Chapter Four:

Meet the Family

It felt a bit strange to be sitting in a Muggle home during the evening. Of course, Draco knew there weren't that many differences between his own home and Hermione's besides the lack of magical objects, but still. The atmosphere was different completely. Everything seemed uptight, and he supposed this was due to his presence more than the lack of magic.

Seated at a rather small, round table covered neatly with a net table cloth, complete with vase of flowers set in the center, Draco waited anxiously for Hermione to return. Her seat was set beside him – heaven forbid he would have to sit next to Mr. Granger! The robust man with darker hair and spectacles looked like he would rather be at the edge of the world than sitting beside the blonde-haired boy his daughter was dating. Every so often, Draco would glance over and see that the man's goatee would twitch, making Draco very uncomfortable.

After a few minutes of sitting in the tiny dining room lit warmly by a hanging Tiffany light, Hermione hurried in, smiling warmly at Draco as she took her seat beside him. She was positioned between Draco and her father.

Not long after, Mrs. Granger came scuttling in, carrying a large pot with two oven mitts fixed on her hands. They had polka dots on them, which Draco found amusing. Beneath the tablecloth, he reached his hand out and felt Hermione's.

"Well, here we go." Mrs. Granger muttered as she tried to find a place to set the large pot, which was seeping spurts of steam. Draco hurried to move some plates around the table and Mrs. Granger smiled at him. "Thank-you." she said as she took her seat. Everyone seemed all smiles except for Mr. Granger who looked angry and disconcerted and of course Draco who supposed he looked more nervous than anything.

"Smells delicious!" Hermione said as she let go of Draco's hand and reached for the plates, taking one and passing it around the table. Draco felt odd because this was not the way things went at his own home.

Should probably stop thinking of it, he thought bitterly to himself. It's not really my home any longer.

True, it wasn't. He supposed that half of his possessions were thrown out or burned. Most of it was rubbish, but then again the other half was really dear to him. His photographs of family and friends. His journals he took copious notes in. Those were probably not only burned in the fireplace, but were probably pored over by his parents. Lucius always did want to know what was going on in his son's mind, and now he would surely know what was going on.

Once all the plates were set, Mrs. Granger looked up to her husband who was sitting opposite her.

It took a few seconds for him to catch on and he looked as though he had just awoken from a dream.

"Huh?"

"Will you please cut the roast, dear?" Mrs. Granger implored more than asked.

"Oh…I suppose."

There was too much silence between the four of them, so Mrs. Granger started up conversation.

"So, Draco, you do well in your classes, don't you?"

"Oh – yes," Draco started, not sure how much he should talk but unable to regulate the words spewing out of his mouth. "I love it at Hogwarts, really. Nice school to be at."

"You weren't so keen on saying things like that a year ago." Mr. Granger muttered under his breath, and Draco decided to ignore the comments.

"Draco's in most of my classes," Hermione piped up. "Most of them are really interesting."

"I like Hagrid's now, actually," Draco admitted with a sheepish grin. "Pre-judged it, as all."

"Hagrid's the Giant, right?" Mrs. Granger added, sounding sincerely interested.

"Yes, mum." Hermione said as she added a large portion of roast beef swimming in gravy onto her plate.

Smells of wonderful roasted pork also accompanied the smells coming from the pot and Draco's mouth watered as he spotted the large potatoes and carrots floating in the brew. Fresh rolls were set out on a plate and butter was in a boat not far from reach.

"Everything smells wonderful," Draco added as he took some of the roast pork and cut a portion of it with his fork and knife. Taking it into his mouth, he chewed hungrily and enjoyed the warmth of the taste. "Delicious!"

It really was, and Hermione grinned.

"Mum's an excellent cook. Although I love Hogwarts' food, nothing's as good as the things I have when I'm on Holiday."

Mrs. Granger beamed.

Mr. Granger made a look of disgust as he watched Draco eat.

"Do your parents cook, Draco?" Mrs. Granger asked as she reached for her glass of wine.

Draco shook his head, still chewing some cabbage.

"Not often. Mum usually just has the elves do the cooking. They're good, but it's really bland stuff. Nothing as elaborate as this. They all use zesty-flavored spices to make things taste better, but the food's not really that enticing."

"Oh…" Mrs. Granger muttered in reply. "Well, I'm delighted to have the chance to cook for you. Everyone deserves a good home-cooked meal once in a while. I know when I was younger, my parents always cooked for us."

Hermione was already halfway through her plate and ready to dish more onto it.

"Well, Hermione certainly likes the food!" Draco joked and everyone chuckled, except for Mr. Granger. Mrs. Grange took notice and addressed him.

"Dear – do you have anything to say?"

The table went quiet as Mr. Granger avoided eye contact with everyone. He seemed particularly interested in the food that was swimming on his plate.

"Ahem…" he started, clearing his throat with anticipation. "Well, the fact that my daughter brought home a boyfriend actually took me by surprise, so I hope you'll forgive my lack of…verbiage."

"That's okay," Draco started. "I understand completely that you don't like me. You don't have to, really. I don't mind it at all."

This made Mr. Granger glance up at him and meet his eyes incredulously.

"Excuse me?"

Mrs. Granger got up with a loud ruckus and started talking.

"There's desert to put on the table! I'll be right back!"

Hermione watched her leave and sighed.

"Desert…"

"Mr. Granger, if you don't mind," Draco started confidently. "I've been a fool for half my life. I know you don't think that somebody can change within a year, but I assure you that I have."

"I –"

"So please don't patronize me for things I've done in the past. I really didn't know what I was doing to people. If you'd see what I have for a father…you'd just…you'd understand."

And with that, Draco got up and put his napkin down on the table.

"Excuse me while I go to use the lave."

Hermione rolled her eyes at her father as the sound of Draco's footsteps going up the stairs faded off and the sound of the bathroom door closed loudly.

"Dad, why'd you have to be such an awful – I don't even know what!"

"Hermione, please," Mr. Granger cut in. "If you think that boy really loves you, you're so blind. He hated you for years before now and you think he can just change the way he feels in an instant because he wants to?"

With a sound of indignation, Hermione got up and threw her napkin down on the table.

"You're impossible."

And with that said, she started up the stairs after Draco.