Chapter 3:
When Malfoy awoke that morning, Hermione and I were in armchairs on either side of the couch where he had slept, drinking our morning coffee. He looked slightly horrified.
"Were you watching me sleep?"
"You were on our couch. It's our prerogative," Hermione said.
"You can tell a lot about a person by how they sleep," I added. "You were sleeping on your side. That means-"
"I don't care what it means," Malfoy said, sulking like a child.
"It means you were trying to protect your weak underbelly," I finished. It's very important to know these things about yourself. I had Hermione make a video recording of me sleeping.
"We made you a cup of coffee to help you deal with your first muggle hangover," Hermione said, nodding to the coffee table, for once living up to its name. "Luna insisted. I think you owe her an apology."
"What are you, my mother? I'll have you know this isn't my first muggle hangover."
"Well Malfoy, that makes you slightly more interesting than I had previously thought," Hermione said with a sigh. "But I really don't care."
"And if she wasn't your mother already, what we're going to do next might make it so," I contributed.
"Do I want to know? I don't want to know. Are you going to stage an intervention and send me to an addiction club? Double-A?"
"How do you know about that?" Hermione asked.
"Muggle told me. Said I ought to go, last night."
"Do I even want to know what else you did last night? Don't answer that. I don't," Hermione muttered, and Malfoy looked pleased and began to swill his coffee, but then he made a face like he'd thrown up a little inside his mouth.
"Did you even put any sugar in this? Or milk?"
"No," Hermione said flatly. "We both take ours black."
"Well, can someone fix this for me? It tastes like dirt that's been made into a paste."
"Oh, you-" Hermione grumbled, but I magicked up some milk and sugar because my mother always said you should be polite to guests.
"Are you going to say thank you?" Hermione asked as Malfoy began to dump sugar by the spoonful into Hermione's fairtradeorganicshadegrown coffee. She flinched.
"Fuck you, Granger," Malfoy said flatly. "Thank you, Lovegood."
"You're welcome, Malfoy." I may have beamed a little, because Hermione gave me a dirty look. She has a rule about beaming before teatime, and probably a rule about beaming at Malfoys as well.
"So is this an intervention?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, at the same time Hermione said, "No."
"We think you need friends," I finally said.
"So we're going to show you how to make muggle friends," Hermione said. "So you'll leave me alone."
"Not because you're Gryffindors and I'm your latest charity case?"
"Luna isn't a Gryffindor. And if it wasn't for her you'd be sleeping in a stairwell."
"Or the street," I said. "Where someone probably would've raped you."
"Where someone hopefully would've mistook you for a vampire and put a stake through your heart. But, no, it's not because you're a charity case. I know that would make you feel like a little man."
"We let Ginny look at your little man after you passed out. She wanted to measure it for Witch Weekly," I told him, and Malfoy looked stricken.
"That was a joke, Malfoy," Hermione said, after we'd both watched him squirm for roughly fifty-four seconds.
"You scare me, Lovegood," he said.
"Thank you."
He didn't say you're welcome, just sat there drinking his coffee and looking constipated. I think that was his grumpy face. I think we were supposed to be scared.
"Well," he finally said. "This has been delightful, ladies-if you are, in fact, ladies-but I really think I should be leaving now."
"No, Malfoy," Hermione sighed. "If you're going to show up, drunk on my doorstep, in the middle of the night and ask me about mix tapes, you're going to have to suffer the consequences."
"Besides," I said. "You already drank the coffee."
"Was it poisoned? Or potioned in any way?"
"No. But now you owe us."
"Come on, Malfoy. This'll be painless," Hermione said, standing up and handing him his coat.
"Did you strip me last night?"
"No," Hermione said, at the same time as I said "Yes."
"You were in our foyer. Our prerogative," Hermione smirked.
But he put on his coat, and somehow we got Malfoy to follow us down the stairs and out into the street. Thankfully it was a perfect day-the air was crisp and clear, the sky was bright blue, and our street did not smell like urine as it sometimes did when it was hot. Hermione watched Malfoy like he might bolt at any minute.
"We're going to the park, Malfoy," Hermione said. "And then a coffee shop, and then the record store."
He grumbled. Hermione looked at him like she'd tackle him if he ran.
"The park's very nice, Malfoy. I think it might be a vortex," I said. "A vortex is a place where the wall's between the worlds are very thin."
"I don't care, Lovegood."
