Draco
.
.
Draco was sitting on his bed in his pitch-black room. He had sent his letter to Ebony hours ago, but he was sure that his answer would not come tonight. Still, he couldn't sleep. He stared out of the window at the starry sky and prayed that his owl would land on the ledge at any moment.
He looked down at the letter on his lap. She had covered the entire paper, but only one sentence stood out. "I'm going to spend the rest of the summer with them, I'm leaving at the end of the week." The punch to the heart he felt every time he read that sentence didn't ease.
How was he going to get through the rest of the summer without her letters?
He had finally found comfort. He had finally seen the possibility of a pleasant summer. The happiness that the arrival of the letters brought him overcame the misery he was experiencing in this house. His father was away, he was seeing his three best friends every day, and he was talking to the girl he loved. Draco had finally managed to feel good. But it all fell apart the moment he read the last paragraph of her letter.
He'd gotten so used to this new routine that he'd forgotten how fragile it was. He knew that Granger spent her summers with the Weasleys, he knew that for a fact, but he had selfishly decided to put that information to one side. He enjoyed going home at night or waking up in the morning with a new letter to read, reread and reread again. He wasn't ready to give that up.
Feeling the familiar sense of suffocation as he looked around his dark room, Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He tried to think more calmly. It was the end of July. He'd only have a month to survive here before he had to return to Hogwarts and see her again. He'd been away longer than that without hearing from her. And he could read the old letters again. It wasn't the end of the world.
He hid the last letter in the box where he kept them all, and then lay down on his side, facing the black sky in case Ebony came back. He was beginning to regret his own short letter. How would she react?
Draco then did something he did every night to help himself fall asleep more peacefully. He meditated for a long time, breathing deeply and trying to forget his worries. When he had finished meticulously closing his mind, he entered his mental library. No one could disturb him here. He had practised so hard that this corner of his mind was now inaccessible to anyone who wanted to get in. Only he had the keys.
He found himself in front of the six shelves where he had stored his most compromising memories. Granger's was now the fullest of them all.
Every book he could pick up gave him a moment, and whether it was good or bad, Draco always liked to consult them. It was as if he were really talking to her, as if he were finally seeing her again.
That night, he picked up one of his favourites. The Ball book. He'd stored all his jealousy and resentment towards Krum in it, all his discreet observations of Granger in her dress, everything he'd thought when he'd seen her. But he avoided looking at that part. Instead, he remembered something even more vivid. The memory of the classroom, where he had taken her after her dance. He could see exactly how her cheeks had turned scarlet when he had mentioned Krum. He could see her dress clinging effortlessly to her skin as if it had been made to measure, swirling around her to the rhythm of her hurried movements.
And he remembered, with disturbing clarity, the moment he had wanted to kiss her. Just remembering it made his heart race as if he were back in that classroom. He remembered the way she had looked at his lips, too. That she had leaned forward, imperceptibly, and that they had been only inches apart...
Draco fell asleep with the image playing over and over in his mind. He felt as if his room was suddenly filled with the familiar scent of strawberries, books and cinnamon, and he drifted off gently, lulled by his favourite smells.
.
.
.
.
The next day, the effects of the meditation had worn off, and Draco was deeply disappointed to see no sign of Ebony at the window. She hadn't replied yet.
He dressed mechanically and went to breakfast, but the wait made his stomach hurt too much for him to really eat. He kept looking at the window.
When his mother came into the dining room, she didn't hide her surprise:
"Up so early?"
"I couldn't get back to sleep." he said, which wasn't a lie.
Narcissa raised an eyebrow but said nothing, sitting down at the table opposite Draco. Chubby came over to serve her a tray of food, but she just took the newspaper and unfolded it hastily. Her eyes scanned the headlines and Draco saw her shoulders slump slightly as she read. He was sure his mother was worried about Lucius. He said nothing, and continued to drink his coffee, watching the window in silence.
"What are you going to do today?" asked Narcissa as she finished her article.
She asked her every day and the answer never changed.
"I'm going to Blaise's."
She nodded and slowly sipped her coffee. After a few minutes she said:
"I won't be home tomorrow. I have to go to a family reunion and won't be back until the next morning. But if you don't want to be alone, I can cancel..."
Draco rolled his eyes.
"Mother, I'm not ten anymore, I can be alone for a night."
