Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other famous, remotely popular, or hardly recognized works of other people—should cover everything, right?
A/N: Thanks to all my loyal reviewers, each and every one of you are awesome and I apologize for the wait, life happened.
Have you ever met a genius before? If you have then you know they fall into a few standard categories. If you have not, then pay attention. There are dozens of different types of geniuses, but they can be lumped together due to common denominators.
The first type is the intellectual genius. These are people who have a very high IQ, either above 140 or 180 depending on if you side with Terman or Hollingworth, either way they are considered exceptionally bright in one or several academic areas. The majority of the people who fall into this category are socially awkward; either from lack of social skills or from an abundance of ego. The bottom line being that they are not all that popular. That is not to say that their peers do not acknowledge their academic prowess, it is more that their peers cannot see past their social shortcomings in order to establish a working relationship.
These are the people who redefine the entire history of humanity in moments of great achievement. The intellectual geniuses are the ones who create calculus which opens up avenues of things once impossible. The intellectual geniuses are the ones who find cures for deadly diseases which will save countless lives for generations to come. The intellectual geniuses are the ones who are noted for their massive contributions to the greater good of humanity, despite their lack of social acceptance from the masses they are bettering.
The second type of genius is that of creativity. These are people like DaVinci and Mozart. They contribute their lives to the arts and the beauty it brings to the world. Whether it is in the form of painting, music composition, or architectural achievements, their masterpieces are marveled at by the masses. These geniuses get along a bit better socially, although the majorities are noted to be very peculiar. On a rather ironic note, more creative geniuses prefer not to interact favorably with society.
Because of their acute levels of creativity they often find society to either be dull or plain ugly. And so in a show of artistic license the creative geniuses discard the very thing that intellectual geniuses lack. These people tend to be moody, secretive, flamboyant, cynical, and overall bipolar. It is unsure whether literary geniuses are academic or creative, and it can be assumed that the truth lies somewhere in between.
The third and undeniably most dangerous of the geniuses is that of the charismatic. These are people whom have no need for high IQ's or impressive streaks of creativity; they already have the masses at their fingertips. These people are often brilliant strategists and they have impeccable timing and often wonderful oratory skills.
The charismatic genius is craved by society, and in a vicious circle the more a society admires a certain charismatic genius the more susceptible the society is to the strategic manipulation of the charismatic genius. The most famous and truly infamous type of charismatic genius is the tyrant. Adolf Hitler and Jim Jones are good examples of tyrants. Hitler used his charisma to turn Germany into a hate filled genocide machine, killing anywhere from 10 million to 26 million people (the numbers vary by sources). Conversely Jim Jones used his charisma to start Jonestown, a settlement of about 900 people who regularly practiced 'white nights' which were essentially suicide drills. Ultimately, his charisma led 900 people to commit 'revolutionary suicide', which was nothing more than a painful death by cyanide.
Whether it was death to others or death to oneself, the power of a charismatic genius is far reaching and a thing that is driven by personal ambition. That is not to say that all charismatic geniuses use their influence for 'evil'. The term evil is used lightly because had the charismatic geniuses succeeded in achieving their end goals then they would have been revered by the world they had restructured.
History is written by the winners and it always demonizes the losers, mostly because there is no difference in the actions of both parties, thus the winners feel the need to separate themselves morally from their opponents. In war both sides brutally slaughter their opponents in the name of their respective purposes, it is not clear which side is 'good' until the other has been defeated.
And then the old adage that good triumphs evil does a neat little psychological trick and views of the masses, even those who were not involved with either party, start to integrate the word 'good' with the victors. You can be sure that had Hitler succeeded in his quest he would have written history a bit differently. He and his purpose would have been 'good' and the allies would have certainly been a bit more than 'bad'.
But it was not to be so and we can assume that it was for the better, but since we cannot be positive, there is no real way to know that the actual outcome was the 'best' outcome. It is the only outcome we have to live with, and because we think highly of ourselves and the victors of history, it must be for the best. Right?
Surely all the destruction that has come from what geniuses create is less than the progress that it has brought, for if not, then it would be a bad thing to be a genius. Indeed, if the masses did not believe that the end justifies the means, then the scientific geniuses who create weapons of war would not be an asset but a liability to society.
It must be noted that because the masses and the geniuses are on different levels of comprehension, they have different views on virtually everything. And since the masses cannot fully comprehend the works of a genius it may be said that all three categories of genius unwittingly deceive the masses around them.
Draco was highly aware of this knowledge. He was also quite aware of the fact that he was not an intellectual genius, nor was he a creative genius. If the deatheaters had been victorious it is possible that he could have been a charismatic genius, he was very skilled in the art of manipulation and strategy; consequently, history had already deemed him as 'evil' and since geniuses are for the good of society he could never be one.
He had lost the approval of the masses and thus lost the power that comes with blind admiration. And while it is true that approval can always been gained back, it can never reach its full potential once the genius has suffered the losing end, not that he was all that concerned with being a genius or controlling the masses.
No, what Draco Malfoy was concerned about was Hermione Granger. The lump of a girl that lay sleeping on his couch was a rather dangerous sort of genius. It had taken him a while to figure out what was so special about the Gryffindor princess, but in the end he solved the mystery, although it was rather worrisome conclusion.
The catalyst for his train of thought and later concern was his reaction to Pansy's comment on how things had been different had Granger been in Slytherin. He had immediately felt sick to his stomach at the idea for that seemingly minor detail would have changed the course of history.
Hermione Granger had long been hailed the brightest witch of their generation, from personal experience he had failed time and again to beat her scores in class, so he was not contesting her claim to intellectual genius. Nor was he all that concerned that she would someday create a spell that would wipe pure bloods out of existence, simply because that was not a part of her personal ambition. No, she was too bright to discriminate so blatantly, despite the fact that masses would support her actions as revolutionary and for the greater good.
From what he could tell she was sorely lacking in the creative sense. He felt that literary skills were more academic than creative because it took a brain to appreciate a literary masterpiece, something not a lot of people have, and it only took eyes and ears to appreciate paintings, sculpture, and music, something nearly every person has.
He had seen the doodles she did, and could soundly conclude that she would never create an artistic masterpiece; as far as doodles go they were rather pitiful. The part of Hermione Granger what was bothering him was her unexpected charisma.
It was so subtle that it took him months to figure out why he was even tolerating her, other than his situation of course. It puzzled him even more to learn that Pansy had devoted herself emotionally to a girl who had been their rival for six and a half years.
None of it made sense until he realized that he was unconsciously pulled to the curly haired girl, and it finally clicked. He had mentally kicked himself repeatedly upon his discovery. He spent his entire life growing up around 'evil' but charismatic people, and yet he could not recognize it for what it was when it came to Hermione Granger.
