Hello all, thanks again for sticking with the story, and all the follows and favourites, it's great to see such a good response. This will be a bit of a slow burner I'm afraid, but as we get further in, Ron will get worse and there will be more and more Draco/Hermione interaction, so bear with me.
I hope you enjoy it - I own nothing but the plot.
Over the next few weeks, as her department relaxed in the aftermath of the Ball, Hermione's workload eased off. She was home on time almost every day, to Ron's delight, and consequently their relationship became much less strained and angsty, and back to the easy, flowing rhythm they had had at the beginning.
Ginny was eager to get started on the wedding plans, so Hermione found herself being dragged from shop to shop looking at cakes, dresses, flowers, invitations and other assorted paraphernalia. She didn't mind really, and was pleased to see her friend so excited about getting married. She wasn't sure she would be this enthusiastic the day she married Ron.
"So Gin," Hermione asked one day as they were tasting yet more vanilla cake, "what's happening with the Haripes after you get married? I mean, are you going to quit?"
"I don't really know yet," Ginny said, her fingers sticky with icing. "I mean, I would like to play more Quidditch in my life, but it means I have to be away from home a lot, and I do miss Harry so much when I'm gone. Plus, if I want to start a family, it'll mean the end of my career with the Harpies anyway; pregnant women can't fly brooms!"
Hermione giggled. "Do you think you'll start trying for kids straightaway?"
"That's what Mum and Dad did," Ginny mused, "but I think I'd like to enjoy being married for a bit first, you know. You're only young once, and I want to spend some more time with just Harry before we introduce little ones into the mix."
"Sounds reasonable to me," Hermione replied.
"Of course it does, Hermione," Ginny said, exasperated, "you're all about your career. Honestly, I'll be surprised if you have kids before you're 35 - you've always been so independent and successful, I don't see you wanting to settle down and give it all up for a long time yet."
"Not if Ron has his way," Hermione muttered which caused the redhead to giggle.
"Yes, well, my brother can learn what kind of woman he's with, or he can find a new one," Ginny chuckled. "Nobody can force the Brightest Witch of our Age to do anything before she's ready."
Though Hermione laughed about it with her friend, she was getting more and more concerned about Ron's attitude. Though he wasn't overtly mentioning it anymore, he was clearly infused with the same wedding fever that Ginny was - hoping, perhaps, that a wedding between two of their friends would cause Hermione to magically want to get married as well. In all honesty, Hermione wouldn't have minded being married to Ron, but she knew that to him, marriage meant kids straightaway, and she wasn't ready for that. Like Ginny said, she had built up a successful career, and she didn't want to throw that all away just yet.
"How's it going with Draco, anyway?" Ginny asked her, changing the subject as she switched her attention to the chocolate cake.
"Good," Hermione answered absently, her mind still wandering slightly, worrying over the Ron situation. "He's finished his Pins and Needles Elixir now and that's going to be rolled out into shops pretty soon. He's got a brand new project he's working on now, but he won't tell me what it is."
"Maybe it's top-secret," Ginny suggested.
"I doubt it," Hermione said, still not fully focused. "From what I remember, Draco prefers to start his work alone and only ask for input when he needs it. He doesn't like to share right from the beginning because he wants it to have come from him."
"From what you remember?" Ginny frowned. "When have you helped him before?"
Suddenly, Hermione was back in the present, with a confused Ginny looking her in the face. The reality of what she had just let slip hit her, and her hands instinctually flew up to her mouth. "Promise you won't say anything to the boys, Gin," Hermione said. "Especially not Ron."
"What is it?" Ginny asked in a low tone. "It must be serious if it's got you this worked up."
"Well," Hermione began, "when we went back to Hogwarts, d'you remember how on a Thursday evening I'd go down to the library for extra credit work with McGonagall?"
"Yeah..." Ginny said slowly.
"I wasn't doing extra credit work," Hermione admitted. "I was tutoring Draco in his Muggle Studies NEWT."
"Oh my god! That whole year?!"
"Yes! He came to me asking for help - he begged, Ginny, Malfoy actually pleaded with me! He had to pass his exam as part of his sentence, but he was a year behind. I agreed to tutor him, since I grew up with Muggles..." she tailed off and glanced falteringly at her friend.
"That's hilarious," Ginny burst out. "Malfoy asking a Muggle-born for help, it must have killed him! I see why he's so different now, I suppose. You could have told him anything about Muggles and he would have believed you, he must have trusted you a lot."
"I guess so," Hermione agreed. "I don't really think he had anyone else he could ask, none of the Slytherins took Muggle Studies and it's not like he really endeared himself to any of the Muggle-borns in the school during the first six years."
