Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except my plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human.

Chapter 08 There's a First Time for Everything

"So, what's for lunch?" Hermione had packed her things and had just finished her goodbyes and plan-making for the next weekend with her band mates. She'd also received the mental message from Sue that THEY WOULD TALK later. She sighed to herself. That should be a completely fun – and by fun she meant ABSOLUTELY NOT FUN – conversation. Hermione pulled her long-sleeves back on and pulled her gig-bag over her shoulder, then looked up at Draco expectantly.

He, in return, was frowning down at her. He looked like a man with an awful lot on his mind. He hadn't taken his reading glasses off yet, so he looked like a very young, very grim, very sexy Professor. Hermione couldn't help but smile.

She liked those glasses.

When Hermione smiled, Draco's brain started working again, clearing out all the clouds and bees buzzing in his mind and giving him a chance to formulate a response that didn't sound like 'you woman, me man, grunt grunt grunt…'.

Unfortunately the only response that he could think of "I have no idea," didn't feel a lot more intelligent. But he said it anyway, before the grunting could start.

"Well, if you want, we could go to the Deli across the way, grab some sandwiches and take them to the Park? It's a really nice day, probably one of the last one's we'll have before winter sets in." Hermione looked hopefully up at him.

"Uh, sure. You know, I haven't actually spent any time at the Park in the entire time I've lived here. Well, outside of looking at it from my living room windows, that is. There's a trail that goes right past my building that I see people running on all the time."

Draco held out his hand to Hermione, and she beamed at him as she accepted it. Draco laughed.

"You are such a child, Granger. I can't believe you actually have to hold hands to go anywhere. I think I will call you Little Girl for the rest of your life."

"For the rest of my life? That could be an awfully long time, you know. What about when we're old and gray and hunched over? I won't be holding your hand then, I'll be holding on to my walker." Hermione mimicked a creepy old hag pushing her walker down the sidewalk.

"Obviously if you become a creepy old hag, I will change your name to Creepy Old Hag."

"What if I get big and fat?"

"Well, then I'll just make fun of you."

"Hey! You shouldn't make fun of fat people! What if I'm fat because of a horrible illness or even a difficult pregnancy? It happens all the time!"

"All right, fine Little Girl. If you get fat because of a horrible illness or for in an ill begotton breeding experiment gone wrong, I will not make fun of you. But if you randomly pass me on the scale because you lay around eating pork sandwiches and chips all day, then I'm fully within my rights as your friend to pass judgement in the form of ridicule. Then, and only then, I will re-name you Porkette."

"An ill begotten breeding experiment? Couldn't I just have regular children? Why does it have to be experimental breeding?"

Hermione and Draco stood side by side in the Deli, picking out their sandwiches. After they ordered, Draco led her to a bench to wait for their meal.

"Well, in your quest for World Domination through braininess, you'd obviously be involved in developing a breed of super-genius children that would end up with you carrying malformed fetuses with giant heads and an overwhelming need for donuts, thus spurring you to eat your weight in pastries on a daily basis. Your freak children would be born walking and talking, and within six months after their birth – which results in your death of course, that's what you get for tampering with nature – Granger's Demon Offspring will- mmmpmmhhhmph."

Hermione clamped her hand over Draco's mouth. She was giggling at the imagery, but had no desire to let him go any further.

"Draco, have you been reading science fiction?" she asked with mock-solemnity. He nodded his head enthusiastically.

"Well as much as I appreciate how much thought you've given to my hubris and ultimate downfall, I regret to inform you that if I have children at all, they will be normal ones. No experimentation. I wouldn't want my kids to grow up to be treated like freaks like I…"

Hermione's eyes got a kind of far-away look to them. Draco's heart thumped. He hadn't really thought about Hermione as a young child before. Had she been treated like a freak? He'd started manifesting his magic by his fifth birthday, but in his family's household, that was normal and welcome. As a Muggle-born, what had Hermione's parents thought and felt when her magic manifested? What about her friends? Draco moved forward in time to the first time he saw her, eleven years old with her mad hair and manic energy. Well. He'd certainly treated her like a freak for years. An unwanted abomination. And now here she was, his only friend. Instinctively his arms came up around her and pulled her into a hug. Then he started slobbering into her hand, which was still clamped over his mouth.

