CHAPTER ELEVEN

'People aren't either wicked or noble. They're like chef's salads, with good things and bad things chopped and mixed together in a vinaigrette of confusion and conflict.'
~Lemony Snicket, The Grim Grotto~

Hermione found herself in the Manor a few days later. She was where she always was, sitting in the study, in the chair that had moulded to her butt, with Draco next to her reading. Lucius was no where to be seen and Narcissa was out buying new robes. "Are you ever going to take me out?" She found herself, asking, "Because we're supposed to be doing stuff, not just sitting here reading."

"What," Draco glanced over at her, "don't you like reading?"

"Sure, reading is plenty great. But I didn't sign up for this so I could sit here and read with you." Hermione said, shutting her book, frustrated.

"What do you want to do with me?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

She had set herself up for that one, she knew. But she didn't think he was going take it. They went from one extreme to the next. He called her ugly then was making sexual jokes. It baffled her, but she wasn't in the mood to discuss it.

"Fine, Granger. There's a Ministry dinner tomorrow night at the Greengrass'. Get yourself a dress and we'll pick you up at eight." Draco said, easily. It was like he was inviting her to afternoon tea.

She looked at him, but his head was buried in the book again. There it was... that confidence. It came so naturally to him. She didn't know anyone that could just say what he said with such ease and pull it off. Ron certainly had just come off as egotistical and not quite sure what to do with himself. He kept holding her hand, as if that would make everything better. She pushed Ron away, she wasn't going to think about them and compare them. They were different, it was simple as that. No one was the same and neither were any two relationships.

Draco sighed. He looked at her, "What?"

"What?" She asked back, confused.

"I invited you to dinner. Why are you still sitting there like I didn't ask you to dance at the Yull Ball?" He questioned, still looking at her. That might have been the longest time he looked at her without looking at his book. Her eyes widened as she realised he could read her like his book. How had he known she still wasn't happy? Why had he known that and how could she make him un-know it? She wasn't sure if Ron would even have picked up on it.

"First of all," she said, "I did not want to dance with you at the Yull Ball, so that is a stupid analogy." He looked like he was going to smile, and she went on, "Second of all, I'm fine."

He didn't look convinced, but he finally stopped staring and went back to his book. He let a few moments of silence pass before he added, "But you do want to dance with me," He seemed rather proud at that fact.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, looking over at him. What was he on about?

"You said you didn't want to dance with me AT the Yull Ball, you didn't say anything about now-"

She cut him off, wishing he'd drop it. "Because you brought up the Yull Ball! I was just-"

Draco seemed amused. He looked away from her, muttering, "Whatever you say, Granger."

"I do say!" She shrieked, rather madly. She was worried he'd shoot her a nervous look, but he didn't and it flooded her with relief. And something else. She didn't know what it was, but it made her feel good. Better, even. It was like he just understood he should let her have her madness. But how did he understand that? And why did Ron never seem to? She chastised herself for comparing them again so easily. This would take some time.

She found herself studying him, curious about his newfound talent for reading her. His hair fell down into his eyes and his cheekbones were so clear and defined. She was jealous. She always wanted cheekbones like that. And his eyelashes! They were so full and they curled up naturally. His lips were pink and thin, she found herself wanting to reach over and run her fingers over them.

She looked away. This was wrong.

"Can you take me to the room?" She found herself asking. Anything to be distracted by how good he smelled and how soft his hair looked.

"Granger," Draco looked up at her, "I thought you were a good-"

"Draco, seriously." She deadpanned, and she knew all the jokes were gone. He understood, she knew. And he was going to take her. He didn't look thrilled about it, but he would. "For my mental health, please."

"It might do more damage to your mental health," Draco muttered, sardonically. But he stood up, leaving his book behind and she followed him out.

Was this really the best idea? She had second thoughts as she followed him through the maze that was the Manor, but a part of her told her it was right. She needed this. She had grown so accustomed to the study. She liked the warmth she felt there, even though there was always a draft in such a big house. She felt safe among all the books. The chair had become hers. It was like she adopted it from a chair shelter.

There was a picture of Draco's graduation on the wall. He didn't look happy- but she'd never seen a picture of him where he did look happy. She figured he looked the happiest he could be. Draco realised she wasn't following him and looked back.

"I liked your speech." He said, catching her off-guard. She realised he was talking about graduation. "Especially when you said that your time at Hogwarts didn't dwarf any of ours."

Her mouth dropped. Those were nearly the exact words she'd used. And he remembered? She doubted her mom even remembered, and here was Draco Malfoy complimenting her and remembering exact words! Nothing made much sense anymore.

"Um... thanks," She walked away from the picture, expecting him to keep walking.

