ALL PREVIOUS DISCLAIMERS APPLY.
A.N: sorry for the wait and the fairly short chapter - it originally had more to it but I just wanted fo get something up while I finished the rest. Hope you enjoy!
She paused, pen halfway towards the small scrap of paper in front of her, her hand shaking slightly as she sat paralysed with indecision. The quiet of her kitchen was punctuated only by the soft twittering of birds floating through the open patio doors leading to her small backyard, and the morning sunshine was warming her back as she sat at the kitchen table, letters strewn all over the surface surrounding her (now ice cold) cup of tea.
That morning, she had owled pretty much every friend she had, asking if they were free to do anything. The replies had all come back reading basically the same thing - Pansy and Ron were away for the weekend, Harry and Ginny were inundated with a poorly Teddy, Luna was on yet another wild goose chase after some loony interviewee, and Fred and George were dealing with the busiest weekend of the year so far at the shop. She'd even considered visiting Arthur and Molly Weasley, but, even though she loved them both dearly, she didn't think she'd have the energy to answer all of Arthur's constant questions about all things Muggle. Other than that, everyone she knew was busy doing something or another.
Hermione, however, had woken up that Saturday morning with three things; a day off, nothing to do and a great big dose of restless boredom. Even though it was only 10am, she had already tried having a lie in (which had lasted exactly 7 minutes; she'd been counting), reading, playing with Crookshanks, tidying every inch of her house and even watching half an episode of Jeremy Kyle on TV. Instead of her boredom being cured, though, she had just been left with a clean house and even more restlessness than before.
This was quite unusual for Hermione - even though today she was eager to get out and about, ever since the war had ended she had revelled in the peace and quiet of being alone in her own home. She loved the fact that nobody was there to expect anything from her; she'd had her fair share of that during the fighting, when pretty much everyone else's lives had depended on her actions. Ever since she'd moved into that modest little terraced house in a quiet area of Muggle London, it had become her solitude; an escape from the mundane realities of everyday life, and somewhere she could be herself, completely free from the expectations of others. Letting anybody else inside her little bubble always felt wrong somehow; this was why she tended to meet people in Diagon Alley instead.
She sighed. Apparently, that wouldn't be happening today, no matter how desperate she was for some company.
Well, a small voice inside her said, that was unless-
Nope. She dropped her hand from where it was held, still elevated above the paper, and then slumped her head onto the table with a groan. Her last option for a possible cure to her boredom right at this moment was Malfoy. She'd been trying to avoid that niggling realisation for most of the morning - she had, after all, agreed to meet him again one day in Flourish and Blotts. Hell, she'd even said that she would owl him to set something up.
Attempting to get past her initial repulsion, she tried to think rationally for a second. Given all the factors in her current situation, the idea of electively spending time with the ferret didn't even seem like such a bad idea. Merlin - if only her 14 year old self could hear her now.
Hermione stopped her train of thought and laughed without humour, head still on the table. Of course this exact series of events would happen. It was like the universe was somehow conspiring to make her lose her mind; that was the only possible explanation for why sitting with Malfoy didn't seem like the most abhorrent option available to her. In fact, to her faint horror, the more she thought about it, the more it didn't sound like a bad idea at all - their unfortunately overlapped group of friends would surely appreciate them trying to overcome their differences for the sake of social harmony, and, if she was completely honest with herself, she had actually quite... enjoyed... the last time she'd seen him.
Hermione growled as she came to the realisation that she had somehow just justified asking Draco Malfoy to spend time with her. No, she thought, no; she was just using him for something to do. He was a distraction from her current boredom. That sounded... better?
She knew just what Pansy would say though - after the strange yet surprisingly pleasant afternoon she'd spent with Malfoy a few weeks ago, she'd gone home after work to find Pansy sat in her living room; she'd completely forgotten about inviting her over the night before, and Pansy was never the sort to check if you still wanted her there or not; she just turned up.
At the time, Hermione had made a sort of unconscious decision to not really tell anyone about the events of that day, but Pansy's knowing smirk had told her that, somehow, she already knew.
"Why are you looking at me like that," she asked slowly, bracing herself for the inevitable as she sat down next to her friend on the sofa.
"I spoke to Luna today," the raven haired witch said nonchalantly, inspecting her nails with a satisfied yet smug smile on her face. "We were just chatting, you know-' she waved her hand flippantly, '-about Blaise and such, when she mentioned that a certain someone and a certain someone else were alone together in a certain book shop today."
Hermione just stared and blinked at her, not betraying even the slightest hint of an emotional response. She stayed completely silent.
"So?" Pansy enquired again once a few long seconds had passed. "What happened!" she said, dropping the 'barely interested' act and bouncing in her seat a like an excitable child.
Hermione just slumped down further into the couch cushions with a sort of half-groan-half-growl.
"We were just reading," she said, deliberately vaguely, "and, I don't know - chatting, I guess? Just about philosophy though, nothing 'happened'," she said, air quoting the last word and feeling disgusted by the notion.
"Oh yawn, philosophy," Pansy rolled her eyes, laughing, "no wonder you two are soulmates."
