"And you must be Draco! I'm so pleased to meet you, dear." Jean Granger offers her hand for Draco to shake which he does, if a little hesitantly.
He's no longer as shocked or disturbed by muggles, having lived amongst them the past few years. However he has had very little physical contact with them and the experience is still a little jarring.
"A pleasure, Mrs. Granger." He takes her hand delicately in his and brushes her fingers with his lips. You can take the boy out of Pureblood high society, but you can't take those high society manners out of the boy.
"Oh please, darling, call me Jean. Mrs. Granger is my mother in law." She lowers her voice and half hides her mouth with her hand, in a mock gesture of secrecy. "And between you and me, she's just not that pleasant."
"Hey now, I heard that." Her husband gives her a chastising look but his expression is full of mirth. He extends his hand to Draco. "Dr. Granger. It's good to meet you Mr. Malfoy."
As he takes the hand and starts to speak, Jean interrupts the interaction. "Don't be ridiculous, David. Draco, call him David. You're a guest in our home; not a patient for God's sake."
"Yes of course. Of course. A pleasure, Draco." Hermione's father drops his grip from Draco's and gestures for him to proceed from the foyer into the sitting room just to the west. "Please have a seat."
The four all take their places; the elder Grangers in strategic locations. David Granger sits in a large fireside of chocolate leather. He faces the room and the entryway, his back to the wall. It's the perfect offensive location. His wife perches on a delicate piece, so fine it is more ornamental than functional. She looks as though she could pounce (literally or metaphorically) at the drop of a pin. Hermione flops comfortably onto one end of their cream upholstered sofa in that way one always can in their childhood home and encourages Draco to take the other end. He is reminded of their Saturday night telly watching as it was in the first few days. Back then he was afraid to so much as re-cross his legs for fear of being too close to her. Under her Father's somewhat scrutinizing gaze, that feeling has returned. He feels like a fifth year 'meeting the parents'. A little disheartening he's not so much as scored a snog for his trouble.
"I hope our Hermione is taking good care of you, son. I understand it must be quite a shock, learning all about modern technology and science." Draco feels he is being talked down to just slightly but loses that train of thought when David rises with a quick lurch and an "oh!" having forgotten something he had intended. "I nearly forgot. I have a bit of a surprise. A little something to take the edge off."
Opening the doors on a liquor cabinet against the wall, David pulls out a bottle of Ogden's Finest and brandishes it toward Draco. "I thought you might be happy to see a little something from 'the old country', as it were."
Indeed, the amber liquid calls to Draco. He only asked for it once, when offered a drink at the Potter's residence. Hermione had suggested he try something muggle. While he will admit, the drink she had made him that evening was unique and, in flavor, superior, there is something that feels like home swirling in that bottle. "Thank you, Mr-David. I appreciate that." He glances over at his flat mate and finds her smiling at him, no doubt thinking this is proceeding swimmingly. He shoots her a wink and a small grin.
There's that cute blush again.
"For you, sweetheart?"
Hermione shakes her gaze from Draco and looks over her shoulder at her Father. "Sure. Just a little though; I drove over here."
He chuckles. "Who taught you to be so responsible?" Walking around the sofa and handing the glasses to his daughter and her companion, he winks at Draco. "Certainly wasn't me!"
Draco laughs a little at that and let's himself relax.
"No it was me, I'm sure," Jean offers with a smile. "But I'm not driving so where's mine?"
Her husband, with a glass just almost to his lips, walks over and hands her the glass instead. "Right here, love." She smirks and takes it.
Jean takes a sip and speaks to the room. "Well then, I should think dinner is probably almost ready." She turns to her daughter. "I hired a caterer tonight. Hope that's ok."
"Why wouldn't it – Mum." She stops with realization. "You didn't."
"They're just so reasonable, darling. And that Beef Wellington they do is divine."
A crack breaks the moment of awkward quiet and an elf wearing what is most likely a doll's dress bows to the room. "Dinner is ready, Masters and Mistresses. If you would follow Kipsy?"