"What? No compliment? How about my stunning cheekbones?" He joked, his eyes twinkling in a way she'd never seen before. It was like he had read her mind.

"You're a real Adonis." She rolled her eyes, "Now lets go. To the torture room!" She tried to make light of the situation, but the joke paled in her mind. She was such an idiot. Why had she said that? She risked a glance at Draco and saw that he looked like he was about to be sick.

"Brilliant," He muttered, taking the lead again. She followed along, every step she took made her stomach coil and she wanted to turn back. What was any of this going to accomplish? Worse, the whole thing was being filmed. This was like some twisted form of therapy. That everyone would be watching.

Draco stopped suddenly- so suddenly she nearly ran right into him. She looked up at him, startled to see how close they were. Only a slight tilt of a head and they'd be snogging. His breath was on her face. It unnerved her and her stomach felt tighter. She wanted to run away, but something kept her glued to the spot. "Granger," He tried, his face twisting up like he was in real pain, "are you- are you sure?"

She realised they were standing in front of a closed door. She pushed passed him, stepping into the room. She didn't know what she was expecting. A blood spattered room? That wouldn't have made sense- there had been no blood involved. Just magic. She took a few tentative steps in, acutely aware of Draco and the camera crew behind her. It was just an ordinary room. There was a fireplace and a rug with a picture of a beach- looked like Italy.

She gulped. This room could have been nice. Once upon a time, it probably was. Maybe Narcissa stayed up knitting in this room. Okay, she probably never knitted. But if she did, it might have been in this room. Draco might have gotten his letter to Hogwarts in this room. But for her this room was just pain. She could practically see herself writing on the floor, tears streaming down her face, screaming. It had felt like it would never end. She couldn't think about anything else. There was just blinding, bone crushing pain.

She felt her body kneeling down, but she didn't realise what was going on as she laid down right in the centre. This was where it had been. It didn't feel like it. She couldn't imagine being burned alive right here, in this very spot. It was such a nice room. The sun wafted through, it sparkled on a snow globe across the room. What were the Malfoys doing with something as mundane as a snow globe?

She felt like she was watching herself from some sort of other dimension. She laid perfectly still, worried in any moment the pain would return. She tried to bring herself back to that moment. She'd been composed moments before it had happened. She'd been determined to be strong- they'd taken her away from her friends and locked them in a dungeon. She was going to be brave and keep their secrets. She'd never give anything up to the Malfoys. They could do anything to her, but she would never break. She'd never give them that kind of satisfaction. Lucius and Draco had both tried for years to take her spirit, and she'd never given up.

She hadn't expected Bellatrix to be in charge of the questioning. Bellatrix had been the most rabid and hysterical out of all of them. She was furious, but there was something else there as she got in Hermione's face before she unleashed the power of the spell. She was enjoying it. It gave her pleasure. It was sick, but Hermione saw it all over her face and that's when she realised it was about to be much worst than she every imagined it would be.

Bellatrix didn't even waste anytime questioning her. She pointed her wand and shrieked and instantaneously her whole body was contorting, the pain blinding and excruciating. She forgot everything. It was a pure miracle she hadn't given any valuable secret up when the pain ebbed away for a few glorious moments.

She was brought back to reality by Draco lying next to her. They were close, but not touching. His body was rigid as a board. She didn't look at him, staring up at the ceiling. And she knew he wasn't looking at her either. She didn't know how, but it made her feel a little better.

"You're going to a Ministry dinner? With Draco Malfoy?" Her mother questioned, when she got home later that evening. There was no one else she could talk to since Harry wouldn't get it and he was Ron's best friend, despite also being hers. First things first, Ron was her boyfriend. Ginny was away at school and she probably wouldn't react too well to the news either. Hermione needed to find a friend that was her own- someone that would be loyal to her all the time and take her side. Her mum was all she had at the moment.

She nodded, bitting her nails.

"Hermione Jean Granger," Her mum scolded, "Don't you dare bite your nails. Especially before... whatever tomorrow is."

She put her hand down, but her leg was bouncing nervously. This was mental. She was bloody mad. What was she going to do? Why had she pushed him into asking to do something? And why couldn't the bleeding cameras leave her alone so she could have a moment with her mum?

"But haven't you always hated him?" Her mum finally asked the golden question.

Hermione dropped her head onto the kitchen table. "Yes," She groaned, "He's such a git. And he might have been evil at some point. He might still be. I don't know."

"I doubt he's evil," Her mum said, with a roll of her eyes at her child's dramatics. "He seemed... torn. That was bullocks, let me try again. He seemed... confused. He definitely doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve."

"No, he doesn't," She agreed, "He's a mystery, with his stupid face in a book. He never used to read at school, I swear!" At her mum's dubious look, she added, "I would have noticed."

