Forgive and Forget

"Draco! Get back here this instant!" a tall, blond-man commanded with his teeth clenched threateningly.

A tiny boy, who looked exactly like the man, stopped dead in his tracks, fearing the anger that was coming from his father's voice. He knew never to test his dad's temperament or he would be greatly punished. His back was facing his furious father, so he pivoted on his foot and turned around with his eyes turned down.

He stood in front of him, his body shaking from fear of what his father would do.

"Look at me," Lucius snarled.

The boy wanted to mask his red face that was streaked with warm tears. His fear got the better of him, forcing him to bring his eyes to meet his feral father. His gray eyes feigned defiance, yet sparkled with fear. His father didn't miss a beat and tried to play with Draco's weakness, thinking he would make him stronger.

"I never want to see you parading around with a troop of muggles ever again. They are not worth your time. I do not want to see, hear, or smell their presence on or around you," he explained with an untamed frenzy.

"But father they are my friends," he protested against his father's wishes bitterly.

His father's eyes darkened in fury. Draco was too late to escape the rage of his father.

Draco uncomfortably squirmed and writhed in his makeshift bed. He shivered from the cold that enveloped his beautiful body. His complexion was white and clammy with beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

He woke up completely disturbed by his childhood memories. He had wanted to escape them, but they came back in the long run, reminding him of what he was and invariably would be for the rest of his life…his father's image.

Draco put himself in a half-sitting position and rubbed his eyes, trying to will them to open against the morning sunlight that was creeping through the many cracks in the Shrieking Shack. His coat fell off when he moved causing the bear, pale skin of his forearms to break out into unruly goose bumps.

He didn't make any effort to put his coat back on. He stood up instead, stretched his stiff legs and well-toned arms out and walked over to the broken window a few feet away. The window's glass was streaked with years of nasty weather and good old age. He could still make out the scenery on the other side.

It must have snowed while he was sleeping. New accumulation coated the pine trees and hibernating plant-life around the shrieking shack. They seemed to protect the house from any unwanted visitors.

Draco sighed at the magnificence and beauty that the snow made. He wished that he could see it everyday, but his room in the Malfoy Manor faced the eastern side, where he could only see neighboring mansions and not his nature-filled backyard. Who knew his soul was so poetic?

He requested his very own garden that would be partitioned off from the rest of Hermione and his living quarters. He didn't want anybody to touch it or to come near it. His garden was the only thing that he found haven in. He found serenity; it dulled the ache in his heart and all the years he wasted under his dad's domineering disposition.

Oh boy…didn't he sound like the right old pansy. He was sure that other people…men to be more exact…had their own gardens too. He wasn't bothering anyone and it wasn't like anybody would find out that Draco Malfoy— the arrogant son-of-a-bitch—has a soft side.

He didn't know what he would do or what would happen to him if his father ever saw him caring for life so inferior to him. He didn't want anybody to know that he was a coward deep down and that life scared him. He was useless without his father. Granger came close to cutting his heart the other day when she accused him of being a coward. Of course, he would never let her know that. Draco wished that he had her courage and valor, but he knew that in a moment of fight or flight…he would indisputably pick to flight. He hid his cowardliness fairly well behind his arrogant shell. It worked well for him and he didn't mind being the smug bastard he was.

He stifled a yawn, inhaling in the stale scent of rot from the deteriorating wood, smiling at its nostalgic affect of dreams that would never come true. He glanced at his wristwatch, realizing that it was ten in the morning. He was supposed to meet Hermione in the Ministry's Archives at nine, so they could get a head start on their research of the Locked Room. He already visited the Archives yesterday and found the only book on the subject. He would love to play around with her for awhile just to see her beautiful face turn red in anger, to see her eyes light up with passion. He wanted her to know that he wasn't one to be stepped all over. She could wait; he still had to go shopping for clothes. He smiled at the thought of Hermione waiting for him; he new she would be furious, but something about her being mad at him made his stomach flutter. He didn't know what the feeling was, but he enjoyed it nevertheless.

