If you're still with me, thank you. I know it's been a really long time, but I've been having a bit of writer's block. I'm not entirely sure where this story is going at the moment, and I'm not very good at writing filler stuff but I thought it needed a break from all the tension.
Disclaimer: still copyright JKR etc.
The streets were bustling with the usual after-work crowds when they arrived on the gleaming marble steps of Gringott's.
'I need to get some money out,' Hermione said.
'No you don't,' insisted Draco.
'I do!' Hermione countered. 'By your own admission. I tried to give you money for clothes when I first arrived in your apartment, but you said no because I had to save the money to buy something I want.'
'You have a good memory, I'll give you that, but haven't you bought enough yourself already?'
'Only books I needed for my research,' she admitted. 'Please, I'll be happier with my own money in my purse.'
Draco sighed and taking her hand led her up the steps. They entered through the imposing doors and approached a free goblin.
'We would like to withdraw money from two vaults please,' Draco said.
'Key,' replied the goblin brusquely.
Hermione her tiny golden key and turned to Draco.
'My vault doesn't have a key,' he said, answering her unspoken question.
The goblin behind the desk gestured to another to come and take them to their vaults.
'This way please,' said the new goblin, not mentioning his name. 'Which vault first?'
'418,' said Draco immediately, 'the lady's.'
They climbed into the rickety cart – probably held together more by magic than nails at this point – and set off on a rollercoaster downwards to the vaults. Their speed forced Hermione to lean back into Draco's chest, and he held her comfortingly around her waist.
'When was the last time you came here?' he whispered.
'I don't know for sure, a couple of years,' she replied. 'I'd forgotten how rough it was, but it's exciting anyway.' Draco smiled.
After about ten minutes they reached Hermione's vault – one of the regular customer ones. The goblin took out her key and opened the door for them. Draco peered round Hermione's shoulder as she entered, not wanting to seem too curious, but gasped at what he saw.
'Merlin, Granger, what has the Ministry been paying you?'
Hermione turned and scowled at him. 'They're not paying me anything, you should know that.'
'Well this settles it, I'm not letting you pay for anything when you only have about 5 Knuts.'
'Oh for heaven's sakes, there are galleons there too,' Hermione cried, exasperated. 'There's nothing wrong with being poor.'
'Yeah, but you're destitute,' Draco countered. The goblin was resolutely looking the other way, trying not to snigger, but neither of them noticed him. 'Get back in the cart, we're going to my vault.'
'It's a matter of pride, Malfoy, let me do this,' spat Hermione, taking the remaining money from her vault – a total of eight Galleons, 12 Sickles and five Knuts.
Draco rolled his eyes and offered his hand to help her back into the cart, but she ignored it. 'Pride is a deadly sin,' he whispered.
'And pettiness should be,' Hermione whispered back, smirking. 'I have to spend this money eventually, why not now? It's not exactly enough to be worth saving.'
They sped on, further downwards, for much longer this time. The air became colder and damper, and the torches were more spaced out so the cart sped through pitch-dark shadows between each burst of light. Suddenly the ceiling of the tunnel flew upwards and they emerged into a massive cavern, heading straight for a waterfall. Hermione gasped, realising where they were, as they sped through the waterfall with no ill effects – they did not even get wet. The cart abruptly stopped before a door of stone, barely distinguishable from the cliff-face it was embedded in.
The nameless goblin stepped forward and stroked the door with his index finger, and it slid to the side.
'I should have realised your vault was here,' Hermione whispered. Draco only grinned and stepped forward, taking her by the hand and leading her into the vault.
It was as full as the Lestranges' had been, piled high with jewels, trinkets, goblets, plates and coins – hundreds upon hundreds of coins. Hermione stopped and stared as Draco let go of her hand, his grin broadening in sight of her reaction.
'If you see any jewellery you like, take it,' Draco said over his shoulder as he gathered up Galleons and Sickles into his moneybag.
'Oh no, I couldn't possibly,' she replied. Her gaze fell on a gold chain the size of a mayor's necklace, set with rubies and onyx stones the size of duck eggs and her thoughts were confirmed. 'It's all far too ostentatious for me.'
'Of course it is, I'm just trying to get rid of it somehow,' Draco replied. 'I know none of this ghastly junk would appeal to you.'
'Can't you sell it?'
'Nah, irreversible Possession Charms. Anyone I sold it to would soon wish they'd never bought it. It's a further protection against thieves. Let's get out of here,' he said, straightening up and leading Hermione out of the vault. He noticed her gaze linger on one particular object and he followed her eyes to the shelf where it lay. He was taken aback that she would notice such a tiny thing, dull compared to all the rest, but it was so typical of her. He could see in her eyes that she had fallen in love instantly, and an idea popped into his head so suddenly he shoved it out again, refusing to dare to entertain such thoughts. He pulled her out quickly, and they zoomed back up to the surface.