"Do you remember when Hermione almost punched you last night? Is that why you're calling me Lovegood?"
"No. And if Granger was going to punch me, I don't think I'd be scared, because I bet she punches like a girl."
"Well, she certainly doesn't punch like a lady," I said. "But I believe you've experienced that before."
"Don't bring that up, it's embarrassing," said Hermione, looking uncomfortable.
"Granger, are you trying to hide your violent tendencies?" Malfoy said, brightening at Hermione's discomfort. "You shouldn't, it's really charming."
"Fuck you, Malfoy."
"Oh, and she talks like a sailor, too!" he crowed.
"Stop it, you two," I said. "Malfoy, we are trying to help you. Hermione, we're trying to help Malfoy."
"I changed my mind. He's not worth it."
"Of course he's not. We're doing this despite our better judgment."
"I would appreciate it if you acknowledged my presence," Malfoy said. We ignored him.
"Maybe we should just leave him with Mr. Doomsday. Malfoy could be his apprentice," Hermione continued.
"Mr. Doomsday doesn't take apprentices. I already asked."
"Why did you-never mind. Maybe we should get him a job at a petrol station. He might get mugged."
"That's actually very unlikely."
"Well, this is all very nice," Malfoy said. "But maybe I'll just go back to my flat now, and read some books..."
"You sound like Hermione," I said.
"No, Malfoy," Hermione said, ignoring me. "Come along."
Malfoy looked annoyed, but he followed us anyway. He and Hermione were silent, but I kept up a running commentary on landmarks we passed and significant street people.
"It's nice to see you keep such high-class company," Malfoy commented after I finished talking to Ms. Delfield, who fed the pigeons in one of the parks.
"And if you're with us, what does that say about you?" Hermione asked.
"I'm a hostage."
"You keep thinking that."
When we finally rounded the corner to the library, Hermione let out a sigh of relief. "We're here."
"And where would here be?"
"Public library. We're going to find you a book club."
"I don't like my books grimy."
"You can still buy them new if you please. I just decided I don't want to recommend you books anymore, and I don't want to be the only person you talk to, so we're going to hit two Bludgers with one bat."
"You're not that good at Quidditch."
"No I'm not Malfoy. But neither are you."
"Especially not now," I contributed. "Seeing as you aren't allowed to play."
"Don't remind me," Malfoy snapped. "Though it's not like anyone would've let me in their Quidditch club, anyway."
"Don't be self-pitying Malfoy, it doesn't suit you," Hermione said with a sigh, and set up the steps. "If you keep this up I'm going to start missing your smug megalomania, and then where will we be?"
Malfoy looked more constipated at this, but followed Hermione and I into the library. It was becoming apparent that his post-Wizengamot life was painfully dull. Hermione and I had both expected him to leave after five blocks, and then we were going to get breakfast at our favorite coffee house and go to the park. We both liked to pet other peoples' dogs.
We swung open the doors and stepped inside, and Hermione let out a gentle exhale, grinning with unabashed delight. I could see Malfoy watching her with the hint of a smirk on his face, but he didn't say a word. We walked right up to the front desk, and Hermione smiled brightly at the man behind it.
"My friend," here she pushed Malfoy forward, "needs a library card."
"So we're friends now?" Malfoy muttered, and she gave him a pat on the back that looked like it would sting.
"And we were wondering if there's a sort of men's book club? Or boy's. Either way." Malfoy glared, but didn't risk a snide comment.
"'Fraid not, miss," the librarian said. He had an American accent, and while he looked about our age, he talked like he was younger. "We've got a sort of generalized book club-but it's mostly old women reading Danielle Steele." He looked at Malfoy, then. "But if you're looking for just any ol' club to join, my friends and I need another guy for our football team. You're a little scrawny, but-have you played before?"
"He'll do it," Hermione and I said simultaneously, and then I grabbed Malfoy and began to move him away while Hermione got more information from the librarian.
"Football," I said to Malfoy. "Muggles like it as well as wizards like Quidditch."
"I can't believe he called me scrawny," Malfoy muttered.
"Come on, Malfoy," Hermione said when she rejoined us. "Do you have a TV? We'll need to get you one. And some videotapes. I told him you'd know what you were doing. Your first team practice is this weekend. Actually, I know someone who might be able to help."
"So now I have to play some muggle sport?" Draco asked, while Hermione continued to mutter to herself.