At first he wondered if perhaps she was just more charismatic than his previous acquaintances and was better at manipulation, but he nixed that idea and replaced it with the conclusion that he, and the rest of society, had been mentally conditioned to attribute charismatic manipulation to people of questionable purposes. Nothing about Hermione Granger's purposes had ever really been questionable morally, logically perhaps, but morally—never.
And therein lay her power.
Her impressive intellect made people admire her, or envy her, depending on the person. But it was her charisma that made her so damn likable, and because she only displayed ambitions of helping others achieve their ambitions, the word manipulation never even crossed their minds.
Like everything in the world there are positive and negatives to all actions. Manipulation just so happens to have a bad reputation and so the idea that it could lead to a positive end result is not something people are comfortable with.
And indeed, Draco was having issues comprehending the woman that had become such an integral part of his life. As mentioned before, he was notorious control freak and not understanding something meant not being able to control it, something he highly disliked.
Shortly after meeting with Pansy they had begun to spend more time together for purely academic reasons at first. She was helping him with his wandless magic, and occasionally with some school work that dealt with muggle ideas and traditions he was not accustomed to.
He was not all that pleased at the fact that he needed her help, but he consoled himself with the fact that she was essentially tutoring him, something that translated into her serving him. Keep in mind he was born and raised as a pureblood, and with that came tradition and status, all pureblooded children had personal tutors. So in the end he was quite pleased at the idea of Hermione Granger, the brightest witch their generation had ever seen, was his tutor. He just had to do some mental gymnastics to make it acceptable.
He had been improving steadily with his wandless magic, it was still verbal at this stage, but he could do simple charms that greatly improved his everyday life. He had been surprised to learn that it was nearly impossible to perform curses, jinxes, and offensive spells wandless. The few wandless spells that could be used in a duel were purely defensive. But for the most part wandless magic used charms.
When he questioned Granger about how she got around that during the final battle she had given him a rather silly smile and said that she never actually did harm to any death eaters. She used 'expelliarmus' on the majority and physically snapped their wands, leaving them flustered and essentially harmless. Magical folks never thought to bring physical weapons like knives or guns.
She had laughed at the look he had given her. Only Granger could pull off such a ridiculous stunt, her and perhaps Potter or Weasley, it was a very Gryffindor trait after all. Leave it to them to achieve such a grand action through ridiculous means.
"The point of nonverbal wandless magic is not to impose your power on others; it is to manipulate the situation so that intimidation tactics evoke extreme emotions in your opponents. It is all about frazzling their mental abilities to react logically and making yourself seem more dangerous than you really are. If they ever picked up a book on wandless magic they would know that it is impossible to curse someone with it and it is severely limited in its range of damaging spells." Her voice echoed in his thoughts.
She had told him that after he expressed his rather sarcastic concern about all the evil things the muggle immersion committee would accuse him of when they learned about her teaching him this.
Her use of the word 'manipulate' had triggered something in his brain, which in turn coupled with Pansy's previous comment, and eventually formed his current thesis that Hermione Granger was both an intellectual genius and a charismatic one as well.
Which meant that she was flat out dangerous.
He drew his silvery eyes away from the object of his contemplation and towards the clock that hung on his wall. She would be waking up from her nap soon and if she did not have coffee she was awfully fussy and snappy.
He heaved a heavy sigh and removed himself from his seat at his kitchen table, sending a brief scornful look at his unfinished homework. Damn girl had distracted his thoughts, and now he was going get a cup of coffee for her, more because it was in his best interest and less because he wanted to be nice.
But still, oh how the mighty have fallen.
He was not pleased, but he had to admit, preferably only under pain of torture, that they were actually something akin to friends at the very most, and companions at the very least. Roughly three months had passed since the day Granger had reunited Pansy and him. He was disgruntled that he spent time with Granger nearly every day after her office hours ended, but whether it was from the company or his comfort with the company he was unwilling to decide.
She would show up at his flat shortly after she was finished with school and they would work on his magic for a bit and then she would go sit on his couch and read for another little bit before falling asleep for 50 minutes exactly. Why 50, he had no idea, but 50 it was.
After that she would wake up, have a cup of coffee, turn on some music, and make them dinner. After that she would go home and the next day it would start all over again. It had taken a month or so for the routine to develop, but it had been firmly in place for two months now. It was familiar.
Despite how domestic it was they did not talk often, or if they did it was not about them. They had had many rather heated debates over books and the philosophies related to the theme, which did reveal a lot about themselves, but they mutually avoided anything that would bring about an awkward heart to heart. And even their debates were more like fights than a peaceful conversation.
But that was to be expected, he doubted that they would ever be able to hold a friendly conversation for long before they began bickering, it was how they interacted with each other from day one, and it would be how they interacted with each other till the day they parted. Neither seemed bothered by it.
Turning his thoughts neutral he focused on getting her and himself a cup of coffee, not that it took much concentration, he was just sick of thinking about her. He always spent the time she took napping thinking about her, mostly because it was the only time he could blatantly stare at her while he pondered the person that was Granger. But that time was almost over and he did not want to accidentally give her any looks that would tip her off to what he was thinking. He was still very much a man of secrecy.
He carried a cup in each hand the short distance to his coffee table and set one down for her, keeping hold of the one for him. Merlin bless the culture that propagated coffee, he was fairly positive that without the aid of coffee the majority of the world would be destroyed by pissy Americans, he was told that they ran off the wonderful drink. He had to admit he was a bit addicted as well, but he was still rather partial to a good cup of tea.
So even if all the coffee beans in the world ran out, he would be okay, which was good. Now if all the coffee beans plants and all the tea plants in the world shriveled up and died, well, that would probably be the start of Armageddon. He could not think of a country that did not depend heavily on at least one of the liquids.
His thoughts of world domination through vertical integration of the two plants were put on hold as the lump on his couch started to stir, 50 minutes on the dot, what a timely girl.
"Have a good nap?" He asked, more out of habit than curiosity. His silver eyes surveyed her rumpled appearance as she stood and stretched. It was another quirk of hers; every time she woke up she would stretch in a very cat like manner. Granted he had not seen her when she woke up in the morning after an actual night's sleep, but he assumed she stretched then as well. It would be rather odd if she only stretched after naps, don't you think?
After thoroughly popping all the bones in her back she gave him a content smile before picking up the coffee cup and taking a sip. "Mhmm, no dreams. What would you like for dinner?"
A smirk flitted on Draco's handsome face. "Chicken Fettuccine." Was his rather amused response. Not only was she his tutor, but she was his cook as well. What a charmed life he lived.
