A/N: Well… hello again. I know it's been a long time since I've updated. The good news is that I wasn't laid off at work and I got a new job anyway, the bad news is that I've been struggling through feelings of depression lately and couldn't find the motivation to write. Trying to pull myself out of the funk though! Hope you enjoy this chapter, it's basically a comedic interlude before we get to back to the drama.
Wednesday, June 28, 2000
It was Day 3 of their impromptu vacation and Draco was questioning the wisdom in bringing such an eclectic group of people together. Potter stared at him constantly as though attempting legilimency through sheer force of will, Blaise and his girlfriend apparently preferred to sleep completely starkers (and refused to cover up for group breakfasts), Daphne insisted on cooking their meals despite not knowing a toaster from a teapot, and Longbottom made painful attempts to initiate 'group bonding' by forcing everyone to play inane games like Cluedo and Monopoly.
At least Granger seemed to be having a good time. She was still prone to bouts of melancholy, and he was pretty sure she snuck away to cry in the bathroom sometimes if her swollen eyes and reddened nose were any indication, but these incidents were becoming less frequent. Currently, she was laughing at Pansy's attempt to decipher the abstract purple squiggles Lovegood had drawn in the air with her wand for Pictionary.
"Time's up, Parkinson!" Potter announced with glee. He'd partnered with Theo and they'd pulled ahead by several points already.
"What the fuck was that supposed to be?" Pansy snarled, snatching the prompt card from Lovegood's hand before she could answer. Granger scrambled to read the card over her shoulder and then collapsed into giggles. "Jungle?" Pansy read aloud while squinting at Lovegood's tableau with renewed perspective.
"Oh, is that what it said? I thought it said juggle," Lovegood tilted her head thoughtfully. Before Pansy could rant on how the drawing communicated nothing related to either word, Longbottom smoothly announced that it was Draco's turn with Granger.
He rolled his eyes. Games were really not his thing. And as he was still without his wand (2 more days until his probation was up, but who's counting?), he was reduced to using the marker and easel setup that Longbottom had dragged out of storage somewhere.
But then he looked down at his card and smirked. Maybe this would be fun after all. And maybe it would make Granger laugh again…
"Time… starts… now!" Theo announced with a slap against the egg timer, which began its buzzing countdown.
Draco made a production out of drawing a generic stick figure, giving time for Granger to throw out some tepid early guesses.
"Er… a person? …Human? …Boy?"
Draco shook his head each time and patiently drew a mop of messy short hair on top of stick-boy's head and an unmistakable lightning-shaped scar.
"Oi!" Potter shouted, catching on that he was about to be the butt of a joke.
"Harry!" Granger giggled as Draco painstakingly added round glasses to his oeuvre. Hearing that sound caused a warm ball of light to expand in his chest. He would do unspeakable things to hear it again.
"Why would Harry be a Pictionary prompt? Isn't this a muggle game?" Longbottom scratched his head in confusion as he examined the game box, but Draco's sole focus was adding the right shading to the broom and quidditch pitch he'd expanded his drawing to include.
"Sports! …Flying! …Stadium!" Granger continued to guess with increasing enthusiasm.
"20 more seconds!" Theo announced. It was time for the finishing details.
With a flourish of the felt-tip pen, his final brushstrokes took shape.
"A… bin?" Granger was bang on but that wasn't the exact prompt. He urged her to keep guessing with a silent hand motion, gesturing back to stick-Potter's face now poking out of the top of the bin.
"5 seconds!"
"Oh! Oh! It's rubbish!! The word is rubbish!!" Granger jumped up and down with glee at finally guessing the word and then doubled over laughing.
"Indeed. Potter's skills on a broom are absolute rubbish." He spared a small moment to grin impishly at Potter but mostly he basked in the sight of Granger celebrating their point, toothy smile stretched wide across her face, skirt fluttering around her thighs as she cheered…
A viscous poke to his ribs from Pansy let him know he might have been staring, and he coughed to rearrange his features back to his usual insouciance.
"You're up next, Hermione," Potter tossed her the deck of prompt cards and swatted away Draco's masterpiece with his other hand.
