A/N: I want to thank everyone who's read the first chapter for getting to the end. I am truly thankful for the follows and favourites, and I am even more absolutely positively thankful to the handful of reviewers I have. You make my day when I get that little email notification, and I absolutely love knowing what you have to say about my writing, so thank you. Your reviews spurred me to write another chapter so soon, so hopefully this one is alright too.
I want to add in a note at the moment, we're not getting too much Dramione interactions in this chapter, but it should pick up in the next one. I need to set the scene first so please stick with me! Obviously this is in third person, but there are parts where I'm hoping you'll see I focus more on Draco's POV or Hermione's POV. The language changes slightly. This is predominantly for this chapter, as when they're in the same scenes we will generally get a Hermione dominated POV, but let me know how it goes.
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to JK Rowling. Anything that is vaguely familiar, I did not create. I do not profit from this story, strictly pleasure :)
Song: One Step at a Time - Jordin Sparks
Lyrics: One step at a time/ there's no need to rush/ it's like learning to fly/ or falling in love…
Chapter Two: A New Home
Draco sullenly turned his wand in to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, a heavy feeling settling over him. The irony of this situation didn't escape him – one day torturing muggles, pretending they were the scum of the Earth, and yet now here he was, forced to live his life among them, as one. Smyth had allowed him a two-day grace period before his banishment to get his affairs in order, however he had to surrender the wand directly after his trial.
The first day he spent packing his essentials into a small army of suitcases and boxes. He purchased himself a small, fully furnished house with a large garden in a suburb where the neighbours were far enough away for him to have some privacy. He notified his friends and family of the outcome of his trial, and how to contact him at his new address, although after the war, he truly didn't have that many friends to contact, whether it be through death or desertion.
The second day he spent in the courtrooms again. He hadn't intended to return so soon, but it was the day of his mother's trial. His father had been sentenced to life in Azkaban prison prior to his own trial, which honestly didn't surprise Draco at all. Draco despised and resented his father after everything that he had put their family through. If he could have, he would have testified against him, adding all the abuse he suffered at the hands of his father to the charges; instead, he decided to save face and attempt to put that behind him, knowing that this may be one of the last times he saw his dad outside of a prison. His mother had always been caring of him, even throughout the war he knew that everything she did was to protect him and their family. Draco sat in the stands behind his mother as moral support, hoping that there was something that could be done to set her free. Narcissa had not been branded with the Dark Mark and was not a true follower of the Dark Lord. If Draco had been able to get out of going to Azkaban due to claims of duress, his mother surely could be spared that fate as well.
Dorian Smyth was once again at the helm, commanding the court room. As the proceedings drew longer, it seemed clear to Draco that his mother may suffer the same fate as his father, as if the court had predetermined that they were one in the same. Narcissa fought for her freedom elegantly, with poised and graceful responses only women of high court could pull off. The court was hesitant. Unsure if they could trust the words of a women so strongly tied to Voldemort and his followers.
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw someone stand. It was then that he realised that the Golden Trio had been sitting through his mother's trial as well. Potter was speaking now, telling the court of his mother's role in saving his life and allowing the light to triumph. Granger looked almost proud of him, which struck him somewhat, leaving him feeling puzzled despite what she did for him just two days ago. Draco still wasn't sure what to think about it all, blaming the suspicion on the last few years of his life and his general upbringing. He was, however, immensely grateful and wasn't sure how to thank the young witch for her hand in keeping him out of Azkaban, but certain that in the five years he was to be banished from the Wizarding World, he would be able to think of something. Potter was on the main floor now, explaining what Narcissa did for him in the Forbidden Forest when Draco noticed Weasley sitting beside Granger. His face was growing impressively redder as Potter continued his speech. At the mention of Draco's name, Weasley's eyes snapped up to meet his. Draco was almost flinching at the raw hatred he saw in them, but decided to not take the coward's way out – his new motto – and continued a staring match with the red-head. Granger seemed to notice her boyfriend's fixation, as she turned to whisper something in his ear only to have him fix her with a dirty look before placing a possessive arm around her shoulders and pull her into him roughly. Hermione's eyes sought out Draco's giving him that small reassuring smile she had in his own trial before she turned back to the centre. Weasley shot him one final glare before he began whispering agitatedly in his girlfriend's ear and she threw his arm from around him in, what Draco deduced, contained anger.