"Ew! Gross, Draco!" Hermione was giggling again, and she dramatically wiped her palm across the front of his shirt.

"You are not a freak, Little Girl." Draco said in his most serious voice. "However, I will revoke that statement as soon as I hear of your involvement in any experimental breeding." He shook a finger in front of her face. "Make sure it doesn't happen!"

"You utter goof, that was disgusting. I promise not to breed mutants if you promise to never slobber on me again!"

"I will make no such promise! I use my saliva to mark my territory. Your hand now belongs to me, especially since I have to hold onto it so much. I spit on it to keep your girl cooties from attacking me."

"Girl cooties indeed! Well then, I don't promise not to breed mutants, you Saint Bernard."

"You may not call me Bernie, if that's what you were about to ask. My name is Lord Malfoy to you, Little Girl. You may address me as Milord, or Oh Great Lord Malfoy, or Oh High Lord Draco of Amazing Awesomeness… yes, any of these will do."

Hermione laughed and rested her head against his arm as they stood to retrieve their food to take to the Park. She liked his goofy banter. She liked his attention and affection. She especially liked how he double-layered his sentiments and apologies. She'd noticed on several occasions so far that he'd been speaking about more than what they were currently discussing. When Draco had thanked her yesterday in his flat, she'd blown off his attempt to further explain himself, because she wasn't sure if she was ready to talk about their childhood animosity yet. She didn't want to associate this Draco with that one. Not until she was sure he was well and truly capable of being her friend now. God knew she desperately needed one. But, after their dinner last night, and even more so after spending this morning with him, Hermione felt sure that Draco was more than just a kindred spirit.

At least, Muggle Draco was to Muggle Hermione. Wizard Draco and Witch Hermione had been like oil and water, they didn't blend well, even when they were on the same team. But here, as regular people, they were more like… Water and water? Or oil and oil?

Sprawling on the grass on a particularly sunny spot of the Park that sloped gently down towards the children's playground, Draco set about opening their packets of food as Hermione set aside her gig-bag and opened up her day-bag to retrieve her bottle of anti-inflammatories and her lotion. She uncapped her water and popped two pills in her mouth, then she pushed up her long-sleeves and got started with her hand lotion.

Draco watched the way she was rubbing down her arms and across her fingers, and realized she was massaging the soreness out of her hands.

"You're sore? Is that normal?" He asked.

"It is for me, lately. I've been practicing so much, and my body's just not used to it yet. But if I take some anti-inflammatories and massage my hands, it speeds my recovery." Hermione shrugged to make her statement as casual as possible. He didn't need to know that if she didn't go through her ritual, she wouldn't be able to lift her hairbrush tomorrow, let alone play in church.

Draco saw an opportunity to touch her again, and naturally had to take it. He took one of her hands in both of his, and started massaging it properly, flexing through her fingers and pulling them outwards to stretch the joints. They were already popping and creaking, giving audible proof that she was already swelling up.

"I'll take care of this, since it will be more effective if you just relax." He rolled her wrist back and forth, enjoying the slide and pull of his fingers around hers.

Hermione moaned and her eyes fluttered closed. "Oh, Draco that feels wonderful. Where did you learn to do this?"

Draco ignored the twitching in his lower region as she moaned his name – Merlin alive, that was so fucking sexy – and reached over to take her other hand.

"How quickly you forget." He said mock-seriously.

Hermione opened her eyes and tilted her head, looking at him inquisitively. He pointed back to himself with their joined hands.

"Pampered Prince." He said, totally straight-faced. "I got manicures and pedicures twice a month whether I wanted them or not."