The next couple of rounds passed quickly, with Draco correctly identifying 'turtle' despite Granger's truly abysmal artistic ability. This was followed by Blaise's obscenely graphic interpretation of 'lips', which caused Longbottom to blush to the roots of his hair and lose the point out of a refusal to make any guesses. Their team scored zero points at all that round since when it was Longbottom's turn to draw (a seesaw), all of Blaise's guesses were obscure sex positions.
The game came to an absurd end though when Quinn drew a single triangle and then proceeded to point at it emphatically while Daphne struggled to decipher its meaning.
"It's a notch," Quinn finally revealed with a pout after the timer expired.
"Let me see that," Daphne snapped, plucking the card out of her partner's hand. "N-O-T-C-H… it does say notch… but then, what the fuck is that?" She waved towards the minimalist shape with a growl.
"A notch," Quinn repeated, as though it were obvious. "You know… one nachos."
Daphne looked momentarily dumbstruck, just absolutely lost for words as the rest of the room descended into chaotic laughter.
"I think I need to go lie down," she announced, walking smoothly past Lovegood who was nodding sagely and gazing in reverence at the 'notch' as though it had great depth and significance. "Fucking Ravenclaws," Daphne muttered under her breath as she passed.
In her wake, a blanket of chatter broke out across the group as they tidied up the game and the remnants of their dinner. Under cover of these distractions, Draco caught sight of Granger slipping out onto the back porch of their holiday house. Of course, he followed.
He found her arranging fresh tinder in the fire pit near the lakeshore and watched her crouch down to whisper incendio to ignite the flames before deciding to approach.
"Hey," he greeted as Granger pushed herself upright and settled herself into one of the Adirondack chairs circling the hearth. The red paint was weather-faded, but they seemed to have an unearthly glow in the flickering light of the fire. That same glow danced across Granger's face, casting her features in alternating shadow and relief, highlighting the delicate curve of her nose, the soft slope of her cheekbones… fuck. He was waxing poetic about her face. He needed to get a fucking grip.
"Join me?" Granger turned his way and patted the seat next to her, pulling the chair to edge an extra inch closer to the warmth of the flames. It was a thoughtful gesture. Even in the dead of summer, the nights in Cumbria where they'd decamped carried a slight chill.
Draco cleared his throat, which felt inexplicably constricted, muttered "sure", and sat beside her. "You, uh… feeling any better?"
"A bit, yeah. Thanks, truly, a holiday was just what I needed." She gave his knee a friendly squeeze. Friendly. They were friends.
"Longbottom's idea…" Draco admitted begrudgingly as he stared at her left hand. It was the hand that had just been touching him. He imagined he could still feel the heat of her, but maybe that was just coming from the fire.
"Still, I know everyone helped so I'm thanking you personally. Thank you also for not asking for more details about what happened… you know, with work."
"Would you have told me if I'd asked?" Draco broke his staring contest with her hand (he was losing anyway) to express the full range of his skepticism.
"No…" she confessed with a blush. "It's embarrassing."
"More embarrassing than Theo mistaking Pansy's period symptoms for lycanthropy in third year?"
Granger's sudden laughter startled a flock of birds from their twilight roost.
"I haven't heard this story!" she said, leaning forward against her chair arm with her curls wildly escaping the clip attempting to restrain them. She was a portrait of curiosity. He was tempted to leave her in suspense but was ultimately swayed by the greater temptation of keeping her spirits high (and the opportunity to take the piss out of Theo—it was win-win).
"Remember when Snape covered DADA for Lupin that one time?"
Granger huffed and furrowed her brow. "How could I forget? He called me an insufferable know-it-all that day."
"Petty bastard. You know at the time, I thought it was funny how he treated you lot, but looking back it's a little pathetic that he joined in on bullying kids."
"Yes, well, I did intentionally set him on fire so we'll call it even."
"You sneaky witch!" Draco exclaimed with admiration. "When was this?"
"First year," she shrugged as though not casually admitting to assaulting a member of the Hogwarts faculty as a pre-teen. "But you have to finish telling me your story. Theo remember?" She poked his bicep and he felt another flare of heat beneath her fingertip.
He cleared his throat again and focused on the circulation of his blood. "Right. So, Snape had us all reading about how to recognize the signs of a werewolf. Moodiness, cravings for rare meat, unexplained disappearances around the full moon… apparently Pansy's menstrual cycle lines up with the lunar cycle more or less and Theo lost his head a bit."