Ginny was still giggling. "But why don't you want the guys to know?"
"Can you imagine Ron's reaction? Knowing I'd been sitting alone with Draco in an empty classroom every Thursday night for a year?"
"Good point," Ginny mumbled, her mouth full of chocolate cake. "This is awesome, by the way, try this."
Hermione acquiesced and took a forkful of cake. "Are you sure you're okay not telling?"
"Yeah, course," Ginny said with a smile. "To be honest, it's not like the subject of Malfoy comes up much when I chat to Ron and Harry. Increasingly with you, though," she added with a wink.
Hermione flushed. "We're friends."
"Yup. Lunch friends," Ginny teased. "As far as I remember, that's where most relationships start from. Lunch."
"Don't be silly, I'm dating your brother," Hermione laughed. "Now what about this strawberry cake?"
"Change the subject all you like," Ginny began, scooping some of the cake up, "but you and I both know - oh Merlin, this cake is gorgeous - that you're attracted to him - mmm, I need more of this - at least a little bit."
Hermione hesitated. "Maybe a little bit. But that's just natural!" she added hastily at Ginny's triumphant gesture, her mouth too full of cake to speak. "There are no real feelings there."
"Say what you like, but I know what I see," Ginny managed to mumble, crumbs spraying everywhere.
"You're going to be the most beautiful bride ever," Hermione said critically, eyeing the table.
"Shut up," Ginny hit her on the arm and swallowed. "This strawberry cake is the one. It's divine. Let's finish up here and start looking at shoes."
"Oh, Merlin, I forgot about the shoes..." Hermione groaned jokingly, but allowed herself to be pulled away from the crumb-ridden table and up to the counter to order the cake.
It happened two weeks later.
They were out for a night at the Three Broomsticks with the old Gryffindor crowd and their friends. Everyone was there from their year - Dean, Seamus, Neville (with Luna in tow), Parvati, Padma, Ron, Harry, Hermione and, of course, Ginny. They were catching up over some Butterbeers and laughing about Neville's description of their panicked run through the hallways in first year, running away from Fluffy, when the subject of Malfoy came up again.
"That was Malfoy's fault all along, wasn't it?" Neville finished, wiping tears from his eyes. "I guess we should thank him now, it makes for a great story."
"Hermione can thank him for you, they're best friends now," Ron cut in. He was still touchy on the subject of Draco and didn't like it when Hermione mentioned him. Privately, she hoped he had given up on his crusade to prove some sort of plot against them, but from the steely glint in his eyes when the name Malfoy was spoken, she had to admit he probably hadn't.
"Really?" Seamus spoke up. "I know he's a bit of a nicer bloke nowadays - he even apologised for all them comments about me mam - but I didn't know you were so close with him."
"I'm not, really," Hermione said, flashing a glare at Ron, "we meet up for lunch every now and again. He's a potioneer now and he likes to get my input on his new projects. You know the new Pins and Needles Elixir? That's Draco."
"I love that stuff," Dean exclaimed, "it's brilliant for when you're flying long distances. Really stops your bum from going numb."
Laughter rippled through the group and Hermione sighed with relief. She didn't need any reason to have a fight with Ron tonight - they had been so good recently, she didn't want to bring it all up again.
Sadly, it was not to be.
"Hey, look, isn't that Malfoy over there?" Parvati asked, and they all turned to look as a blond-haired wizard walked in the door. "Yeah, it is! Hey, MALFOY!"
He looked up, startled to hear his name, and cautiously made his way over to the table. He looked veryu uneasy, Hermione thought, as the entire group were staring up at him.
"Good evening," he greeted them. "How are you all?"
"We're good, thanks, mate," Seamus said. "Hermione was just telling us how you're the one behind that new Pins and Needles stuff. It's great."
"Thanks," Draco said, his eyes flickering briefly to Hermione as he smiled. "I'm glad you like it."
"Want a Butterbeer?" Harry asked as he got up. "I'm getting another round."
"No, thanks, I'm supposed to be meeting some people here," Draco said, glancing around the room.
"No worries! They can join us too!" Dean exclaimed. He had had a few too many, Hermione thought.
"Well - alright then - I suppose," Draco really couldn't find a way to decline, so he eased himself hesitantly into a space on the cushioned pew next to Hermione, who budged up to make room for him and smiled welcomingly.
"Don't worry, they don't bite," Luna said softly from the other side of the table. Draco nodded at her somewhat awkwardly and moved closer to Hermione.