That got a chuckle from her mum and a knowing nod. "Yes, you probably would have. The war probably changed him. War changes everyone and everything. Keep an open mind, love. But don't cross any lines," She warned, "You do have a boyfriend. The most important thing is to always like who you are, remember that."

Hermione nodded. "I was never planning on doing anything,"

"Sometimes these things can't be planned." Her mum added.

"No, no. Sometimes they can. And he definitely doesn't like me anymore than as an acquaintance, if even that. And I don't like him like that- it's just weird, that's all. I don't know." She shook her head, it was all starting to get so jumbled in her head.

"I saw him at dinner," Her mum said, standing up to wash her now empty mug.

"So did I," Hermione muttered, "He reminded me I wasn't pretty, so next time you want to play matchmaker..." She trailed off, seeing the appalled look on her mother's face. "What? I was just-"

"He said what?" Her mum questioned, turning her full attention back to her daughter.

Hermione blushed, shrugging. "Oh, that. It's nothing new. He used to do it all the time at school. I shouldn't have let it get to me like that. I mean, I'm not anything special," She mumbled, mortified the entire conversation was being captured on film for the whole world to see. And that her mum looked ready to cry or hurt someone. Maybe both.

"Hermione Jean Granger," This was like the third time her full name had been used in a single conversation. Her mum came over to her and brushed a strand of her brown hair behind her ear, "You are beautiful, how could you ever think that? And you're not just a stunner, you're smart and strong. You're funny and caring. You're a fantastic friend and a hard worker. And all of those things make you beautiful on the inside, as well as your outside. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Thanks, mum," She mumbled, wiping her eyes in case she had cried at all. She hoped she hadn't. After that she scurried up to her room, content to spend the night with a good book, the tv on mute, and some good music. She snacked on Oreos and realise she must have been incredibly boring to the camera crew, who left fairly quickly once she put on her pyjamas and it became apparent she wasn't moving from her bed all night.

Crookshanks made himself at home in between her legs, but then tip toed off to the corner of the bed where he curled up and went to sleep. He twitched in his sleep and Hermione wondered if he was having a good dream. She couldn't focus on her book for long and instead started researching universities. If she was really going back to school, she'd have to find a school and she couldn't do that by putting it off. She still hadn't told her mum or dad yet.

"And don't think just because you're doing this show you got out of the camping trip!" Her mum called from behind her closed door. "You're still going!"

Hermione groaned and threw a pillow at the door. It rumbled and she heard her mum's laugh as she walked down the hall and soon her own bedroom door shut in the quiet. She summoned the pillow back with a silent spell, happy she had magic. She thought about being a teacher, searching through the many teaching programs in the many English universities. Would she really be happy teaching? And teaching what? Magic at Hogwarts or history in muggle school?

What about what George said about the Ministry? Could she go to school for political science and then run for office? There were so many options, but she didn't know which would work for her. Which would make her happy. How was anyone supposed to know what would make them happy? Wasn't everyone unhappy, that's why everyone was always moaning about how to find happiness or whatever it was they said.

Harry and Ron were going to be aurors. Draco was going to work with dragons. Neville, an old friend from school, was pursing herbology- it was the only subject he'd been good at at school, so it wasn't that hard to predict where he'd end up. Ginny was hooked on astronomy, for some reason, and she was already poised for a career in it- her summer program the first step.

But Hermione liked books and so she'd taken a job at Flourish and Blotts. And now a reality show. Nothing really made sense, so then it probably made sense to do the most insane thing possible since that's what she'd been doing anyway. Maybe George was right. Being in office was the craziest thing she could see herself doing.

That and Draco Malfoy- but she wasn't doing him anytime soon. Or anything with him. Except for the dinner in less than twenty-four hours. But that was for the show.

Anyway, it could work. She could go to university. Major in political science. Or international relations. And then she could run for a position in the Ministry and make a change. A real change. Or she could at least try. Because there was nothing worst than not trying and Hermione had always looked for a way. She'd beat Devil's Snare, she'd brewed polyjuice potion, properly manipulated a time turner, founded S.P.E.W., encouraged Harry to start the DA, survived heartbreak, and helped Harry on his journey to destroy all the Horcruxes and kill Voldemort.

This would be a walk in the park compared to that.

A/N Hello world. How goes life? I hope you're enjoying. I love reading your reviews :D I remember this chapter was really fun to write. I had fun playing around with Draco and Hermione's interactions.

Very special shout out to all the supermegafoxyawesomehot people that leave me a review: FuryPossessed, ILoveSiriusBlack4, Guest (although I was a little confused), asyouwish76 (Princess Bride, yes?), edwardsoneandonlylove, and Loveable Leo.