"I know you can." she said with a wistful smile. "I'm just saying, I can stay if you need me to."
"No, it's all right." he said.
Narcissa nodded, then continued her coffee without a word. He waited patiently for her to finish before getting up. He wasn't hungry anymore, but he wanted to stay with her, even if they didn't talk.
She slowly finished her coffee, but no letter arrived in the meantime. Draco was growing impatient. Usually, Granger took less time to reply : Ebony was always waiting for him outside his window when he woke up. Perhaps she'd left early to visit the Weasleys without telling him?
His morning was unbearably long. He showered, dressed, read in the library, reread Granger's old letters, ate lunch with his mother and looked hopefully out of the window between each step. But there was no sign of his owl.
Tired of waiting, he preferred to go to Blaise's Manor. Once there, he would think less about it, and when he returned, Ebony would inevitably be there. So he took his broom, said goodbye to his mother and left the Manor, heading up the village lane. He passed several large wizarding houses and finally arrived at the imposing Zabini Manor, which was three times the size of its neighbours.
Cooky didn't seem surprised to see him on the doorstep.
"Good morning, Mr Draco!" he said in his croaky voice. "Mr Blaise and Mr Theodore are in the kitchen."
Draco nodded and started to move forward, then turned and said to him:
"Thank you, Cooky."
The elf didn't look up, but Draco was sure he saw a look of surprise cross his wrinkled face. Even when she wasn't there, Granger was rubbing off on him.
He found Blaise and Theo finishing their late lunch.
"Hey Dray!" Blaise called cheerfully. "We're having an Italian lunch, do you want one?"
"I've already eaten." he said, but sat down anyway.
"Then let's get ready for tomorrow!" Theo said as he swallowed a large piece of focaccia.
"Don't eat too much, there's still the tiramisù!" called Blaise in a perfect Italian accent.
Draco sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.
"I'm going to be so bored without you..."
Blaise and Theo were leaving for Italy the very next day, for Blaise's mother's wedding. Draco didn't even know which father-in-law it was, he had stopped counting. But he did know one thing: he wasn't allowed to go this year. Lucius had forbidden him to go to Italy, and even Narcissa hadn't been able to convince him. So Draco was condemned to stay here, while Blaise and Theo would be over there for a week.
"No you won't, you'll have Pansy." Blaise said to reassure him. "And you'll have access to my Quidditch pitch, I'll tell Cooky you can come as often as you like."
Draco nodded, although he secretly thought that Quidditch was less appealing without Blaise playing with him.
"Is your mum here?" asked Draco.
"No, she left early to prepare for the ceremony." he replied. "I think this one will be the biggest of them all. Apparently, they're getting married across from Lake Como. There's a Portkey waiting for us at 6am tomorrow. Cooky!"
The elf materialised in a second.
"Yes, Master?"
"Bring us the tiramisù. If Theo eats any more foccacia, he'll explode."
Theo smiled apologetically, his mouth full of bread. The elf cleared the table and presented them with three plates of tiramisù, which Draco also ate to make something with his hands. It was excellent. Then, they went out into the garden. Theo sat down in his usual spot, in a patch of grass on the pitch, and took out his book, while Blaise and Draco changed into their Quidditch outfits. The sun was beating down hard that July afternoon, so Cooky cast a sun protection spell to keep the three of them from burning.
Their training was particularly hard. Blaise was much more offensive than usual, constantly countering Draco and several times dodging a Bludger that threatened to land right in his skull. When Blaise ran at him with his broom to stop him from scoring, leaving a huge bruise on his rib, Draco shouted:
"Hey! What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm playing more aggressively today!" shouted Blaise, trying to make himself heard despite his airborne skid.
"I've noticed!" snapped Draco. "What for?!"
"I think I need to improve my game to get into the Slytherin team!" Blaise explained very seriously. "Find some techniques, you know?
"But you're going to sign up as a Chaser, not a Beater! No need to attack me like that!"
Blaise grinned and made a sharp turn to counter the Bludger.
After several hours of intense training, Draco saw a black spot approaching in the garden and stopped the game to greet Pansy. She was in such a good mood that she offered to take on the role of Keeper for their training. The two boys gladly accepted. She took one of Blaise's brooms, equipped herself and then stood in front of the three hoops.
Pansy was a pretty good Keeper, with a few weaknesses that the boys knew well enough to exploit. Draco managed to get two Quaffles through the bottom hoop. Blaise resumed a much calmer game, not wanting to upset Pansy.
