4. The Change

A/N: All recognizable characters and locations belong to JK Rowling: the goddess of writing and my personal hero/role-model! And since I'm obviously not her, I don't own Harry Potter.

I hold the door to the shop open for Hermione, enjoying the tinkle of the entrance bell. She saunters inside, beckoning me to follow. The interior is welcoming and cool, with white and black tiled floors and lots of funny bench seats and grey topped tables. There is a long counter with bar stools towards the back, and a tall man with dark hair and an odd paper cap stands behind it.

I instinctively draw the slightest bit closer to Hermione, feeling exposed in this shop. I suppose that it's similar to the ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley… but very different at the same time.

"Hi, Frank!" Hermione waves to the dark haired young man with a cheerful smile, and he returns the gesture.

"Hullo, 'Mione! Back from school already, are you? Where is it you go again? Boarding school in Scotland, wasn't it?"

Hermione drags me towards the counter, pulling me onto one of the high stools with a rather dangerous looking partial scowl. "Yeah, that's it." She drums her fingers on the counter and Frank turns to arrange a handful of napkins in a basket. "Now, Draco, see that board up there?" Hermione whispers, gesturing slightly towards a chalkboard mounted on the wall—clearly a sort of menu. "Well, pick whatever you like. There are sodas and parfaits, and all sorts of things like that."

I frown at the board. Some of the things I recognize, like milkshakes, but others are completely foreign. "What's a root beer float?" I hiss, trying to remain inconspicuous in case Frank is attempting to listen in.

"Soda and ice cream. It's really good." She replies, digging a wad of paper notes from her pocket. "Muggle money." She clarifies in an undertone, setting the papers on the counter and turning to face me.

"Oh." I glance back towards the menu, feeling a bit lost.

"So, how're your mum and dad them, 'Mione?" Frank leans amiably against the counter top, winking at her.

I scowl, suddenly taking note of how very good looking he is. He's probably around seventeen… and I have a strong feeling that he has most certainly noticed that Hermione is quite pretty. The way that she smiles at him fills me with a bitter tingle, and I find myself taking a strong disliking to the boy.

"Oh, you know, they're good. Dad's a bit busy with work, but mum's had a few days off, so she and I have been spending a lot of time together. It's been great! Hey, I'd like a cream soda. You'd better order now, Draco." She shoves the money towards him, and he turns to look at me expectantly.

"Oh! Uh—I'll have a strawberry milkshake." I falter, suddenly realizing that I don't have any Muggle money. "I'll pay you back when I get home." I mutter to Hermione in an undertone, and she nods in acceptance.

"Coming right up!" Frank laughs, turning to mix the ingredients together while we watch. "So, uh, you two dating or something, 'Mione?" He asks casually without turning to face us.

"No!" Hermione squeaks, automatically scooting to the next stool like greased lightning. I guess she can't even stand the act of sitting next to me—but then again, I probably deserve it. "I'm Draco's tutor. He's got terrible grades so I help him with schoolwork over the summer. He's already been held back three years, and I just feel bad, since he hasn't even been able to get into secondary school."

My mouth falls open in outrage. How dare she? How. Freaking. Dare. She. I am Draco Malfoy—Draco Black… whatever. I'm not to be made a fool of in front of others! I start beating her over the head with a wad of napkins, my playful anger melting into laughter as she tries to fight me off. We straighten up, snickering slightly as Frank sets our drinks on the counter before us with a warry look. Hermione clears her throat and puts on her most professional face.

"Thank you, Frank. Take the tip."

He leans against the counter, running his fingers through his dark hair and showing off his perfect teeth in a blindingly white grin. "Hey, 'Mione, we've known each other for a while now, and I was just thinking that it might be cool to get even more acquainted. There's a new movie coming out Saturday. Would you like to go with me?"

She flushes, looking more than a little surprised. With a nervous gesture, she begins winding one of her long, curly, locks around her dark finger. "Well, gee. I'm going to have to turn you down, Frank. Sorry, but I have plans."

I grin, feeling strangely elated that she doesn't harbor any feelings for him, despite his good looks. "Yeah. She's going to be helping me with my school work. You know, the ABC's." I say smugly, and Hermione shoots me an exasperated look.