Fifteen minutes later found them sitting inside Florian Fortescue's – now fully restored and reopened after Florian's regained freedom – drinking hot chocolate. Hermione was grilling Draco on his vault.
'Do you have curses on the stuff like the Lestranges did?'
'Like I said, the Possession Charms remain. But I removed the Flagrante and Gemino curses. They were pointless,' Draco replied. 'Only you three were crazy enough to actually consider robbing this place when there are plenty of lower-security vaults with about as much useable wealth.'
'So you know about that.' Hermione laughed. 'It was about the craziest thing we did that whole crazy year.'
'What were you looking for?' Draco asked. He had never found out the specifics. He only heard through word of mouth – his aunt had been killed before he could ask her about it, and thinking back he thought he would not have cared enough to do that anyway.
'Nothing of particular monetary value,' Hermione evaded. 'How much has Harry told you about what we had to do to overthrow Voldemort?'
'Not much. Something about finding his soul.'
'Ask him about Horcruxes.'
Draco gasped. 'He had a Horcrux? That explains a lot.'
'You know about Horcruxes?' Hermione was astounded.
'Of course I do. I read, you know.'
'But where would you get hold of books like that?'
Draco raised his eyebrows at her. 'What sort of library do you think someone like my father kept?' Hermione nodded in acknowledgement. 'What was the Horcrux then?'
Hermione hesitated, looking at the table. 'He had more than one. But I don't want to talk about that now.'
'More than one?' He stopped at the look on Hermione's face, and smiled gently. 'Fine, I'll ask Potter later.'
There followed a silence, but Hermione was surprised to find that it was not awkward at all. She found that she liked it, just being here in his presence, even if he had awakened some memories she would like to keep out right now. Not to forget, she never wanted to forget a single thing about that seventh year. It made her who she was.
'Knut for them.' Draco's voice broke through.
'Can you ever keep quiet for more than two minutes?' she laughed.
'I just love the sound of my own voice,' he replied, smiling wryly.
'After seeing a very visual report of the state of my finances, you should be offering me two Knuts at least.'
Draco reached into his pocket, pulled out two of the small bronze coins and started flicking them over in his palm. 'You drive a hard bargain. I'm not sure if your thoughts are worth a whole two Knuts. Tell me first, then I'll decide.'
'Nuh-uh. Where's the fairness in that? I have very interesting thoughts, cheap at twice the price.'
'You're just stalling. You've probably forgotten what you were thinking anyway.'
Hermione paused thoughtfully. In truth, she did not want to tell Draco exactly what she had been thinking, because at this point it would be a bit of a let down after all this crazy build-up.
'I was thinking about how I haven't been to a concert in the longest time.'
'Ha! You're clearly just trying to get me to take you out.'
'And what if I am? I want to go to a concert.'
'By who, exactly?'
'I don't know, who's on?'
'As if I know.' Draco signalled a passing waiter. 'My friend here would like to go to a concert. Do you happen to know anyone who is playing soon?'
The waiter looked confused. 'Playing where, sir?'
'Oh, anywhere.'
'I can get you a pamphlet, sir.'
'A pamphlet! Wonderful!' Draco cried eagerly
Hermione sat with her hand over her eyes, avoiding the waiter's eyes. He left and Draco pulled her hand away.
'Did I embarrass you?'
'I wasn't embarrassed, I was embarrassed on behalf of the waiter,' she objected. 'But thank you for your efforts.'
The waiter returned with a pamphlet and left hurriedly. 'So who would you like to see?' Draco asked. 'Celestina Warbeck's on tomorrow at the Albus Memorial Theatre, or The Weird Sisters in three nights at the Circe.'
Hermione shook her head. 'Something small, and tonight.'
'Tonight… Ah. The Percival Wulfrics are performing at The Angry Dragon in Fyne Alley at 7pm tonight.'
'Perfect,' Hermione smiled.
Draco raised his eyebrows. 'You've actually heard of them?'
'Nope!' She shrugged her shoulders. 'Let's discover them.'
It turned out to be the best evening Hermione had spent in a long time. They arrived at the pub at 6:30, and succeeded in finding a cosy table in a corner yet still in sight of the stage. Draco ordered drinks, and they chatter until the band came onstage. Neither Draco nor Hermione had any idea what they were in for, but the music was 'tasteful and lyrically interesting', as Hermione had put it after her fourth butterbeer. Draco had told her to quit talking like a critic and just admit it was balls. Hermione had thrown her napkin at him.
They danced to a fast number, jostled around by the other dancers but not caring. They danced to a slow number, and Hermione forgot all about the music as Draco's arms cradled her, his head resting on top of hers, his hands rubbing her back gently. He smelled like nothing on earth.
Similar thoughts were rushing through Draco's head. The impossibility of being here, a spur-of-the-moment decision resulting in something he never would have believed could happen – dancing with Hermione Granger and wishing it would never end.
