Chapter 4

She hadn't known that she intended to go to Australia with him. At least, not consciously.

She had suspected that she wasn't in a particularly rational mood when she had read the letter from Rose which had informed Hermione that both children would be spending the Christmas break entirely at the Burrow. At the time she had been in a highly irascible mood not just due to Rose but also because of Malfoy's infuriating misives and his refusal to engage with her about the potential applications for the elixir.

And so, knowing that she perhaps wasn't of sound mind, Hermione had found herself hastily scribbling a note to Malfoy informing him that she was coming over to his house. She had then paced around the room for less than a minute before giving up and practically diving into the floo.

She had intended to just go over there and pick apart all the holes in his thinking and yet somehow she had ended up inviting herself along. Well no, if she were being honest she had insisted on going with him. Okay, if she were being really honest, she had blackmailed him into letting her go with him.

Whatever the semantics, the outcome was the same. She was going to Australia. She was going to Australia, with Malfoy .

A great shudder of misgiving went through her. This was potentially the most spontaneous and ill-thought-through decision she had made in her 41 years on the planet. But the idea of helping Scorpius and diving into a new challenge felt like a lifeline—a way to escape the gnawing emptiness she had been drowning in for months.

And now Malfoy was coming to her house and she was taking him into a muggle shopping center to purchase him a smartphone. Because she had insisted on it. And he had agreed .

The more she thought about it, the more strongly she considered the possibility that the idiot unspeakable Hobbins had been messing with temporal magic again, and somehow she was now caught in a parallel universe where she did and said things the real Hermione Granger would never do or say. Malfoy's behavior was yet more solemn proof that all was not right with the world. Parallel universe - it was the only logical explanation.

The wizarding cuckoo clock in the hall sounded, reminding her loudly to "shower for Godrick's sake!" It jolted her from her disturbed thoughts. Shocked, she took a good look around her. In the two days since her visit to Malfoy's residence, she had returned to squatting in the living room like a cave-troll (no offense to cave-trolls but they were rather well known for their stench and gloom).

With rising horror, she realised that Malfoy himself would be arriving in half an hour and the evidence of her self-indulgent, rotting on the couch was everywhere in the room.

Here was an empty wine bottle, there was an empty packet of crisps.

Stumbling to her feet she grabbed a pile of dirty laundry. A pair of purple, cotton pants fell to the floor. The last thing she needed today was Draco Malfoy teasing her about her pants!

It didn't matter how many years and how many impressive titles she had accumulated since they were in school together, something about Malfoy still made her feel like the coltish, young muggle-born she had once been who was struggling to make sense and make connections in a new world. It unnerved her.

She rushed around the room for a moment, picking up and tucking away until she remembered she was a witch and pulled her wand out. She cast a handy non-verbal tidying charm and things began to whisk themselves around the darkened room, putting themselves away.

Next, she moved into the hall, casting the charm again and again as she moved through the house. The Weasley-Granger residence was a renovated, double-fronted 'Corbett' home. It was nicely positioned, receiving just the right amount of sun, and with a backyard that was big enough for play but not too big that it became a nuisance to maintain. She and Ron had bought it when she was pregnant with Rose and they had been happy. It had become a point of contention only after Hugo was born when Ron had deemed it not big enough for the family.

He had argued that with her salary and the proceeds from his stake in the shop, they could afford something much larger and much grander but Hermione hadn't wanted to leave. Her heart was here, in this not-too-big but also not-too-small Victorian terrace house.

She spared a moment to wonder what Draco thought about it. Certainly, it was nothing compared to his sprawling mansion in the wilds of Wiltshire.

Peering around the corner to look into the kitchen, she cast another charm to get the bin to empty and the dishes in the sink to rinse themselves. Malfoy had come in the back door when he had visited last, she suspected he would do the same again this visit.

While the kitchen got along with tidying itself, she took a quick shower and when it was over and she had cast a few drying spells on her hair, she wiped a hand across the foggy mirror and peered at her reflection.

A tired-looking, (almost nearly) middle-aged woman stared back at her. Glumly, she tried to soothe her hair where a clump had resisted the drying charms and was sticking up angrily, almost at a right angle. She wasn't sure that her efforts had achieved anything spectacular. Oh well, what did it matter anyway? It was only Malfoy.

And just as she was contemplating nipping back into her closet to change into a slightly nicer jumper she heard the rap of knuckles against the back door.

She hurried downstairs and through the kitchen, sternly eyeing a dishrag that was just finishing buffing the backsplash before laying itself neatly on the detachable tap at the sink. She nudged an upturned bucket out of eye line in the entry to the mudroom and turned to see the silhouette of a tall, slim man through the stained glass of her bright yellow back door.

Taking a deep breath, she grasped the handle, unlatched the lock, and pulled it open.