She gave him a knowing look before wandering off to the kitchen, mumbling 'addict' while she went. Granger's Chicken Fettuccine had quickly become his favorite dinner food. He had always loved pasta, from the day he could eat solid food, or so his mother used to tell him.
Perhaps it was because of the person cooking it or perhaps it was because it was done the muggle way, but he would wager half of his account at Gringots that her version was more delectable than that of the house elves. A statement that bordered on blasphemy, but held some water.
And so the night continued much that way they expected it too. Draco flicked his hand towards his cheap little radio, eliciting the sweet sounds of Bach, smiling inwardly at his small achievement, before sitting at the table and actually doing some of his work while Hermione cooked dinner in the kitchen. Once she was finished cooking he would clear the table of his books and they would sit and eat, listening to the songs on the radio. They had it set on a station that played mostly classical music with the occasional night of jazz.
Not only did the classical music calm both of them, but Draco just flat out did not understand much of the stuff referenced in muggle music, he had never been a fan of modern wizarding music, much less the modern muggle music. Hermione did not mind either way, she had enough knowledge of both worlds to be content with whatever he chose.
She was not a bit surprised when he chose classical, for some odd reason it fit in perfectly with his aristocratic upbringing. The idea of Draco Malfoy listening to the Weird Sisters was a bit beyond laughable.
And so the couple sat in quiet companionship as the soothing sounds of Bach's Cello Suite washed over them and the warmth of a delicious meal filled them. All things considered this was not a bad life to live Draco thought. He had a pretty girl to keep him company and feed him, but he did not have to put up with the emotions that came with being involved with someone.
Granted he also did not get any sex, but hey, beggars cannot be choosers. Besides there is no sex without emotional involvement of some measure, he was content to sacrifice sex in exchange for that. Not that he often thought of Granger in that way, he just happened to notice that she was a very shapely girl. Mostly when she would stretch, it was rather hard to miss at times like that.
Something must have leaked into his eyes because Hermione gave him an odd look before asking "Something wrong?" and letting her eyes travel quickly over his person, as if to find the source of his odd look. Too bad she was not in front of a mirror.
While her eyes scanned him she could not help but admire him. He always had been handsome, if a bit ugly when being cruel. She was rather appreciative that she could openly look at him without being verbally attacked for being a mudblood. The way she looked at him was akin to the look an art admirer would give a painting. She would not mind looking at him for days, but she never had any intention of touching.
She knew that quite like if she touched a precious work of art the oil from her skin would ruin it; the dirt of her being a mudblood would quite likely transform his face from content perfection to a twisted ugly mask of disgust.
After her perusal of his person her pretty brown eyes came to rest on his silver ones, which still held an odd quality to them while he stared at her.
"Just thinking." was his distracted reply as the look in his eyes retreated and was replaced with his normal look of alert boredom. A knowing look entered her toffee colored eyes as she gave a small "Ah." and went back to eating.
And see that right there is why Draco liked spending time with Hermione Granger. She was observant but not prying, which was odd because she was a know-it-all normally. But when it came to him she never questioned his actions or responses. Pansy, bless her, would have asked him what he was thinking and not let it drop until he told her or said something insulting towards her.
But not Granger. Granger let him keep his secrecy, something he appreciated greatly. The paranoid part of him insisted it was because she already knew his secrets, which was a tad improbable considering she had only been back in his life for about five months. That was an awfully short time to learn all of his secrets, considering the type of life he previously led.
Another part suggested she did not care, but that was a very small part of him that he did not like to listen to. Everybody wants to be cared about.
The biggest part of him insisted that she was just being the nice, empathetic person she was. It was that damn charisma again, allowing him to achieve his wish of secrecy through her. His conspiracy thoughts on her being a charismatic genius were interrupted as a knock on his door sounded solidly through the flat.
They exchanged looks of apprehension as Hermione stood to get the door. Nobody but she and the ministry knew where he lived since he was not social with his peers. In fact they both subconsciously assumed that Hermione would be the only person to visit him during his time in the muggle world.
She summoned her wand as she walked quietly towards the door. It was not beyond the realm of possibilities that someone would track Draco down to hurt him. There were many upset people who blamed the death of their loved ones on people like Malfoy, and those already upset people were rather enraged when they heard he would get a second chance at life while their loved ones lay rotting in the earth.
She stood on her tippy-toes and looked through the peek hole before drawing back startled and throwing the door open. Surprising both Draco and the man on the other side who took a step back from the sudden movement.
"Harry!" She exclaimed before promptly bursting into tears and throwing herself at the still startled aruror who caught her more out of habit than conscious ability.
A couple hours earlier found Harry Potter standing in front of an imposing house that belonged to Andre and Pansy. He gathered all of his Gryffindor courage and knocked on the cherry wood door. There was a few seconds of silence before he heard some rustling and a woman yelling "coming".
After the locks had been undone the door opened to reveal a mature Pansy standing in a fetching blue dress looking quite normal and not like a Slytherin at all. "Hello, Mr. Potter. Is there anything I can do for you?" She asked giving him a queer look.
It's not every day that Harry Potter shows up at your door, unexpected at that. He had aged well, his green eyes held confusion but still, he was rather handsome with his ruffled black hair and expensive robes. Yes, time had been kind to him.
"You don't have a house elf?" Was his response, causing a look to cross his face that clearly stated that is not was he meant to say.
Pansy laughed lightly, he seemed just as surprised that he was visiting her as she was. "You know Hermione would pitch a fit if I kept a house elf around. And you know how scary she can be." She joked lightly.
At the mention of his former friend he bit his lip, a sign of guilt no doubt. Had she been anybody else she might have felt bad that she had so blatantly rubbed in the fact that she was friends with Hermione while he was not, but she was Pansy. And though she may not look it she was still a Slytherin at heart, what did she care if he felt guilty?
"Er, right. Speaking of 'Mione, do you happen to know where I can find her? It's important." His voice was calm, but his shifting gave away his discomfort.
Pansy's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she decided how to respond. "Perhaps, but first. Let's have tea." She said slowly, sending the boy who lived an evil smile. As ridiculous as it sounds seeing some form of Slytherin traits appear in the girl actually calmed his nerves a bit.
He could handle evil and conniving from a Slytherin, nice and accommodating was something he was wholly untrained for. So with a resolved spirit he followed his former enemy into her house, the cherry wood door swinging shut soundly behind him.
He found himself seated across from Pansy in her kitchen holding a cup of warm tea. The silence was uncomfortable, but it did not seem to bother her, if he did not know better, he would say she was prolonging it. Then again she was a Slytherin, so it was very probable.
"What do you need with Hermione?" She asked casually, a dark look in her eyes.
Harry cocked an eyebrow at the former Slytherin, she apparently felt comfortable enough with Hermione to call her by her first name.