As she sat there with Draco on her left and Ron on her right, Hermione was feeling decidedly awkward. She could feel by the tension in Ron's frame that he was NOT alright with Draco joining their table, but he wasn't about to say anything in front of all their friends. For that, at least, Hermione was grateful. Draco, on the other hand, was squished up next to her, huddling close as if the rest of them would eat him. He wasn't used to these sorts of socialisations, she knew, as the Slytherins were usually far more constrained in their interactions and didn't tend towards the loud group drinking sessions.
Harry returned levitating a cluster of Butterbeers, and they each took one (Dean with a loud cheer) and began to talk again. The conversation buzzed around Hermione, but she found she couldn't concentrate on what was being said - there was too much tension surrounding her, and she thought Ron might explode, his ears now the colour of a stop sign. She wanted to get up and just go somewhere, anywhere that wasn't in between Ron and Draco, but she knew if she did, they would be next to each other and all hell would probably break loose.
Ginny noticed her discomfort and gave her a sympathetic look, but everyone else was too busy to notice.
Suddenly she heard her name and zoned back in. "Sorry, Neville, did you ask me something?"
"Yeah, I was just saying how brilliant the Ball was. You and your department did a smashing job," Neville complimented her. "Luna and I had a great time."
"Thanks," she replied, "it was a lot of work to put it all together, but I'm glad it worked out."
"Saw you there, Malfoy," Neville said. Though Draco had made amends with Neville as well, he had never quite warmed up to him after the abuse he had put him through - understandably. "You and Hermione were really showing up the dance floor!"
"What can I say? She's an excellent dancer," Draco replied, with a small smile.
"It was nice to see you enjoying yourself for once, Malfoy," Harry said, sipping his drink. "That's the first time I think I saw you actually smile - I mean really smile, not sneer." He added the last part teasingly, and Draco chuckled.
"Oh God! The famous Malfoy sneer," Dean shouted, and imitated the haughty look Draco used to do in school. Harry burst out laughing, and soon everyone round the table was trying to copy it.
"Come on mate, give us a sneer. For old times' sake," Seamus said, nudging Draco, who was looking decidedly amused by the whole escapade. "Go on!"
"Alright, alright," Draco agreed, "here goes." He scrunched up his face in concentration, and then lifted his chin and sneered round at everyone on the table. "Well, if it isn't Potty and the Weasel," he said in his best snooty-young-Malfoy tone, and the whole table, barring Ron, fell about laughing. Hermione herself was almost in tears, the hilarity of Draco's manner too much to take.
"Merlin, I can't believe I used to actually act like that," Draco said afterwards, letting the expression drop from his face and joining in the mirth.
The only person who seemed not to be enjoying the evening was Ron. He still had not calmed down since Draco sat down, and he sat there, tight-lipped, shooting daggers at the blond man and refusing to touch his Butterbeer. His face reddened at Draco's "Weasel" comment, and after Draco's exclamation of disbelief he couldn't hold his temper any longer.
"For the love of Merlin, have you all gone mad?!" he burst out, standing up and causing everyone at the table to go silent and exchange puzzled looks. "It's Malfoy! Fucking Malfoy! And you're all sitting here cosying up to him, laughing about how he used to taunt us and bully us? He's a Death Eater! He killed Fred - and Lavender - and Tonks, and Lupin, and DUMBLEDORE!"
The whole pub was not deathly silent, everyone's eyes on Ron. Draco had sunk down into his chair, trying to avoid everyone's gaze, and Hermione found his hand under the table and squeezed it gently. Not quite finished though, Ron continued yelling at the top of his lungs.
"He thinks he can just say sorry and it all goes away, well it doesn't! He and his family hurt people, and killed people, and he should never be welcome in decent society. Merlin knows how he avoided Azkaban. Well now he's wormed his way in, and he's going to try something, he's working his way towards Harry and you'll all be sorry for letting him get there when Harry is hurt because of him!"
He turned towards Hermione.
"And you! Dancing with him at the Ball, spending time with him, going for "lunch"...he's using you, Hermione, can't you see it? He knows you'll give him a chance, and you're his way in. Once he's finished with you he'll drop you without a word and you'll be hurt. Don't look at me like that. He's evil, and you're too soft, and that's not a good combination. You have to stop seeing him or he'll wreck everything!"
Draco had had enough at this point. He had been keeping himself in check, mainly for Hermione's benefit, unwilling to start a fight with her significant other in polite company, but this was too much.
