o0o

Monday, May 7th 1990

"Please, Narcissa, don't coddle the boy. It's pathetic," Lucius said airily. The Daily Prophet was held at arms length over his light breakfast of fruit and croissants. Perched on his shapely aristocratic nose was a pair of reading spectacles, but his icy glare bore over them at the scene that was unfolding at the opposite end of his dining table. "He's really too old for it, cut the apron strings loose already."

As Draco's head was resting against his mother's bosom, he felt her stiffen, her hold tightening on him desperately. "Draco will never, EVER, be too old for my hugs," she hissed coldly.

Then her hand cupped Draco's chin whilst the other tousled his messy hair. "Why don't you take breakfast in your nursery today? I'll send Zonny up with a tray immediately." Her timbre was kind, but pleading. She gave him her best smile, the one made her eyes twinkle.

He nodded slowly and broke away from her embrace, solemnly making his way out of the room. Because even at that young age he knew her eyes sparkled with tears and he wanted to stay and defend her from the impending wrath that made the air in the room thick.

As the door shut soundlessly, he heard the tell tale sign of a chair scraping against hardwood flooring. Followed by his father's lethal brogue sending out a threat and a curse for his mother's impertinence.

o0o

Monday, December 19th 2005

Draco awoke with a start. Instantaneously his body jerked up and his legs swung to the floor. He let his hands grip the lumpy cushion of the couch, a soft care-worn quilt clutching to his shoulder. With bleary eyes, he took in his surroundings and he found he was still in the shack--- rather the Dell as Granger named it. Except in the blinding light of the winter morn, it seemed more homely, comforting.

"Morning."

He jerked in the direction of the sweet sound, blinking rapidly. There, seated at a small harvest table, was Granger, enjoying a steaming cup of tea and a breakfast of what seemed to be kippers and eggs.

She did not smile at him, but gestured at the bowl across from her. "For you, if you're hungry."

He meant to sneer at her hospitality, he truly did, but pangs of hunger stabbed his gut and it roared ferociously in retort.

She raised an amused eyebrow. "And it would appear that you are indeed."

He swore, but rose and settled himself at the bowl. It was bland porridge; he gave her a questioning stare.

She shrugged and stabbed at her eggs. "I don't serve Death Eater five course meals."

And he hated her. Her and her nonchalance. A Death Eater was not an occupation that was discussed with carelessness or over breakfast. He did not understand how she could carry on as if she was only referring to the weather. Stupid girl.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to discuss why I'm here." She took a mannerly sip of her tea.

"Don't play coy; you know why I arranged this meeting," he said gruffly, all the while stirring his breakfast gingerly. Its aroma was incredibly inviting despite not being the kippers by which his taste buds had been taunted.

He could feel her roll her eyes. Good, an annoyed Granger was something he knew how to deal with.

"Of course, Grumpy Gills. But it is my understanding that one does not simply floo Voldemort and says 'Sorry Mate, I've decided to join the Light. So long and thanks for all the Cruciatus'.' Right?" she said flippantly.

"Daft bint, I have no intention of doing that," he said angrily and spooned a bite into his mouth. It was hot and hearty. Tasting tremendously delectable.

"Then tell me your intentions because all I know is that you want out," she bit out. "And honestly, Malfoy, that is not enough for the Order to grant you clemency."

She was right once more, and he realized that she would require more reasons. Something solid and real, something he never wanted to admit, especially to her of all people.

He let his eyes meet hers and said very simply, "I want to be good."

"Good?" Her eyes were wide with awe. She had obviously not expected that.

"Yes. I want to stand proud amongst wizards; I want to know that everything I do is right. I want to feel happiness and love and sympathy. I want to pity the unfortunate. I want to understand why humans need affection and why the poets write and songbirds sing. I want to have a friend and be a good friend in return. I want to work hard for my lifestyle. And I want to let go of the ugly, terrible things that are eating at my soul. I want to be good for myself." He pressed his lips together, his jaw flexed and fist clenched. But never once did his glare waver. "But I don't know how and I need someone to lead me to perfection."

Granger had her fingers pressed to her mouth with intrigue. "Wow, Malfoy. That was…I mean to say…" She blew her fringe out of her face, "Admittance is half the battle."

Draco nodded, letting his eyes fall, unable to bear the look of unflappable compassion twinkling in her topaz eyes.