Frank frowns, but nods in acceptance. "Sure. Have a great weekend then! I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah. You too." Hermione hops from the stool, snatching her drink up and motioning for me to follow. We exit the shop, blinking slightly in the sudden golden light of the summer afternoon.

I take a sip of the milkshake, finding that it doesn't taste nearly as good as the one in Florence Fortescue's. It's alright, however, and I thank Hermione for the experience.

She nods, looking preoccupied as she attempts to juggle holding her drink steady and refolding her slightly crumpled paper money. She finally wads the bills up and sticks them in her shorts pocket with a grunt of dismissal. "I always try to arrange them by worth… but it's a little tricky with my hands full."

I bite my lip, realizing that I should have been more helpful. "Sorry. Would you like me to hold your drink for you?"

"Draco! You've really changed, haven't you?" She stares at me in wide-eyed wonder, her tone almost conveying reverence.

"No! I'm the same as I always have been!" I protest, waving her off. "I just figured that it wasn't very polite to leave you to struggle on alone—that's all!"

The brown-eyed girl folds her arms with a smirk. "Change isn't all bad, you know. I'd rather think that you'd want to dispose of your old reputation."

"My reputation is what gets me the things that I want!" I explain. "If everyone thought that I was some sort of goody-two-shoes, then I'd never go anywhere with my life. You really should learn some of the values of Slytherin house, Hermione."

"Maybe I will, some day." She laughs, tossing her hair and finishing her drink with a sigh. She dumps the empty cup in the nearest waste can and we retrieve our bikes from the stand where we left them. "So, what did you think of the place?"

I shrug, unwilling to tell her that I wasn't particularly impressed with anything about her so-called "soda fountain". "It was nice. Thanks for taking me."

"You're welcome." She looks over her shoulder at me, her curls flying in a brown cloud behind her as we race along the wide lane towards home. "So, do you think that you'll stay for supper tonight?"

I open my mouth, about to accept, but quickly silence myself. I can't spend too much time with her, and the way that she makes me feel like I'm under a Cheering-charm cannot be healthy. "I'm going to pass. Mum and I need to get situated at our house."

She nods, screeching to a stop at the foot of her driveway. I dismount from my own ride, looking at her a bit hesitantly. "I can take your bike back up. See you around, then?"

I nod, passing the bicycle to her and turning back towards my yard. "Yeah. I guess so."

"Draco? Are you in here?" My mother's soft voice accompanies her gentle rap on the door to the bathroom.

"Yeah." I grunt, setting down my razor to open the door. "What's up, mom?"

"Dinner's ready. What are you doing? I haven't seen you since you got back. Are you all right?" Her brow creases in worry as she peers into the bathroom.

"I'm great—just shaving. I was out with the neighbor, that's all… so I'm sort of tired." I smile reassuringly, trying to ignore the dull aching in my heart that has been bothering me ever since Hermione separated a few hours ago. "I'll be done in a moment." I make a motion to close the door, but her slender white hand stops me.

"I'm worried about you Draco. I shouldn't have left this morning—you did have lunch, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I ate loads." I lie, turning to hide my slightly flushed face from her.

"Well, finish up and then come out. I've made your favorite, and I was hoping that maybe we could spend the evening together doing—oh, I don't know—the things that we've never gotten to do before." She flashes me a worried smile, her blue eyes seeming to pierce my very soul.

"Fine. I'll wrap it up." I slam the door in her face, feeling slightly bad for my mistreatment of her, but just too ornery to worry about it. I rinse my razor in the sink, not even bothering to finish my shave. I don't really need it—it just makes me feel powerful and grown up to press the cold metal against my throat. I gaze at my reflection in the mirror… and my father's face stares back at me. I blink, and I'm looking into my own glum expression again. So pale, so cold.

I don't know who I am anymore. First, I was a Malfoy—powerful and frigid, but I always got whatever I wanted. I could play any person… except for my own family. I suppose that I was happy, but it wasn't the same kind of happiness that I saw in Hermione Granger's big dark eyes today. While I was at Hogwarts, I felt safe but hated. While at home, I could rest in my mother's affection but always knew that punishment was never far away. But then again, I usually deserved my father's wrath—so things never seemed unjust.

