CHAPTER 6

The Slug Club

"-and my father says that he and Macnair and the other Death Eaters have made significant progress," said Malfoy.

The moment the door to the Quidditch shed clicked shut, he'd started telling her all the latest in Voldemort's plans. It was like he couldn't wait to let everything out each week, to finally spill everything that was in his brain to someone he could trust, even if the only reason for that trust was an Unbreakable Vow. Hermione was just staring at him.

"Are any of the other Slytherins involved?" asked Hermione.

"No, not directly," said Malfoy, shaking his head. "I'm still the only one who's taken the Mark."

"I still can't believe you're a Death Eater," said Hermione seriously.

"It could be worse," offered Malfoy, and she looked at him incredulously. "I could be in the Slug Club."

Hermione burst into laughter, slapping her hands over her mouth at the shock of it. She was laughing! How was she laughing at a joke that compared the Death Eaters to the Slug Club? She truly hadn't expected to enjoy Malfoy's company, to find him funny.

"Oh, Merlin, there's a Christmas party coming up for Slug Club members," said Hermione, burying her face in her hands.

"I've heard," Malfoy replied.

"I've got to have a date," said Hermione.

"Why not Weasley?"

Hermione let out a scoff to rival Malfoy's.

"He's too busy with his tongue down Lavender Brown's throat," she said.

"We hate her, huh?" said Malfoy diplomatically, and she laughed again.

"I'm planning to ask someone who'll make him really annoyed," said Hermione.

They sat in silence for a while. Hermione had found herself almost looking forward to time they spent in the Quidditch shed. She felt a twinge of something like guilt at the idea that she was betraying Harry and Ron so thoroughly, but there was something about the escape, the clandestine meetings. Something that was just hers. It also made her feel emphatically as though she were doing good in the world, trying to bring Malfoy around to the right side.

"You could be my date," she said, elbowing him gently.

"Oh, I'm sure that would go over well," he snorted.

"I mean, if we're trying to make Ron annoyed…" said Hermione.

"Annoyed?! You want annoyed, you invite that big stupid bloke who used to play Keeper for Gryffindor," said Malfoy. "Invite me and you won't get 'annoyed,' you'll get apoplectic."

"Cormac McLaggen," said Hermione, biting her lip and staring off into the distance. "He'd do nicely."

Malfoy gave her a devilish grin.

"Sure you don't want to try for 'irate' or 'enraged'?" he asked.

"You're like a walking thesaurus," she teased, and he laughed.

"Good education," he said in an arrogant voice. "I went to school before Hogwarts."

Hermione cocked her head at him.

"Is that unusual?" asked Hermione.

Malfoy paused, a bit taken aback by her question.

"Er, a bit, yes," said Malfoy. "Is it not unusual for… you know, er…"

"Mudbloods?" asked Hermione with an arched brow.

He flushed a bit pink, but she wasn't offended.

"I went to school from the time I was four," explained Hermione. "My parents valued education a great deal as well."

He nodded, tilting his head to one side as though he were thinking over her answer, considering this new information that Muggles also cared about their children's education.

"So, there was a school you went to? Some sort of Wizarding primary school?" she asked.

"It's very expensive," said Malfoy, a devious smirk on his face. "It where Parkinson and I first became friends."

"Do all the Slytherins call each other by their surnames?" she asked.

"Yes, actually," he said simply. "They don't in Gryffindor?"

Hermione laughed.

"Well, for one, if you called out 'Weasley' about eight different people would turn around," she said.

He let out a very Malfoy-esque scoff. She looked at him for a long moment. He was tugging at a loose string at the hem of his robes.

"Why do you hate them?" she asked, and he looked at her in question. "The Weasleys."

"They're blood traitors," he spat reflexively.

She was watching him and saw when he realized he needed to give a better response than that.

"Sort of a lazy answer, isn't it?" added Malfoy. "I think I've got a lot of reasons to hate them. Some are reasonable, some aren't."

"Start with the unreasonable ones," said Hermione.

"They're poor. They marry Muggles," he said, his nose crinkling up in distaste, and Hermione almost laughed at how cute it looked. "My father says they're an embarrassment to Wizarding kind."

"And the reasonable ones?" she prodded.

"Ugh," he said. "No manners. Have you seen those Weasley boys eat? They're like a herd of hyenas. Completely classless. Clumsy, rude," said Malfoy, and when she opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off. "Don't say I'm rude as well. I'm not rude, I'm insulting. Those red-headed imbeciles are boorish."

"There you go with the thesaurus again," she said.

He paused for a moment, his lips pressed together like he was making his mind up on whether to tell her the rest.

"Arthur Weasley hates my father and has tried to have him thrown into Azkaban a dozen times," said Malfoy quietly. "He's orchestrated more surprise raids on Malfoy Manor than anyone else in the Ministry. It's not just enforcing the law. It's a coordinated, targeted campaign against my family."

"Maybe if your family didn't have anything illegal…"

"Arthur Weasley's son flew to Hogwarts in a modified Muggle car, and he didn't even get a reprimand at work," said Malfoy dryly, with an eye roll. "The Weasleys get away with anything they like because they're on good terms with Dumbledore. Meanwhile, my father gives Arthur Weasley so much as a sour look and the entire Auror department descends on Malfoy Manor."

Hermione had never even thought about it from Malfoy's perspective before. She would never go so far as saying he had a point, but she was beginning to understand where he was coming from, how he had become the young man he was. Suddenly, Malfoy checked the watch on his arm and blanched, realizing how long he'd been talking to her.

"Well, listen, I'd better let you get on with it," said Malfoy, standing abruptly from the floor. "Asking MacLaggen to be your date and all. Good luck with that one. Makes Crabbe look suave. Debonair, even."

He held out his hand to her. She grasped it, and he swept her to her feet. They were standing close to each other, so close she could smell the sandalwood of his hair. His hand hadn't let go of hers, and for a moment, she almost thought he was going to kiss her.

"Dashing. Sophisticated," he said in a low voice, a half-smile on his face.

"Cosmopolitan. Genteel," said Hermione.

He let go of her hand and reached out for the doorknob. This was the moment when things always changed between them: when the vow was lifted and no longer applied, when they were outside the shed and the spell that seemed to make him decent to her broke. Malfoy gave her a genuine smile that lit up his grey eyes. Then, he turned the doorknob and a mask dropped over his features. His face stern, he opened the door, gesturing for her to go ahead. She left the shed and began walking back to the castle, and despite herself, she turned and looked over her shoulder. He was watching her, face impassive, but when she gave him a tiny wave, she saw him lift his hand cautiously. The movement was so small she wouldn't have seen it if she wasn't watching so closely, but his fingers twitched, just barely, in her direction before he dropped his hand to his side once again.

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Author's Note: Is the burn deliciously slow? Not to worry, you'll get some action from these two in the next chapter!