"Tu les veux fines, tes tranches ?" Marcel asked from the back of the shop.
Hermione took a second look at Draco's shopping list and winced when she saw that he hadn't commented on it.
"Non, pas trop fines," she replied.
Just to be safe, she thought it would be better to have it sliced somewhere in between. She'd ask her flatmate to be more specific next time.
"Et voilà," Marcel said as he came back into the shop. "Il te faut autre chose ?"
Hermione checked her list one last time, then looked up at the shop window. Her mouth watered when she saw a large prawn salad with citrus fruit. Her stomach growled, making itself known, which swept away all her doubts at once.
"Tu peux me mettre une barquette de cent grammes de salade de gambas ?" she asked, pointing to it in the window.
"Très bon choix, Yvonne l'a préparée ce matin et je peux t'assurer qu'elle est délicieuse !"
Hermione grew even hungrier. All she had to do now was go to the bakery and she could go home and devour that exquisite salad.
She paid and gave Marcel a warm goodbye before leaving the butcher's towards her final destination. Draco wanted several baguettes and some sourdough starter, if possible. Hermione knew that Joachim, the baker, sold the starter he made himself; he'd told her about it when she'd wanted to make her own bread.
She added some pastries to her purchases, as well as some sweets that she wanted Draco to taste.
Hermione left the village about twenty minutes later, a piece of baguette in her mouth, Albert on her heels and her trolley filled to the brim with the groceries. She was happy with how things were going in her life. She was delighted not to have to worry about their meals. It was a large burden lifted from her shoulders to no longer have to choose the different foods to buy or foods to make. She hated making choices.
Moreover, she had noticed that she was much more relaxed when it came to eating now that she wasn't the sole judge of what went on her plate. While she had previously taken great care to ensure that her meals were balanced and that the quantities were not excessive, it was now impossible for her to do so. Draco took care of everything, he prepared all the food leaving Hermione to set the table and enjoy what he had cooked. It was perfect this way. She didn't think about it, she just ate until her plate was empty.
He had recently offered to look after Albert's meals too. It was the only time Hermione had hesitated. It had taken her several days to agree. The idea of him interfering with the task made her anxious. It felt too personal.
Albert was her dog, he was her best friend. Her relationship with him was unique, and not one she was willing to share. She was terrified of losing him, of losing this pillar in her life. She didn't want Draco to replace her–that would be disastrous–she was nothing without Albert. He couldn't become estranged. She was convinced of that. She would sink without his companionship.
After a few days, she realised that Draco was simply offering her a hand. He didn't want to come between her and Albert; he had merely suggested preparing the bowls while adding that he would comply with whatever diet Hermione chose for Albert. Nothing more, nothing less. A simple delegated task.
Once coming to that conclusion, she agreed and gave him a precise list of the contents of all Albert's meals. Draco complied. It was simple, it was natural.
Soon, her house appeared on the horizon and Hermione quickened her pace. She had lit a cigarette on the way and stubbed it out before opening the gate. She couldn't wait to show Draco everything she'd bought and, above all, she couldn't wait to find out what he'd made for tea. She hoped he had made crêpes. She couldn't get enough of them.
She would save her salad for dinner. Crêpes were much more tempting.
Her hopes were dashed when she saw Pansy's coat hanging in the hall. And her shoes. And her scarf. And her handbag. She stopped in her tracks and didn't even notice that Albert had gone inside, leaving traces of dirt in his wake.
She had completely forgotten that Draco's best friend was supposed to come to tea. He had told her so at breakfast, and had even made sure, for the umpteenth time, that she didn't mind.
She'd got so worked up about the shopping, the snacks and the bloody salad that she'd forgotten about the most important event of the week.
She swallowed and slowly placed her trolley against the front door. Her plans for the rest of the day were dashed. She would have to act as the hostess and appear civil to Parkinson. She would have to be polite, smile, and pretend that everything was fine. She had promised this to Draco, even though he had assured her that she was unlikely to see Pansy. He had even reminded her that she was under no obligation to stay with them if she preferred, that she owed nothing to anyone.
