Decided to upload chapter 2, as well, just to provide a bit extra. Chapters 3 and 4 are almost complete, then 5 and 6 should be done within the week.
As always, thank you for your support. Warnings have been posted in the first chapter. Heed them or don't.
I own nothing.
"How is it that muggles have invented all of those amazing things, but they still have shite liquor?" He drawled six months later from their settee. The witch in question audibly snorted from her spot in the kitchen, leaning her head around the jamb and sticking her tongue out.
"It's not the muggles' fault Prince Malfoy has such refined tastes." A faux haughty stare was lodged at him down her nose and held. Grey met sienna until moment later, the witch had gone back to her task, laughing lightly. "Come off it, Draco." She chastised, stepping out from the kitchen quickly, throwing her curly hair into a messy bun as she walked through the room to grab her wand from the desk on the far side. Pointing it vaguely in his direction on her way back, Hermione smirked. "Even your mum admits their Moscato is superior." The 'to yours' was unspoken, but she knew it would bait him perfectly.
"Wine and liquor are not the same, you philistine! Honestly!" He exclaimed to his friend who was once again puttering away in her kitchen. Biting back his trepidation, Draco stood and wandered over to the doorway to lean on the wall next to the entry. "She's asking about you again, by the by. Whatever you have done to my mother needs to be undone, or soon she'll be asking for grandchildren-"
"Does this look alright?" Hermione asked absently while waving her wand in the other direction to control the vegetables. She raised the lid of the cast iron pot and the smell of expertly roasted seasoned chicken invaded his senses.
"That smells delicious," he murmured in reply. She fairly glowed over the compliment and replaced the lid before her sneaky flatmate could steal a bit of skin from the drumstick, smacking his hand when he tried anyway.
"Hands off, greedy. You have to wait! Besides, your mum knows you and I don't have that kind of thing going on." Hermione replaced the dutch oven to finish roasting then dithered by the vegetables, seasoning them with salt and pepper before setting them to roast as well.
"Merlin, no. You're like an annoying big sister, odd as that is to say given our history." Hermione hummed in agreement and held a fork out with the rice for him to sample. "Needs more of something." he answered the question her eyebrows asked. Nodding she turned away to the cutting board nearby and smooshed a few springs of rosemary before adding them.
"I also lack your preferred equipment, which she well knows by now. Dinner should be ready soon. Would you help me lay the table?" Hermione didn't wait for his assent before she plopped cloth wrapped silverware bundles in his hands and another bite of rice into his mouth with a clean fork. He hummed, nodding and breathing around the hot mouthful, making a pretty smile break out on her face. She grabbed up the plates with a thankful nod, walking out.
"Why does my mum adore you so much?" Draco asked finally, following her to place the utensils by the plates she had already finished setting. An impish grin stole across her face and she leaned her elbows against a dining chair, clasping her wand loosely between her entwined fingers.
"I suspect because we are very similar in just the right ways. I love your mum, she is a witch with her head on straight. Intelligent, dignified, yet sassy and driven. She's fantastic! And we have our wittle Dwakey to thank for a proper introduction." Hermione's eyes twinkled at him sending him muttering to himself about the two women gossiping about him. A lazy flourish of her wand had changed the centerpiece from an outdated Asda vase containing chrysanthemums to a lovely semi-opaque emerald glass vase with silver edging and purple crocuses.
Silence dropped between them. Hermione knowing what was coming next and biting her lip in careful thought, raised her eyes to his across the table. "And my father?" Draco's voice was low, the cautious curiosity making his words hesitant, as though his query would somehow frighten her. Send her scurrying away as though she were an adolescent bunny.
The mouth he had hated the sound of in Third Year screwed up into a grimace. Knowing her as he did now, Draco knew she was weighing her words so as to protect their friendship. He only wished Hermione would realize she didn't have to, not with him. 'It truly is a shame,' Draco thought, lamenting their platonic relationship while he celebrated her presence as his friend. It was an odd feeling, to understand that a person can be aesthetically pleasing and possess the absolute perfect personality, yet be the wrong gender for sexual attraction and romance to take root. Luckily for Draco, she had another friend who was the right everything. Now if only he could find the bollocks to tell her.
Deciding to give his best friend some space, Draco moved into the kitchen and began collecting drinking glasses, waving his wand at a pair of simple silver candleholders to levitate them in as well. As he had thought, she seemed ready to try to answer. Lucius Malfoy had been a sore topic of conversation in the past. Over the months they had lived together, though, she had easily seemed to become more receptive to Draco's childhood tales and had eventually extended invitations for meals to both his mother and father. Narcissa accepted immediately, wishing to thank the witch and apologize for their respective roles in the war. In regards to his father, however, none had been accepted, or even returned. Until the most recent, that is.
"Your father is," Hermione began, standing from the chair. She rubbed her arms a bit where they had leaned on the chair back, stalling while she considered her words further. "Your father has made some very difficult decisions for what he saw as the benefit of his family. I cannot fault him for his motivation, it is the means with which I disagree." The petite witch rushed past him and peered at the clock from the open space between the dining room and living room, bounding to the couch when she saw the time to fluff the pillows he had left in disarray.
Taking a breath after gesturing at the couch with an exasperated expression to which he shrugged and grinned, she continued. The man to whom she was speaking was nowhere near paying attention to her. Rather, his focus was on the Floo behind her and the older blonde man who had come through just in time to hear her.