DISCLAIMER: I do not, and will not ever, own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. I make no profits from this, and all recognisable characters, places etc. are the property of J.K.
A.N: Apologies for the wait everyone! I had major writer's block with this chapter; I wanted it to be perfect, which inevitably lead to me not being able to write anything at all! Thank you for all your lovely reviews and comments - getting them through in my emails makes my day :) I hope you like this- it's about 1,000 words longer than usual!
Dinner went surprisingly well, in Hermione's opinion. No shouting, no fighting, no arguments - just a nice meal shared among friends... and Malfoy. She had expected some discomfort due to the former Slytherin's presence, but everyone (except Pansy) completely ignored him, and he looked like he would rather be anywhere else. Once they had all gotten seated and ready, some solemn and heartfelt words were shared, honouring all of the amazing friends they had lost along the way. Hermione felt herself tear up at this point - she hadn't allowed herself too long to dwell upon the significance of the day before that point, but being there, with all of her favourite people in the whole world (ignoring Malfoy that is), she couldn't stop a few tears from escaping.
The food was, of course, delicious. She hadn't expected anything less from a Mrs Weasley recipe. She had stolen a quick glance in Malfoy's direction about halfway through, just to glare at him, but despite his permanent scowl even he seemed to be enjoying the food - it was hard not to, in all fairness.
The meal had lasted about and hour and a half, and at 9:30 they were all sat crowded together in the living room. There were people on windowsills, some on cushions on the floor and about six of them were squashed onto the sofa, while a sleeping Teddy had the entire love seat to himself. The one exception from the pleasant scene, Hermione noted, was a certain blonde. Malfoy had disappeared straight after the meal had ended. There had been a quick discussion between Pansy her friend which Hermione assumed must have been him saying goodbye, because she hadn't seen him since. Good riddance, she thought, as she tried to quash the tiniest spark of a peculiar and alien emotion - one which she decided was up for review at a later date.
She surveyed the room from her vantage point on the windowsill, where she sat with the right side of her body pressed against the cool panes of glass. Harry, Ginny and Pansy were absorbed in a highly amusing conversation, and their laughter carried through the small room. Ron and Luna were talking quietly, and it appeared that Luna had said something unconventional once again, as Hermione could see Ron's nose scrunch up and his brows furrow while she continued to talk, all the while looking at her with an amused smile. Fred, George and Neville were reminiscing about their schooldays - Neville was chuckling heartily about some prank or another while the twins tried to explain how they carried it off, and Mr and Mrs Weasley were sat cuddled together at the end of the sofa, watching those around them with love in their eyes.
Suddenly Hermione felt a pang of... something. She found that the air had been knocked from her and she didn't quite know why, just that all of a sudden she felt suffocated. Not physically of course - she was still sat in Pansy and Ron's front room, perfectly still and breathing as normal, but it was as if sadness had reached its cold, hard hand inside her chest and snaked its fingers around her heart. Something was missing from this picture perfect scene - her parents weren't with her. Everyone was talking, having fun and enjoying one another's company, and here she was, sat of the sidelines and suddenly feeling her parents' absence ten times more than usual.
Shaking slightly with the effort of pulling herself back together to stay strong in front of the others, she stood up from the window ledge and brushed herself off, before making a mumbled comment about going outside for some fresh air. There were a few questioning glances thrown her way, so she smiled around at them all as she left in order to try and eliminate any suspicion or worry - she didn't want to bring down the mood.
Once out of the living room, she practically sprinted towards the porch. She reached the back door in seconds and flung it open with more force than was probably necessary, then stepped out into the salty sea air. She took a deep, deep breath to try and savour the feel of it against her skin - cooling ripples that seemed to wash away at least a little of her sadness.
All too suddenly though, she was distracted from the calming sea breeze by the distinct feeling that she was being watched. She turned her head slowly to the side and sure enough, sat on a white, plastic garden chair, was Malfoy. She looked into his stormy grey eyes as he glowered at her and she felt herself tense up; it was like being watched by a wolf. As they held each others' gazes, Hermione felt the back of her neck start to grow warm and her cheeks go red due to the intensity of the moment.