"I was hoping to talk to her. You are the last person she had contact with in the wizarding world, I figured you would know better than I where to find her."
Her face took on a thoughtful look. "What do you need to talk to her about?"
Inwardly he sighed; he had been hoping to just get her address and go. "Ron's wedding, she said she would not be attending, but gave no reason." He said stiffly. Honestly if he did not need information from her he would have said something rude.
A vindictive smile twisted her plump lips up. "And you aren't willing to let it rest are you?"
Annoyed green eyes stared heatedly at her smug blue ones. "No. I think after everything we have been through Ron at least deserves a reason. We spent six bloody years protecting each other with our lives, and then we make one bloody mistake and it's all over. If she is still feels like we are unworthy of her friendship after we have given her space for seven years then she is going to bloody well tell me to my face." He finished, practically snarling.
Pansy could not help but roll her eyes; Gryffindor's were always so dramatic. "Keep your pants on Potter, I know where she is and I know why she's not going." She drawled, mildly scoffing at his antics.
"So you've kept in touch with her?" He asked hopefully, forgetting his anger momentarily.
"Mhmm, we get together every month and have coffee." She said distractedly, mentally trying to find the best way to tell him why his former friend declined the invite.
She bit her lip, torn between just flat out telling him or being nicer about it. Hermione would want her to be nicer, but she still wanted to be mean. Oh the internal wars we wage. "I am going to tell you why she's not going and please do not over react. I am sure you can go find her and convince her otherwise, just please do not be loud, my baby is down for her nap." She spoke quickly and somewhat rambled; she was the uncomfortable one now.
"Okay." He responded hesitantly. The idea of Pansy having a kid was odd to him, but he supposed she looked like a mother.
"The reason she's not going is because of Draco Malfoy." At the mention of his name and Harry's eye flashed and he sat up ramrod straight, but did not interrupt. "She has to watch him while he's in the muggle immersion program and since he is not allowed back in contact with the wizarding world until he passes she feels like she would be skirting her duties."
Harry calmed at bit as the girl in front of him spoke quickly. "Or at least that is what she told me, but I honestly think she is just afraid to be back in the wizarding world and is using that as an excuse. Draco's been behaving so it's not like he really needs watched. She does not want to go to the wedding alone and won't take me because, well, that would just be awkward and she can't take him so she does not want to go."
She finished taking a deep breath, feeling relieved that it was all out. Hard part over, right?
"I see..." Harry said thoughtfully. "So I assume since this is Hermione we are talking about, she has befriended Malfoy?" His tone was not pleased but it did not sound like he was going to go and punch the poor kid.
Pansy's blue eyes shifted away from his pressing green ones as she bit her lip again. "You could say that."
"She's not dating him is she?' He asked, sounding scandalized.
Not meeting his eyes she shifted in her seat before shrugging. "No. Not yet anyway." was her reply.
A shiver went down Harry's back and his eyes narrowed in calculation. "What do you mean 'not yet'?" He asked menacingly.
Blue eyes briefly connected with green before darting away again. "I mean, they are not dating yet, but given sometime I think it's inevitable really. They spend every day together and are pretty much isolated from both the muggle and wizarding world. That and they are of the opposite sex so really they don't stand a chance." She rambled still not looking at him.
Harry leaned back in his chair, his green eyes still narrowed in thought. It made sense, but he did not like it. "Where can I find Hermione?" he was ready to be done with this conversation.
"It's only two right now, so she will still be teaching. From about four to nine you can find her at Draco's, after that she's at her house. I'll write the addresses down for you." She said neutrally. Using her wand she summoned a piece of paper and a pen.
"Hermione's a teacher?" He asked, not at all shocked by that, but by the fact that he hadn't given a thought to what she would be doing to support herself in the muggle world.
"Mhmm, at Oxford University as their Literature teacher, which is why she is watching Draco, since he chose that degree." She answered distractedly as she wrote down two addresses.
Harry did not answer, he had many questions but he did not want to hear the answers from Pansy, he wanted to hear them from Hermione.
After she handed him the paper he thanked her and told her he would find his own way out. Had he bothered to turn around he would have seen a conniving smile on Pansy's face.
Potter was worried about Hermione and Draco dating, and now he was going to go rushing over and make sure they weren't, but by doing that and being so blatant he would be planting the idea in their heads even more.
People were so easy to manipulate.
Back in the present Harry regained his senses and hugged Hermione tightly, he had missed his friend terribly. It felt good to have her back in his arms. After a few moments she calmed down and stopped her sniffling.
"I never thought I would see you again." She said truthfully, her head still buried in his shoulder. The sound of someone clearing their throat had Hermione pulling out of his embrace and blushing prettily as she glanced back at Draco who was now standing in his doorway giving the two a frown.
"Malfoy." Harry greeted stiffly. Silver eyes flickered to green as he gave a brief nod of acknowledgement.
"You guys are letting the heat out." was all he said before turning and walking back to his dinner. Harry cast Hermione a puzzled look but all she did was shrug and smile at him before walking back into the flat.
It was the weirdest invite to come in Harry had ever received. But then again it was Malfoy; he was always an odd one.
Shrugging as well he followed the curly haired girl into the flat and shut the door behind him. The scene that greeted him was disturbing to say the least. Draco was sitting at the table looking expectantly at Hermione. It took Harry a few moments to realize that he was waiting for her to sit back down so they could continue their dinner.
Hermione must have known this as well because she cast him an apologetic look before asking Harry. "Would you like to join us for dinner, I made chicken fettuccine?"
"Sure, it's been a while since I've had your food." He said awkwardly. This was not how he envisioned the confrontation going; he expected more, well, confrontation, obviously. This was not that, this was more like he was visiting an old friend while she and her husband had dinner.
And that is why it was disturbing. Harry could clearly see what Pansy was talking about. Hermione was obviously in tune with Draco and Draco was much more compliant that Harry would have thought, more for Hermione's sake than his own he figured.
This was bad.
With a slightly depressed look on his face he went and sat down next to Malfoy. He did not have much of a choice considering the table only sat four and Hermione was sitting across from Draco.
Silver eyes glanced briefly at the man who just sat next to him. Damn Potter had to come and interrupt his dinner, his favorite dinner. And his manners would not let him continue to eat until Hermione was back, it would be entirely too rude for him to do so. His poor mother would come back from the dead and smack him for being so rude.
Harry watched as Malfoy's eyes darted back to Hermione as he watched her dish up Harry's plate and return to the table. Hermione was blissfully unaware of Harry's thoughts, but acutely aware that she was holding up Draco's dinner. The man was not pleasant when his routine was interrupted.