"Hullo, Malfoy," she said cheerfully and then immediately cringed internally with embarrassment at how exuberant she had sounded.

Malfoy stared back at her, balefully.

"Granger," he replied slowly, reluctantly.

They stared for a moment. Hermione noticed that Draco was remarkably well-put together and wearing muggle clothes, much to her surprise. She couldn't recall a time when she had seen him in anything that looked muggleish. But there he was, wearing neatly pressed trousers and a soft-looking vest over a crisp, white oxford. Over top, he had layered a thick black coat and a neat scarf. His hands were encased in soft-looking leather gloves. She has a moment of cognisant dissonance when she realised she had just had thoughts about Malfoy looking soft twice in the span of 10 seconds.

He looked appropriate for a visit to the muggle world. Much to her disappointment he had cut off the ridiculous ponytail after his wife had passed away. It would have made her feel better about her general dishevelment if he was still galloping around with that swishy thing on the back of his head, like a domesticated pony.

He had a very serious look on his face but beyond that, it was quite unfathomable. She did note that he too had fallen prey to the same fine lines everyone in their cohort was now sporting. Even wizards couldn't prevent the ravages of time completely.

"Do I pass muster?" he asked, obviously noting her interest in his appearance. There was something about his tone that betrayed that maybe he was worried he wasn't dressed appropriately for muggle London.

"You'll do," she told him, grabbing her winter coat and a bright red scarf from where they hung on the wall. She ushered him in.

"Would you like a tea, or should we get going?" she asked.

"Where are we going, exactly?" he wanted to know.

Taking that as his answer, she led him through the house, grabbing her purse and keys from the hall table as they went.

"The Glades, in Bromley," she told him, "they have an Apple store. I thought I'd drive, it should only take about 20 minutes. I don't fancy catching the tube into the city, do you? That was our other option."

"What are you on about, Granger? You said I needed one of those phone things to speak with Scorpius. Why are we going to a greengrocer?" he asked.

"Oh Malfoy," she told him drolly, "you are amusing. Listen, it will all make sense when you see it. Just trust the process. Come on," she was gesturing for him to follow her out the front door now, which she promptly shut and locked once he was through the threshold.

Her small, black Golf was shining in a rare moment of wintery sunshine.

"Hop in," she said, unlocking the doors with a beep and a clunk.

Clambering in, she noticed his hesitancy as he came around to the passenger door. He shot a dubious glance at her through the window before reaching down and awkwardly pulling open the door and more gracefully situated himself inside the little vehicle. His knees were somewhat pressed up against the dash. Hermione couldn't be bothered to explain how to push his seat back.

They sat for a moment, both looking across at the other expectantly.

"Malfoy, your seatbelt," she said, gesturing to the strap across her chest.

"My what?" he asked, frowning like she'd suggested he wear a straitjacket.

"Just pull it down and click it in," she sighed.

Draco fumbled awkwardly with the strap before securing it with a loud click. "Satisfied?" he muttered, glaring at her.

"Barely," she replied with a smirk, pressing the accelerator just enough to see him grip the seat in alarm.

Malfoy was white-knuckling his seatbelt and staring wide-eyed at the road in front. Honestly, wasn't doing loop-de-loops on a broom his hobby?

'You okay over there, Malfoy?"

"Quite fine."

But everything was not 'quite fine' as it turned out. For Hermione had turned onto the main road and accelerated cleanly.

"Shitting fuck, Granger. Merlin's cock. We are going to die!" he bellowed, as she overtook a sedan that was turning left.

"10 points from Slytherin!" she admonished, "my poor ears."

To be frank, her ears had heard her mouth say much, much worse at work regularly (especially when she had to deal with Susan Fucking Bones!) but she didn't like to waste an opportunity to scald wayward Slytherins.

"I knew you hadn't been in a car," she said in an accusatory tone, "I thought you had to do a compulsory Muggle immersion program after the war?"

She saw colour appear in his cheeks, possibly because she had mentioned his past so bluntly or possibly because she had caught him out.

"I did do it," he insisted, "well, most of it. Some of it was total rubbish."

There was a cold silence for a moment.

"That course is still running, you know. Maybe whoever designed it thought very carefully about how each component would help a reformed bigot let go of their prejudices. Perhaps they would be very displeased to hear that you didn't take it seriously."

There was another silence for a moment before Draco groaned audibly.

"You designed the bloody program, didn't you?'

"Quite right," she told him, mouth pursed.

"I did do it, Granger," he said, forgetting his fear for a moment to look over at her, "And I am reformed... mostly. I didn't need to learn how to drive one of these contraptions to learn how to be a socially conscious citizen".

Hermione sniffed but did feel somewhat placated. Although an apology for how he had treated her 'back then' had never materialized and would have been appreciated.

"Don't tell me that Lucius somehow cheated his way through the course too," she said, feeling quite upset at the thought.