"If you really want it, I will help you. But you have to understand that this will be a difficult process." She looked down and moved her food around on her plate. "Nothing worth having is easy," she murmured.

He did not voice his accordance, but wondered what Granger could possibly want that she could not easily obtain.

After all, even he could not deny that she was a force to be reckoned with.

o0o

Monday, August 13th 1984

Lucius' laughter was deep, loud, and his entire body shook with it. His broad shoulders bounced, every feature upturned, and his grey eyes glittered with amusement.

Draco stood before him clad in his father's robes. They swam around his small toddler frame, sleeves falling far past his chubby hands, the hem dragging in his wake. His father's favorite cap kept slipping over his eyes, and Draco pushed it back once more.

His mother stood behind him, her dainty hand pressed to her mouth, endearment radiating from her soul.

"Tell me, Son, what is all this about?" Lucius asked when he finally sobered. Even in delight he looked down his nose.

Draco lifted his chin resolutely and tried to mime his father's expression, which was rather difficult to say the least, but he felt he managed adequately. "I am just like you, Dada."

And Draco would be so, for the rest of Narcissa's life.

o0o

Monday, December 19th 2005

Draco was pouting in his corner. She had made him vow to remain at the Dell until she felt he was rehabilitated. Which was completely absurd, because who was she, exactly, to make that type of judgment?

Certainly not his savior.

"Shall we begin?" she asked.

When he glanced over to where her soft voice originated, he was surprised to find her sitting in front of him; legs crossed demurely, a parchment and a text book in her lap.

He shrugged, because really, he did not have a choice.

Granger sighed deeply. "You do have a choice; I'm not going to force you to change."

Once again, to his annoyance, she had a point. Did she ever run out of those?

"Let's get to it then," he growled.

"All right!" she said brightly. "First, I need to understand. I mean, in order to fix something, one must comprehend the root of the problem."

"What's there to understand?" he said. "I want to be good; it's not alchemy, Mudblood," he spat viciously, immensely annoyed.

Her stare darkened, and she raised an imperial brow. "That was a completely contradictory statement!" she barked before exploding into a rather absurd lampooning of him. "'Oh I want to be good but let me remind you of my bigotry.' Brilliant Mal—." She bit her lip and paused. "I think you should realize that here in this shack we have no labels. Nothing by which to categorize each other. You should call me Hermione and I will call you Draco. Neither Granger nor Malfoy. Neither Mudblood nor Pureblood. Got it?"

He smirked maliciously. "I have the liberty to choose to agree or not, right?"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yes."

He let the moment wan until the tension was heavy and static between them, but then he gave her a genuine smile and nodded. "Sure thing, Her-my-oh-knee."

His sarcasm was not lost on her, but she continued on with the lesson of perfection. "So, to understand the root, you need to tell me about your childhood."

Draco scowled. "I adored my mother and admired my father."

Granger licked her lips, her features softening, "I see."

"Do you?"

"Of course, because to all children, their parents are divine and their nurturing is law."

So she did understand. Fully.

Narcissa taught him how to be good, and Lucius taught him to be bad.

But being good had proved far too much work, and being bad had brought him his father's sanction.

o0o

Monday, April 28th 1993

Draco was running as fast as he could. Embarrassment flushed his skin pink and his jaw stung considerably. He was sure he had a perfect red hand print to further his humiliation.

By Salazaar's Staff, he would get that jumped-up Mudblood. He did not know how or when, but he would get her. Somehow.

As his pace slowed, he glanced behind him and was glad to find that he had lost Crabbe and Goyle. Quietly he slipped into the boys' loo on the first floor and muttered a locking spell whilst tapping his wand on the knob. He let his body fall against the wood and slip to the floor with the grain.

His mind was racing. He hadn't directly provoked her, so he wasn't sure why he had been on the receiving end of her temper. Besides, when he usually taunted her, she held a cool yet graceful disposition. She used words to slice through his ego, never physical assault.

Draco raised his fingers to his burning cheek and he could still feel her hand with a pulsing intensity. It then dawned on him that he had simply been in the right place at the right time.

Granger had needed a stress release and had only found comfort in expelling it on him.

With a strange, mature clarity that was very rare for his character, he realized that he was needed by somebody, at least in some capacity.

In that moment, Hermione had needed him to release her passion, drive and frustration.

What surprised him, though, was that he did not mind at all. In fact, if she needed him again, he would welcome it.