"Here you go Harry." Hermione said lightly, setting his plate and silverware down before returning to her seat across from Draco and next to Harry. Harry watched as Hermione got situated, the moment she picked her fork up he saw Draco pick his up with a dark glare and mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'finally' before he began eating.
Hermione just rolled her eyes and shot Harry a smile before eating her dinner as well. After a few moments of silent eating she finished, Draco still had a bit of food left so he continued and Harry had made it half way through the delicious dinner. She turned her attention to her estranged friend.
"What brings to you here? It's been forever." Her voice was happy and there was a light in her eyes that usually was missing. None of this escaped Draco's notice, in fact it was the only reason he had not tossed Potter out. The damn fool made his fool happy, and he was not in the mood to upset her tonight.
Harry blinked in surprise; Hermione was acting like everything was water under the bridge, like she had not fled from their friendship and hid in the muggle world for seven years. "I'm here to ask why you aren't going to Ron's wedding." He said flatly.
Might as well be straight forward.
Draco's head popped up in surprise and he gave Hermione a suspicious narrow eyed stare. He had assumed that she would go, it was not in keeping with her personality to decline Weasley's request.
Hermione felt Harry and Draco's eyes on her as she glanced guiltily at the table. "Oh. That." She said quietly.
Had she bothered to look up she would have seen mirror expressions of disbelief on her dinner companions faces. "Yeah. That." was all Harry replied.
"Well, you see I can't leave the muggle world. I have to stay here until Draco has finished his program." She muttered still not looking up. Harry gave her a dubious look while Malfoy looked annoyed.
"Uh uh. You are not pinning this on me. There is no way in Hell I am going to let Potter and Weasley add this to their list of things to kill me for." Draco said resolutely, setting his fork down and giving Hermione a very intimidating stare. "Understood?"
When he got no response his stare intensified. "Potter? Granger? Are we understood?" He got a nod from Potter but Granger was still not cooperating. "I can behave myself for one day Hermione. The world won't end if I am left unattended in the muggle world. I'm sure the ministry could arrange for someone else to watch me that day. It's not like I plan on going anywhere." Draco reasoned with Hermione.
He ignored the bug eyed look he was getting from Potter and focused solely on Granger. He did not have time for Potter to have a conniption fit because he used Hermione's first name, he should understand it was used out of persuasion tactics and not out of endearment.
But that was only partially what Harry was freaking out over. Not only had Malfoy used Hermione's first name, but he was try to reason her into going. He was on Harry's side. Which was bizarre and not something Harry was sure he could handle at this moment.
He had expected a fight; a verbal fight with Hermione and a possible physical fight with Draco. He did not expect to be invited to dinner, nor was he prepared for the content atmosphere that hung in Malfoy's flat. It felt like a home that was well lived in by people who cared about each other.
And the fact that Malfoy had yet to insult anyone, well, Harry was just beside himself.
"But...I don't want to go alone." Hermione said quietly, still staring at the table. Draco could not help it; he rolled his eyes at her. What a girl.
"You won't have to go alone. Potter will go with you, right?" He reasoned, giving Harry a look that said he better say yes. Harry grimaced and shook his head 'no'. "Can't. I'm the best man."
"See, I'd have to go alone." Hermione said, almost whining. Draco just heaved a sigh before trudging forward.
"No you don't. I'm sure you can take Pansy or Andre. Heck I bet if you could even convince Blaise or Theo to go with you." Draco was grasping at straws, but honestly, he did not want to be blamed for her not going and he did not want to have to deal with her if she did not go. She would be all mopey and he would have to comfort her which was something he was not comfortable with.
Deep green eyes watched the interaction thoughtfully. It would appear that Malfoy had matured a bit and was perhaps not entirely evil. When he was given the second chance Harry had been against it all the way, scum like Malfoy did not deserve to live after all the people they had killed.
But it seemed that Malfoy had changed, at least a bit. He had never been this civil in Hogwarts.
"I don't want to go with them." Hermione said childishly, finally looking up, and giving Draco a pout.
Draco gave a defeated sigh; did she have to be difficult? "Who do you want to go with Hermione?" He asked patiently, as though he was speaking to a child. Harry already knew the answer and was not at all surprised when she responded.
"I want to go with you." She said quietly, dropping her eyes back to the table. Harry had to stop from laughing at the look on Malfoy's face. He sputtered a moment before he was able to respond.
"Don't play games with me Granger. You are only saying that because you know I can't go. Not only am I banned from the wizarding world but there is no way in hell the Weasley's would let me anywhere near the wedding." He spat angrily. Harry nodded his head in silent agreement but Hermione shook hers in disagreement.
"That's not true; I would not use you like that." She said sounding hurt that he would even suggest such a thing. Malfoy just gave her a disbelieving stare.
"Lying is unbecoming. You are afraid of returning to the wizarding world for whatever reason, and that's all bloody well and fine, but you can't blame it on me." He said calmly but resolutely giving Hermione a penetrating stare.
"I am not afraid! Nor am I lying!" Hermione sputtered angrily, shooting out of her chair and leaning across the table. Harry just sat silently and watched, it was all very entertaining to say the least, almost like the times at Hogwarts but much less vindictive.
"Yes. You are!" He spat back, losing his cool and rising out of his chair to lean across the table so he could yell at her face to face, like a man.
"You are afraid to return to the people and society you shunned seven years ago. You are afraid that they will treat you differently. You are afraid they will fear your wandless magic. You are afraid that they won't like you anymore. But most of all you are afraid of apologizing and saying that you were wrong to leave, that you were a coward to leave." He finished, his silver grey eyes bearing into her brown ones.
She blinked blankly at him as silence engulfed the room. "Is that why I don't want to go back?" She asked confused, pushing off of the table and plopping down into her seat, a puzzled look on her face as she stared contemplatively at her empty plate. It would appear that she had not entertained that idea.
Draco just gave Hermione a look that Harry could not decipher and then did something that Harry never thought he would see. Draco Malfoy manually picked up his and her empty plates and carried them to the kitchen sink, after dropping them off he grabbed a bottle wine and three wine glasses before returning to the table.
He then proceeded to pour Hermione a glass and as he handed it to her he responded. "Yes. The great Hermione Granger, smartest witch of our generation, was wrong." He almost sounded like he was teasing her. And from the small smile she shot Malfoy, Harry gathered that he was.
Not only did a Malfoy just clean up after himself the muggle way, he was openly teasing Hermione in a friendly way.
"I'm not good at admitting I am wrong." She said seriously, glancing between the two men. Draco just cocked an eyebrow at her and Harry gave her a knowing smile.
"So does that mean you will come?" Harry asked hopefully. His life would be infinitely better if he could have Hermione back in it, and this was the first step.
"I will go if you can find a way for Draco to come with me." She said seriously. The hopefulness Harry felt quickly fell.