Both of them stayed in complete silence for a minute or so, until Malfoy broke eye contact, growled deeply and rested his chin in his hand, his elbow resting on the arm of the plastic seat.
He looked outwards towards the crashing waves, seeming much more resigned and weary without his trademark glare. Hermione wasn't even aware that she was still stood up, let alone that she was still staring at the blonde - it was as if her entire brain had just stopped in its tracks. So when he spoke, breaking the bubble of silence that had encased them both, she almost jumped out of her skin.
"Granger, do us both a favour and stop staring at me," he drawled.
She came to her senses fairly quickly in order to deny the accusation.
"Don't be ridiculous, I wasn't staring at you!" she said, trying to sound incredulous but knowing that technically she actually had been staring.
Malfoy seemed to know this too - he turned his head slightly, still with it resting on his hand, looked her in the eye and quirked one eyebrow upwards.
"Really? Because in my experience, looking at someone for an extended period of time counts as staring," he said simply, but with an air of impatience.
"Actually, I wasn't, because -"
"You know what," he interrupted, "I'm not having this blatantly pointless conversation. You obviously came out here for a reason, or you wouldn't have nearly thrown the back door off it's hinges."
Hermione scowled at him.
"So," he continued, sounding irritated, "just do whatever it was you were going to do - I won't get in your way."
He went back to his earlier position - eyes closed, chin in his hand, facing out towards the sea. Hermione huffed and then assessed her options.
She could either go back inside, where the root of her current problem was and risk a breakdown in front of her friends, or stay outside for a while to calm herself down. Ordinarily, she would have gone for the latter option without question - however, her current situation was anything other than ordinary, and with Malfoy's strange presence on the porch both options seemed equally as unappealing. Something though, something she couldn't quite explain or describe, made her want to sit down on one of those white plastic chairs, mere metres away from her childhood nemesis. Perhaps, she thought, it was her insatiable curiosity - in recent weeks, she had heard varying reports of Malfoy's character and personality. It only made sense for her to want to check their validity - purely scientific and reasonable.
So she reluctantly walked away from the back door, moved to the opposite side of the porch, faced her chair outwards towards the sea and sat down with a sigh.
"Finally," she heard him mutter, "I thought you were going to stand there thinking forever - I could almost hear the bloody cogs turning."
Hermione blushed, but refused to rise to his taunt. She had come outside for some fresh air, calm, and possibly a little bit of clarity. Not an argument with a slimy little ferret.
Her internal insult almost made her laugh.
After his quip, neither of them said anything for a good few minutes, choosing instead to listen intently to the sound of the water lapping up against the shoreline. On the plus side, this meant that she didn't have to acknowledge the presence of her supposed soulmate. However, it did mean that she was left to her own thoughts, and these quickly turned, to her frustration, to the topic of Malfoy.
Surely, she thought, they couldn't possibly be soulmates - they had been in each others presence for a minimum of about five minutes, and already they had argued over something petulant and insignificant. There was absolutely no way they would even be able to be civil towards each other, let alone be joined by their souls. She scoffed at the idea. Her and Malfoy, soulmates. It was laughable.
However, she thought to herself, she was curious. Not about anything romantic, Merlin no; about why he had suddenly taken an interest in muggles. This was confusing for Hermione, and she had never enjoyed being confused. She tried to hold back her curiosity, to occupy her mind with something else, but the question seemed to burn on her tongue until-
"Why were you reading a book about muggles?" she blurted out suddenly.
He looked around at her, momentarily taken aback, before his icy walls rebuilt and he donned his familiar emotionless expression.
"Which book," he drawled, "there are quite a few of them."
"In Flourish and Blotts," she mumbled, embarrassed at her sudden outburst, "the Muggle science one."
Suddenly his face broke out into a cruel smirk.
"Spying on me, are we Granger?"
Hermione's fading blush came back full force, until she felt like her whole face was hot with embarrassment and indignation.
"I was not spying!" she exclaimed, knowing full well that what she had been doing could technically be considered spying, "I just saw you with the book, that's all!"
