Half an hour later, he came down, school bag in hand, showered and dressed in black trousers and a sweater. Draco stopped on the bottom step and maintained Crookshanks' stare.
The cat seemed to be mad at him these days and the Head Boy was a bit miffed about that. Not one to have had a pet when he was younger, he had become fast friends and confidantes with Hermione's cat. Remembering that, he softened his own stare and bent to stroke its head. However, Crookshanks sniffed at him and loped off towards his bedroom instead, tail straight up as if giving him the middle finger.
Completely baffled by this uncharacteristic behaviour, he turned to Hermione.
"Hey Granger, something wrong with that cat? Have you been turning him against me too?"
When no response came, he slung his bag on a chair and moved closer to the witch.
He had a moment of worry when he found that she had fallen asleep in front of the fire. It was certainly not the most comfortable position but Draco did not want to wake her up. Picking up her cold mug, he set in on the low coffee table, next to a neatly wrapped box.
He then lifted Hermione gently from the armchair, careful not to jostle her and carried her over to the larger sofa. A light floral scent clung to his senses as he deposited her down on the cushions and watched her burrow deep into them. Her rioting curls were falling from the bun she'd knotted haphazardly on top of her head and she had ink splotches all over her hands.
It made him smile to see her so relaxed in sleep. Lately, he had not been able to enjoy the girl's presence as he used to. She had been acting so out of character; frowning, silently watching him, and her friends throwing pointed looks at him. She had seemed constantly on edge and it had put him on edge too.
The news broke a few days after Christmas break that the aurors were all over Malfoy Manor again to raid it out. He had thought that maybe her two best friends had told her to be careful and keep her distances from him. When he'd told as much to Theo, the only friend he had other than Hermione, the boy had laughed and called him a blind fool to his face.
In any case, Draco had decided not to make a big deal out of it, even if reluctantly he had to admit that Hermione's opinions mattered more to him than any others. He would not jeopardise anything with her. He was going to hold his hippogriffs about making a move on her until he managed to bring the witch around first.
As a former Death Eater, he knew he had some ways to go before being completely accepted back in society. Hogwarts was different. Fewer students had returned and though Slytherin still bore the black mark of reject, he seemed to draw curiosity more than fear, and acceptance had slowly been gained.
School in that sense was a comfort to him. He did not care much for the girls drooling after him nor the fake attitude that some gave him. He was here on his own volition to make something of his life that he could be proud to share with someone, maybe, later on. Not a Death Eater life like his father had pushed upon him and his mother.
As the blond sorted through the pile of books next to Hermione's scrolls, he thought about the personal changes he'd been forced to make.
Many of his friends have not been back this year and he was glad not have these reminders of his past self around. When he had been handed his Head Boy badge, he had promised McGonagall to honour his late godfather's memory. He had said goodbye to his prejudices and his father's controlling ways when he pinned that same badge on his first day back. Now, it was up to him not to fall back in those old ways.
And so far life had been surprisingly better than alright, he thought. He took the first book on his recommended reading list and settled down to work.
Hermione dreamt that night, as usual. It was nothing in particular but a jumble of memories of the war. She watched as Bill twirled Fleur around the dance floor and could hear her seventeen year old self think maybe one day, it would be hers and Ron's turn. The witch smiled at the innocent crush she'd harboured those days. Then, the events started shifting quickly; Grimmauld place, reading Babbitty Rabbitty in the forest of Dean, wisps of music from their radio, and the grand finale as always, Malfoy Manor.
She was lying on the cold hard ground, Bellatrix firing curses and curses at her but lately, she had felt detached from her emotions. She could feel the jolts coursing through her, but frighteningly, she was in full control of her body. Her eyes lifted, sought the one person who mattered in the room. Draco's eyes were trained on the blood flowing from her forearm. He looked so conflicted and pained and her heart ached.
How could she feel that while she had loathed him in the reality of that moment? That was a question that scared her sometimes when she thought of the depth of her feelings for the young Malfoy heir. She looked away quickly and a searing pain shot through the arm, snapping her awake, in sweat, clutching that arm.