"Bloody hell Hermione. Why do you want me to come? It's not like these people will be happy to see me." Draco complained. Silently Harry agreed with him, but he kept it to himself.
"Because if I have to do something that terrifies me I want someone familiar there with me." She explained calmly. Draco opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off.
"And don't you dare say you're not familiar to me. We spend a minimum of five hours a night together, I sleep on your couch and make you dinner every day, you make me coffee and do the dishes every night. I know the majority of your quirks and what you favor and don't. I know you don't like to admit it but Draco Malfoy we are practically friends." She finished huffily, much to Harry's amusement.
"I know we are practically friends you silly twit, but how is me knowing that you stretch like a cat after every nap going to help you face your fears? How is me knowing that if you don't sleep for 50 minutes exactly you turn into a grumpy shrew going to help us not get thrown out of town. I hate to say it but when it comes to the wedding you would be better off not bringing me with you." He finished annoyed.
"I can't believe I'm saying this but, I agree with Malfoy." Harry put in, not meeting the other man's eyes.
"Well that is fine and dandy but those are my terms. Either we both go or no one goes. Draco will go simply because he does not want to be blamed for me not going so all you have to do is convince the ministry and Ron to let him come." Hermione said resolutely with her arms crossed.
"Oh yes, like that will be easy." Harry responded sarcastically.
"The ministry shouldn't be hard, you are Harry Potter, they adore you." Malfoy muttered, emphasizing the adore.
"And I am sure that Weasley would put up with Voldemort himself if he could see Granger again. So honestly Potter, you being you has the job half done and Hermione being Hermione has the other part. All I have to do is show up, be quiet, and not get killed. Hermione has to show up, apologize, and be the cute little thing she is and everyone will forgive her. Problem solved, now let's drink." He finished raising his glass in the air. He could only spend a certain amount of time sober around Potter after all.
His other two companions shared a look of amusement before toasting their glasses and downing the wine. A few glasses later, because honestly, Draco was not about to stay sober after admitting that he was almost friends with Granger, found Hermione feeling a bit better.
"You called me cute." She giggled, taking another sip of her wine. It was not often that the Slytherin complimented her and she was not about to let him get away with it without a little harassment.
Draco just ignored her teasing and focused on his wine, come hell or high water he was going to get smashed tonight. And from the looks of it his companions had the same idea. Granger appeared to be a light weight and it would not be far off the mark to say she was well on her way to being thoroughly pissed.
Potter held his liquid a bit better. He was nowhere close to drunk, but he was quite far from being sober. He was in the happy middle ground where the wine makes you relax and it would seem that there is nothing wrong in the world. That being said he was in quite high spirits.
"It's true mate, you called her cute." Potter said giving Draco a goofy smile when the Slytherin shot him a dark glare.
"And?" was the only response they got from the pale man.
"It means you think I'm cute." Hermione said happily, dangerously close to sloshing her wine out of its crystal confines. Harry just nodded his head vigorously in agreement.
"No. It means I have eyes." Draco responded matter-a-factly. He was feeling a bit of a buzz, which was relaxing him a bit, but even fully sedated he would be snarky. Can't change a cheetah's spots.
"Nu uh, it means you think I'm pretty." Hermione sang before downing the rest of her wine. Glass three out of the way, on to glass four!
"Yes, you are pretty, Potter is handsome, and I am sexy. Now what?" Draco shot back, feeling confident that his response would shut her up, never mind the fact that he had just hit on Potter. But all it did was make her and Potter bust up laughing.
"I never knew you felt that way about me Malfoy." Potter teased back, clearly under the influence of cheap wine.
"Oh yes, for years now. How could I not with those eyes?" Draco drawled sarcastically wondering why he decided that drinking with two former Gryffindor's would be acceptable behavior.
Harry just gave him a queer look before smiling goofily again. Hermione donned a serious face as she looked between the two men.
"I don't know, I think you have prettier eyes Draco. They're all silvery and mysterious. Harry's are nice, but a lot of people have green eyes. You're the only one I know that has your eyes." She said with a hiccup at the end.
"Hey!" Harry protested. "'Mione, you're supposed to think I look better, we've been friends longer." He pouted childishly. Draco let out a short laugh.
"Hah, I am finally better than you at something Potter. It's only taken fourteen years, eh?" Okay, so perhaps the wine was working quicker than expected, Draco hadn't drunk in a while and it would appear his tolerance has been lowered.
"Pft, she's only saying that because she fancies you. She can't fancy me, I'm her friend." Harry said as confidently as only a drunk can.
"I don't fancy him Harry." Hermione protested from her spot on the table where she rested her head, she was getting quite sleepy.
"See she doesn't fancy me. Granger deserves a better man than me anyway." He slurred sounding almost sad, completely unaware of the fact that he had simultaneously complimented Hermione and put himself down.
"I think I've had too much to drink, I just heard you say that you're not good enough for Hermione. Which is true, but you don't say things like that. You're a Malfoy, arrogant and the best there is." Harry slurred back, point a wobbly finger at the other man.
"I think I've had too much to drink because I did just say that. Must be drunk." Draco replied happily, he had accomplished his goal; he was drunk as a skunk and enjoying it.
"'Sides it's true, nobody wants to be a Malfoy, not after the stuff my father dragged our name through. I doubt I'll ever find a wife, they'll all think I'm just like the bastard. He killed my mum you know? Right bastard he was, but he's dead now." Draco rambled drunkenly, not realizing that he was opening up to Harry Potter. Harry on the other hand was not as drunk as Draco, having stopped drinking after three glasses while Malfoy kept going.
Though, all things considered, Malfoy had more to drink about.
"S'not true, you'll find a pretty wife someday. You're not that bad." Hermione mumbled somewhat incoherently, head still resting on the table. Draco just laughed bitterly.
"S'unlikely Hermione, No girl in her right mind would marry me. If I was a girl I wouldn't marry me." He said self mockingly. Harry nodded his head sagely in agreement, he couldn't think of any girl who would want to marry the shamed Slytherin.
"I'd marry you, I think you're pretty." She said lifting her head to look him in the eye, giving him a goofy smile. Harry's eyes widened in shock, the alcohol momentarilly wearing off, as he mentally tried to figure out how to change the direction of the conversation. The last thing he needed was the two getting together. Hermione deserved better.
"But see, you're not in your right mind, you've drunk yourself silly." Draco shot back smiling grimly. Harry breathed a silent sigh of relief; glad for once that Malfoy was a cold calculating Slytherin, even while drunk.
"Oh." Was her reply as she lay her head back down. "Either way I like you, I think you're nice." She mumbled drunkenly to the table.
