Bonded Ch 2

"You did what?" Harry and Ron stood side by side, their expressions a perfect blend of shock and disapproval.

"I offered him a place to stay," Hermione said, crossing her arms. Her determined tone didn't mask the slight nervousness in her voice. "Just until he gets back on his feet. We owe him that much."

"Owe him?" Ron scoffed. "You've gone mental."

Hermione pressed on. "He saved all of our lives at some point during the war. I think he's really trying to change, and if he's making an effort, shouldn't we at least give him the chance?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Fine," he muttered. "But if this comes back to bite us in the ass, it's on you, Mione. Remember that."

Her stern expression melted into a relieved smile, and before Harry could react, she threw her arms around him. "Thank you! You'll see—I'm right about this."

As Hermione bustled off, Ron leaned closer to Harry. "She's really hard to say no to, isn't she?"

Harry nodded. "Yep."

"You know this is a terrible idea, right?"

"Yep."

Ron frowned thoughtfully. "Also… is it just me, or does she seem too invested in this?"

Harry turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "You think?"

"I mean…" Ron hesitated, then sighed. He'd guessed he'd have to tell Harry at some point. "We kissed once. In the Chamber of Secrets."

"What?" Harry's jaw dropped. "When?"

Ron smirked faintly at Harry's shock. "Right after we destroyed the Horcrux. Must've been the adrenaline. But there was no spark, mate. We talked about it afterward, decided to leave it in the past."

Harry folded his arms, still digesting the revelation. "So you wouldn't mind if she… you know, ended up with Malfoy? You wouldn't be jealous?"

"Jealous? No," Ron admitted, though his tone darkened. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. Changing a lifetime of prejudice and bad decisions isn't exactly easy. What if he hurts her?"

"Then I guess it's good he'll be staying with us." Harry's voice was steady but thoughtful. "We'll keep an eye on him. If he's up to something, we'll know soon enough."

As the two friends exchanged a glance, the tension lingered, a storm cloud on the horizon of whatever lay ahead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It turned out, finding a place of his own had been more difficult than Draco thought. He'd been at Potters for a month now and still no luck. He spent most of the first week getting his family's affairs in order. Lucius had been sent to Azkaban for the rest of his life while Narcissa had been put under house arrest at a rehabilitation house without magic for a year.

He was grateful for that. While he didn't much care what happened to Lucius at this point but he didn't want to see his mother punished further by association with him. He himself got off very light in his opinion. He was sentenced to a year's probation, requiring him to see a mind healer twice a month. He was also to pay a large fine toward 'rebuilding the community' and finish his education at Hogwarts.

The Order and new Ministry had taken the Manor and everything inside. He didn't care about any of that. Good riddance. But now he really didn't have anywhere to stay but with Potter. And Hermione.

Spending a month in the same house as her was the only good thing about this whole arrangement. They often got up early in the morning and had long chats over tea while Harry and Ron were still asleep. She was fascinating to talk to and he felt like he could tell her anything. It was so easy. He'd never felt that way, even with his own friends and his parents.

He was scared of where this was headed though. He found himself missing her when she was out and he was hurrying to get back and see her at the end of the day. And it had only been a month!

He needs to get out of there before he is in too deep. She would never go for him. Not with everything he's done. It's proving difficult however. The war may be over but it is definitely not forgotten. As soon as he introduces himself, the door slams in his face, sometimes literally. No one wants to lease their flat to a former death eater. Not that he blames them.

His thoughts are interrupted when Hermione enters the kitchen. Her hair is in a neat but clearly slept in braid. Shes wearing what looks to be one of the boys old t shirts and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. He smiles at her and holds up a second mug of tea. She smiles and sits across from him at the table, accepting the tea. He even knew how she liked her tea. Merlin he's already done for.

"So, what's on your docket today?" She sips the warm tea and lets out a content sigh. It's perfect.

"More flat hunting. I may have to go change my name to actually be able to rent one though. As soon as the landlords discover who is wanting to rent from them, they dismiss me entirely, or flat out refuse to rent to me."

Hermione shook her head. "That's just not right! You're trying to better yourself and make your own path but are getting blocked at every turn!"