Hermione bristled at the mention of soulmates.
"Will you stop bringing that up, for Merlins sake!" she said, slightly embarrassed and a little bit angry. "You know I don't believe in any of that nonsense." She crossed her arms across her chest tightly, staring off at the opposite wall but not really seeing anything at all.
Pansy just watched her intently, and then softened her gaze, obviously pitying her visibly distressed friend.
"He's not a bad guy, you know," she'd said, reaching out to touch Hermione's arm lightly, getting her attention. "And I know he was beyond an arse to you in school, and I know that you have every right to never speak to him. But I also know that you two are more alike than you might think. Take it from me - I've known him since we were in nappies together, and you're one of the best friends I've ever had. I know you both."
As Hermione tried to process her words, Pansy just kept going, attempting to make her see the supposed 'hidden side' of Draco Malfoy. Hermione had just never been comfortable with the notion of a conventional relationship, and all that it entailed.
"And I know that you're not interested in anything... well, sexual," Pansy said, almost as if she had read Hermione's thoughts, "but there aren't any rules saying that that's how this would have to work. Even if you two were just friends, I think you'd both get a lot out of it," she implored, and then, upon seeing Hermione's skeptical expression, added "honestly, I really do."
Hermione tapped the table rhythmically with her half-bitten nails, deep in thought. Even if they were just friends. That thought had been floating around in her head ever since Pansy had said it that night. She'd been right about her not wanting anything sexual either - that just wasn't... her. Hermione had realised she was asexual at some point during her 6th year of school. Whilst Ron and Lavender had been off... copulating, Hermione had taken time out to think through the complex emotions she'd been experiencing.
There had been romantic jealousy, that much she knew, since she'd had some sort of crush on her goofy ginger friend for years before then. But knowing even the smallest details of the sexual aspect of the couple's relationship sort of... repulsed her, more than anything else. There was no jealousy there; she just didn't want to have that with Ron. It was then that she'd realised she'd never actually felt that sort of attraction to him or anyone - ever. After this, she began to see things from her past start to fall into place - things that had always been a slight source of insecurity for her.
She had cast her mind back to her fourth year, and remembered the gangs of girls constantly ogling Victor whenever he was around. She had overheard a few of the other girls expressing a more physical sort of attraction for the Bulgarian Quiddich star, but she had never felt that herself. She was much more content to just be around him, learning about him and indulging in the romantic side of their brief relationship.
As the years had gone by, Hermione had become more and more confident in her identity - her lack of sexual attraction had no bearing on her self esteem, her confidence or her happiness, and she had just never had the time for, or the interest in, any romantic relationships either. This was half of the reason why she had dreaded meeting her 'soulmate' so much - sex and sexual attraction was such a large part of modern life and modern relationships, and she just knew that being suddenly thrown together with someone who knew nothing about her, and who would more than likely be someone who did experience sexual attraction, would throw her quiet life completely off kilter.
But friends? Hermione had been shocked that she hadn't really thought about that being an option. She supposed that due to generations of people meeting soulmates who then went on to become their romantic and sexual partners, she had fallen into the trap of thinking that this was how it had to be, even if it was something she didn't want.
Hermione could deal with a possible friendship though.
She picked up her pen and started writing.
To Malfoy, how would you like to-
She stopped writing and laughed at herself, then waved her wand and erased her neat print from the paper. Try again, she thought.
Drac-
No no no; no way. Much too personal - that was even worse than the last one. Scrap that. She tried again, searching for the right way to ask something she knew she wanted to ask, but almost couldn't believe that she did.
Malfoy,
meet at Flourish and Blotts at 3 today?
HG.
Impersonal and brief, she thought as she mulled it over for a second - perfect.
She stood up to go and see if her little barn owl Muffin was up for one last journey; she'd likely get an irritated peck on the hand after all the flying she'd already asked him to do that day.
Just as she reached the kitchen door a soft hoot sounded behind her, followed by a flapping of wings and the thud of ceramic against wood, making her spin around so quick she nearly toppled over.
On the kitchen table, next to an puddle of spilled tea, was a jet black owl carrying a small piece of parchment.
Slowly, she made her way over, took the note and then procured some seeds to placate the bird, who was now dipping one of its feet into the puddle curiously.
She unfolded the letter and just had to laugh.
Granger,
I know you said you would owl me but honestly, it's taken a while and I'm in desperate need of something to do. Meet at Flourish and Blotts today? Pansy said you weren't busy.
Send a reply back with my owl,
DM.
Chuckling at the sheer absurdity of it all, and trying extremely hard not to remember Pansy's words about how similar they were, she turned the parchment over and scrawled out a reply on the back.
Malfoy,
Pansy was right about me not being busy, I can meet today.
She paused. Now that she knew her offer wouldn't be rejected, she decided that 3 was much too late - meeting at 2 o'clock would give her enough time to get ready. She resumed writing.
Is 2 o'clock okay?
HG.
She quickly tied the note to Malfoy's owl and sent it on its way, not giving herself the chance to over-analyse what she was agreeing to.
Of course, Hermione being Hermione, she did just that for the rest of the morning anyway.