Still, Hermione couldn't bring herself to do that. She would feel like a sulky child unable to socialise with her guests. She'd feel like she was at fault, like she was the one causing the problem. She had to hold her head high, pretend everything was fine and not let Parkinson lead her around by the nose.
That was what Draco had told her, wasn't it? That she had every right to be angry with her friends and that she didn't have to forgive them?
And that didn't mean she had to hide. She was willing to do her bit, for Draco, to prove to herself that she was once again capable of taking care of herself, of dealing with any stressful situation. She could do it.
She took off her coat and shoes, grabbed her trolley and headed for the kitchen. She immediately opened the door and froze. Her courage quickly faded.
Draco was smiling. He was smiling. It was one of those smiles that she'd taken a long time to discover, one he rarely gave her. It was the smile she would imagine he would give to her when she did something for him, something that pleased him. One of those smiles she longed for.
The sewing kit she had given him was open on the table and he was busy sewing the hems of the last pair of trousers she had found while tidying up the cellar. Pansy watched him curiously as she sipped her tea.
They looked up as she closed the door behind her, snapped out of their little bubble.
She suddenly felt like she was intruding on their privacy. They seemed so at ease with each other and she interrupted them. She even had the feeling that she had been in the way these last few weeks, that she had stolen Draco from Pansy. It was the same feeling she'd had when Draco had wanted to feed Albert. She'd stolen him from his best friend. She'd imposed herself on him, influenced him.
She felt bad, she wanted to run away and apologise a million times over for the inconvenience.
However, she didn't have time to open her mouth as Pansy had already put down her cup of tea and was standing, one step behind her chair. Her face betrayed her concern and she was gripping the edge of the kitchen island so tightly that her fingers had turned white.
"I was just about to go home," she justified herself as she looked into Hermione's eyes.
Hermione saw such a profound amount of stress in her eyes, that she felt guilty. Even guiltier. She didn't want to make anyone feel that way. She felt as if she had the upper hand, as if she had a power that Pansy would have to submit to. She could have asked her to leave immediately and Pansy would have done so. She had no doubt about it.
Hermione swallowed and turned her eyes towards Draco.
He was watching them intently, still sitting on his stool. When she met his gaze, Hermione saw hope, but also warmth. With a single glance, he let her know that the decision was hers.
At that moment Hermione knew that things had settled between him and Pansy. It appeared that they at least talked things over and that he had forgiven her. She understood that there was no bad blood and no one was angry with her. It felt simple and calm.
She turned back to Pansy and nodded. She trusted Draco's judgement, even though she was intimidated by the situation. It was no longer just her judgement, it was theirs. He reassured her with his presence and his gaze.
"I've bought the food," she murmured, opening her trolley to get away from their gaze.
Draco joined her immediately as Pansy settled back into her chair.
"Do you want me to go and leave you two to talk?" Draco suggested in a low voice as he picked up the meat to put in the fridge.
She grabbed his wrist as he straightened up, a frightened look on her face.
"Stay," she implored him, staring into his eyes.
She saw him swallow and freeze, and realised she was squeezing his arm too hard. She let go and gave him an apologetic look. He didn't seem to notice and just nodded, staring into space, before going into the larder with the butcher's bags.
She stared after him, her heart in her throat. She dreaded turning her eyes back to Pansy and facing a discussion she hadn't prepared herself for.
So she didn't. She looked down at the rest of the groceries and began to put them back where they belonged. She emptied the trolley of all the paper bags she had collected and placed them by the sink. This way, she had her back to Pansy and didn't have to face her gaze.
"Hermione, I–"
She closed her eyes and let go of the two apples she had started to take out of their bag. She took a deep breath as Pansy cleared her throat.
"I don't have enough words to tell you how sorry I am."
She heard her exhale and then catch her breath. Hermione wasn't sure which of them was more anxious about this conversation.