"Hey," Draco reached his hand out and held hers, "it's understandable. I'll find something, it'll just take more time than I hoped that's all."

Hermione's breath caught when he grabbed her hand. It was surprisingly warm. She didn't want him to let go. "I have an idea. Live with me."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I already live with you. And Potter and Weasley unfortunately." He chuckled.

She rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant. I won't be going back to Hogwarts until September, and the boys will be off to Auror training next week. I'd hate to stay in this house by myself, so just stay with me. We'll both leave in September for Hogwarts and that'll give us 9 whole months to figure out living arrangements. After graduation we can get a flat together. What do you say?"

Draco couldn't decide if this was the best or worst idea he'd ever heard. The thought of staying with Hermione—just the two of them—made his chest tighten in a way that both thrilled and terrified him. But it also felt like a risk he wasn't sure he was brave enough to take. She deserved better than him. Everyone knew it. So why did a small, traitorous part of him want to say yes?

"I'll consider it. I will however be continuing to pay Potter rent, I'm not slumming. And just until Hogwarts, after I graduate I—"

"Good morning." Ron said with a raised eyebrow as he stumbled through the kitchen door. Only then did the two realize they were still holding hands across the table. They quickly released each other and folded their hands in their laps.

Ron scoffed and grumbled something about it being too early as he set about looking for food. He then took a seat at the table, eyeing Draco briefly before turning his attention to Hermione. "You alright, Mione?"

"Of course, Ron," she replied, sipping her tea, though she kept her gaze a little too fixed on the cup.

Ron didn't miss the awkward energy lingering in the room. He let out a long sigh and finally spoke, his voice calm but serious. "Look, Malfoy. I know Hermione sees the best in people—she always has. But I'm going to say this once: don't make me regret letting her convince us to help you."

Draco met Ron's gaze evenly, his expression unreadable. "I understand, Weasley. I don't intend to cause trouble."

"Good," Ron said firmly, though his tone softened as he glanced at Hermione. "Because if anyone deserves a bit of peace after all of this, it's her. And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure she gets it."

Hermione huffed, clearly annoyed. "I don't need a minder, Ron."

"I know you don't," Ron replied, leaning back in his chair. "But you've got one anyway. That's what friends are for."

Draco's jaw tightened slightly, but he said nothing, merely looking at Hermione as if seeking her approval to continue their earlier conversation. She offered a small, encouraging smile, and Ron sighed again, grabbing a slice of toast.

"Just don't do anything stupid, Malfoy," Ron muttered around a mouthful of bread. "I'm keeping an eye on you."

"Duly noted," Draco said dryly, though his gaze drifted back to Hermione as if Ron's words had already been forgotten.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the next week, the atmosphere at Grimmauld Place grew more complex. With Harry and Ron busy preparing for Auror training, Hermione and Draco often found themselves alone in the house. Their morning tea conversations became a routine, and the walls that Draco had so carefully built around himself started to crumble in her presence.

For Hermione, Draco's company was a surprise. She had always known he was intelligent, but she hadn't expected his wit, his quiet humor, or the depth of his remorse. He was nothing like the arrogant boy she had known at Hogwarts. And yet, there were moments when his guardedness slipped, and she glimpsed a vulnerability that tugged at something deep within her.

For Draco, Hermione's kindness was nothing short of baffling. Every time he expected judgment or disdain, she offered understanding instead. He found himself seeking her out, lingering in rooms where she worked, and even volunteering to help with tasks around the house just for an excuse to be near her.

But Ron's protective presence was always a reminder.

One evening, as the sun dipped low and cast golden light across the kitchen, Ron cornered Draco while Hermione was upstairs.

"Alright, Malfoy," Ron began, leaning against the counter with a casualness that didn't fool Draco for a second. "You've been here long enough. Let's talk about this little arrangement."

Draco folded his arms, meeting Ron's gaze without flinching. "If this is another warning to stay away from Hermione, save it. I'm not here to hurt her."