Hermione burst out laughing. She laughed so hard she had to pull her hands away from him as she rolled backwards on the grass.

"It wasn't that funny, Granger," he said sardonically.

"I'm sorry Draco, I just got a visual…" She broke off into giggles.

"No need to share. I don't want to know." Draco held his hands up in self-defense.

"I just, ah – I never noticed you popping into the salon while we were on the run during the War – whooo – " Hermione broke off as she thought of Draco standing in a nail salon, tall and grim and dressed in head-to-toe black, perusing the nail polish selection before selecting a delicate pink…

"Whatever you are thinking never happened, so kindly wipe that grin off your face or I won't finish your rub-down," Draco growled in mock-anger. He was honestly getting a kick out of her helpless laughter. She had her head thrown back, exposing her lovely throat and making her chest heave invitingly. As she settled down, he took up her hands again and continued her massage.

Hermione sighed in contentment.

"You know, I think I've laughed more in the last twenty-four hours than I have since we were in school. You brought me coffee, and now here you are rubbing the misery out of my hands. Wow, Draco, I think this might be the beginning of a very beautiful friendship." She smiled as she closed her eyes, enjoying the pulling and kneading of her joints.

"That sounds awfully one-sided, you know. I believe I remember hearing you mention yesterday something about teaching me how to cook? Seems like a fair compromise. Coffee and massages in exchange for cooking lessons." Draco finished rubbing in the last of her lotion, and then dropped her hands to retrieve her sandwich for her.

"You're right, you know. I have most definitely laughed more in the past twenty-four hours than I have since we were in school. You know, I'm really happy that of all the people we went to school with, it was you that popped up out here in my new life," Draco said as he opened his own sandwich and looked over at his smiling companion. She was blushing!

"Thank you, Draco. That's really nice of you to say," Hermione said.

"Well, it's the truth, and I'm not just talking about the Advanced Muggle Studies, although that is definitely a perk. Seriously though, if instead of you, I found myself living in the same town as, say… Lavender Brown or one of the Patil girls…" He shuddered dramatically and Hermione rolled her eyes as he continued.

"Let's just say that I'd be writing Mafalda to request a change of address as soon as possible."

Hermione giggled. "Well obviously you never would have met one of them, because they would never have stepped foot in the Library. What about a guy then? Ernie Macmillan?"

Draco frowned and squinted, trying to place the name as he chewed.

"Hufflepuff, our year, big pompous windbag of a boy." Hermione jogged his memory. Draco gagged slightly, then cleared his throat and shook his head.

"Gods, no. I couldn't stand that guy. It's funny, I always thought his name was Smarmy Macpuffin. Hmm, can't imagine why…" Draco stroked his chin thoughtfully as Hermione laughed.

"Honestly though, that would be almost as bad as if the Weasel moved to town…" Draco drifted off as he saw Hermione's face cloud up.

"Oh, hey, no offense Hermione. The Weasel's just one of those people in my life that I have never and will never get on with. I'm not making fun of him or anything." He reached over and grasped her hands in his own.

"Hey, are you all right?" Draco asked.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and bowed her head, as if in prayer. Then she lifted it and looked up at him.

"I'm hiding from him," she said.

"WHAT?"

"I'm hiding from him. From Ronald. He thinks I'm in Australia, or at least, that's what information I left him before I left London last month." Hermione looked at Draco's shocked face, and made a decision. Hermione wanted Draco as a friend. She knew his presence could fill the void in her life that had opened up when Harry died, the war ended, and her relationship with Ron fell apart. And of course, the biggest void of all that came from nearly destroying her own parents. Everything she knew and cherished about the magical world was stained with her losses and her guilt. Finding Draco out here in the Muggle world, with his magic and his arrogance stripped away… well, it was like God was throwing her a lifeline. A compromise for the sake of her happiness and sanity. With Draco, she wouldn't have to drown in her secrets. For Godric's sake, she'd just stumbled into him twenty-four hours ago, and here she was, already able to envision a whole new future. Not just existing and hiding from censure and celebrity, but a real future and a real life.

