, waiting for his response. "Oh yes, you were asking me to be your friend, and I was about to say that I can't think of anything more ridiculous," he stated. Hermione's jaw dropped open, and he burst out laughing. "Hermione, you used to be my absolute best friend in the entire world, and now here you are asking to be my friend. It is a bit ridiculous, don't you think?" he asked her.
"I guess so," she admitted, realizing what he was getting at. "So, we're friends again?" she asked. He nodded.
"And I promise not to bail on you again, so long as you promise not to keep any more secrets from me, especially if I've done something wrong," he added. Hermione smiled and nodded, and Draco pulled her into a big hug.
For the second time in two days, Hermione was overcome by how it felt to be in his arms. It felt good, though she was surprised to admit that to herself. He was strong- after all, he played football, or quidditch depending which way you looked at it. There was something comforting about being hugged by him.
"Alright, well, I need to get going. I promised Pansy I would come over for a little fashion show," he said, letting go of Hermione. She nodded and grabbed her car keys, resolving to sit down as soon as she got back and write an extra long letter to Harry and Ron all about the events of the past three days.