Hermione had fooled herself into thinking that the experience she shared with Draco the previous week had changed them. Looking back she was unsure of what she had expected, but she assumed that they would be civil to each other from that point on in the least. She had been sorely mistaken.
Malfoy barely spoke. She had tried to prompt conversation a few times but received short and unimaginative answers in return until she gave up all together, and now they took to sitting in silence all day, sometimes in the same room but doing their own separate projects. She almost wanted to pick a fight in the effort to get a rise out of him, and perhaps experience a little interaction in such a lonely environment, but she resisted the urge whenever it arose. It would have been nice to have someone to speak to when the thoughts in her head became too loud or consuming, but she didn't need Draco to entertain her. She wasn't on vacation, after all, and she had been through much worse than living alone with a ghost that occasionally sat in the same room as her.
It became more bearable as time passed. Spring was finally rolling in softly, and although the canopy above their cabin was thick enough to block out a good portion of sunlight enough had reached the forest floor to persuade the flowers into bloom. She couldn't leave the property, but the view was becoming more enjoyable every day, so she began to spend her free hours (which were practically all of them) outside. She had just settled into her rocking chair on the porch with a book in hand, mildly concerned that it was one of the last they had that she hadn't read, when she heard the screen door swing open behind her.
Draco approached her from behind before lowering a mug before her, saying nothing and waiting patiently for her to take it. She stared at it hesitantly, unsure of what his motivations were, but she finally set her open book face down upon her lap to take it with both hands. "Thank you." She said it more questioningly than originally intended, but it was the first interaction he had prompted on his own since their last real conversation and it seemed characteristically off to her. He said nothing in response and instead shifted past her, sitting in the chair beside hers with a small frown on his face. Hermione stared at him with caution still in her eyes but it began to give way to an annoying tug of concern at his appearance.
She would have never claimed that she was handling this situation well, but Draco always seemed to be handling it worse. There were dark bags that begged for sleep under his eyes, and the shadow of stubble that was on his jaw had grown into an mess that desperately needed grooming. She didn't even know where to start with his hair… perhaps with a comb? He sat there for so long with his own mug and stared out into the forest she had started to assume that he was just craving company, but when she set her tea down to grab her book he spoke.
"I need a favor."
Her eyes moved back to him with hesitance again, and she was starting to realize that Draco only brought her tea when he was trying to get on her good side. Fair enough. "What kind of favor?" She kept her voice even and unassuming. She had no intention on agreeing to anything until she knew what it was.
Draco's frown, if possible, seemed to deepen as he stared out into the trees and Hermione had to wonder whether he was purposefully avoiding her eyes. "It's about when Potter comes by. I was wondering if you could do something for me."
"Tell him that you're not home?" She drawled it sarcastically before she really thought about it, but she fell silent at the look that Draco suddenly laid upon her.
"No." He snapped a bit curtly, but she allowed it this time. Her frustrations with his recluse behavior were coloring her reaction to his approach, so she bit her tongue and waited for him to continue. When she didn't snap back his shoulders seemed to relax a little, the tension melting away until he returned to the tired-looking figure he had been before.
"I need him to find information about someone for me." He followed it up with a sigh when he saw the sudden suspicion on her eyes, "I just want to make sure they're alright, nothing more."
It took her a moment to respond. "Why don't you just ask him yourself?" She knew the answer before he gave it, however, and she gave an expression of reluctant understanding when Draco raised a doubtful eyebrow. Harry and Malfoy, despite the dramatics they had left behind in school, were still far from friendly terms with each other. Hermione wasn't sure if Harry would do a favor for Draco either, so she picked up her tea and looked at him expectantly. He shifted uncomfortably under her stare, but maintained eye contact this time.
"Pansy."
Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste before she could help it. "You mean Parkinson?"