"My father was never going to let go of his bigotry after just two weeks of living life like a muggle, Granger."

She supposed that was true.

"But for what it's worth," Draco added, "he couldn't avoid it all. I have a distinct memory of Lucius being forced to attend a compulsory excursion to a muggle art gallery. He was furious and confused by the fact that there were no portraits and none of the artwork moved."

Well, that was a consoling mental image. Hermione smiled.

The rest of the drive was fairly uneventful, although Malfoy's grip on the belt barely loosened and they disagreed on whether it was safe for Hermione to switch the radio on. "You'll kill us both!" he snarled at her. She merely rolled her eyes in his general direction.

When they got to the Glades, Draco hooted at her in shock and accusation when she squeezed the already tiny car into a parking space that defied the laws of physics.

"Magic!" he hissed.

"Just a little!" she replied, "Parking is such a pain."

Before she knew it, she was leading a wide-eyed Malfoy through a mall. He kept pausing to look at things. There was an elaborate display of pastries and macarons in the window of a small patisserie. Next, he gravitated towards what she supposed might have looked like an apothecary to him, but what she understood to be a store selling fancy skincare products.

She found herself clucking impatiently, rather like a harried mother of a toddler on a grocery run.

"Come along, Malfoy, '' she told him, as he goggled at a display of flashy-looking Nike shoes.

Soon they were standing in front of their destination. The Apple Store.

"Ha!" he said, "so not actual apples?"

She felt her lips turning up into an amused smile, "not actual apples" she told him.

She could feel the clean lines and brightness of the store calling her. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn it was magic. From the corner of her eyes, she could see that it was having a similar effect on Malfoy. He was leaning forward slightly, looking almost eager instead of the bamboozled and offended look he had been wearing all morning.

They took a few steps inside the store and were met quickly by a friendly-looking youth with a thick head of brown curls and a nose ring which Malfoy immediately fixated on. Hermione tried to non-verbally let Malfoy know that he was being quite rude but there was no use. Besides which the young man was spewing information at them at a pace and enthusiasm level that even she was struggling to keep up with and hadn't noticed Malfoy staring at all. She didn't need to look, she could feel Malfoy's intolerance for it all growing stronger by the minute.

"Listen, Todd," she said, cutting through his enthusiastic comparison of three identical phones after 15 minutes. "He's loaded. Just give us the newest one and call it a day."

Todd grinned over at Malfoy affably, "Okay?"

Malfoy scowled at them both but nodded.

They walked out 45 minutes later with a new phone and Draco Malfoy was added to Hemione Granger's family account. They had been forced to confound the genial Todd when he had tried to check Draco's ID but other than that, everything had gone rather smoothly. Todd had assumed they were married and happily added a scowling Draco to the account. Hermione was happy to observe that Draco had mostly stuck to her advice and not said much at all, even though the entire process had probably embarrassed and infuriated him.

"It's hardly a big deal," she told him as they walked out of the store, "I already have a family plan. Ron never used his so there's no ongoing cost on my end, it was the upfront cost of the phone that's the investment and you've covered that. Where did you convert your muggle money by the way? Do you keep some on you or did you go to Gringotts specially?"

"I regularly do business in the muggle world, Granger," he told her frostily, "I know how to use muggle currency. Honestly, you've been acting like I'm some ignorant twit all morning," he sniffed.

"Sooory" she crooned in a tone that she knew would annoy him, "forgive me for not expecting Draco Malfoy to be au fait with muggle culture."

"So, how exactly am I going to use this thing to speak to Scorpius from Australia?" he wanted to know.

"I told you," she explained patiently, "Rose and Hugo have phones and so does Albus. We'll email ahead and set up a regular time for a call. We can even Facetime! Oh, muggle technology is brilliant Malfoy. You have no idea what you've been missing out on. Wizarding communication is so archaic. It would have been a huge inconvenience, there aren't many fireplaces in Australia on account of the weather so floo connections are quite rare."

He appeared to be rather offended by the fact that she had called wizarding culture archaic but having just spent the better part of an hour dazed and in an Apple store, she could see that he didn't have the appetite to argue.

So she took him to the same patisserie that had caught his eye earlier, sat him down, and ordered him a cup of tea and a selection of baked goods. This seemed to keep the worst of the whinging at bay for a while because his mouth was quite occupied with eating. Meanwhile, she gave him a tour of his new phone.

"You touch this one here to use your browser to access the internet… well, I'll explain that one later," she was informing him, "but you press this little icon here to make a call. Hold on, I'll pop in my number," and she did so enthusiastically, "so you just go to H for Hermione," she said showing him quickly, "then you press the call button," she said demonstrating, "now you try" she said, pushing the phone into his hands.

He swallowed a mouthful of tea in what she considered to be an unjustifiably dramatic way.