Hermione stands to follow but glares at her Mother. "I thought we talked about this."
Confused, Draco interrupts. "Wait, your parents have a house elf? Can anyone have one?"
Hermione turns her attention from her sheepish parents. "No, it's the catering company. They found a loophole that lets them use house elves instead of employees. House elves are strictly regulated and not approved for commercial use but this woman," she says with disdain, "uses her own elves at her home based business."
"Oh, honey, Mrs. Grant is a lovely lady-"
"Who is exploiting the system! Enjoy it while you can, because I have every intention of having her shut down. I already have a proposal to reword legislation and a formal complaint about her in front of Magical Creatures regulation."
Jean waves off her daughter's ire and shoos Draco on into the dining room, speaking conspiratorially out the side of her mouth. "She gets so up in arms over her little causes."
"So do you, when they suit you," Hermione shoots back.
Jean offers him an apologetic smile. "She is right of course. I'm afraid my own philanthropy inadvertently led to her SPEW campaign amongst other projects."
"S.P.E.W." Hermione corrects under her breath, as though she has done it so many times she hardly even bothers with volume enough for the room to hear.
Draco is quickly finding this family dynamic a bit uncomfortable, but undeniably entertaining.
The four take their places in the Granger's formal dining room. Nowhere near the opulence of Draco's youth, but he still notes it is a lush and well decorated space. His mother would have approved the overly luxurious window treatments; his father, the dark mahogany wood table. Thinking of his Mother brings the familiar melancholy for a moment.
Two places sit empty which allows Draco to leave one space open on his left. He sits next to Hermione. Jean takes the seat opposite her daughter and David sits at one head of the table, between Hermione and his wife. "So, Draco, what are your plans with the whole world ahead of you? I understand financially you are well positioned. Perhaps you will be entering the world of finance?"
"I…" He looks at Hermione for some clue. What are his plans? Hell if he knows. "I'm not sure at this point, Sir. I have given a little thought to investing in a business. Perhaps starting my own."
Hermione looks up at him. "You were?"
Draco takes a sip from his firewiskey. "Well, yes actually. After we spoke to George Weasley, and you showed me those extendable charm bags I was a bit inspired. I looked a little at some internets-"
"The internet," she interrupts.
"The internet," he repeats with a little scowl. He goes to speak again and she interjects once more.
"Or some web sites is also appropriate."
He simply glowers this time before continuing. "And it seems like potions is a highly under-produced industry for public use. Outside of apothecaries and wizarding communities at least."
"Yes, well, that's because potions are so… sketchy. Normal folks just don't trust that kind of home-brewed balderdash." David takes a long pull from his own whiskey with a challenging glint in his eye.
Draco doesn't back down from a challenge. "See now that's just poor marketing. There's no reason someone shouldn't buy a Dreamless Sleep draught as readily as a…. what was that Hermione?"
"Ambien?"
"Yes. Ambien. Put the liquid in a scientific looking bottle with instructions and warnings and why is it any different? Do muggles know why Ambien works any more than they can explain the draught?"
Hermione starts to speak and Draco cuts her off with a smirk.
"Not you, Brainiac. Normal muggles."
The Grangers laugh at her expense. "He's got you there, pumpkin."
Hermione screws up her mouth in annoyance but the corner twitches upward, telling of mild amusement.
Jean picks up the conversation. "You make a very sound point, dear. Would you start your own manufacturing and distribution or invest in a small potion shop and broaden their reach?"
Draco shrugs at Jean and offers his most charming boy-next-door smile. "Unfortunately I've not planned that far ahead yet. First and foremost I'm working toward reclaiming my magic."
"Ah yes, all that government red tape. Have to have a permit for everything else might as well make it so for magic too. Next thing you know we'll be licensed to breath public air," David grumbles into his glass.
"Wielding magic is a big responsibility. And dangerous." Hermione looks at Draco and queries, "would you like it if any idiot could just go hop in a car and drive around without ever having practiced before?"
"Of course not! But those death machines aren't natural. Magic is natural, Granger. At least it is to me."