Draco rolled his eyes impatiently, and she could tell when he spoke that he was trying to keep his voice calm. "No, I mean I would love it if he brought me a bouquet to brighten the kitchen a bit, yes Parkinson, don't be ridiculous." The look on her face must have given away her unwillingness because he pressed on. "I just want to know that she's alright, it's not like I can write to her here now can I? It's important to me. Please, Hermione."
She wasn't sure if it was the gentility in his tone, but the way he pled made the 'no' on the tip of her tongue fade away. She still wasn't used to him using her first name, but when he did it seemed forced. This time it came naturally, and for the first time since their last conversation, she felt as if he was speaking to her as an equal, a rare occurrence for Draco Malfoy. "I thought you said you hadn't spoken to anyone in practically a year…" she remembered weakly, and Draco gave a half shrug.
"I haven't." He admitted, looking away from her again. His voice was flat but the there was an edge to it, one that made her believe that this was much more important to him than what he was trying to let on. "We thought it best for both of us to keep our distance after the war. For our reputations." Hermione had to keep herself from giving a doubtful look. The only reputation that was at stake in that relationship was Pansy's, the Parkinson name wasn't nearly as damaged after the battle as the Malfoy's. She highly doubted that the decision to separate for publicity sake was conceived by both parties. She said none of it aloud. "I still worry about her though, I just want to make sure that she's doing well. We'd write but I'm here so…" He trailed off and Hermione could see the grip on his mug tightening.
"Do you plan on seeing her again?" She asked mildly, and he nodded.
"It wasn't anything permanent, just something to make sure that everything settled smoothly. We didn't know what was going to happen, whether I was going to Azkaban or what the future held… neither of us wanted her name tied to any of that mess. Once things settled we were going to pick up- I just need you to ask Potter." He stopped abruptly, as if just realizing that he was giving more information than he needed or very possibly wanted to. Hermione gave a low exhale before nodding and sipping her tea. "I can ask him. I won't guarantee that he'll say yes, but I'll ask." It wasn't an impossible favor, but her agreement seemed to relax Draco immensely. If she looked close enough, she could have sworn she even saw a smile.
"That's all I want, just for you to ask him-"
"On one condition." She interrupted, and Draco blinked before giving her a guarded scowl, his eyes narrowing. She waved her hand at him impatiently, "calm down, it's nothing serious. You look like a mess." She declared it so bluntly that Draco almost jumped, and the face he made looked similar to the one he gave her when she hit him several years ago. "Your hair is a mess, your face is a mess and you look like some caveman who crawled out from the mountains. If you start taking care of yourself before Harry arrives, I'll ask him about Pansy for you." He still looked insulted. "It's not healthy, Draco."
"Well I'm sorry that I haven't exactly been in the mood to-" he began defensively, but was promptly interrupted.
"The mood for basic personal grooming, hmm? Like I said, it's not healthy and you need to start getting more sleep. You look like you've been living underground!" She spoke confidently, knowing that she now had something that he wanted. She would have felt bad if she wasn't saying it for his own good, but she was almost concerned for him, despite their lack of interaction since their arrival here. The way he dragged himself around day by day like the living dead, it couldn't be good for anyone.
The look he stared at her with was still one of disgrace, but it slowly evolved before her eyes into something that resembled amusement, and for a moment she was confused. "What's wrong," he challenged with a smirk that was all too familiar, "want something nice to look at when you wander around the house?"
It took her a moment to decipher what he had meant, but when she did her cheeks flooded crimson. She was flabbergasted at the accusation, her confidence melting away almost completely as her lips parted and snapped shut in the repeated attempt at a rebuttal. She could have easily silenced him, making claims that she'd prefer to watch paint dry than to examine him gallivanting around the house, but he looked as if he was teasing her. She couldn't be sure; he had never teased her before, and now she was unaware whether he was trying to fluster her (which he had successfully done) or if he truly believe her to be shallow enough to demand he make himself presentable in her presence. The look of shock was finally replaced by one of fierce determination as she found the words to reply and tell him that she was only concerned about his basic health, because if he died in bed buried under a suffocating amount of filth she could possibly be blamed, but he raised a hand to silence her before she could say any of it. "I'll go take a shower." He smiled, standing and taking her empty mug from her hands. She turned to watch him go, her mouth still open to argue, but he was inside and the moment had passed.
