Dinner was an awkward affair. Hermione refused to look at Draco, who spent the whole time looking at her. The children didn't notice anything and chattered amongst themselves the whole time.
Hermione pushed her fork around her plate. She had to admit the food was good, brilliant in fact, but she didn't have much of an appetite. After pushing a piece of potato around in a circle for the fifth time, Draco put his fork down, smirking at her.
"It won't kill you to eat that." Hermione glared at him, stabbing the potato with her fork and holding it up.
"How do I know that?" Years ago, she wouldn't have put it passed him. She didn't think he would attempt anything now, but she had no evidence.
"Hermione." He sighed. She finally stuffed the food in her mouth, secretly savouring the flavour in her mouth.
"Did you cook this?" She couldn't help but ask. She doubted he knew how; he certainly wouldn't have learnt to cook as a child, not with all the house elves his family had.
"Not exactly." He looked away. He had heard of how Hermione cared for the well being of house elves, and he sure didn't want to get involved. Or lose his elves.
"Trip and Dizzy cooked!" Scorpius interrupted their conversation.
"Trip and Dizzy? Who are they?" She directed her questions to the younger Malfoy, knowing he was more likely to answer.
"Elves." Scorpius replied quickly, becoming silent after a look from his father.
"You think I abuse my house elves. Don't you?" Draco directed defensively at Hermione as she glared at him.
"I wouldn't put it past you." She shot back. He stayed silent, looking down at his plate.
"Why?" His voice wasn't much above a whisper. Hermione didn't reply, so he lifted his head, repeating, "why?"
"Dobby." He looked surprised that she remembered Dobby, but that elf wasn't his.
"He was my father's elf, not mine." He wasn't expecting Hermione to believe him; she didn't really know his father. Lucky her, not knowing my father.
"You expect me to believe your father was the abusive one and he didn't pass any of that down to you?" Her brown eyes drilled into his. The children, sensing the tension running through the air thickly, slipped out of the room. He didn't know how to reply to that; he knew full well some of his father's actions had passed down to him, until Draco decided to change his life.
"He did pass things down, didn't he?" Hermione's sharp voice pulled him from his memories of his father. Draco ignored that comment, allowing Hermione to continue.
"Blood purity, arrogance...You Malfoy's always were better than the rest of us, where you not? You always treated people like scum, especially muggleborns..." Her voice trailed off as she watched Draco's head shoot up, his face livid with anger. She bit her lip as he stood up, walking over to her. He lowered his head, close to her ear. She trembled to think what he could do to her. He looked to be in better shape than Ron, who alone could nearly kill her. She bet that Malfoy could do the same without breaking a sweat.
"You're wrong." His breath was warm against her air as his words rang through her mind. Quickly, he straightened and walked out of the room, the door shutting behind him.
Hermione flinched as the door shut. She was left looking at the door in amazement. I always manage to make those around me mad. How is that possible? The door remained closed, but she could see his form as he sat on the ground outside. He walked out. Ron had never done that. He was never calm, never in enough control to just walk away. Her attention turned to the man outside. Why did he leave? What did I say?
Draco felt his temper rise as Hermione spoke. "Blood purity, arrogance...You Malfoy's always were better than the rest of us, where you not? You always treated people like scum, especially muggleborns..." Her words hit him hard. He knew she was right. But she didn't need to rub it in, and he wasn't like that anymore.
He stood up in anger, scraping his chair on the wooden floor. Unsure what to do, he deliberated his choices in his mind. He walked over to her, not failing to notice the way she flinched as he neared her. He bent close to her head, loving the way she smelt as he whispered to her "You're wrong." Whispering was necessary for him to keep control, and he walked outside, staying in control.
Her words hurt him deeply. She was the only one he knew from his Hogwarts days that actually showed any shred of respect. But obviously, despite this façade, she thought the same as everyone else. He sat on the grass, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around them.
She didn't know. She had no clue about what had happened behind closed doors. He had been an impressionable boy; all he wanted was his father's love. But that came with a price. He looked down at the shirt he was wearing, the dark material hiding all traces of the imperfection beneath. Few people knew about his past, his life before he went to Hogwarts and was able to escape for a few months at a time.
He heard the door open and shut quietly, but had no intentions of turning around. He was too busy trying to work out why he was being nice to the Gryffindor Princess, who clearly didn't hold him in high regards. She dropped down onto the grass beside him, imitating his position. But he ignored her presence.
Hermione sat on the grass, imitating the way he was sitting, but resting her head on her knees, facing Draco. She wasn't surprised when he didn't look at her, she wasn't expecting him too, but she would have liked it.
They sat in the silence; Hermione not knowing what to say, Draco not wanting to speak. Finally Hermione gathered her courage and broke the silence.
"Draco, I'm sorry." She waited patiently for a reply, but he didn't say anything, only turning his head to look at her. His pale face held no emotion, but Hermione could see his eyes were hiding something, though she couldn't tell what it was.
"I didn't mean to say...that. I had no right to judge you..." She kept her voice soft, waiting for a reply. This time a reply came.
"Yes, you did." He muttered. Hermione looked at him confused, wondering which bit of her sentence he was referring to.
"What...?" She went to ask, but his silky voice cut her off.
"Yes, I was a bit of a jerk at school..." Hermione looked at him questionably.
"A bit?" Her tone was light and teasing, but he didn't laugh or find it the slightest bit funny.
"Okay, maybe a bit more than a bit." He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Point is, having Scorpius was like a second chance for me. I want to give him the childhood that I didn't have. I want him to know what love is, that it is okay to show emotions, that blood purity is a thing of the past. I want him to have real friends and to be happy." Tears came to Hermione's eyes as Draco finished his speech. She put her hand over the one he had dropped onto the grass.
"That is so sweet. If you had have been more like," her other hand waved about in the air, "this at school, we could have been friends." He looked into her eyes, noticing how she was genuinely meaning what she said.
"I don't have friends." He said sharply. Truthfully, he had never had friends. He had a few casual acquaintances that were not too bad to put up with, and then he had those who followed him and worshipped him, and the girls who wanted him for his money or looks. He had never had a true friend.
"You could." She honestly believed that they could be friends. If they stopped fighting...
"Hmm." His reply wasn't really any words, just a mumbled sound. He didn't know if he wanted friends. Sure, sometimes he got lonely with only Scorpius to talk to, and he was only a child. Sometimes Draco wished for an intelligent conversation, but it seemed that no one wanted to have a conversation with him.