Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not even a single knut. I do own a Slytherin tie, if that counts?
A/N: I had to churn this out quickly, especially after the last chapter. Thank you for the small round of reviews on the story so far, I'm still so uncertain whether or not I'm writing in the right direction or not. Hope you enjoy and please R&R!
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Chapter 7 - Tentative
Once again, Draco found himself inside Hermione's apartment as he waited for her to get ready. He could hear her clamouring inside her bathroom, and instead he sat at her dining table, waiting patiently.
He observed her living space with interest, taking his time as he'd ignored it the first time he was in her flat. She lived simply, out of necessity. All of her furniture was functional and plain. He gazed from her pastel green walls to her worn out, and obviously much loved, armchair that sat before her fireplace. It was her personal belongings that cluttered every space that caught his eye.
On almost every single horizontal surface, were books. Loads of them. Some were open, others were stacked up in groups and he sidled up to a pile with interest. He saw that she had a mixture of both Muggle and wizarding books and he picked one up, wrinkling his nose in disdain as he removed the ratty piece of ribbon she had used as a bookmark.
Draco glanced down at the page she had been reading, and smirked when he saw it was a book on the history of the Hogwarts founders. He skimmed down a few passages to where her book had been marked, on Salazar Slytherin, and eventually set the book down when he realised it was a volume he'd already read and had a copy in his room at Godshill.
They say that how you live in your personal space is how your mind is ordered, and as Draco glanced around her living room and kitchen, he could see it was true for Hermione. Her flat, like her mind, was cluttered – full of information. It was messy, but there was an order to the chaos that Draco was surprised to find.
Draco was almost afraid of seeing her bedroom if it looked anything like her kitchen.
Her cat, that freakish ball of orange fuzz and fur, was thankfully nowhere to be seen. Draco had never been an animal kind of person and he shuddered at the thought of living with one.
She emerged from her bedroom ten minutes later, wildly curling hair damp and struggling to put her arms through a drab gray sweater. She was dressed casually in Muggle jeans, a familiar beaded bag slung over her shoulder and her wand holstered at her forearm.
Draco felt the smirk rising into his face when he saw that, even on weekends, Hermione had brought work home with her. She was juggling parchments in one hand and her journal in the other and Draco rolled his eyes as she struggled.
"Give me that," he said, grabbing for her journal.
She jerked back defensively. "I – oh, um.. no. Here, take my reports."
He raised an eyebrow but took the parchments from her outstretched hands, his impatience showing in the rigid set of his shoulders.
"Ready?"
"I've been waiting for twenty minutes," he said dryly.
"Well, I don't usually wake up until nine on a Saturday." She glared at him and together they walked into the hall. "I hope nobody's in at work today," she said worriedly.
"Why? Afraid that Ashley will fawn over me again?"
Hermione didn't bother correcting him, but yes, she didn't want Draco to rile up the girls again. Merlin, the last time he had been at D.R.a.G., Amanda and Viri had fallen into giggling fits. They'd veritably tag-teamed Hermione and grilled her with questions on the 'ravishingly handsome man' that had emerged from her office.
Altogether, it had been a horrific experience, one that Hermione could have lived without. She motioned for him to go ahead into the hallway and wait by the doormat, and when he disappeared, Hermione plucked two apples from her fridge and a muesli bar.
The prat had woken her so early that she had skipped her shower. Instead, Hermione tied her hair back in a tight braid that trailed halfway down her back. Her leisurely Saturday breakfast was also skipped and Hermione grumbled.
"Why'd you have to come by so early, anyway?"
He smirked at her as he latched onto her arm. "I wanted to see if I would be able to interrupt any… moonlighting."
He had timed it perfectly, having the last word before she had Apparated.
She gasped and threw off his hand the moment they appeared inside her office. "For god's sake, Malfoy! You've been trying to convince me you're not the same stupid Slytherin git and you're not doing a good job of it!"
Hermione fought the fierce blush that came to her face, mortified. Malfoy shrugged nonchalantly, his expression slightly amused as he followed her to the archives.
"How can you possibly think of making jokes when we've got such bigger fish to fry?" Hermione whirled around to face him before the double doors of the archives, her finger raised in accusation.
The amused glint disappeared and his gray eyes flattened, hardened. "Didn't you know that laughter is the best medicine?"
Although his tone was light, his mouth had tightened and it was almost a grimace. It was an odd thing for him to say, and Hermione was sure he'd been set on saying something else but had changed his mind at the last minute. She frowned at him as her wand was registered and she pushed her way through.
Two hours later, Hermione stretched, glancing at the blond who was currently engrossed in a tome that looked too fragile to be handled.
"I've got to go," she said, standing and gathering the books to her chest to return them.
Malfoy's head snapped up in annoyance. "We've only just got here."
Hermione tapped her watch. "We've been here hours already, and I've got… an appointment."