"Pretty sure women don't get cravings for rare meat when they're surfing the crimson wave," Granger chuckled.
"That's just generally how Pansy prefers her steak and they happened to serve it in the Great Hall at some point that week." Draco closed his eyes to bathe in the nostalgic memories. He could almost smell the roast potatoes and pumpkin juice. "She also has a convenient allergy to nickel and we convinced Theo to test and see whether she was a werewolf with a fake silver bracelet. She got a rash that took a while to go away and wouldn't speak to any of us for weeks, but it was worth it to watch Theo flinch every time she entered the room."
"God, you were such a prat back then, even to your friends!" Granger hid her face in her hands but her body shook with muffled laughter. Draco just shrugged in admission, delighting in the fact that he'd been able to make her laugh again. Long after her mirth died down they shared a companionable silence, alone together and lost in thought.
Draco's thoughts of werewolves culminated in something that had been bothering him for weeks. "You were close with Lupin, right?"
Granger shook herself out of her stargazing trance and met his eyes once more. "It was more Harry actually. Professor Lupin had been childhood friends with Harry's dad."
He nodded and added with an air of nonchalance, "…and Lupin's wife?"
"Tonks?" She appeared momentarily unsure why he'd be asking after her, but then a sad kind of realization descended over her features. "Your cousin." Draco gave the slightest incline of his chin. He felt too exposed to say anything further, but it didn't seem he needed to—Granger understood. "I heard your mother has been looking to reestablish family ties." She scuffed the toe of her trainer against the ground. "And… I know Tonks is… not enthusiastic about that prospect…" she finished diplomatically.
Draco teetered on the edge of asking if she knew why Tonks didn't want him around, but then dismissed the question as ridiculous. He knew why.
"Tonks asked me for my opinion actually," she added softly with a featherlight touch to his forearm. "Do you want to know what I told her?" Draco held his breath, not sure he really did want to know but nodded all the same. "Well, first I told her you're a dramatic little shit who doesn't know how to mind his own business."
The breath he'd been holding came out in a great puff, forced out by his surprised laugh. Granger's eyes sparkled with mischief.
"I was fairly hacked off at you at the time," she explained. But then her eyes softened and she turned earnest again. "I told her that without your father's influence you're becoming someone new. That I could tell your heart was never fully behind all the cruel and hateful things you did. I told her I feel safe with you."
Draco couldn't believe his luck. He must have been a saint in a past life to deserve her faith. It was humbling. It was awe-inspiring. It was… magic.
"Granger, I…" He felt himself leaning towards her, unsure of his own purpose, only knowing he wanted to be closer. But before he could decide on his next move (his imagination provided no shortage of possibilities), Granger continued.
"You're such a good friend." These words, though well-intentioned if the admiring look on Granger's face was anything to judge by, brought Draco (mind and body) to a screeching halt. "And an even better wingman," she punctuated this with a playful punch to his shoulder, which he barely felt over the agony suddenly emanating from deep within his chest. He might've ruptured something… somehow. "I'm definitely going to stay single for a good bit while I get my life in order, but when I'm ready again I'll call you and Pansy again for Operation Manhunt Part 2!"
She said this as though bestowing a great gift upon Draco, but he truly couldn't picture anything worse. Like the dumb fucking masochist he was though, he felt his head bobbing up and down independent of every synapse in his brain firing off signals to do the exact opposite.
"And keep your chin up about Tonks. She'll come around. She's a Hufflepuff—believes in fairness and justice and all that. She won't hold your past against you forever."
Draco couldn't even take comfort from her words of encouragement. What was she saying? Was he supposed to say something now? What time was it? He'd completely lost the plot.
"Hermioneeeee!" A shout from the house cut through the internal noise of his sanity absolutely shattering. It was Potter. Of course. This wouldn't be Draco's first mental breakdown interrupted by The Chosen One. He could only hope that this time wouldn't end with him bleeding out on the floor.
"Yes?" Granger called out in response, turning back towards the porch. Potter had his torso hanging out the sliding glass door.
"Did you pack any dittany?"
"Why?" Registering that Potter was requesting healing supplies, Granger stood up with alarm and began trotting back to the house.