Hermione tugged her hands away from Draco and hugged her knees to her chest.

"Look," she said.

Draco raised an eyebrow. She'd been sitting there thinking for a good two minutes, completely zoned out as she weighed out her decision. Draco was getting damned uncomfortable. He hadn't meant to insult her. Hell, he wasn't even all together sure he had. So he watched, and waited.

Hermione sighed and said, "Draco, I had planned to spend the rest of my life, or at least the foreseeable future, making up for my mistakes and trying to live as peacefully and quietly as possible. I moved to this town because I wanted to remain somewhat close to Harry, to hold onto his memory. I gave up my magic because I don't want it anymore. I've done too much damage, and the War was too hard on me, for me to want to wield that kind of power in any capacity. So, I'm here, in Little Whinging, because I want to be here. I wanted to partition myself away from the world, so I could heal and work out everything in my head without interference from everyone. The Ministry was very aggressive about wanting Ronald and I to stand in as honorary Aurors, playing puppets for a group whose specific purpose would be to round up rogue Death Eaters and stand in for photo-opportunities with The Daily Prophet. And Ronald wanted that, he loved the limelight! But Ronald and I, we were not compatible, and our friendship barely survived losing Harry. Leaving the Wizarding Community was my ideal method for protecting myself from him and from further Ministry or celebrity meddling. So, that's why I'm really here. I'm hiding from the Weasley's and from the Ministry, in a nutshell. Mafalda knows I'm here, and now you do too. The rest of the world thinks I've moved to Sydney to finish school and live with my parents." Hermione sighed, and picked at a loose thread on the hem of her jeans.

"You mean like only you and Mafalda know I'm here, and the rest of the world thinks I'm in Europe finishing my schooling and living off my parents' money?" Draco quipped.

Hermione smiled.

"Exactly. But Draco, I am so happy that I ran into you yesterday. I have spent the past month in almost total silence, aside from my music. Really, it was starting to get pretty dim, and Sue's been pressuring me to 'get out there' and meet people, but I'm not ready to pretend to be a regular person for the whole world yet. I'm still a little messed up, and I have so many secrets to keep. It's not normal for me to be silent for extended periods of time. I don't know how well you remember from school, but I'm a talkative person by nature." Hermione grinned up at him innocently, so he tweaked her nose.

"Yes, I remember school. I assume you're referring to your propensity to always shout out answers to questions or solve the world's problems from your seat in the Great Hall." Draco smirked at her.

"Oh ha ha, Captain Sarcasm." Hermione shifted to cross her legs, and noticed that she had her hands in Draco's again.

"As much as everyone called me a know-it-all, that wasn't the reason why I was always talking in class. I went to a progressive primary school before Hogwarts, and the lessons were conducted in a conversational format. The students were encouraged to engage in conversation with the teachers about the subject matter, which in turn increased the ability of the students to retain the subject. It's a more intuitive learning process, and it was hard for me to adjust to just sitting quietly in class at Hogwarts, taking notes and not speaking." Hermione broke off on her little education lesson to Draco.

"Crap, I'm getting off subject! Sorry. Okay, case in point, I am a talkative person."

Draco chuckled. "Yes, yes you are, Ms. Granger."

"Right, so anyway, Ron and Harry bore the brunt of my talkativeness because I also helped them with their homework, and despite their protests, I employed the conversational teaching method on them while I helped." Hermione shrugged. "They learned. They didn't like it, but they kept decent enough grades because of it. I'm actually fairly proud of that."

The expression on Draco's face told her she needed to get back to her original point, or she was going to lose him entirely.

"Okay, so I'm a talkative person. And I've got all this history and life experience from the Wizarding world that I no longer live in. I can't talk about things with people out here. There's the International Statute of Secrecy for a reason. I can't even see a therapist or a grief counselor to talk about Harry, I'd get locked away in a psych ward for sure. So, back to you. That's why I'm so glad to have found you, Draco."