Potter's speech wound down and the court was ready to rule. Draco speculated that due to his own case previously, they did not need the recess to discuss how to proceed. His mother's sentence had been three years of house arrest without a wand, along with monthly visits from an Auror. Narcissa graciously accepted the terms and her eyes sparkled as she looked towards her son, a hint of emotion in the sea of blank expression expected in pureblood society. Draco watched Weasley storm out almost as soon as the decision was reached, and though Granger seemed to watch after him, she and Potter met his mother in the centre of the room, much like they had the other day.
Due to Lucius's incarceration, Draco had become head of the Malfoy estate, companies and vaults. On his way out of the Ministry with his mother, they had stopped in to the Auror department to file forms that allowed them to raid the house for dark artefacts and cleanse the house of dark magic with the clause that they had to keep it more or less as it was.
The remainder of the afternoon, Draco and Narcissa spent together in the Manor. He helped her pack her belongings just as he had the previous day, as she decided to attend her house arrest in a smaller cottage they owned in the English countryside – too much dark magic had left Malfoy Manor in a constant state of gloom and disrepair. After their final dinner together, the pair ventured to the kitchen, letting the elves know of the situation and asking which ones would like to go with Narcissa to the countryside estate, and which ones would prefer to be set free. She was left with only three elves by the end (and Draco with a significantly lighter array of socks).
"I'm going to miss you, mother." Draco sighed. They both sat by the fire sipping tea.
"I'll write you often, my dragon." Narcissa assured him. In that moment, a glimpse of the vulnerable boy flickered across his face.
"And I you, mother. As much as possible." Draco hesitated for a moment before standing and joining his mother on the larger sofa. He placed both of their teacups on the small coffee table and pulled his mother into an embrace. Narcissa wept for her husband lost to Azkaban, for her son and his future, and for her own life, a fraction of what it once was. It was vulnerability, it was hard for them both, but in the comfort of each other's embrace, they could allow their emotions to show.
Draco swiftly swiped his own tears away before attending to his mother. It was a heavy moment between them, the realisation that despite going through hell to get here, they were both free from Voldemort and free of Lucius, yet both banished so far from each other. Draco felt leaving his mother alone in the Wizarding World with so many people still out to get her clawed at his own guilt, piling on top of the already teetering stack.
That night was the first night since Draco was an infant that he slept in the same bed as his mother. When morning came, they both departed for their new homes.
It had been two weeks since Malfoy's trial, and Hermione was in the thick of yet another argument with Ron. As Harry had predicted, the front page of every newspaper in the Wizarding World had displayed Hermione's selfless defence of the Malfoy scion in black and white moving photo. They were all currently staying at the Burrow as Harry began renovation on Grimmauld Place and Hermione begun the search for her parents, refusing to return to her childhood home without them. Because of this, Ron and Hermione's private argument about the matter was not so private. Things had been tense in the house ever since, with clear sides drawn on the matter – more of them favouring Hermione, which seemed to irk Ron even more. Ginny had also sided with Ron, putting a strain on her relationship with Harry, but as Hermione had begun to apologise to him, he pointed out that he too had begun to forgive Malfoy and there were photos of them shaking hands to prove it.
This afternoon, Hermione had wandered through the trees behind the Burrow, finding a particularly old oak tree that seemed to have been planted centuries ago. She climbed a small way up until she was nestled in the crook of a large branch and the trunk, pulling her legs up so she couldn't be seen from below. She wasn't exactly hiding from Ron, she just wanted some time to herself. With an entire family in various states of mourning, despising her, and attempting to comfort her, she was looking for an escape.
Hermione pulled out an old copy of Anne of Green Gables, her mother's favourite story to read to her as a child. As she reached almost the halfway point in the book, she was snapped from her bubble by the sound of crunching leaves below her. They soon passed however, and she was glad to have thought to draw herself fully up. As she continued reading she smiled sadly, thinking of her parents and hoping that she would be able to retrieve them from Australia. She was so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed Ron approaching her on a broomstick, looking livid.
"Hermione!" he shouted angrily, "Don't run off by yourself like that!"
Hermione breathed before responding exasperatedly, "Obviously I wasn't running off, I'm still on the property. I just needed a little quiet." She held up her book as an explanation.
"You could have been taken! There are so many crazies still out there. I'm sure they'd love to get their hands on you." Ron responded, oblivious to her words. He hovered his broomstick near her seat.