"That's what I want to believe," Ron said evenly. "And honestly, I'm starting to think you might mean it. But just because you're not planning to hurt her doesn't mean you won't. You're in her space, Malfoy. Her life. And she's letting you in. So if you screw this up—whether it's intentional or not—you'll have me and Harry to answer to."

Draco's throat tightened, but he managed a nod. "I understand."

Ron studied him for a moment longer, then sighed, his tone softening. "Look, mate. I get it. I know what it's like to feel like you don't deserve something good. But Hermione's been through enough, and I won't let anyone make her doubt herself again. Not even you."

The words stung, not because they were unkind, but because they hit too close to the truth. Draco nodded again, his voice quieter this time. "I hear you, Weasley."

Before Ron could say anything else, Hermione walked in, holding a stack of books. She looked between them, her brow furrowing. "What's going on in here?"

"Nothing," Ron said quickly, pushing off the counter and heading for the door. "Just a friendly chat."

Draco glanced at her, then back at Ron. "Just a chat," Draco said simply, his voice low.

Hermione tilted her head in confusion, but before she could press further, Ron was gone. She turned back to Draco, setting the books on the table. "What did he mean by that?"

Draco hesitated, his fingers brushing the edge of his tea mug. "He's just making sure that I don't make things harder for you. That I don't hurt you."

Her expression softened, and she stepped closer. "You haven't. In fact, I've liked having you here. With the boys so busy these days it's easily to feel lonely and out of place, but I don't feel like that with you."

Draco's eyes lifted to meet hers, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged, the unspoken words hovering on the edge of possibility. But just as quickly as the moment arrived, Hermione stepped back, breaking the spell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The days leading up to the start of term were busier than either of them anticipated. With Harry and Ron gone to Auror training, Grimmauld Place had become their unofficial study haven, as Hermione and Draco worked side by side to prepare for what would be a very unusual seventh—or rather eighth—year.

For Hermione, this was a chance to finish what the war had interrupted: completing her education and proving, once again, that she could master anything she set her mind to. For Draco, it was an opportunity to rebuild—not just his academic record, but his sense of self.

"Have you seen this year's syllabus for Transfiguration?" Hermione asked one morning, flipping through her pristine copy of Advanced Transfiguration: Theory and Practice. She was seated at the kitchen table, her notes spread across its surface like a second tablecloth.

Draco, perched on the other side of the table with his Potions textbook open, glanced up with a smirk. "Of course I've seen it. McGonagall sent it to every seventh-year, didn't she? It's practically begging us to fail."

Hermione frowned. "It's not that bad. Challenging, yes, but manageable if you—"

"Do hours of preparation like you're doing right now?" Draco teased, his smirk widening.

"Yes, exactly!" Hermione shot back, though her tone was more amused than annoyed. "Preparation is the key to success, Draco. You'd do well to remember that."

Draco snorted and flipped a page in his book. "I'll manage, Granger. I always do."

But despite his nonchalance, Hermione had noticed how much effort Draco was putting into his studies. His notes were meticulous, his textbooks filled with annotations, and he rarely let a day pass without asking her to quiz him on something.

"Hey," he said one afternoon as they sat in the library, their books and parchment spread out before them. "What's this about NEWT-level Arithmancy requiring a partner project? I don't suppose you'd want to work with me."

Hermione looked up from her Charms essay, her quill pausing mid-sentence. "You're taking Arithmancy?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"I just…" Hermione hesitated, then smiled. "I didn't know you had an interest in it. It's a fascinating subject."

"Fascinating is one word for it," Draco muttered, though his lips twitched into a smile. "So? Will you partner with me, or are you planning to team up with some other overachiever?"

Hermione laughed. "Fine. I'll be your partner. But don't expect me to do all the work."

Draco placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. "I would never."

Evenings at Grimmauld Place were quieter, though no less productive. They often spent hours reviewing their Potions notes, practicing wand movements for Charms, or debating the finer points of magical theory.

"You know, Granger," Draco said one evening as they worked through an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts, "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd voluntarily spend hours studying with a Gryffindor."

"Likewise," Hermione replied with a smirk. "But here we are."

Draco leaned back in his chair, watching her as she scribbled another line of notes. "Do you ever wonder what it'll be like? Going back to Hogwarts after everything?"