He placed his wand over his head and muttered an easy incantation that cleaned his disheveled appearance. He placed his fur coat over his shoulders and walked out into the bright light from sunrays bouncing off of the innocent white snow.

--

Hermione sat on a bench outside of the Archives with her head in her hands. She was trying to calm her impatient mind. It was nine-thirty and Malfoy still hadn't shown up. She kept looking down the corridor, but no Malfoy could be seen. She cursed deep within her throat, tapping her foot restlessly.

"Damn undependable ferret," she cursed to herself. After another fifteen minutes of waiting, she decided to give up. She would research on her own. She stood up, taking a calming breath and walked into the Archives with red cheeks.

There were about twenty-five rows of bookshelves that towered fifteen feet high. Hermione's eyes brightened at the sight of millions of books. Only classified personnel were allowed to access the Archives, located on the 9th Level. She didn't think it would be this big…where would she start, rubbing her hands in preparation? To her right was a clerk with short red-hair and horn-rimmed glasses. Hermione walked over to the counter with a huge smile plastered on her lips. The lady was engulfed in a cheesy romance novel.

"Excuse me?"

Few moments went by with no rely. Hermione shook it off as a lack in volume.

"Ma'am. I was wondering where I could find information on the Locked Room," she asked, with more assertiveness.

The woman continued to ignore Hermione, which annoyed her greatly.

"Ma'am!" she barked. The woman directed her eyes on Hermione without moving her head. The woman glared at Hermione.

"Can't you see that I am busy?" she retorted. Her sickly yellow teeth showing behind her bright red lipstick.

Hermione tried to keep her emotions in control, managing just barely as she put a fake smile on and countered the woman.

"Don't you think it makes more sense to answer my question than have me here to nag you all after noon? Believe me I will do it," she feigned innocence, but her threat played throughout the Ministry's walls with annoying promise. What could be worse than being nagged by a talkative boss? Hermione sure knew how to get her way in odd manners, but they just effective as a physical blow.

The woman pursed her lips, knowing the insolent girl had defeated her.

"The directory is over there," she pointed to a row of wobbly card catalogs.

"Now that wasn't hard, was it?"

The woman grumbled in her throat, something along the lines of 'bitch'. She glared at Hermione, until she left and went back to her book of make-believe sex.

Hermione wondered why the wizarding world didn't employ trusty muggle computers for filing. It would make life a hell of a lot easier. How hard could it be to search for the Locked Room? She walked proudly over to the catalogs and searched for her source. She was excited to what the day's research would bring…she would be learning something new and it made her itch anticipation.

After a few minutes, she found what she was looking for. Her happy face turned into a huge frown when she found only one card for the Locked Room. Row 13, book number 567. 'Theories of the Locked Room' by Grade Tombstone. She stood up and looked around. She found the bookshelf she was looking for. She walked over to it with the card still in her hand, hoping that she would come close to solving the secrets of the famed Locked Room. Her heart sank when she found out that the book she was looking for was on the top shelf. Now how to get up there? To her left was a rolling ladder; she positioned the ladder to the place on the bookshelf she thought the book was located and climbed up it. Her legs shook from the fear of falling. She was only on the third ladder bar when she froze. She was scared of heights. She looked around for help and realized that she was on her own. She thought about levitating the book, but she didn't know which one it was and she didn't want to take very book off of the bookshelf to find out.

She willed herself to climbed one bar at a time. Eventually, she got to her destination and clung onto the ladder for dear life, her breath coming out in gasps.

She noticed that her eyes were clamped shut, she opened them slowly, trying not to glance down at the floor below her, where she could meet her death. She couldn't help, but think about it. She had to focus on getting this book…the bloody book that made her climb this ladder in the first place. Not a time to get upset. She took a deep breath and looked at the books in front of her. 565…566…568…569…where is 567. She looked back at the books to make sure she didn't glance over it. There were no fucking 567.

"You've got be fucking kidding me?"

She doubled check…the book wasn't there. She couldn't stay there all night, so she cautiously descended. She was fuming and had a gut feeling that the wench at the counter knew that the book wasn't there. There was only one sodding book on the Locked Room after all.

She stomped up to the counter to face the ugly clerk.