"Draco's my best friend," Pansy said. "Along with Blaise and Theo, they're my only family, the only people I have in my life who are close to me. I know it's not an excuse to tell you, but I want you to understand how important they are to me, just as Potter might be to you."
Hermione gritted her teeth at the mention of Harry. She was angry with him, more than anyone else.
"I focused on them because I was terrified of being alone. I wanted to do everything I could to make them better and get things back to normal. I was blinded by that goal and didn't even realise how much I was hurting you, Draco and even Blaise. I tried to help you and... and support you, but I was afraid to let them down, I was afraid things would change. I pretended everything was fine."
Hermione swallowed. It was hard for her to hear these words, and she felt even more alone. Hadn't she ever deserved to be cared about instead of others?
Draco suddenly slipped to her side and snatched the apples out of her hands, without moving away. She realised that she had dug her fingers into the apples. She looked up at him with misty eyes and smiled. He smiled back. He was there.
"I was wrong, Granger. I was wrong to leave you out and to have thought you'd make it on your own. It was selfish and I feel terrible about it."
Draco was still looking at her, she could feel it. His presence by her side was reassuring, he offered her support. Support she'd never thought she'd need. She looked up at him a second time.
His eyes were full of patience and kindness, he was giving her free choice, silently letting her know that she was the only one to decide what would happen next.
She remembered the anger she had seen in his eyes when Draco had explained how their friends had played her. She remembered his words, his promises.
How could he forgive and agree to Pansy staying if she didn't mean it? After all, he knew her much better than Hermione did, so she had to trust his judgement.
"What do you say we watch Mary Poppins again?" she said without taking her eyes off Draco.
She saw his lips stretch into a slow grin she hadn't seen for years. Behind them, Pansy agreed excitedly.
oOo
The day was coming to an end, the sun was waning in the sky and Draco had his hands full.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the mushrooms cooking in a pan, while he focused on embroidering small coloured flowers on Hermione's trolley. She had asked him the day before, her cheeks flushed with stress, after discovering that he had embroidered some designs on one of his jeans.
Draco had found, among other books on sewing that had belonged to Hermione's grandmother, a magnificent embroidery book full of patterns to reproduce. He had therefore practised several times on pieces of fabric removed from the basement's oversized clothes, before trying his hand at the ones he wore every day.
He had first sewn his initials on the collar of his favourite long-sleeved blue shirt. Satisfied with his first achievement, he pursued the art by adding little stars and planets on the back pockets of his trousers. He was still quite clumsy.
Thus he found himself sitting by the kitchen island, his bottom lip stuck between his teeth and Hermione's trolley placed in front of him so that he could practise more easily. Hermione and Pansy were still in the living room, busy watching their film, while he prepared the meal. He had preferred to leave them alone.
He had already embroidered three different flowers: a red rose, a daisy, and a lilac. Hermione had made him a list of her favourite flowers after he'd suggested she take a look at the embroidery book he'd found so she could make her choice.
All he had left to do was mistletoe, an orange peony and an edelweiss.
Although he had never been very good at drawing, he was delighted to see that he was pretty good at embroidery, despite being all thumbs.
He had learnt from an early age to take care of his handwriting so that his letters were beautiful and calligraphic, but he hadn't taken up drawing. He had suffered enough from not being right-handed, like his father, to express the desire to try his hand at it. He knew that his parents would have pushed him to become the best, just as they had done with horse riding or flying.
His flowers were neither too big nor too small. The colours were well chosen—after all, he had followed those in the book—and they looked rather like the model. He hadn't pricked his finger once, unlike his other attempts at sewing, nor had he creased the old trolley fabric. He was proud of his work.
A ray of sunlight broke through the kitchen window and landed on his hands. He turned round and saw that the surrounding mountains and forests were all decorated with end-of-day lights.
He placed his needle and thread down on the table and stood to approach the large window. The view was magnificent. It was his favourite time of day.