Hermione paused, her quill hovering above the parchment. "All the time. I know it won't be the same. Too much has happened. But I'm hopeful. It's a chance to rebuild, not just for us, but for the school too."

Draco considered her words, then nodded. "I suppose you're right. Still, I can't help but wonder what people will say. About me, I mean."

Hermione set down her quill, meeting his gaze. "Let them say what they want. What matters is that you're trying to be better. That's what people will see, eventually."

Draco didn't reply immediately, but the warmth in Hermione's voice settled over him like a balm. He hadn't expected her to believe in him this much, and it scared him how much he liked it.

"We should probably finish these essays," Hermione said, breaking the silence.

"Right," Draco said, shaking off the moment. But as they returned to their work, he couldn't help but glance at her every so often, wondering how someone like her could see any good in someone like him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was late one evening, and the flickering candlelight in the Grimmauld Place library cast a warm glow over the room. Hermione was cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by stacks of books, while Draco leaned back in a chair, absently twirling his wand between his fingers.

"You know," Hermione began, not looking up from the thick tome she was reading, "you're better at Defense Against the Dark Arts than you give yourself credit for."

Draco raised an eyebrow, momentarily distracted from his own thoughts. "What makes you say that?"

Hermione glanced at him over the top of her book. "I've seen your work, Draco. Your essays are thoughtful, your spellwork is precise, and you've got a natural instinct for strategy. But you act like you're just scraping by."

He shrugged, looking away. "Maybe I am. I've got plenty of reasons to doubt myself, Granger. Half the people at Hogwarts are going to think I don't deserve to be there."

Hermione closed her book with a decisive thud, startling him. "And do you believe that? That you don't deserve to be there?"

Draco hesitated, his fingers tightening around his wand. "Sometimes," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sometimes I wonder if I can really change, or if I'm just fooling myself "

"Draco," Hermione said softly, setting the book aside and moving to sit across from him. "You can change. You already have. The fact that you're here, studying to finish your education, trying to rebuild your life—none of that is easy. And it proves that you're not the person people think you are."

He didn't answer, his gaze fixed on a spot on the floor.

Hermione reached out, placing a hand on his knee to get his attention. "You've made mistakes—so have I, so has Harry, so has Ron. But mistakes don't define who you are unless you let them."

Draco's grey eyes flicked up to meet hers, and for a moment, the vulnerability in his expression took her breath away.

"What if they don't see that?" he asked quietly.

"Then you show them," Hermione said firmly. "Show them that you're more than your past. Show them that you're willing to put in the work to be better. But you can't hide away and hope they'll change their minds on their own. You have to take the first step."

Draco let her words sink in, the knot in his chest loosening slightly. "That's easy for you to say," he said, though there was no malice in his tone. "You're Hermione Granger. People respect you, even if they don't like you."

"And you're Draco Malfoy," Hermione countered. "People may have their opinions about you, but you're also clever, resourceful, and capable of surprising them. You just have to decide that their opinions aren't going to control you."

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You're relentless, you know that?"

"Someone has to be," she said with a shrug. "Now, are you going to keep wallowing, or are you going to prove them all wrong?"

Draco let out a dry laugh, but there was something lighter in it this time. "All right, Granger. I'll try. But if this backfires, I'm blaming you."

"Fair enough," she said with a grin, reaching for her book again.

As Hermione returned to her reading, Draco found himself watching her, a strange sense of gratitude stirring within him. For the first time in a long while, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he wasn't fighting this battle alone and her faith was both inspiring and daunting. It made him want to be better, not for anyone else, but for her.

"Thanks," he said finally, his voice quiet but genuine. "That means more than you know."

Hermione smiled softly, her eyes lingering on his for just a moment longer than necessary. "It's the truth, Draco."

As the summer days dwindled, the reality of returning to Hogwarts loomed larger. With Harry and Ron busy with their new roles, Hermione and Draco's bond grew stronger in their shared solitude. But beneath the surface, both were acutely aware of the fleeting nature of their time together. Whatever was developing between them, unspoken as it was, seemed to hover in a delicate balance—one neither of them dared disturb.