"Do you have this book?" she finished slamming the card on the desk, the last of her reserve going down the drain.

The woman looked up with dark amusement sparkling in her blue orbs. She tried to act professional as she looked at the card. "I'm sorry to say that this book has been taken out by a Mr. Malfoy," she finished with laughter in her voice.

Mafoy? Malfoy! He took the book out I yesterday /I . That means he already came to the Archives. He purposely stood her up. What a loathsome jerk? She tried to hold her tears of humiliation behind her lids, barely managing to do so.

"You knew this before? Why you little b--,"

"I wouldn't do that Granger," a familiar voice mocked.

Hermione turned around to face a handsome blond-headed man. "Malfoy!?"

"I am here at your service, My Royal Highness," he bowed with a sarcastic smirk plastered on his stern face.

Her face turned even redder and her fists curled in a ferocity that she didn't know she was capable of. "Why you little bugger…why didn't you tell me that you already came here?" she snarled.

"I thought I would get a head start," he feigned innocence, already loving her red cheeks.

"You little jerk. You wanted to humiliate me. How are we ever going to trust each other if you do something like this and stand me up as well?" she walked up to him and spat at his feet. She turned and stalked off.

He only wanted to play a joke, nothing more. Hermione had no sense of humor. He thought that doing this would help lighten her up, but he misjudged her. He deliberately did it, knowing what the outcome would be, but he thought that he would give it a try anyway.

He ran after her and found her twenty feet up the corridor. She could move really fast when she needed to. He caught up to her in a matter of seconds. One of his strides equaled three of hers. Her hair was flying everywhere as she power-walked like a fiend. She knew that he was following her, so she starting to pick up her speed, which turned into a run down the empty corridor.

Draco mirrored her action and gained on her. He grabbed her wrist forcefully, but with a controlled gentleness.

"Hermione I was only trying to get that stick out of your ass. Can't you take a joke?"

He used her first name. She completely missed his insult and dwelled on the fact that he called her by her first name. It rolled off of his tongue, like silk. She turned her head away from him, so he couldn't see the tears that were on the verge of falling. She felt like an idiot for taking this job. Malfoy could be such an insensitive, prick.

"No," she spat, trying to push him off.

"To tell you the truth, I didn't think you would wait for me."

"What are you gabbing about? It was my job to meet you there," she willed her tears down and turned around, meeting his gray orbs.

"That's the thing Hermione…we are supposed to I train /I together, but we don't have to research together. That is up to us," he explained, trying to come Hermione down.

She could feel her anger leaving her body, like a receding tide. "You didn't have to be an asshole and take out the only book in the Archives. One book, can you believe that?" she let out a small derisive chuckle. "Not to mention that bitch, who didn't have the decency to tell me the book wasn't in."

"Yea…pretty funny," he smiled. "I don't know why I did it. I like busting your chops and standing you up made it better," he joked. Her face turned into a frown. She wouldn't forgive him for what he did…not yet…but she could laugh at the situation. He made her feel like a fool.

"Don't think you are getting off that easily. You have to make it up to me," she ordered. The mischievous sparkle in her eyes made Draco uneasy.

"What?" he asked cautiously.

"Make one-thousand hats and scarves for my House-Elf Shelter. They really need them. You are to do it by hand…no magic," she explained, giving him a stern look.

"One-thousand. Woman, you are out of your mind. All I did was play a small prank on you," he complained.

"A prank? What you did was cruel. I will live and forget Malfoy, but we need to start somewhere. I think forgiveness should be our first test. No more pranks either," she retorted seriously. Her voice was assertive and left a mark on Draco's mind. She did have a point. They needed to start somewhere…forgiveness was a good start. They did have many years to forgive each other for.

He nodded in agreement and managed to give Hermione a smile. "On one condition."

"Anything."

"Stop calling me Malfoy," he asked kindly.

Hermione stared at him in awe. "Okay Draco…friends?" She stuck her hand out for him to take.

Draco thought for a second. Being friends would be a major leap for two seasoned enemies. He was amazed at how fast it came about and how fast Hermione forgave him. Women were interesting and complex creatures that he couldn't even begin to understand. Friends wouldn't be that terrible he concluded…it was better than having to watch over your shoulder every ten seconds.