His eyes filled with tears for no apparent reason. He was moved to witness this and if his parents had been there, they would probably have explained to him that it was a sign from the divinities. Perhaps it was. He preferred to imagine that his mother was communicating with him.
He could picture her smiling at him in his mind, telling him she loved him. It was a sign, he was sure of it. She was saying something to him, calling him. It was the only thing he still loved about magic, the only facet of it he was still familiar with.
He suddenly felt like joining her outside. He wanted to feel the rays she was sending down his face. He closed his eyes when he realised that he was incapable of doing so. A smile stretched his lips, ironic and sad. He still hadn't dared ask Hermione to go out with him, as she had suggested, he felt too ashamed.
Yet the horizon was so beautiful and the sky was beginning to fade from orange to pink. It was splendid.
He clenched his fists on either side of his hips, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He felt so stupid for worrying so much. It had been weeks since he'd had to face a step like this alone. Each time, Hermione had been there.
The kitchen door opened and he was startled, blinking several times to chase away the tears and turning back to Hermione, who was coming in holding the tea set they had been using with Pansy.
"Pansy received a patronus, she's gone home in a hurry," she explained as she approached him.
She placed the dishes in the sink and began to wash them. It wasn't the first time she'd joined him like this, although he usually did the dishes himself. She said she liked the feel of the water on her hands. So did he. These moments were calm and peaceful. They rarely spoke, they were both fond of these quiet minutes.
He nodded vaguely, barely registering this new information. His eyes had once again turned to the sky and his heart was pounding in his chest. Could this be the moment? Could he do it? Would she accept?
How would he know if he didn't act?
After a few more seconds of consideration, he glanced at her. She was wearing one of her usual dungarees, she had tied her hair in a long plait that fell down the middle of her back and she had put on a pair of rubber boots to face the downpour that had fallen that morning. He sometimes wondered how she could wear such uncomfortable shoes all day long.
She seemed to be concentrating on her task, oblivious to what was going on around her.
If Draco reacted when Albert entered the kitchen and lay down at the foot of one of the stools, Hermione remained impassive. He decided to try his luck. She was calm, she could only accept.
"Hermione?"
His tone had been hesitant and he blamed himself. He wasn't that weak!
She turned to him without stopping to dry the glass dish he had just cleaned and gave him a questioning look. Draco felt his cheeks heat up and unconsciously fiddled with his wedding band.
"I'd like to go out," he blurted out without thinking.
What a stupid sentence! He could have asked more nicely, he could have suggested something less direct!
And just as he was about to stammer an apology and correct himself, Hermione smiled and put down the dish she was wiping clean.
"Of course," she said with a nod. "I'll get my coat."
She left the room and Draco stood dumbfounded. So it was as simple as that? She hadn't even hesitated? She accepted straight away and seemed ready to accompany him every step of the way. He could hardly believe it. It was too good to be true.
His stomach tightened strangely. Gratitude, yes, that was it.
When she returned, Draco was already standing in front of the bay windows leading to the garden. Albert had joined him there and sat down on his right. He was ready.
Hermione stood to his left and turned her head towards him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile.
"Ready?"
He nodded. She turned the handle and the fresh February air tickled Draco's pale cheeks. He blinked several times to stop the emotion tickling his eyelids from spilling over. The sky was turning more and more pink. The sun was gradually disappearing behind the mountains.
Hermione had not taken her eyes off him. She was waiting for him to initiate the movement. This calmed Draco a little.
Infinity seemed smaller beside her. He felt more capable of facing it. He wasn't alone.
Albert barked. No, he wasn't alone.
He grabbed Hermione's hand and squeezed it. He needed it. She said nothing. If the contact surprised her, she didn't react nor did she comment on it.
Then he stepped forward. The last rays of sunlight brushed against his face and the wind shook the blond locks that had fallen over his forehead.
Draco took a long breath and closed his eyes. He kept walking. He was not alone. When he opened them again, the door was far behind them.
He turned his head and met Hermione's gaze. She was smiling. He smiled back.