"Granger…" he said in a warning tone, "you've been blathering on for ages and I can safely assure you, I've retained absolutely none of it."

"Just press H for Hermione and hit the little call button. It's not hard!" she snapped back but without any real vinegar.

Rolling his eyes, she saw him fumbling with the phone as she pulled hers out from the pocket of her coat. To her surprise, he had successfully found her number (perhaps because it was the ONLY number saved in his phone) and had navigated to the call button. He looked apprehensive as he pressed it as if he were worried it would somehow detonate in his hands.

"That's it," she encouraged as her own phone began to buzz, "Just give me a sec". She took a few strides away from the table and then turned around, "I forgot to tell you, you need to hold it up to your ear," she informed.

"I know what you have to do!" he snapped back, his cheeks suffused with colour.

She skipped around the corner and received the call.

"Malfoy," she said into the receiver.

"Granger," he replied and she could hear slight amazement in his tone. She peeked around the corner and could see that he was holding the phone about an inch from his ear, as if he were worried about the radiation, although she knew that he probably had no idea what radiation even was. It looked endearing like he was someone's great uncle trying to not get completely left behind by the information age. Hermione had seen both Harry and Ginny wear the same look when she'd taken them on this exact journey a couple of years back.

"You'll be able to speak to Scorpius, exactly like this," she told him, "but only on Hogsmeade weekends. The magical fields around Hogwarts mess with the signals. I've tried loads of things but I can't get them to work on school grounds. The enchantments are too strong."

"Okay," he said but she could tell he was pleased.

"I'm hanging up now," she said, waving at him as she hit the end call button and strode back to their table.

"One more thing," she said, holding up her phone and showing him the directory again, this time she was indicating to the name Malfoy, "if I press this little button I can send you a message instead of calling you," and she did so, quickly typing in the words, "Hello Ferret" and sending it.

His phone buzzed. He looked down at it quizzically.

"Just touch the little message icon," she encouraged.

He opened it and then let out a derisive snort as he read what she had written.

"You can send short messages any time of the day," she said happily, "sure beats owl post!"

"How?" he wanted to know. So again, she showed him and when her phone buzzed, he had written the words "Hello pestilent twit!" She was very proud of him.

Somehow they made it home in one piece and once he had apparated afely back to the Manor she let herself collapse comfortably onto a sofa in the living room. She was positively exhausted, that had been the most socialising she had done in ages.

Before he had left, she had handed him a phone case of her own design for his new toy. It was similar to the one she had, not infallible but it could keep a lot of the magic out without blocking the signal. She could tell he enjoyed how shiny it made his phone look. She had also given him a brief tutorial on how to access and use the Internet.

"I can look up anything?" he had asked, incredulous.

"Well yes, but keep in mind - only muggle things. Despite my best efforts, the wizarding world is still a slow adaptor."

He had been gone for only 15 minutes when the ennui began to set back in. This is what she had feared and had also known would come to pass. Being alone again, not having someone to hassle and boss around, she once again felt directionless and it was easy to begin dwelling once more on the things she had lost in the previous six months.

The owls had stopped coming some time ago. The casseroles left on her doorstep had dried up. Nobody needed her. Nobody wanted her.

It felt like just yesterday that she had been the figurehead of the entire Wizarding Britain. And now what was she? A washed-up failure with no career and no husband. That's what.

It was why, she supposed, she had been so receptive to Malfoy showing up on her doorstep to ask for a favour. It had made her feel important again, if only for a moment. She liked that feeling. She wanted to hold onto it. She knew it was why she was forcibly imposing herself on Malfoy's plans. When he had told her about the Fountain it had stirred another feeling inside of her that she hadn't felt for years and years. Not since she was a girl. A sense of danger and excitement, of adventure. So she had latched onto it and to her surprise, Malfoy had been remarkably good about it, despite the blackmail.

But now that she was alone again, she could also feel the embarrassment and self-loathing rolling in. Oh, how the mighty Hermione Granger had fallen.

Her phone buzzed.

Malfoy: I have discovrd the Interweb.

It amused Hermione that his unfamiliarity with texting made his messages read like something her fourteen year-old son would type.

Hermione: What have you found?

Malfoy: Muggles are perverted

Hermione: Malfoy, the internet only shows you what you search for. I think it's more likely that YOU have a dirty mind

She chuckled to herself, picturing the unlikely image of Draco Malfoy labouring away at entering the word 'boobs' into his phone's browser.

The thought was sufficiently amusing to motivate her to open up her laptop and a fresh spreadsheet. She wondered, not for the first time, how she had lived for so many years without knowing and understanding the joy of Excel?

She began work on their itinerary. Humming softly to herself as she did.

Then it hit her. Somehow, this bizarre day she had just spent buying Draco Malfoy a telephone had been one of the best days she had experienced in months.

How odd.