He raised an eyebrow, glowering at her, but consented when she stood by the door waiting.
"Working around your schedule is becoming… a hindrance. Is there any other way?"
"I'll let you know the next time I'm free," she replied curtly. "Monday, come in while I'm at work. Don't come to my apartment, there's already enough gossipers on this floor without you riling them up."
Smirking arrogantly at her, he spun on his heel and left, leaving Hermione alone and very, very annoyed.
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"Dad!"
Hermione launched herself into her father's outstretched arms and hugged him fiercely, breathing his unique scent of tree bark and cinnamon deeply. The pair hugged for an eternity before her mother demanded her attention and Hermione fought the tears that had sprung into her eyes.
"Hermione." Elizabeth Granger clutched at her daughter, her warm brown eyes crinkling in pleasure.
They entered the Granger's family home in Port Douglas – situated in the sunny state of Queensland, Australia. Elizabeth and Duke Granger had actually been hidden away in Brisbane during the War, but when Hermione had returned their memories to them, they had found that they loved living in Australia.
They had spent a few months together as a family, but eventually the time came to move on with life. Hermione had been torn at being separated yet again with her parents, but she was at peace knowing she'd be able to visit them often.
Hermione had a long-standing Portkey assigned to her name that she could use at any time. Usually such international Portkeys were restricted for business use only, but considering that Ernie McMillan remembered her fondly from Hogwarts, he'd managed to pull a few strings.
"You've not been eating," her mother remarked when she sat herself down at the dining table.
"Or sleeping, it looks like."
Hermione shrugged sheepishly. "There's been some… difficulties."
"With the case you're working on? What's the latest developments?"
Hermione grinned at her father, smiling at the fact that his love for Muggle criminal investigation shows was still strong. "Dad, don't tell me you're still watching those shows?"
Duke grinned back at her. "They're good. Let's fix up some tea and you can tell us all about it."
Hermione loved moments like these. Funny, she'd been thinking about her parents more often than usual and she pinpointed the change from when Malfoy had first approached her.
She accepted the cup of tea from her father and gazed at her parents fondly when they took to the sofas in the living room. Elizabeth and Duke sat close together, knees touching. Hermione fervently hoped that she'd meet a man who loved her as much as Duke loved her mother.
She'd always looked up to her parents. They were intelligent, hardworking people who loved freely, without reserve. The magical world still boggled her parents, and Hermione often thought of what they went through when she'd received her Hogwarts letter.
Thank Merlin that McGonagall was there to hold their hands as they went through the interchange process. Without her old house head's presence and comfort, Hermione was sure she'd have said no and remained close to her parents.
Hermione cherished these moments. She Portkeyed back to Port Douglas at least once a month for a weekend - usually a weekend that didn't intersect with the Weasley's fortnightly lunch. She usually stayed over on the Saturday night, always had a lovely Sunday breakfast and lunch and returned back to England on the Sunday evening.
"How's Ron doing, dear?"
Hermione rolled her eyes at her mother. "Mum, we broke up years ago. We're just good friends now."
Elizabeth winked at her. "You know how they say that love is friendship set on fire, right?"
Her father chuckled and laid a hand on his wife's arm. "Leave her be, Liz. Our girl's got plenty of time."
"Not for the case," Hermione said ruefully. "We discovered a second body last week."
Her mother gasped, and Duke stilled in his seat. Hermione wanted so badly to relate to someone the details on how Goyle's remains were found, but she'd spare her parents from the images.
"Several patterns have appeared, but they're completely opposite from one another, and we haven't moved forward much in terms of solving any of it."
Duke frowned. "You're not in danger are you?"
She smiled ruefully. "We're always in some kind of danger, dad. It's the prerequisite to living."
Hermione could feel her parents' worry for her like a thick cotton blanket. It was comforting to know she would always be loved by these two wonderful people, but she wouldn't needlessly allow them to worry. She brought her parents up to speed on the progress of the case and tried to hide her shock when her parents asked about Malfoy.
"How is he holding up?" Her father stared at her, well aware of the tension between his daughter and the ex-Slytherin.
Hermione shrugged helplessly. "Sometimes I feel that he's completely unaffected by what's happening. But then I see glimpses of another side of him that…"
"Scares you?" her mother finished.
Hermione nodded, chewing on her bottom lip.
Elizabeth frowned at her daughter. "Trust me when I say that anyone who isn't affected by these murders is a monster."
Hermione had thought pretty much the same thing. "I know, mum. But it's hard to talk to someone when you're so used to be on the defensive."
"Ah, the old 'offence is the best defence' trick."
Hermione wouldn't have quite put it that way, but it was basically the same thing. Her father had remained quiet in the past few minutes and when he spoke, Hermione felt relief.
"If you need to leave earlier than usual, we understand, love."
He was referring to her usual overnight stay. Hermione smiled, her heart blossoming with love for her parents.