"Look here, Weasel," he said, standing up and letting go of Hermione's hand. "You can say what you like about me; to be honest, I've never really liked you either, and it doesn't surprise me that you're too immature to put things in the past. You don't get it, do you? After everything that happened - everyone that died - we need to stop this fucking poisonous blame culture and get on with our lives, because there's bigger things to worry about in the world than petty school rivalries. Everyone else can see that, why can't you?"
Draco paused for breath, but as Ron opened his mouth to respond, he interrupted him. "No - don't answer - it was a rhetorical question. I know why you can't, and it's because you've not got two brain cells to rub together. You've always coasted along on the bravery of Potter and the brilliance of Hermione. Well, if you're going to stand against me, you're going to stand alone, because they can see the importance of letting things go. But you know what grinds my gears the most? Out of all of this? That you think I'm trying to use this wonderful woman to get to Harry and enact some sort of revenge. That, out of every bit of bullshit that's come out of your mouth to date, is the worst. I'm friends with Hermione because she's a lovely person, a brilliant, intelligent woman, and you devalue her by insinuating I'm only using her to get to Potter. Her personality alone is more than enough to justify my spending time with her, because actually, I have more in common with her than anyone else I've ever met."
Draco stopped, breathing heavily, his hair messy and his face red. "Now please excuse me everyone. Thank you for the drink, Harry - I hope you all have a pleasant evening." And with all the grace of the aristocracy into which he was born, he nodded politely at the rest of the table, drew himself up, squared his shoulders and walked away, out of the pub.
"Still can't control his temper. Stupid ferret," Ron muttered, sitting down moodily and grabbing his drink. Everyone looked at him with varied expressions of disbelief, irritation and anger. Hermione, though, was in tears, and this time it was not the happy kind.
"Excuse me," she said, shuffling away, needing to get out.
"'Mione, where are you going?" Ron grabbed her arm.
"DON'T. Ron. Just leave me alone. You've done enough damage," she said, unable to look at him as tears poured uncontrollably down her face. "I am so embarrassed. Let me go, please."
Abashed, Ron released her arm, and she drew it to her and got up, gathering her things and avoiding everyone's gaze. "Sorry everyone. I think I'm going to call it a night. It was lovely to see you all. I'll call you later, Gin."
There were subdued goodbyes murmured around the table as she whisked herself away and Apparated home, where she sunk down to the floor in the corridor of her building and cried her eyes out. How could this happen? Why couldn't Ron just get on with Draco?
Sniffling, she pulled herself up off the floor and let herself into her flat. She cried out in surprise and shock, and her hand flew to her wand as she saw someone sitting on the couch. "Who's there?"
"It's me," a familiar voice said hastily, and Draco moved forward so she could see his hands held up in surrender. "Only me."
Hermione did not lower her wand. "What did I call you in third year, just before I slapped you in the face?"
Draco laughed, despite the anguished expression on his face. "A foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach."
Hermione smiled in spite of herself and put her wand away. "Can't be too careful. And don't come barging into my apartment like that, you terrified me!" she admonished.
"Sorry," Draco replied, going into the kitchen and starting to make some tea. "I felt really awful about what happened back there, and I just couldn't go home yet, I wanted to apologise."
"You? What for?" Hermione asked.
"Losing it and screaming at your boyfriend," Draco answered, and she laughed and grabbed two mugs out of the cupboard.
"Don't be silly. You didn't start it. In all honesty, I think what you said was completely justified and exactly what he needed to hear."
"Good," Draco said, and then stood there a little awkwardly holding his cup. "I really only came to apologise; I've done that. If you want to be alone I can go." He made to put the cup down.
Hermione grabbed his arm. "Don't leave. I was feeling awful before - what Ron did was so embarrassing, I had to get out of there, and I didn't know what to do with myself, but your being here has made me feel a little better. Stay and keep me company."
Draco smiled. "Alright."
They sat down on the couch, nursing their mugs of tea, and Hermione turned on her television, an acquisition from Muggle London. Draco had become very interested in the concept of television and films since taking his Muggle Studies NEWT, and he was determined to make up for his limited access to one (given that the Manor was so full of old magic, nothing electronic worked in there) by watching Hermione's as much as possible.
They sat and talked, and watched television late into the night. Crookshanks was nowhere to be found, and Hermione told Draco he had probably just gone out for the night, as he sometimes tended to do. Tea turned into Firewhiskey at about midnight, and the conversation turned to the events of the evening.
"I just can't believe Ron did that," Hermione was saying. "I know he has never got over...well, everything. But to attack you like that in the middle of the pub, with all our friends - I've never been so embarrassed in my life."
"I tried to hold it in," Draco told her. "I swear, I was trying to keep my temper in check."