Draco was confused. She wanted him to… what? Listen to her problems? Like a Mental Health Healer? Apparently his confusion was showing on his face.

"Oh, I don't mean I want you to play therapist or anything. It's just, Merlin, Draco, isn't it nice to have someone to talk to out here that you don't have to keep ALL of your secrets from? That's why I'm so, so damned thrilled you're here. We know each other, and childhood rivals or not, we get along now. And if you stick around long enough, you're going to find out a lot more about me than you may have ever wanted to know." Here Hermione blushed.

"Anyway, I just wanted you to know ahead of time what you're getting into. I'm not in horrible shape, but I'm pretty messed up and I have a lot of stuff in my life I'm trying to work out. But as friends, you should know that you can share everything with me, because I know I'll end up sharing everything with you. It's my nature, I guess."

Draco looked down at their hands clasped together. It felt perfectly natural. They'd shifted so close together that their knees were touching.

"Well Hermione, I don't think I'd make a very good therapist. I'm a pretty messed up person myself. But you're right, it's good to know we can talk to each other about our real lives and not have to keep secrets. Lately, I don't have much to talk about, outside of my incredible lack of knowledge about how to live properly in the Muggle world. I've had my arse handed to me so many times in past few months, I don't have a lot of room left for pride or stoicism. I just want… well, I guess, I just want you." Draco couldn't help it, he blushed bright pink saying that, and hurried forward before she could chime in.

"I'm not saying I WANT YOU, as in, I'm going to pounce on you or anything. What I mean, I guess, is that meeting you here out in the Muggle world, and being with you in it this short amount of time, well it's been brilliant. I think having you as a companion, a friend, or whatever, is going to make all the difference in my ability to make it through the next five bloody years. I want you in my life, Hermione Granger. I don't have anywhere else to be. I am at your disposal." Draco smiled at her, genuinely, warmly, and sheepishly.

Draco walked Hermione back home as the sun was setting that evening. They'd spent the afternoon in the Park, walking, laying in the sun on the warm grass, and people watching. Always touching or holding hands – to Hermione's joy and Draco's amusement, and always talking. They talked about everything and nothing. They talked about the people around them, about how mobile phone technology worked, about what kind of motorcycles Draco had been admiring, what it meant to be an independent adult now, about Muggle religion and it's strange lack in the Wizarding World, and what kinds of cars Hermione was considering purchasing. The only things they didn't talk about were their parents, Harry Potter, and the simmering, building sexual tension that was creeping over them.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"If you'd like to come to church with me in the morning, I'll be leaving here at 8:45." Hermione shrugged one shoulder, eyeing him challengingly.

"Unless you're scared of the Muggle God, of course…" she said. She leaned against the entrance door to her flat to extract her keys from her day-bag as Draco hailed a passing cab.

Draco snorted as he waved the cab over.

"Hermione, I think if God wanted to strike me down, He's had enormous opportunity to do so in the past few months. Hell, the past few years. You, my dear, will see me in the morning. I want to see you play and sing again, I want to watch you do that funny warm-up walk again, and I have to admit, I'm curious to see the whole Sunday Church In Progress thing." Then, because he couldn't resist it, he boldly kissed her on the cheek before he walked to the cab.

"I'll even bring coffee. See you in the morning, Ms. Granger."

And with that, Draco was gone.

Hermione groaned, letting her head fall backward as she stared at the clouds. What a day! What an adventure she had just started! A smile broke out on her face, so wide it hurt her skin as she cupped her cheek. She started laughing, then she did a little happy dance right there on the sidewalk as cars and pedestrians passed by, on their way in search of home and supper, entertainment and companionship on a Saturday evening in Little Whinging.

