This had to be ok, so he'd teased her mercilessly through out school and his dad had nearly gotten her killed and judging by the smile that didn't quite reach her eyes she remembered all of it.
" I know you might hate me…and I still remember your hexing ability, but I just need.. Please don't turn me in…"
Ok, she was looking at him again- like he was off his rocker.
"I realize, I mean I hope you understand, I have no place left and…."
"Malfoy" She had turned to look directly at him, bags under her eyes and coffee cup in hand " I want to go home, I am tired, cranky, and have less then twelve hours left before I go back. I don't really care. Get your stuff and follow me to the car- now."
The reluctant blond grabbed his suitcase and followed quickly behind the redhead, his nerves still twitching. When they stepped onto the covered walkway over to the garage, he saw the sun. No, he wasn't in England anymore. He could do this; he was the Malfoy heir, thousands of years of good breeding and magical ability. He could do this. Really, he'd faced worse. It would be OK. Really.
Yup, off his rocker. Her dad sent her a crazy man. No, she didn't like him, but she could be civil, really, ok, maybe not. Maybe he'd only stay for a week or two. That would be ok. She could do that.
Hmmm, maybe they had some extra shifts available at the hospital, if she was never home she wouldn't be tempted to stun him and hide him in a cupboard.
Looking back at the straggling blond, she had to slow down. As much as she wanted to be pissed at him, treat him the same way he had treated her for years, grind him under her heel and smirk in his face, she couldn't do it. Damned compassionate nature. He looked so lost.
She took a minute to look at the tall man, really look at him. Like she would any patient who walked in. The slight tan was new. He was wearing older clothes and only had one small suitcase. He was lean, with a slightly scruffy look. And he had rough hands; the Malfoy she knew and hated from school would have never allowed his hands to become rough. Mentally cursing whatever Weasley gene made them always take in strays, she could admit to herself, grudgingly, that she would be nice.
Listening for the familiar chirp of her car. She maneuvered him into the passenger seat of her little Volkswagen and headed west. She had just moved into a brand new house on a golf course. It lacked the coziness of the burrow, but she liked walking in and feeling the openness, the newness of it all. She loved feeling like she had come up in the world. It gave her confidence.
She walked in, looked squarely at Draco and said "goodnight."
He had no idea what her name was.