So, you all thought it would be that easy, huh? In any case, sorry to torture you a bit longer. .

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Chapter 9

The two made their way to the kitchen at the insistence of Hermione's suddenly audible stomach. She hadn't eaten much in the past three days. Of course, she took the time to get dressed first. With Draco outside the room. Jeez, what kind of girl do you think she is?

Draco multiplied up some food and cooked simple spaghetti. Hermione tried to make herself useful, setting the table (which took about 2 seconds.)

For some reason, even after the heavy conversation which followed the hot and heavy previous events, the two were in pretty good spirits. It was as if by just admitting that they liked each other -and that that it was so utterly hilarious it was sad- they were able to just ignore their problems and relax.

Ignoring the perfect impossibility that was their newfound relationship….friendship? No, ignore the annoying questions and complications and just let him think!

Hermione was a big believer in thinking time, so ignoring the problems and letting Draco think through them on his own sounded great. He needed to figure out who he was, and what he believed in.

In the meantime, however, he was no longer alone in this big house.

"And then, my mother said "Galleon? A Gallon of what?" Hermione said

.

Draco snorted and grabbed his cloth napkin to avoid spilling his drink all over the table.

"Wow. Must be hard, not having parents that understand, well, anything about your world."

Hermione smiled. Her world. She was included. That was a start, right? Stop! No analyzing!

She smiled. "Sometimes. But it just means that I get the best of both worlds. I get to learn about being a witch and about muggle things." The look on his face made her say "There are good things about being muggle-born, you know. Internet, cell phones, burglar alarms that don't aim to kill…I study hard, so I know plenty about the wizarding world too. It's not like I lose out on anything by being muggle-born."

"Well, you can't learn everything about being born a witch or wizard from books, you know."

Hermione thought about the Weasleys, and had to agree. "Ok, yeah. I'll admit, the complexities of Quidditch and its popularity avoid me." Draco's eyebrows rose at that, and his mouth opened in a gesture she recognized as one of a wizard about to go into a long story about why Quidditch was great. She moved on, quickly. "AND, I don't know much about wizard bands. I don't know about games wizard children play, or about the toys others reminisce about. But I have been a witch for seven years, and I think I'm doing a pretty good job catching up."

Draco smiled. "Yeah, I guess. At least, when it comes to wand work you beat out most of our class…" He looked away sheepishly "…sorry I've never admitted that before."

Hermione smiled and took another bite of dinner. She swallowed, and said "Yeah, well, your not so bad yourself. You're not bad at Quidditch, either, though I admit I never actually saw many of the games where Slytherin won."

"Ouch. Yeah, I suppose you only followed Gryffindor, huh? We did win some of those games, you know."

Hermione decided not to point out that it wasn't always (ever) a fair win.

That was the floodgate, the worst that could happen: He began to talk Quidditch. Ugh!

But Hermione smiled and nodded. Having her two male best friends on the Quidditch team, she was used to it. If Draco knew how much he could sound like Ron or Harry on this subject….

She didn't even want to think about what he'd say- or do- if they showed up now.

Even though she didn't understand much about Quidditch, listening to Draco go on about it made her feel cozy, somehow. She missed and worried about her boys, and the familiar talk calmed her.

The two had finished their meals, and as Hermione walked over and did dishes in the sink, Draco continued with what he was sure was a compelling story of some great summer Quidditch game. At some point, he seemed to realize that he had talked for too long, and cleared his throat.

"Sorry. I don't have a lot of people to talk Quidditch too. And you had even said you weren't interested. But why not! It has everything…"

After a few more minutes Hermione had the dishes put away and turned to him. With her staring down at him, Draco said "and who wouldn't love the….oh…right..sorry."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't worry. It's nice to here about Quidditch fever now and then."

Draco grinned.

"Would you like to have that guided tour of the mansion, now?"

"And how would that help me when you don't know how to deactivate the traps?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "They're sensitive to Malfoy blood. When one of my family is within five feet, they won't activate in the first place."

"Oh." Hermione said. "Then I should stick close to you, huh?"

"That's the idea. Why would you have wandered off on your own in the first, place, anyways? You weren't trying to run away- you know where the door is."

Hermione squirmed. She couldn't think of a good excuse. "I…I just can't explain myself, Draco."

His grin fading, he nodded. "Ok, I suppose to keep the peace we both have some secrets to keep, huh? Looking for something?"

He was much sharper than Hermione remembered. She shook her head.

"Nevermind. I can assume you've seen the upstairs, right? Then I'll show you the rest of this floor."

"Is that all there is to the house?"

Draco stared at her.

"…Just out of curiosities sake…"

He lifted his eyebrows.

"Innocent" wasn't working, so she tried playing the "sweet" card.

"Please?"

He sighed, loudly.

"We have a wine cellar, of course, who doesn't? Then there's just the cabin."

"Cabin?"

"Well, yeah. Sort of a "camping" experience, about a half hour by broom. Malfoy property is anti-apparating. "

"Your property extends a half hour, by broom?!"

Draco appreciated impressing people, and grinned again. "We are not your average level of rich, we Malfoy's."

"I guess not!" She said, awed in spite of herself. How could anyone have that much disposable income?"

"Then shall I give you the tour?"

She nodded.

It took about an hour to cover the first floor, which included multiple bedrooms, bathrooms, a poolroom, and a fully loaded kitchen. Not like the little kitchen they had been using, no, this one was industrial, set up for multiple cooks. Or house elves. She didn't like that thought, but it's not like it would be any better than Hogwarts, she admitted to herself bitterly.

The hallway led to a large dining room, which broke off into the kitchen. Draco opened a door in the dining room that Hermione had taken for a closet. Behind it were some stairs.

"The wine cellar?" Hermione asked.

"However did you know?" Draco answered, rolling his eyes.

He started down the stairs first, using his wand for light. Hermione followed.

The basement was colder than the rest of the house, and the dim light from Draco's wand illuminated rows and rows of expensive-looking red and white bottles.

"So…the 1978 Montrachet or the 1945 Mouton?"

"Uh…what?"

"Which do you want to drink?"

Hermione was no expert in wine, but she was sure both of the bottles Draco held up were exceedingly expensive.

"Don't ask. I'll only tell you after we drink it." He said, as if reading her mind.

"What, why?"

"Cause you seem like the kind of person that would turn down expensive gifts."

Yes. She was.