"Yes, you do," I said. "We're helping you make friends, Malfoy, you should be grateful."
"Grateful, Lovegood? That I'm your new pet project? Another lost cause for Granger and Lovegood Incorporated?"
"As it happens," I said. "We're a not-for-profit organization. Once you get your fortune back, we'd appreciate any donations you would be willing to mail us. And I'll be sure you receive an invitation to our biannual Hope for the Hopeless Gala."
"Shut up, Lovegood," Malfoy said, but without his usual venom. "I'm going home. Granger, I still expect you to provide me with reading material."
"Aw, shit," Hermione muttered, shaken out of her reverie. "I don't think we hit any Bludgers today."
"I told you you weren't that good at Quidditch."
"Don't be a bastard, Malfoy," Hermione shouted after him.
"I'd say that was a success," I said. "And I'm pretty sure his parents were married. Purebloods, you know."
"I know Luna. But that doesn't change what he is."
Ash's full name was Ashoka, after the Indian emperor, but he always refused to talk about Buddhism with me. He looked like royalty but didn't act like it, which was probably why Hermione and Padma both found him so attractive. For his work as an Unspeakable at the Ministry he frequently wore fine wire-framed reading glasses, and his long eyelashes practically brushed the lenses. There are certain theories about what such effete lashes on a man mean, but I won't enumerate them here. Perhaps to make up for his feminine lashes, Ash was as avid a footie fan as Dean Thomas ever was-this, in Padma's mind, being his only flaw.
Hermione called him that night, because we didn't have a fireplace for floo. This is what I heard of the conversation:
"Ash, hi."
"I'm not in love with you."
"Can you teach my friend to play football?"
"No, he hasn't played before."
"Yes, he's a wizard."
"Bye."
When Hermione hung up, I noted that the conversation sounded a little terse, and maybe they both needed to clean their ears. Hermione shrugged.
"Well, I didn't want him to have any reason to believe I was in love with him. And besides, once you get Ash on football you can't shut him up." And that was the truth. The next evening, when we met up with him at the field where Ash's club team practiced, it seemed like he'd been talking about football nonstop since Hermione's phone conversation with him the night before. He was midsentence. Hermione and I paid no attention.
"Ash," Hermione said. "This is Draco Malfoy." Malfoy was standing there looking disgruntled, wearing the trainers Hermione had found for him and a football jersey that was too large.
"Malfoy? The Draco Malfoy? You're friends with him now, Hermione?"
"I may have lied about him being a friend," she said.
"I'm her latest charity case," Malfoy said, and Hermione glared at him.
"Don't forget you asked for my help. And Luna's involved in this as well."
"We're helping him make friends," I said. "So he doesn't come barging into our apartment drunk."
"That was you mate?" Ash said. "Padma told me about it."
"Oh, so you're Ash," Draco said. "Granger, I didn't know you were going to introduce me to your boyfriend."
"Malfoy, I didn't realize you were a complete arse, but I guess that's my fault for assuming you had any capacity for growth. How old are we? It was a mix tape."
"Well, I guess I just don't understand the socio-political connotations of mix tapes, not having been raised muggle and all."
"Malfoy, just," Hermione sighed. "Ash, I realize I may be asking too much of you. Do you want to give it a try? If he's completely-well, we can scrap this."
But Ash had a gleam in his eye, one Hermione would have recognized if she had been looking in a mirror when Malfoy came into her store looking for books. Hermione hadn't been looking in a mirror then, because everyone knows it's very bad luck to keep mirrors near porn. Porn is very vain. And since Hermione hadn't had that mirror, she just looked at Ash and waited for his response.
"Of course I'll do it, Hermione. Anything for you." Malfoy was batting his eyelashes like a girl between Ash and Hermione, and neither of them noticed him but I had to cover my mouth to hide a laugh. He looked like the members of a peculiar wizarding subculture from Japan, who used complex spellwork to make their eyes and heads large but their bodies small. I had written an article on it for The Quibbler-it had something to do with muggle cartoons, only the cartoons whose viewers tended to take offense when they were called cartoons.
"Thank you," said Hermione, and Malfoy continued to simper in the background.
"If you keep doing that," I said. "Your face will stay that way." Ash and Hermione both looked askance, and Malfoy pretended as if nothing had happen. Ash slapped him on the back.
"Well, mate," he said. "Ready to play some football?"
Malfoy looked like he wasn't sure at all.
"Yes," he said.