"Alright Granger, don't get your knickers in a twist," he said sneeringly, "I don't know why you're so interested anyway, I was just reading."
"Yes but Muggles," she emphasised, "I thought you always thought of Muggles as the 'scum of the earth'," she said, imitating his voice.
Malfoy's smirk crumbled, and he looked at Hermione with anger in his eyes - whatever came next would come dangerously close to an admission of fault.
"I... my..." he tried to think of the least humiliating response or excuse, before swallowing his pride and deciding to come (mostly) clean.
"My views and opinions have... shifted, somewhat, over the last year," he ground out, and upon seeing the confused look on her face, he elaborated. "I've been working on a project in America - they're trying to come up with ways of fusing Muggle and Magical science. You can't work on something like that and not end up with a sort of... respect for it."
Hermione was shocked - the rumours had been true. Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater and Pureblood elitist, had been working willingly on Muggle science - for a whole year.
She stared at him open-mouthed. Hermione Granger was, uncharacteristically, speechless.
The blonde rolled his eyes.
"Alright Granger," he said agitatedly, "its not like I've sprouted another fucking head, you can shut you mouth now."
She did. They returned to their former silence, and the cogs in Hermione's brain started whirring at double speed. She wanted to know more, to ask more, but something told her that the small step towards rationality that Malfoy had taken could easily be reversed. She didn't want to push him back towards prejudice and hatred - for everyone's sake. The world needed a little less hate, anyway. So she decided to simply acknowledge what he had told her.
"Thank you for telling me," she said, breaking the silence, "that's all I wanted to know."
She looked out of the corner of her eye at Malfoy's confused expression, and then down at her watch, which read 10:48.
Time to go home, she thought to herself.
Just as she was about to stand up, Malfoy spoke.
"Granger," he said tentatively yet slightly irritably, like he didn't really want to say anything at all, "why did you come out here?"
Caught off guard, she sat completely still, thinking for a moment. It was a question she didn't really want to answer, but she reasoned that since he had answered her, she kind of owed him the same.
"I... I just...", she sighed and then continued, "I just felt a little like the odd one out when I was sat in there, like everyone else was content and full up, like they had everything they needed and I had something missing."
She winced at the truthfulness of her own statement. She never thought, in a million years, she would ever reveal something so weak and personal to Draco Malfoy, of all people. However, it appeared that the floodgates had opened, and, to her own horror, she continued talking as tears started to roll down her cheeks.
"I don't know," she rushed out, trying desperately to keep her voice from cracking, "it just feels a little like everyone else in there had a purpose except for me, you know? Like, everyone in there had a place, someone else to talk to, something to look forward to; I was just kind of... there. I hate my job, I hate today, I just..."
She didn't know why she said it - it must have been a combination of her sudden outburst and the multiple glasses of wine - but before she could stop herself, four words fell from her lips.
"I miss my parents."
Draco looked at her, dumbfounded. Suddenly a frustrated expression took over his features.
"You know what Granger," he said forcefully, "if your life is so shit that you're out here talking to me about it, why not make a fucking change? This is what annoys me about other people, they never try and change their circumstances, they just spend their time complaining about them!"
Hermione stared at him, angry at herself for saying anything and angry at him for shouting at her, but he continued before she could say anything to him.
"If you hate your job, then quit! If you feel like you don't have purpose, then try something new for a change! And if you miss your parents, why not just visit them!" he exclaimed.
Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. Her heart stopped and she felt like she had been stabbed in the side. Feeling tears start to build again, she let them spill over freely now - she couldn't care less about if he saw or what he thought of her.
"I can't just visit them!" she shouted, "I can't call them, I can't write to them, I can't hear their voices anymore - I can't do anything! And do you know why?" she choked out, " It's because they're dead! And there's nothing I can do about it!"
A deafening silence descended on the porch.
Suddenly, Draco was able to see the line, and he could also see that he had definitely crossed it.
"Granger I-"
"No!" she shouted, "I don't want an apology and I definitely don't want pity - you don't get to decide how I deal with things, you don't get to do that! I will not take advice from a slimy, arrogant, judgemental arsehole like you!"
This time it was Draco's turn to get annoyed.
