DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters or the original plot from the Harry Potter franchise.
Sorry this took so long & thanks for waiting!
Chapter 3:
Somewhere over the northern French countryside in a passenger airplane hurtling towards London, a witch's hand twitched on the armrest of a window seat as she avoided the sidelong gaze of her childhood tormentor. The high road had never seemed so far away.
Hermione was employing some deep-breathing techniques to get herself under control. She resented that Malfoy had put her right back into adolescence. Her parents had been drawn over to the dark side easily enough, leaving her to sulk with all of the dignity of a wet kitten. He, on the other hand, seemed to have taken it all in stride.
She thought back to Grimmauld. Malfoy had been a living skeleton—a consequence of the stress and malnourishment they had all been forced to cope with during the dark days of the war. Malfoy, with his almost-translucent skin and the dark circles under his eyes, had cut out an especially tortured figure. Not that any of them had gone out of their way to help. The last thing Malfoy ever wanted was to be indebted to anyone in the house.
What had happened while she was gone?
Hermione was pulled out of her inner monologue by the unholy union of her mother's girlish giggles and an unwelcome throaty masculine laugh.
"Our other classmates had seen dismembered hands and mummies and her Boggart told her that she'd failed all of her classes."
"That's our girl." Her father guffawed proudly. To her horror, he reached out and patted Hermione's head affectionately. "Our bookworm. She was so happy when that letter from Hogwarts came."
"I imagine she couldn't contain herself." Malfoy was enjoying himself too much. He practically radiated smugness.
"You know our Hermione. She had every book on witchcraft out of the library that summer. She even tried a few Wiccan spells, but none of them worked, did they Poppet? Right depressed, you were about that." Her mom winked at her.
"Sort of like that first flying lesson, eh Granger?" Malfoy's eyes gleamed with a unique and sadistic brand of joy. She didn't understand how he seemed to remember her failures in school so clearly. Oh, right. He was Malfoy.
Hermione felt the blood rush to her cheeks. This could not be tolerated. This was intolerable. She struggled to find the words to shut his infernal mouth and felt herself spluttering.
"I-I-I cannot belie—Malfoy! I swear to G—MUM! Stop!"
Her distress only seemed to increase her parents' and Malfoy's glee. She was debating pretending she had fallen asleep for the remainder of the flight, when a distinctively masculine voice interrupted her mother and Malfoy's lovefest.
"I pop off to the loo for a moment, and you've managed to start a party without me! And with Muggles!"
Draco frowned, before tilting his head towards the Grangers apologetically. "A shame. It seems out conversation must be cut short, as my friend has returned from his...excursion."
Hermione recognized this new intrusion in her life. Blaise Zabini had passed through the War relatively unaffected thanks to an ancestral tradition of neutrality, and it seemed like he had also improved himself in the Post-War era. He was fixing his tie as waited for Draco to slink back to his window seat, and seemed to have missed Hermione's presence in her squashed window seat across the aisle.
Once back in his corner, Malfoy leaned over to his seatmate, and Hermione sighed in relief. It seemed like little had actually changed—Malfoy wouldn't allow himself to be seen conversing with a Muggleborn in front of his friends and equals.
Hermione's mother leaned over her father to whisper conspiratorially to her.
"Is this another classmate of yours? He looks to be about you and Draco's age. Well they are both quite fit, don't you think, darling?"
While she tried to absorb the fact that her mother was on first name basis with Malfoy, her father patted Hermione's twitching knee comfortingly. Hermione settled back into her seat and concentrated on breathing deeply.
"GRANGER?" Blaise's usually controlled voice had risen a few octaves, causing the woman in front of Hermione to jerk awake. "Hermione Granger is on our flight?"
She winced at the mention of her name, wishing her seat would swallow her.
Blaise's admittedly handsome face popped out of the aisle.
"Cor! Granger, where have you been? You look stunning, love!" Hermione tried to force her face into something that resembled pleasant surprise. "Is this your family?"
Hermione glanced at Draco and saw that his face had rearranged itself into formal neutrality. Blaise turned his attention to Hermione's mother.
"I never knew Hermione had a sister. Helping her move back to London, then? I have a very large moving van in my employment if you need assistance of any kind." Blaise winked at Mrs. Granger and kissed her hand playfully.
Hermione felt her lunch roll over in her stomach. Even Draco closed his eyes in irritation.
"Watch it, Sprout." Hermione's father laughed at the younger man's flirtations. Blaise smiled easily.
"No offense meant, Sir. I should express my envy that you should be sandwiched between two lovely ladies whilst I'm stuck with Draco over here."
Hermione noticed that Draco seemed just as irritated at Blaise's entrance as she was—an observation she gleaned from the tension in his brow and his slightly pursed lips. If she weren't mistaken, he seemed rather uncertain about how to proceed with his best friend present. She felt rather smug. See him try to embarrass me now that he has to uphold the Malfoy countenance.
"Anyways, Granger. What are you doing on this flight of all flights? Draco said you were off doing something dreadfully boring with potions in France last time he'd heard."
Brown eyes snapped up to meet grey.
"Keeping tabs on me, Malfoy?"