She had stayed outside until the sun finally sank low on the horizon, taking its light with it and leaving her staring at the dark pages of her book. After eventually admitting that she could no longer see she went inside and was met with the sight of Draco sitting on the couch, reading a novel that she had already powered through the week before. His hair was wet but combed neatly, and his face was finally shaven clean. Although she was pleased that he had given in and groomed himself like a proper human being, she could find no excuse as to why he felt the need to lounge around in absolutely nothing but his knickers, thin silk boxers the only thing between him and complete nudity.
"Draco!" She cried his name in a surprised yelp as she quickly diverted her eyes, her cheeks turning crimson in both embarrassment and annoyance. "What are you- you do not live alone, go put on some clothing right this instant!" She refused to look at him, but she could hear the insufferable smugness in his tone.
"I thought you wanted something nice to look at." His casual tone sent her into another rage, and she looked around to scold him before wincing and turning away, as if she had forgotten about his bareness.
"Go put clothing on now!" She demanded.
"What's wrong, it's not like you haven't seen a naked bloke before, and I'm not even fully nude."
Hermione knew that there was no way for Draco to know whether or not she had seen a naked man before, it was an obvious bluff on his part, but he was right. She wasn't completely inexperienced, having had a few moments with Viktor Krum and heavier interactions with Ron. Both of those were in the past now, however, and she was far from willing to have Draco think it was acceptable for him to walk around so undignified. "We are housemates and you're being inconsiderate." It was a weak defense, but with the strength she held in her voice she thought that she got her point across nicely. She saw Draco shrug out of the corner of her eye.
"You just have a habit of bossing people around, I thought I'd see what would happen if I didn't listen for once."
"Is that what this is?" She cried, her frustrations bubbling up from her chest and into her voice as she finally gave in and faced him properly. "I tell you to wash your hair and you think that's reason enough to stroll around half naked?"
He shrugged again, a delicate blond eyebrow rising in curiosity. What he was curious about, Hermione had no idea. "I don't like being told what to do."
She knew that, of course, but she had no idea that Draco was still such an insufferable brat. His depressed demeanor had fooled her into thinking that he had matured a little within these past years, but this was no less than absolutely childish. She was glaring at him with such fury in her eyes that she barely noticed how broad his shoulders were above a slightly muscular chest that led down into a slim waist. And she certainly didn't notice how soft his pale skin looked, or how the shadow of blond strands trailed down lightly below the elastic rim of his knickers. No, she didn't notice any of these things because Draco was being ridiculous and when people were ridiculous it didn't matter how attractive they were. "Put on clothes."
"Or what?" He challenged, although his voice was much calmer and even a tad bit amused.
"Or I'll refuse to speak to Harry about Parkinson."
"No you won't." Malfoy stretched with a dramatic grunt, his arms reaching over his head as he released a yawn, his book lying on his lap. "We had a deal, you can't start tacking on extra conditions now."
Her rage had started to fade into something that almost resembled astonishment as she watched him stretch, wondering if he was honestly set on staying like this for the rest of the night as she didn't notice the way taught muscle danced beneath the skin of his stomach. "You're absolutely insufferable." She claimed breathlessly, shocked at his gall. He flashed her a grin in return, and it certainly was not charming. Not at all.
"There is one thing you can do." Draco offered, and she looked at him cautiously before he continued with a cheeky smile. "You know the old saying, don't you? If you can't beat them-"
She hadn't let him finish his sentence. She grabbed a throw pillow from the nearest couch and tossed it at him, moving so fast that the wanker had almost no time to block the hit. The pillow collided directly with his face, and Hermione released a scream of frustration as she stormed off to her room, slamming the door to block out the echoing sound of Draco's laughter.