Now, I feel even more threatened than before. This entire world is so different that I'm frightened for one of the first times in my life. Even during my father's drunken rages I could block out the most primeval instincts of terror.

Seeing Hermione, however, made me unrealistically happy. I was filled with a sense of joy and freedom that I shouldn't have found in her company. I don't even understand the emotions coursing through my body. I can't comprehend why I'm suddenly depressed and hollow, or why my loving mother is suddenly getting on my nerves. I slam my fists on the white countertop and storm from the bathroom.

"Good! You look nice, sweetie. I made salmon!" My mother beams at me, holding her hands out for a hug. I shoulder past her, blocking out the mental image of her hurt expression. "Well, sit down then." She says slowly, sliding onto one of the bar stools and picking up her fork. I sigh and sit next to her, poking around at the plate of fish in front of me while she looks on with a frown. "What's wrong? I thought that you loved this."

"I do. Thanks, mum." I murmur. "Can I talk to you?"

"You know that you can always talk to me!" She exclaims, leaning forward and trying to hold my hand.

I jerk away, staring back at my plate. "The thing is… There was this girl at Hogwarts that I really hated—but it turns out that she lives in the neighborhood. I saw her today… and when she touched my skin I felt really good, and I think that she's pretty. Is there something wrong with me? She's just a mudblood!"

Mother sighs, rubbing her temples slowly. "Don't use that word, Draco. I don't care how often your father told you that it was the right thing to say, I'm telling you that it isn't. As for this girl, there isn't anything wrong with you liking her. Even if you don't like her, your body is going through-"

"Not the Talk, mum. Please not the Talk!" I groan, hiding my beet-red face in my hands.

Mother rubs my shoulders, sighing. "Oh, Draco. I've failed you. I haven't been the mother that you should have had… and I'm sorry. Can you forgive me? I want to be your friend and guide, but you need to be able to accept and respect me! We can have a new life together here… are you willing to open up to change?"

"You haven't failed me!" I protest, looking up into her eyes for the first time all day. "I've just been moody—and I'm taking it out on you… which isn't right. I want a fresh start! I really do—I'm just not sure how."

She makes a comforting sound which I can only describe as "motherly", and pulls me into a hug. She runs her hands over my back, and then pulls up my tee shirt with a quick moment. "Mum!" I gasp, trying to recover my back, but she's already running her fingers over my cuts and bruises.

"Draco… some of these look infected!" She pulls her wand from her pocket and begins to whisper healing charms over me. "I'm so sorry." Her voice breaks into a soft sob, and I feel her long hair and damp lips tickling my cheek. "I should have done more for you—I should have protected you, my son. But I just sat there… all those years. And now it's too late."

"Really—it's fine. I love you mum and I don't blame you for any of this." I smile reassuringly at her as she smooths my shirt back down and wipes her eyes. "Thanks for dinner—it looks really good." I take a small bite of the fish, remembering the first time that she made this for me. It was one of the first meals that she ever cooked, and it was burnt. That was almost a year ago, right after Potter robbed us of our house-elf. Mum had no idea what to do, as Dobby would always cook for us. Father told her that it was disgusting, but I had seconds, an indulgence which I almost never allow!

She beams at me, sniffing a bit. "Thanks, love. You- you like it here, don't you?" I nod, and she continues with a relieved breath. "Now, about Hermione Granger-"

"How did you know?" I squeak, feeling the heat flood into my cheeks.

"Now who's the only girl that you ever mentioned over summer vacations, who is also Muggle-born?" She teases to my absolute mortification. I didn't think that I talked about Hermione that much… but then again, I might have mentioned her once or twice. Father talked about her a lot, but only to humiliate me about her consistent academic victories. "Do you think that you have feelings for her, Draco?" She looks at me closely, her eyes glinting.

I look at my food, thinking about her question. She made me feel good today… but that could simply be a temporary teenage reaction. "I don't know, mum. Maybe I'll get back to you on that?"