/…../

Dear Mafalda,

I think this is the first time I've actually sat down to write to you that I've actually had something I actually gave a shit about to mention. No new accidents in the past few weeks, I'm happy to report. Well there was the time last week when I ran into that wall, but that was just absent-mindedness. I keep forgetting that shit won't just jump out of my way. Surprisingly enough, I met someone who has the same problem. Hermione Granger popped into MY Library yesterday. I don't know if this was deliberate or not, if you had some kind of grand specific therapy-immersion plan involving her or not, but I will say this:

THANK YOU.

Hermione's offered to help me learn how to use the machinery of my flat, and is even making me notes for how to use the laundry and kitchen appliances. She gave me a lesson in chemicals for cleaning, and I just finished vacuuming my carpets. At dinner, she hypothesized the reason I was mugged last month is because my attackers were after the money they saw in my wallet. Besides the fact that I COULD HAVE DIED, it's nice to know that there wasn't some darker reason for the attack.

I also learned that I'm currently living in the town where Potter grew up. Don't tell me you didn't know, because in retrospect I'm sure that this too, is some part of your grand Muggle-immersion-empathy plan for yours truly. Merlin, I wish I'd known this information before. I don't know that it would have made a difference in whether I'd have wished to settle here or not, but it was a bit of a surprise this morning when Hermione's friend Sue asked if I knew Harry Potter. And no, she's not a witch, she grew up down the street from Potter. That was bloody unexpected. So, again, a warning would have been optimal. It was a bit of a struggle to come up with a story for that kind of situation with no notice.

Hermione took me to her church band practice this morning. She also invited me to go with her to her church tomorrow morning, partly to watch her play – she plays the violin and sings, it's completely fascinating seeing this side of her – and partly to witness this different side of Muggle culture. Religion, faith, God, it's not something that my parents ever discussed with me, since everyone knows Malfoy's make their own destiny and are the masters of the universe… I hope you can hear my sarcasm….

Draco scratched the side of his head absently with his pen. This letter he was writing would be his first letter to Mafalda that contained any sort of personal information outside of accident reports, employment updates, hospital paperwork and requests for assistance. She'd never responded to the requests for assistance, but Mafalda had always appreciated that he was having a difficult go out here, had encouraged him to make friends to ease his loneliness and alienation, and had sympathized over his myriad injuries. She was a good pen pal in that sense, in that she addressed the issues he put forth in his writings. But Mafalda never gave much away about herself or what was going on in the Wizarding World, so in another sense his correspondence really was more like reporting to a parole officer – albeit a very sympathetic and kindly one, but still it wasn't true companionship.

Companionship.

Hmm…

Draco couldn't quite wrap his head around the last twenty-four hours. Seeing Hermione singing and playing her violin this morning had set his awakening interest in her on fire, and spending the entire afternoon talking to her and touching her constantly had only fueled his interest into a full-blown infatuation. He wanted her, and he was completely focused on keeping her for as long as humanly possible. Part of it was his desperate loneliness, and Draco wasn't quite sure yet how big a part of his attraction to Hermione was because of that, but the other part, which right here and now felt like the larger part, was drawn to her because she was so bloody AMAZING.

Draco sighed. That was not something he wanted to put in his letter to Mafalda. While he didn't know what was going on entirely with Hermione, he'd at least been able to determine that Mafalda was in contact with her as well, and had helped her in her decision to settle here in Little Whinging. Freaking Potter's Hometown. How utterly fucking bizarre. From what Sue had said, Potter's life here wasn't a pleasant one, and hearing her simple statements about Potter's crap family life growing up, Draco couldn't help but feel sorry for The Boy Who Got To Kill Himself For The Greater Good. He had a crap life and a crap death, poor sod. And here Draco was now, landed in the middle of Saint Potter's hometown, dancing on the edges of what looked like a mind-blowing, life altering… something with Potter's best gal pal, and wondering for the first time in the three miserable months he'd been living in Little Whinging, if this forced move actually would be a positive experience for him.

A positive experience that had included church in the morning. With Hermione, her violin, and her Muggle God.

It should be interesting.

To Be Continued