A loud boisterous laugh filled the room and the two Gryffindors could only stare at the mirthful Slytherin. It was an odd sight; they had never seen Malfoy actually laugh. Hermione found it rather charming and alluring and Harry just found it odd that the man before him actually had that part of his vocal cords; he always thought it was not a part of the Slytherin anatomy.
"You have had way too much to drink if you think I am nice 'Mione." Draco slurred happily, giving the drunken girl across from him a rather attractive smile. He did not seem to notice he had adopted Harry's nickname for her, but the other two did. Hermione just smiled drunkenly back at him, quite happy with life and feeling all warm inside.
Harry, still slightly buzzed, wondered what it would have been like had the man before him been anybody but a Malfoy. He probably would have turned out to be an okay fellow Harry concluded; too bad he was a Malfoy, rotten bunch the lot of them.
"I'm tired and too drunk to aparate home." Hermione complained, dangerously close to drooling on the table. If Harry had been to her house before he could have offered to aparate her home, but as it were, he only had the address and had never been there before, since he was of little help he stayed quite.
"Go sleep on the couch." The Slytherin suggested closing his eyes and letting his head loll back. It seemed like an obvious answer to him. But Hermione was a difficult person.
"I don't wanna sleep there. Tha's where I nap. I can't sleep where I nap." She protested nonsensically. Harry had to scrunch his face in concentration to even understand what she was saying, but it was perhaps because he was sobering quickly that he was losing the ability to understand drunken speech. Lucky for all parties involved Draco was still sloshed and very fluent in drunken speech.
"That makes no sense you silly girl. Napping is sleeping in smaller quantities." He shot back, trying to reason with the drunken girl named Hermione. Harry thought Draco had a point, but Hermione was beyond the rules of logic.
"Nope. Not the same. I nap on couches and sleep in beds, tha's how it works." She said shaking her head for emphasis, but really all it did was make her dizzy. Harry just cocked an eye brow in amusement, he had never seen Hermione drunk before, and she was quite entertaining.
"Then go sleep in mine and I'll take the couch. Potter can have the floor if he wants it." Draco compromised; eyes still closed sounding half asleep himself.
"I don't think that's necessary, I can make it home okay." He said, politely declining the generous offer of sleeping on the floor.
"You don't 'ave to sleep on the couch, there's 'nough room in the bed." Hermione said lifting her head and preparing to stumble from the table to the bedroom, taking no notice to the slight panic that crossed her Gryffindor friends face.
"Nope, not allowed. Only married people can sleep in the same bed. It's the rules." He slurred sitting forward to lay his head down on the table. Harry's heart rate calmed a bit thinking that the idea of them spending the night together drunken in the same bed had been avoided. It sure was stressful to be the only mildly sober person around, he felt like he needed back up.
"I already said I'd marry you." She pointed out drunkenly, giving Harry another small heart attack. They sure weren't making this easy, sweet merlin, how did getting drunk ever sound like a good idea.
"Maybe latter 'Mione." He mumbled quietly, a few strands of platinum hair falling into his face. A couple moments later Harry could detect a small snore from the former Slytherin. It would appear that Draco was going to be sleeping on the table instead of the couch.
Hermione nodded resolutely. "I'mma holds you to that." She told the sleeping man stubbornly before stumbling to his bedroom, not bothering to shut the door.
Harry heard a thud as she fell onto the bed and moments later another soft snore was heard from her general vicinity. He briefly wondered if all drunken people snored in their sleep or if the two did that normally.
After a few moments of nonsensically contemplations he realized that he was the only one left awake, which was awkward. He did not really want to go home to Ginny smelling like a wino, but he was sure that once he explained she would not be too mad.
It was not until he attempted to stand that he realized he was a bit more drunk than he previously thought. The ground simply would not hold still. Perhaps sleeping on the couch would be the safest bet, now all he had to do was get there.
A couple of stumbles later and the great Harry Potter had managed to traverse the treacherous distance from the table to the couch, flopping heavily onto the worn surface he heaved a sigh of relief, finding himself rather tired.
Within moments he joined his two companions in a drunken slumber. At some point in the night he recalled hearing a painful sounding thud and a man groan, but it was not enough to rouse him. Still slightly drunk Draco had fallen out of his seat after trying to resituate himself in his sleep.
Groaning he lifted himself from the floor glancing around confused as to why he would be sleeping at the table. Unable to recall a plausible reason he stood on wobbly legs before stumbling towards his bedroom, shutting off the lights as he went, completely oblivious to the two other live forms that occupied his flat.
The night soon turned peaceful again as the three slumbered.
It was not until the morning light that Harry Potter was rudely torn from his sleep by a feminine shriek and a man shouting.
"Bloody hell Granger, what are you doing in my bed!" Malfoy yelled, quite startled to wake up to screaming girl who he had apparently been snuggling against. It would seem that she was startled enough to scream once she realized who she was being held by.
The two quickly scrambled out of the bed, both relived to realize they were fully dressed. "Oh god, my head." She groaned, having moved too quickly. She swayed dangerously before two strong hands steadied her.
"Go sit at the table, I'll make coffee." He said gruffly, kind in his mannerisms but voice rough from sleep. She nodded before wincing at the action.
The two trudged towards the table and the kitchen, but a movement caught Draco's eye. There on his couch looking very disgruntled was one Harry Potter.
"Bloody hell, I've been invaded by Gryffindors." He grumbled to himself before deciding that coffee was more important that Potter.
Harry, who did not have as big a hangover as Hermione soon joined her at the table, both a bit disoriented. The two sat there blankly staring off into space, one willing her headache to go away, the other just trying to wake up fully.
After a moment or so the two were joined by the blonde Slytherin who came bearing gifts of coffee and cups. They drank their coffee in silence as they became more oriented. It was a rather odd phenomenon but one could hazard to say that the more Hermione remembered the brighter she blushed.
Had she really said that she would marry Draco? Sweet merlin, kill her now. Not only that but she slept in his bed, with him. There was something to be said about small blessings as it appeared they did not do anything. As far as she could tell he joined her at some point in the night but only used her as a teddy bear. The worst part of it all was that she rather enjoyed being curled up against the aforementioned Slytherin. The few moments before she screamed were spent smiling dopily as she snuggled into the warm body pressed up against hers; it was not until her brain reminded her that she should not be snuggled up against anyone that she panicked
For his part Draco only remembered hazy bits of the previous night. From what he gathered Potter had showed up for dinner and Draco resorted to drinking, and his companions followed suit. From there it was nothing but blurs. He did remember falling out of the chair and wandering to his bed, he also remembered wondering why there was girl in his bed since he wasn't married but shrugged it off. He recalled thinking that if she was in his bed she must be his, or else why would she be there?
His current conclusion was that he was an idiot for drinking.