"Theo decided to touch the hob, even though I EXPLICITLY TOLD HIM IT WAS HOT." That last bit he projected back over his shoulder where Theo must have been. A steady stream of expletives was the only reply.
"Oh dear… why didn't you pack your field kit?" Draco could hear Potter whine that he was off the clock and then the door slid shut again and all was quiet once more.
Minutes passed by. Then days. Maybe years.
Okay, it was minutes. But each one felt excruciatingly long when his brain was stuck on echoing those thrice-be-damned words.
You're such a good friend.
You're such a good friend.
You're such a good friend.
You're such a good friend.
This was fine. This was cool. Yes. Friendship. Very nice.
"Draco, why do you look like an elephant just took a shite in front of you?"
"Huh?" was his eloquent answer as he registered first the mug of steaming hot chocolate in front of his face, then the arm holding it, and finally that Pansy was the owner of said arm.
"Did Granger just turn you down or something?"
"Turn me down for what?" Not his best attempt at misdirection, but his brain was essentially rebooting so allowances would have to be made.
"You've been making moon eyes at her for ages. Don't play coy with me. Did you make a move?" Pansy pinched the skin above his elbow—hard—which was more effective than anything else had been at shaking him out his stupor, but also hurt like a bitch.
"Abuse!" Draco hissed, snatching the mug with a bit too much vigor and sloshing a bit over the rim. "No, I didn't make a move. I wasn't going… that's not what this is about."
"So what is this about?" she arched one sharply manicured eyebrow and sipped from her own mug.
With a groan Draco belatedly realized his misstep "There is no this!"
"Oh, there's a this. Come on, I know the war fucked you up, but deep down you're not the stoic, brooding type."
"I could brood." Draco sounded petulant even to his own ears and took a healthy swig of his cocoa. It was at least 60% bourbon. He coughed a bit in surprise, but was ultimately grateful for the alcohol and went back for more.
"I can wait until you finish a few more of those for you to spill your guts or you could just tell me now and save us some time."
"Fuck, Pansy. Can't a man have any private thoughts?"
"Not about my best friend."
Friend. There was that word again.
"This is all your fault," Draco groused, draining the rest of his drink in a single pull.
"Again, what is this?"
"Granger!" he ran his hand through his hair until he could feel it standing on end. He was sure he looked quite mad. "You brought her around with all her teeth and her hair and her legs!"
"So you like her legs, huh?" Pansy seemed far too amused for the occasion.
"Of course I like her legs, don't be fucking daft!" he spat out without thinking.
"Sorry, what's the problem again?"
Draco capitulated with a groan. "We… we're friends. Me and Granger."
"Hmm, yes, and you'd like to be friends with Granger's legs. This isn't news."
"It's news to me!"
"Pardon me for not taking an advert out in the Prophet. Likely the only person on the planet not aware of what you think about Granger's legs is Granger herself!" Pansy paused and thoughtfully tapped a finger to her chin. "And possibly Potter since your limbs are still attached to your body."
"Well I can't be friends with both Granger and her legs! Don't you get it??"
"I really don't," Pansy deadpanned. Draco flattened his hair against his skull once more and attempted to find the right words.
"She sees me as a friend, that's it. It's more than I deserve, but… less than I want apparently. But I don't want to ruin what we have or make her think I'm just some creep that was hanging around for the wrong reasons."
"You're not a creep…" Pansy stated in an uncharacteristically soft voice. "Look, I don't… love… the idea of you and Granger…"
"Yes, I recall the myriad threats against my person over the last several months, thanks."
"But," Pansy plowed forward pretending not to hear his griping, "if you're serious about Granger, then I suppose I can allow it."
"Did you not hear the part where Granger wants to just be friends? I'm more concerned with whether she'd allow it. Which she won't. Because we're friends."
"She might, she might not, you never know," Pansy shrugged noncommittally. A real ride-or-die, this witch. "It sounds like you haven't actually presented her with options yet. I'll tell you this though, now is absolutely not the right time. She's working through some stuff and a friend is exactly what she needs right now."
Draco sighed. Pansy was right. For once in his miserable life he would not be a selfish asshole. He owed Granger at least that much.
A/N: Draco, meet the Friend Zone.