He took her hand without second guess and jerked it up and down. They were officially friends. At that moment, he realized the deal they made.

"Why does it have to be one-thousand? I don't even know how to knit," he explained, his face disgruntled.

"You are not getting out of it ferret boy. I'll teach you," she teased.

"I thought you said no more insults?"

"Are you calling me a liar?" she faked hurt.

"I was only ask--"

"Relax Draco. I said no more I pranks /I , not insults," she started to laugh.

This friendship was so alien to Hermione; she didn't know what to think of it. For some reason, she was happy that the ice was broken between Draco and her. She liked this companionship more than she liked them being enemies. She wouldn't be alone in this ordeal to come. She would have a friend by her side. She knew it would be time until they trusted each other, but it was better to have a mutual understanding than a mutual hate.

"Fine…buck-toothed Granger."

"Hey. My teeth are straight," she denied his accusation, pointing at her teeth in conformation. She slapped him playfully and grinned by his shocked face.

"That hurt," he finished rubbing his arm.

"You are such a liar!"

"Okay maybe I am, but it still stung."

"Come on, we have some studying to do. Where did you put that book?"

"It's in my room." He smiled at her eagerness to learn.

Hermione caught him. "What's wrong?"

"Always wanting to study," he heartily laughed. She nodded enthusiastically.

Hermione and Draco walked to the lift and descended to the tenth level where they're new home was. While in the lift, Hermione turned to Draco in confusion.

"It's been two hours. Where were you if you didn't meet me?"

"I went shopping." He tried to hide his red cheeks. He sounded pathetic.

Hermione broke into violent giggles. "You are such a girl."

"More than you."

Hermione stopped giggling and glared at Draco. "That's not true!"

They walked off of the lift and took a left where they continued to their new flat

"Lighten up Granger. I was only kidding. You have to develop a sense of humor." He glanced at her, giving her a warm smile. He had his hands in his pockets and he was practically bouncing on his feet…happy as ever.

Hermione calmed down a bit and gave Draco a puzzled look. "Do you think I am really that tight?"

"I don't know…have you ever been with anyone?" he joked.

"Why you little cad? That's not what I mean."

"That's what I mean Hermione. You are so uptight. I was only cracking a joke. You don't have to be such a prude," he explained.

Hermione calculated what he said in her always-working brain. Draco was right; people's remarks always offended her. They never meant harm by them, but she always thought they were ridiculing her.

"I just feel uncomfortable when somebody talks about…you know…sex," she confided. She just told Draco…a man…that she feared sex and what it was about.

She was still a virgin. Wow, he knew that she would probably be the last one to lose her virginity in Hogwarts, but he never imagined she would still be one now. He shifted uncomfortably, completely ruffled by her confession.

"Er…umm…that's perfectly normal. I'm sorry," he blurted out.

"Don't be. I am a grown woman. These things shouldn't bother me," she swallowed nervously. They reached their door. Hermione took out the key that she received from the Minster and unlocked the door. Only Draco and her could see the door, so they didn't have to worry about any passerby's.

Opening the door distracted them from the conversation they were just having, which made the awkward tension ease.

They both walked into a pitch black foyer. Hermione flicked on a muggle switch to her left and sighed by the new feeling she got from being in a different home.

"Home sweet home," she murmured, feeling out of place.

Draco was feeling quite the opposite. He liked the small, cozy feeling that the living room emanated. The room was untouched, but he liked it better than his own home. The living room was littered with Hermione's boxes and shopping bags from Draco.

Neither of them looked forward to putting their things away. They both looked at each other and shook their heads.

"Let's get coffee?" Hermione suggested, her face looking hopeful.

"I'll bring the book," Draco ran off to his room to retrieve the 'sacred' book…not really.

They both left their things untouched, skirting their cleaning responsibilities, for the time being.

Before they left, Draco suggested, "We could always get a House Elf."

Hermione just stared at him and left without a word.

"I guess not," he answered himself and locked the door behind him.