Hermione's ever increasing blush did not go unnoticed by his slate colored eyes; he hoped he had behaved himself. He could not recollect doing anything inappropriate other than wrapping himself snuggly around her. He might have buried his face in her neck, she was unexpectedly comfortable after all, but he did not think he did anything to warrant the current color of mortification on her face. Then again she did just wake up in the arms of an ex-deatheater of the worst caliber; if he looked at it from that point of view he could understand her mortification. He did not appreciate it, but he understood it.
For his part Potter just looked grumpy, he had never been a morning person, and while he was not entirely hung over he was also not entirely well. Not only was he upset that Malfoy had somehow ended up with Hermione in bed, but he was not looking forward to facing Ginny's wrath at him not coming home.
He always knew Malfoy's were nothing but bad news. He also knew it was not logical to blame the pale boy for the night, but when it's early and the coffee has yet to kick in logic can go screw itself. Or at least that is how he felt about it.
"What time is it?" Hermione asked quietly, pinching the bridge of her nose in a vain effort to ward off her headache.
"10, but it's also Saturday so don't spaz." Draco answered neutrally, gazing into his coffee. He did not see the other two look up at him, lost in thought as he was. Harry was perturbed by the fact that Malfoy knew Hermione well enough to know she would have a small panic attack if she thought she was late for teaching, it spoke volumes of how close the Slytherin actually was to the former Gryffindor Princess, regardless of how much the two denied it.
Hermione was staring at him thinking that she probably would not mind spending her life around him. She was by no means in love with him, and she highly doubted he felt anything romantic towards her, but she did derive quite a bit of comfort from being around him.
Would it be so bad to spend the rest of her life with him as a companion?
She did not think so.
He was rather handsome and comfortable after all. And despite his shortcomings he took very good care of her. She wondered what he would be like towards the woman he loved, he would probably make a great husband she concluded. If the way he treated her, as nothing more than a companion and almost friend, was any indication she thought that whoever he ended up with would be quite lucky. No, she did not see him turning out like his father at all. Draco was better than that, he just did not know it yet, but she would be sure to tell him. Once her bloody head stopped hurting that is.
Harry narrowed his eyes in annoyance, even when it was awkwardly quiet the two seemed to be comfortable around each other. Damn Pansy and her intuition. Harry did not want Hermione to fall for Malfoy, not only did Malfoy not deserve her, but he was positive that she would only get hurt by the cold Slytherin.
The things Draco saw in his coffee were things he knew could never be. He blamed it on being physically close to her for an extended amount of time, but his imagination was playing cruel tricks on him. It kept implying things, like a relationship, which was just unrealistic. Not only was he a murderer, to top it off the men in his family did not have the best reputation when it came to women. Seriously, no woman in her right mind would marry the son of a man who killed his own wife in cold blood. And so you see his imagination was being very cruel, not only was it teasing him with images of a relationship he would never have with anyone, but the relationship was with a woman who he could never have for a whole slew of other reasons.
And so, unbeknownst to each other, they all sat there pondering the same thing, each one of them reaching different conclusions about it with varying levels of emotion.
"You did not stretch." Draco said randomly, fixing his piercing gray eyes on the girl across from him. It was such a bizarre comment that it took Hermione a moment to figure out what he was talking about. Once she did she could not help but laugh. What a peculiar man.
"I was a bit preoccupied. It's not every day that I wake up in your arms after all." Her tone was casual yet teasing and her words were a bit too personal for Harry's tastes.
"What was that about anyway? Last I remember you were asleep on the table." Harry said accusingly, to which Draco just gave him a glare.
"I was rather plastered Potter, all I remember is falling out of the chair and wondering why I was not asleep in my bed. You'll have to forgive me if I was not thinking straight." He bit back scathingly, not missing the other man's motives behind the comment. Draco knew he could not have Hermione, not that he wanted her, but either way Potter did not need to rub it in.
"Boys, boys, no need to get fussy. No harm done right?" Hermione inserted soothingly, not in the mood to deal with bickering idiots. Besides she truly did not mind, he had behaved himself, and they had both gotten a good night's sleep, which was something nightmares usually prevented for her.
"I suppose." Harry replied grudgingly, not sound a bit like he agreed. "I really should be going; Ginny's going to kill me." He added, sounding a bit worried. Draco smiled inwardly at the idea of Potter getting in trouble but did not say anything.
Hermione just gave him a sympathetic smile. "Tell her 'Hi' for me?"
He nodded his head as he stood and prepared to aparate away. He had had about all he could take of Malfoy's presence, after spending several years away from him he was unaccustomed to the other man's company. His brain kept telling him that Malfoy was a terrible person but his intuition said that he was not all that bad and overall it was a very conflicting feeling.
"I'll be back when I get some answers." Was all he said in way of parting before he was gone. Hermione blinked at the spot where he had been standing, it was almost surreal to think that he had just waltzed back into her life, but she was quite happy he had.
"Well, this coffee isn't bloody working. I'm going back to bed 'Mione. You're welcome to stay or leave." Draco said moodily glaring at his offending cup of coffee and mentally berating himself for using her nickname. He did not know what possessed him to do it, it was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and he was slightly embarrassed to be referencing her in such a familiar way. 'Mione is what her best friends called her, and he did not place himself among that group.
Toffee colored eyes surveyed her handsome companion as he abandoned his spot at the table and trudged towards his bedroom, a small smile played on her lips as she watched him go. Yes, she would quite like to spend at least a bit of her life with this man.
Draco sighed as he closed his tired eyes and tried to get comfortable, his pillow smelled like vanilla. Which he did not mind but it was another form of being teased, blasted imagination. He heard Hermione moving about in the living room and he assumed that she was preparing to leave.
He heard her enter the bedroom but figured that she had left one belonging or another of hers in there and did not feel the need to open his eyes or question her about it.
Imagine his surprise when he felt her crawl into bed and hesitantly wrap an arm around his midriff. His eyes popped open in shock as his body stiffened. This was wholly unexpected behavior from her, never in a million years would have had gathered she would be so bold.
Sensing his discomfort she glanced shyly up into his almost frightened looking eyes. "Is this okay?" Her voice was barely above a whisper and her pretty brown eyes reflected the vulnerability she was feeling.
Draco blinked at her a couple times as if seeing her for the first time before his lips curved up into a rather attractive smirk. "I think so." He replied before relaxing. The smile that lit her face was one he would remember long after she had gone. Being a cynic he figured that she would wake up one day and be rightfully repulsed by him, but until that day came he might as well enjoy her company.
And so the two almost friends fell asleep wrapped up in each other's arms, thinking that drinking was not such a bad idea after all.
"Here's to alcohol: the cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems."—Homer Simpson