"I remember," Hermione giggled, "your hand was squeezing mine so hard I thought it would break!"
"Oh Merlin, I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" Draco asked anxiously, picking up her hand and inspecting it. "I didn't even think about it, I was just focusing on keeping my cool."
"It's fine," Hermione laughed. "I'm amazed you held it in as long as you did."
"Well, hearing him say those things about you - those horrible things, that I was using you and you were stupid and naive...I just couldn't handle that. Someone insulting me, I can take, but not someone insulting you. I just lost it." Draco hung his head. "After all that work - the Gryffindors are all going to think I'm a total wanker."
"Not at all," Hermione assured him. "Every single one of them has screamed at Ron like that before, or wanted to. They get it. And you said such lovely things about me," she added with a slight blush.
"Only true things," Draco said, still a bit miserable. The alcohol was affecting him. "I was trying so hard to fit in, I'm really worried that I've gone and fucked it all up now."
"You haven't," Hermione said, smiling reassuringly. She leaned over to stroke his face comfortingly. He looked up at her with stormy grey eyes full of emotion, and he looked so handsome, and he had been so lovely to her, and had become such a great friend and a wonderful person, and the Firewhiskey was buzzing in her head...
Before she knew it, her lips had connected with his neck, and she slowly and seductively kissed her way up to his ear, feeling him stiffen beneath her touch. She took his face in her hands, and moved closer to him, forgetting everything but his taste, and his smell, and the beautiful things he had said about her. She kept kissing trails over his neck.
The tension in his muscles lessened, and he seemed to give in to her, moving closer and beginning to kiss her back, drawing in her scent and closing his eyes. Suddenly, though, he drew back, a horrified expression on his face, pushing her gently off him.
"We can't...we can't be doing this, Hermione. Not you and me."
She looked up at him, uncomprehending, her brain filled with desire and passion. Slowly, she understood what he was saying, and threw herself away, mortified. He saw her reaction and seemed to realise what he'd said. "No - sorry - I didn't mean it like that. Just - it's not right. You're my best friend, and you're with Ron, and Merlin, Hermione, I just can't do this," he said in frustration.
"No - it's ok - I understand. You'd better go," she said in a muffled voice, eyes fixed firmly on the floor and hands over her face.
Draco looked hurt and reached out to her. "Please, Hermione, I care about you so much, you know that. That's why I'm stopping this. It's for the best."
"Yes - course - for the best. Okay, goodnight then," she said, batting his hand away.
Draco sighed. "I'll call you tomorrow. Please don't be upset over this. We can forget it ever happened."
Hermione mumbled an agreement but didn't reply, so he turned and let himself out with a distraught expression on his face. She waited until she heard his footsteps receding down the corridor and then burst into tears, throwing herself on the couch.
She knew she shouldn't have done it. She knew she was emotional, and upset, and drunk. She knew that he was right to stop it, and that he was not trying to hurt her. She knew these things. So why did his rejection, the knowledge that Draco would not want her, sting so much? Her burst of sexual desire for him had only been the result of emotional turmoil and proximity, hadn't it? A way to find comfort?
And yet...his taste still lingered on her tongue.
Suddenly, she sat up, all thoughts of crying forgotten as a puzzle presented itself. This was something she could do - think logically, and solve a problem. Forgoing the Firewhiskey for now, she got up to make herself another cup of tea, her mind beginning to turn over the emotions running wild within her and make sense of what was happening. The television rambled on in the background.
She and Draco got on very well. They were compatible. They had a lot in common, and since he had stopped being an enormous douche, underneath he was actually a very, very nice man, who had had a tough break in his childhood and a lot of emotional pain to deal with. They understood each other - they were on the same wavelength.
Hermione had taken that to be a very good friendship. But what if it was more?
Certainly, he was a handsome man. His high aristocratic cheekbones and smooth, silky blond hair were not typical of the traditional, rugged masculine attractiveness, but Draco was appealing in another kind of way - the emotion in his eyes and the precise, measured way he held himself drew Hermione to him. She could not deny that she had caught herself looking once or twice.
But was there a connection there? They were great as friends, and until tonight Hermione didn't think she had felt that strong pull, the feeling in her stomach of a real romantic attraction. But less than an hour ago, when she had been devouring him on her couch, she had felt everything she normally felt with Ron tenfold. The rush of emotion that had swept across her entire body and heart was unmistakable.
She was falling for him.
The question now, she considered, sipping the last dregs from her cup as the final beats of the EastEnders theme tune thrummed around her, was what she would do about it.