"Not to me?" He notices the hurt look on her face before she wipes it clean of emotion in a way that would make any Malfoy proud. He understands immediately she thinks that was a dig at muggleborns.
"No, that was not what I was saying. It's natural for anyone born to it. Like…" he searches for a comparison to prove his point. "Like singing. Or swimming. Or dancing. Some people are just gifted. They can learn to be better, but it's natural to do even when they're young and just learning."
"You can't kill someone by singing."
"Oh, I don't know about that Granger. You know the walls into your shower carry pretty much around the flat."
She blushes five shades deep and the table laughs around her.
XXXXX
Hermione hugs her parents and then follows Draco out the door. He has offered a very polite and sincere thank you for the meal and, especially, the firewhiskey. If Hermione didn't know better, she might just imagine he liked her family. Her normal, muggle family. It makes her smile.
Then she wipes the smile clean as they walk to the car and she slaps his upper arm.
"Ow! What the fuck was that for?"
"You're so insufferable. I do not appreciate being ganged up on in my own childhood home!"
His mouth twitches into a grin. "This is because I made fun of your cooking, isn't it?"
"Amongst other things!" She huffs and plods forward, yanking open the driver's side door. When he gracefully take his seat and buckles in, Hermione gives him a wicked smile. "Just for that, I'm taking the expressway home."
She sees him swallow as she puts the car into gear and smirks in victory.
"I did say you made excellent bacon."
"Yes followed by 'even a broken clock is right on occasion' or something to that effect. Don't worry though. I'll try not to spend the entire way home passing traffic." She watches in her peripherals as Draco reaches up to hold onto the bar above his head and his other hand finds the underside of his seat…his usual position while she drives.
Hermione really does try to take it easy on him, despite what she said. She only changes lanes a couple of times and only when approaching a car that is going under the legal limit. It doesn't seem to relax him but does wonders to alleviate any potential guilt she may have had. When they reach her home, Draco stumbles out of the car as quickly as possible. She has a vision of him kissing the sidewalk and says as much as she walks past him.
"I very nearly could. You're scary in that thing, have I said?"
"I've been called scary, yes. Usually by Ron. Though not necessarily about driving."
"Ah yes. And how is the golden Weasel? I don't believe you've mentioned."
Hermione unlocks the door and steps in. "Didn't honestly think you'd care one way or the other. He's well."
"Married? Litter of little red weasels?"
"No, not married. I'm not sure he's had anything serious since…"
"Since you?"
"Well… yes. He's dated a few girls but nothing seems to stick. I think he still has some faith we're meant to be. Like we'll find our way back if given enough time."
Her charge is thoughtful at that. He uses one foot to toe the shoe off his other foot and then the reverse. "And you?" he finally says.
"I, what?" She pauses and then catches on at his raised brow. "Oh! Do I think we're destined? Merlin, no. I mean I love Ron. Most likely always will a little, at least in theory. But we were just wretched in practice."
Draco rolls his shoulders and flops onto the sofa into his usual spot. "Right then, enough of that. Telly?"
Hermione is standing behind him, looking at the back of his platinum blond head and smiles to herself. She schools her features before circling around the sofa and plopping down beside him, her toes just almost grazing his thigh. One might accuse her of doing it on purpose, but she'd never tell.
"Naturally. Dr. Who is on."
"Who?"
"Exactly."
A/N Ok so I've been wretched! I've not posted an update in far too long. Plus I leave for NY in a couple of days for a week so I can't promise a fast update. However I will promise to try to do better at least. Next chapter is started. Intention is to get into magic classes next. A sincere 'thank you' for reviews, follows, and faves thus far. I was terrible about responding directly this last time as well so please accept my apology, LadiePhoenix, Shaliira, Marzipan, tneha, 4fan, LanaLee, HarryPGinny, mega, Irianna, musicangel, and the anonymous guest. It was not for lack of appreciation but simply professional stress sucking the life out of me the past month that I did not respond. After NY life goes back to normal until this time next year. Ah, cyclical industry patterns...
Please don't punish me with lack of reviews!