"I'm sure they would, Ron, but as I just stated, I'm still here. You would've known if I had left the wards, and the hand on the clock that your mother had made for me is, I'm sure, still pointing to home." Hermione reasoned.
Ron grew irate, "I'm just looking out for you, Hermione."
"I can handle myself, Ronald." She swung her legs over the branch and launched herself to the ground, beginning her walk back to the house. Ron followed after her on the broom.
"What if a whole group of them attack you? What then?" Ron pleaded. It was clear he had her best interests at heart, but he was going about it the wrong way.
"There certainly aren't enough Death Eaters left for an entire group to attack me, let alone be organised enough to coordinate the scale of attack that you seem to be suggesting."
"There'll be enough if you keep letting them out of Azkaban." Ron muttered.
Hermione stopped in her tracks. She was sick of this argument and she wasn't sure whether to begin it again or just hex him and leave. "Excuse me?" she decided on, incredulously.
"I said, there'll be eno-" Ron began.
"I heard what you said, Ronald. I don't want to fight about this again. It's high time you learnt that the only way we're all going to get over the horrors of the past is to forgive. Malfoy has obviously had a difficult time in his own childhood, just let him live his life like the rest of us."
"But he's not like the rest of us, Hermione. He's one of them!" Ron fumed. This was always his stance, two sides still warring. Where Hermione only saw time for acceptance and forgiveness, Ron wanted to continue the fight.
"There is no us and them anymore. Let the past die." Hermione felt deflated, like a broken record player skipping at the same spot over and over again. She had had this argument at least once a day with a Weasley family member and she was over it.
"I will let the past die when every last Death Eater and sympathiser is locked up in Azkaban prison, or dead. I can't let them continue to walk free among us, taking advantage of you and Harry's forgiveness and murdering you both." Ron argued.
That was it. This Ron is not the kind of man that she wanted to be with. They had been on two dates since the war ended, both uncomfortably awkward, and now all the arguing about the Malfoys, she couldn't take it if this was to be her partner. It was clear to her that their morals and ethics lay in different places, and if he couldn't even see her side after a week, then they weren't going to last on larger issues that would surely arise in a long-term relationship.
Hermione turned away from Ron, "I'm sorry Ron, I can't have this argument with you every day. If you can't even see where I'm coming from, I'm questioning whether we're suited for each other at all."
"What are you saying, 'Mione?" Ron hopped off his broomstick and walked towards her.
"I'm saying that, now that the pressure of the war has been lifted, I'm seeing your true colours and I don't think we're compatible." Ron was about to speak but Hermione continued, "If this is a contention point in our relationship, I think we should break up. If you think that you can get over your grudge for Malfoy, then come and find me and we can try again."
"What do you mean find you?" Ron asked with a gravelly voice. It was clear he was choking back his emotions.
"I mean I'm going to pack my things and move out as soon as I can." Hermione responded. This break-up was affecting her, but she kept her emotions under check for now.
"Hermione, you can't go. You'll be on your own, the Death Eaters-"
"Are not going to harm me. Relax. I need some time to myself, just let me go." Hermione soothed.
"If this is what you truly want, I can't stop you anyway." Ron was defeated.
Hermione had purchased a house not far from where her childhood home had stood. Her parents had left her an inheritance that she could claim at eighteen, and the Ministry had flooded the Golden Trio with a large amount of gold, probably as a bribe but advertised as a thank you. As she had settled in, she furnished the house with muggle appliances but applied for a permit to use magic within her home, along with adding her fireplace to the floo network. Due to her celebrity status, everything had been approved instantaneously and, though Hermione was unhappy with the way the system worked, she couldn't be happier with the outcome.
Harry had helped her unpack, shop for furniture, and visited her several times in the few weeks that she had been settled, either trying to escape the Weasley family himself, or checking up on the girl he called his sister. He stayed so often that Hermione had practically left one of the rooms in the house as Harry's room, for any time he stayed over. It was lovely to be on her own, but the times that Harry visited were welcome.
Besides Harry, the only Weasleys to know of her new address were Molly, in case of emergencies, and George, for any time he needed help or to talk about Fred. Hermione was reluctant to give the details to Ron, whose relationship was currently undefined in her mind – ex-boyfriend, not exactly back to being best friends, not spoken since the breakup – and decided that when some time had passed, she would invite him over too.