"Look," he said, barely containing his anger, "I'm sorry that your parents... I'm sorry for what happened, and I'm sorry about what I said, but you don't get to talk to me like that! And you definitely do not have the right to make judgements on my character - you know nothing about me!"
"Yes I do!" she retorted hotly, "you're a mean, spiteful man who only cares about himself. You bullied me all the way through school based on a whole load of lies your arrogant, horrid father taught you, and you just churned them back out at people like some kind of idiot, never pausing for a second to actually think about what you were saying!" To hell with not pushing him over the edge - she was too upset to care. "You're just as bad as your father was!"
By now, Draco was seeing red.
"Don't you dare bring my father into this," he seethed. "I am not him, and I will never do anything the way he did it. Over the past ten years he brought nothing but pain and suffering to me and my mother, and I can never forgive him for that. Yes, I was a dick when I was thirteen, but newsflash Granger, I'm not a stupid teenager anymore. I can make my own choices, and my father can go to hell for all I care. But you don't get to to talk about him, or my mother, or me, because you don't know anything about any of us!" he exploded.
Hermione knew she had touched a nerve. She desperately wanted to say something equally as scathing back, but she was mentally and physically exhausted. Her emotions had been running rampant all day - anxiety, worry, happiness, anger, confusion, love, grief - she felt well and truly used up.
So instead of replying to him, she sighed, forced herself up out of the chair and walked back inside, leaving Malfoy behind to rage to himself.
She walked back into the living room, where Harry and Ginny were packing up their things, with Teddy fast asleep in Molly's arms.
Luna noticed Hermione come back in, and the blonde smiled her warmly and (to Hermione's slight discomfort) knowingly. She smiled back as best she could, whilst simultaneously trying not to seem like she had just been emotionally torn apart.
By this point, most of the room had realised she had returned, and a few made their way over to say goodbye before they left. Fred and George enveloped her in a huge hug, making her smile despite herself.
"We'll be around Diagon Alley most of tomorrow-" started George.
"-if you wanted to come and meet up with us?" finished Fred.
"I'll send you an owl," she replied with a smile, "I don't have anything planned, so I should be able to come and see you."
"Great!" they both said with a grin.
"See you 'Mione," Fred said, and they both stepped into the fireplace and flooed away, back to their flat above the shop.
Next came Harry and Ginny, who whispered their goodbyes, trying not to wake the snoring toddler.
"Bye 'Mione, we'll see you soon," said Harry, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek as Ginny pulled her into a light sideways hug. She waved them off along the garden path and then said a few more goodbyes. By 11:15, it was just her, Ron, Pansy, Molly and Arthur left. As Ron said goodbye to his parents, Pansy pulled Hermione out into the corridor.
"Did you talk to Draco?" Pansy asked worriedly.
"Did he tell you?" asked Hermione in return, sounding surprised and irritated.
Pansy sighed and tilted her head back, looking at the ceiling for a second.
"No. Did you fight?" she enquired apprehensively.
"Yes," Hermione said through gritted teeth, "not at first, but yes, we did fight."
"I'll talk to you about it tomorrow, I could come to your place tomorrow evening? You look like you could do with a good sleep," said Pansy.
"Yeah," sighed Hermione, "I'm exhausted; tomorrow evening sounds great, is four o'clock okay?"
"That's fine," the black haired witch said, pulling Hermione back towards the remaining guests. "Say goodbye and then get to bed, okay?" she whispered concernedly to her friend, "I hate seeing you so done in."
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
Half an hour later, Hermione was tucked up warmly in her bed, with Crookshanks nestled in against her stomach. She had wanted to stay awake and analyse the day's events, just like she usually did, but she had been simply too tired - she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep within seconds of her head hitting the pillow.
As she slept, an owl flew up to her bedroom window, which was cracked open slightly at the bottom to keep the room cool. The bird dropped the parchment it was carrying through the small gap and flew off into the night.
On the floor or Hermione's bedroom, moonlight illuminated the words on the slip of paper so that they seemed to glow in the darkness.
Granger,
I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean to be so harsh.
D.M.