Disclaimer- I am NOT JK Rowling. Never have been, most likely, never will be.
Again, Im sorry for the wait. I lost the thread of where I was going with this, but, clearly, found it again.
The weeks passed quickly for the trio. Between studying, practicing defensive/offensive spells, Quidditch (Hermione used this time for more study) and helping the Weasley's, Hermione barely had any time to think about Draco and his weird (for lack of a better word) visit.
Her house hadn't been sold yet, but she had already decided on the items that she would keep. She, Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Dursley spent one full day a week sorting through things, deciding on a "keep", "sell" and "rubbish" pile. There was need, later on, for an "undecided" pile when they came to Hermione's old school books. Thus far, the sell pile was the largest. There wasn't much that Hermione want/needed, but couldn't let it rot in a rubbish heap.
Hermione also knew that she COULDN'T keep a lot of stuff. She looked for a flat-and found one that she liked-but upon further speculation, decided that she didn't need one. She would be at Hogwarts for the next year (they had convinced Harry that the younger students needed them, and to go back part time) so it would have been pointless, and, quite frankly, a waste of money. Instead, she would put her belongings into one of those storage units until she needed them. Her house would, hopefully, sell within the next few months. Not that she needed the money, but she didn't need the responsibility.
" I know that you've all been busy, dears, but are you all packed for Hogwarts?" Mrs. Weasley asked at breakfast one morning. It was nearly time to go back to school-their letters had come a few days beforehand.
Of course, not one of them was. Nor had they even gone to Diagon Alley-which, of course, Mrs. Weasley knew already.
They all lowered their heads-a sure sign of guilt.
"Diagon Alley it is then. We'll leave in an hour. You lot better be ready" Mrs. Weasley finished, placing the last of the toast on the table.
After a flurry of showers, cleansing spells, and near collisions on the stairs, they-Hermione, Ron, Harry, Ginny and Neville were ready to go. Neville's gran had gone off visiting a childhood friend, and, in these dark times, the Weasley's were asked-not to baby-sit per say, but watch over while she was gone.
They took the floo to the Leaky Cauldron, which was virtually empty. Since Voldemort started killing in vast quantities again, people were -understandably- staying at home a bit more often.
The group went to Gringotts first, being not only searched at the door, but they had to walk through detection gates. They-sans Neville- had already known about the new precautions from Bill, so it was no surprise.
They each took separate cart, to make things faster. Hermione was still amazed at how, well, FULL her vault was. It wasn't like she had lacked funds or anything, but she always had had just enough. Now she was in awe at the piles of galleons, Knuts and sickles there was.
Her main concern was S.P.E.W and books. She could buy everything in Flourish and Blots, if she so desired. Not that she did, contrary to what most people though. She had absolutely no use for love potions, or romance books. Those were trash. Complete and utter rubbish.
They all met up in the entrance and checked their lists. New sets of books, of course, Ginny needed new dress robes (having filled out even more over the summer), Ron needed new robes, and they all needed new quills and parchment. Hermione also wanted to look at the apocrathy, citing a list of spell components that she desperately needed.
They planned their course- wanting to make this trip as quick as possible to avoid danger-and set out.
They hit the Apocrathy first, Hermione knowing what she needed, the quality and the quantities of each ingredient.
From there, they headed to Madam Malkins Robes for every occasion.
Hermione perused the racks, but she didn't need anything. She tried to look for Ginny, but she seemed to be doing more then fine on her own.
"You're trying ALL of those on?" Mrs. Weasley cried.
"Well, of course, Mum." Ginny replied, snatching a silvery-grey one off the racks, and adding it to this already large pile on her arm. Hermione moved away, and missed the rest of the conversation. She walked around the store, touching things here and there, but not seeing anything that she simply NEEDED.
She was restless while clothing shopping. It was one of the things she hated most in life.
She looked around the store. Harry, Ron and Neville were occupied-Ron on the stool in new robes, which Harry made the bottoms fly, exposing his hairy freckled legs to the entire store, which Neville was rolling around the floor laughing.
Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were altering and critiquing dress robes that Ginny had chosen.
Hermione shook her head, and walked to the door. She needed fresh air, danger or no.
The door closed behind her with a small "thud". It was absolutely beautiful out, and, despite the danger, people were bustling about, doing their shopping. The sun was out, large white puffy clouds littered the deep blue sky, and there was a slight cool breeze, which hinted at the coming autumn. The air was warm, but fresh and smelled of lavender and marigolds.
Hermione felt herself relax-although she was completely unaware of having been tense- in the beauty of her surroundings. She looked around for a place to sit, preferably a bench, to wait for the Weasley's at.
She found one, but it already had an occupant. A white-blond haired occupant.
'Ah, fuck it' she thought. "I need answers, and a place to sit. Why not kill two birds with one tone?' With that, she walked towards the Malfoy occupied bench.
"Lovely afternoon" she said, sitting lightly on the bench.
Draco jumped nearly a foot in the air, surprised. Hermione giggled. Draco, once righting himself on the bench once more, sneered at both her giggle, and her presence.
"What do you want, Granger?" he spat, trying to hide his emotions. He was sure that he did a good job, noting the slight disappointment in her honey eyes.
He was, in all actuality, pleased at her arrival. Or, at least, of her presence. She was as beautiful as he had dreamed her to be, during those long nights. The fact that he dreamed of her surprised even himself, for, up until this moment, he hadn't remembered a single one of the dreams. He just knew that, somehow, the nights didn't seem as long, or as cold.
The sun glinted off her hair, highlighting the golden strands, caught within their chestnut depths. It reminded Draco of a fire, but one that was good, rather then destructive.
'God. Fuck. Crap.' He thought.
" I want to know why you were there at the cemetery during" Hermione faltered. While her grief had faded, it wasn't gone, and still stung. "During the funeral. Of my family."
Draco studied her. He could tell that she did indeed want the truth as to why he was there. He could see the curiosity mingled with pain and grief at the mention of her family, burn in her eyes.
"I told you before, Granger. I was there to pay my respects" Draco said, standing up. He wiped imaginary dirt off his pants, and turned to face her.
"Contrary to popular belief, Granger, I do have some morals. And a conscience." With that, he turned and left, leaving a confused-and for some fucked up reason-guilty, Hermione alone on the bench.
end transmission