It therefore came as a large shock when, on a Wednesday afternoon as Hermione was unpacking some groceries, a phone call came through her landline. No one she knew had this number let alone a phone, not that she knew anyone who would even know how to use a phone. She put the broccoli back on the counter and gingerly picked up the phone.
"Hello?" She asked, curious.
"Granger, is that you?" A male voice responded.
"Who is this?" Hermione was a little put off, unsure how the stranger knew who she was.
"It's Draco." Silence, "Err… Malfoy."
Draco Malfoy was calling her landline? Hermione laughed and a muffled grunt came from the other side.
"I'm sorry, I thought you said Draco Malfoy." She composed herself.
"I did. This is he. Is this Hermione Granger?" He asked again.
Hermione blanched white, "How did you get my number, Malfoy?"
"I asked the operator. I've been calling them and asking about once a week since I moved here. I wasn't sure if you were staying here or in the Wizarding World. I hoped you might at least have a house somewhere here so I could leave a message, but I haven't been patched through until today." Malfoy responded casually, although he was an absolute nervous wreck.
Hermione was shocked and confused, "Why exactly have you been trying to find me?" She asked, still suspicious and not about to explain herself.
"Well, a couple of reasons. Firstly, I haven't properly thanked you for what you did for me. You truly saved my life, Granger. I was hoping to do something for you, but I realised that I didn't know where you were or, really, anything about you. I didn't know if I should buy you a gift or take you to dinner, I just have no clue where to start with you. I don't know you at all." Malfoy rambled a little. It surprised him how comfortable he was talking to Granger. It had been a long time since he had been able to talk so candidly with another person.
"That is… refreshingly honest." Hermione supplied, glad he couldn't see her embarrassed blush. "Really, you don't have to get me anything. I'm just glad that you're not rotting away in Azkaban." She paused, remembering Lucius, "I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me. Your father-"
"He is no father of mine." Malfoy spat.
Hermione was taken aback by this, but quickly recovered, "What was the other reason for contacting me?" She questioned.
Malfoy hesitated, "Well, I was hoping…" he trailed off, "Never mind, it was quite contrived."
"No, I want to know now." Hermione whined.
"I don't exactly know how the muggle world really works. I don't understand the purpose of half the contraptions in my house and I can't drive, so I don't exactly know how to get around besides walking." Draco paused, "You were the first person I thought of who might actually help me out. I don't want to take advantage of your heritage, but I don't know any other muggleborn who would be willing to forgive me or at least take a chance." He said this quietly, uncertain of himself and fearing Hermione's reaction.
Hermione's heart throbbed for the poor soul. She hadn't expected that at all. She wasn't sure what to say really. On the one hand, she could help him out and ease him into the muggle world a little better considering he was going to be living here for five years. On the other hand, if she did decide to help him out and Ron found out, she feared their friendship would be irreparable.
"Granger? Are you still there? Did I break this thing?" Malfoy asked worriedly.
"Let me get a pen and I'll write down your address, I can come over tomorrow morning if that suits you." Hermione said, rifling through a drawer for some paper and a pen.
"You're serious?" Malfoy asked, "Should you ask Weasley? He didn't seem alright with me the other day in court."
Hermione mulled over telling him about their breakup for a moment, "We broke up." She stated simply, deciding that honesty and trust was a good thing to build, especially with how open he had been in this brief conversation.
"I'm sorry to hear that." Malfoy responded uncomfortably. He wasn't sure if he was the reason, but he had an inkling and it only added to the guilt he felt. He continued the conversation by telling her his address, "Any time suits me, I'm up quite early and there's honestly not a lot I can do at the moment."
"Okay Malfoy, I'll see you tomorrow morning then." Hermione smiled out of habit, "Bye."
"Bye, Granger." The phone clicked.
Hermione spent the rest of her night questioning everything and writing an essay of a letter to Harry, charming it and sending it to Grimmauld Place so it wasn't seen by a Weasley. She didn't know what compelled her to accept. If she was honest with herself, she was concerned about how comfortable and honest she could be talking to her once-nemesis, not enough suspicion and edginess for her own liking.
Draco spent the rest of his night boggled that the witch had agreed to help him. He was astounded by her acceptance and forgiveness. He had been worse than horrible to her their whole lives. If she wasn't already friends with Harry Potter, he was sure that he would be the reason she was invested in the fight. His discrimination against her, the way he treated her like less than dirt throughout her life. He felt guilty. He didn't deserve this.