"I know, dad. I was hoping to stay for dinner at least, then I really need to get back."
Patting her knee, her mother stood to give her another hug before they all trooped into the kitchen to prepare a feast.
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"Granger, I need more time with the restricted Ministry files. I feel that I'm onto something, but your stupid notion of constantly shadowing me is confining."
"I told you before, Malfoy, I'm not giving you free reign over the Ministry files."
"I won't do anything rash. I won't do any snooping," he said slowly, not breaking the fierce eye contact between them.
"What is it you've found anyway? I can help you."
He fought the need to scoff. "Yes, you probably can, but with your other obligations you don't have the time."
"I can make time."
"And I can't live by your hours, Granger. I assure you it'll be for the case."
She hesitated, eyeing him with mistrust. There was a lot that could go wrong if he even stepped one toe out of line.
"You're asking me to… trust you."
"You make it sound like I'm evil," he said bitterly.
The words stuck in her throat but the moment they escaped from her mouth, Hermione knew she'd regret them later. "Because you are."
She witnessed an emotion spear into Malfoy's face for a split second before his face hardened and his eyes were narrowed into lethal slits.
"I'd have thought that you, Gryffindor's princess, could see things a little differently after the war. You accuse me of prejudice but the only person who I see who can't seem to let go of the past here is you. Even Potter accepts me!"
"Don't bring Harry into this!"
"Or what? Am I sullying his good name by uttering it in your presence? Am I unworthy to refer to him?"
"Things changes," she said softly. "But people don't."
"I beg to differ." Draco straightened, glaring at her through narrowed eyes. "Things change because people change."
He left without another word and Hermione waited until his angry footsteps receded down the hallway into silence. Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding shakily, her thoughts and feelings in a confused jumble.
When had she become so bitter?
And when had he become so…
Merlin, she wasn't the bad guy in this situation, so how was it he was able to make her feel as if she'd just kicked a puppy?
She blinked at the book that was open in her lap, the words blurring on the page. She threw it aside and got to her feet, willing her pounding heart to still. Slowly, Hermione padded to where Malfoy had disappeared.
It was with shock that Hermione realised she'd never ventured beyond the outer hall and the adjoining bathroom in his home in Godshill. Her curiosity peaked when she entered his kitchen and dining room.
He was nowhere in sight but she glanced around, noticing the lack of knick-knacks and wall hangings. The rooms didn't have that essential 'lived-in' feel, and Hermione thought the off-white walls and expensive furnishings fitted Malfoy's personality well.
She wandered deeper into his house and found him in his study, deep in thought with his back to her. Hermione was glad he hadn't been in his bedroom or anywhere else upstairs.
"Malfoy," she began softly. He gave no indication that he'd heard her, but she continued anyway. "You're good at making deals, so I have one for you."
His study smelt nice, the soft scents inside triggering a memory within her that Hermione couldn't quite grasp. She opened her mouth again to speak when she glanced around the room and she jerked with surprise. Three of the four walls were bookshelves, studded with spines of new and aged volumes. The fourth had a small window overlooking the hill to the west of the house. Hermione cleared her throat and ploughed on when he inclined his head in her direction.
"I'll give you… access to the Ministry archives, without my supervision. But I want something in exchange."
"Unfortunately there are no cliffs nearby for me to jump off, Granger." His eyes were narrowed, face tight but his voice was neutral.
"I – what? I don't want you to kill yourself!" she cried furiously. Merlin, is that what he really thought of her?
"Funny, I'd thought otherwise. What is it you want?" Malfoy gazed at her warily, and she squirmed.
"You said the other night… that you have a collection of dark magic books at Malfoy Manor. I want to see them."
He cocked his eyebrow at her. "Excuse me?'
"It's an even trade. You get to see the Ministry archives at any time you please – for a certain period of time," she added hastily. "And in return, you show me what you have."
"Ah. I'll show you mine if you show me yours." He smirked at her, his gaze calculating.
"… Something like that. Do we have a deal?" She held out her hand timidly, thinking it was a stupid Muggle gesture, but needing the reassurance.
"Done."
His skin was cool, and his shake firm, but Hermione almost jumped away when a tingle of electricity jolted her all the way up her arm and down to her spine. Malfoy gave no sign of feeling anything similar and Hermione dropped his hand quickly, as if she'd been burned. She absently rubbed her palm against her jeans, not missing the look of derision that crossed his face when he caught her.
Clearing her throat, she turned to leave.
"I'll let you know when we can go to visit the Manor."
Nodding curtly once, Hermione left his study, uncertainty etched over her face.
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A/N: I think this is my shortest chapter yet. I struggled with this one to write also, but thankfully Chapters 8 and 9 weren't so bad - they basically flowed from my fingertips (really bad when I've got so many uni assignments to do). Anyway, please R&R, I'd love to hear your thoughts on how I can improve :)