In the end, all three were exhausted. They had a snack in the shade and talked about the wedding the next day. Theo, in particular, made no secret of his excitement. He had never really travelled before. Blaise even promised to take him to the Muggle Cinema, and even though the film was in Italian, Theo literally jumped up and down in his chair.
They spent the rest of the afternoon indoors, their cheeks warmed by the sun. They played two games of Exploding Snap, and then Pansy and Draco wished Blaise and Theo a safe journey and went home.
By the time Draco got Pansy home, it was almost dinnertime at the Manor. He rushed straight to his room, stripped off his muddy clothes and opened his window to let Ebony in.
But the owl wasn't there.
Draco searched the windowsill, then stuck his head out of the window to inspect the wall and floor. He called out to Ebony several times from his room. Maybe he had fallen asleep somewhere?
Draco dressed for dinner, then opened the door to his room and called loudly:
"Chubby!"
The elf appeared, potholders in hand, clearly interrupted in his cooking.
"Yes, Master?"
"Have you seen my owl?" asked Draco hurriedly.
"No, sir." the elf replied simply, before Apparating again.
Draco felt a small pit in his stomach. Several scenarios ran through his mind. Perhaps Ebony had got lost, or was too exhausted to continue and had stopped to rest on the way? Perhaps Granger hadn't had time to reply? Or... perhaps someone had intercepted his letter?
Draco had always made sure that no one saw Ebony coming or going. But even if his mother had seen the owl, she would never have taken his letter. He often sent letters to Blaise and Pansy to arrange meetings, she could never have suspected...
If someone had read his letter, would they really have understood that he was talking to the famous Hermione Granger? He called her Daphne... Well, until the last one, which he had written in a hurry, too depressed about her going to the Weasleys...
He went to dinner with a knot in his stomach. Narcissa showed no particular sign of having read his letter. She was perfectly calm, as usual, stoic, cold. She told him some gossip about her book club at the Pinch-Smedleys while they ate, asked about Blaise's mother's wedding, then told him several times that she could stay the next day if he didn't want to be alone.
When Chubby brought in the desserts, Draco asked as conversationally as he could:
"By the way, have you seen Ebony, Mother?"
Narcissa lifted her head and frowned thoughtfully.
"No, I don't think so. Why do you ask?"
"I haven't seen him in my room. He's probably spreading his wings around the Manor." Draco said quickly with a shrug.
His mother smiled and talked about something else, and he closed his mind to stop thinking about his owl.
He waited for Narcissa to retire to her chambers before joining Pansy by the fountain. She was as cheerful as ever, and as he lay down beside her, he remembered why.
"I can't wait!" she squealed, wriggling in delight. "He's coming in the morning!"
Draco had completely forgotten that Pansy's cousin was due to arrive the following day. And yet, Pansy had been talking about it all July. Ever since her favourite cousin, Rodolphus, had sent her a letter saying he would be staying at her Manor for a fortnight, Pansy had been looking forward to this day.
She had always adored her cousin since she was a little girl. He was older than her and lived in the United States, where he had gone to study. Now, he was researching the creation of Charms, but Draco was sure he wasn't doing anything. He had never really liked him. He found it too flighty, too unpredictable. He would only stay for a few days, talk about himself, make fun of them at the slightest opportunity and then disappear, leaving Pansy in a state of depression every time.
Draco said nothing, however, not wanting to upset his best friend who was unusually happy. So he nodded and put on a fake smile:
"In the morning?" he repeated.
"Yes. He said he'd take me for a walk along the coast tomorrow. He's lucky he knows how to Apparate!"
"Hasn't he failed his test six times?" asked Draco, knowing full well the answer to that rather devious question.
"Yes, he has." Pansy replied evasively. "But I trust him, I know he can do it now without splinching himself."
Draco couldn't understand how Pansy could put so much importance on this guy. She'd always had an insane amount of faith in him. Maybe because he was taller, cooler and had always bent the rules, which had gotten her into a lot of trouble in the past. But Pansy never resented him. When he was around, she was different, and Draco didn't like that at all.
They talked about Rodolphus until it was dark and the crescent moon was visible in the clear sky. Then Pansy wished him good night and went home much quicker than usual.
He didn't need to go back to his room to know that Ebony hadn't returned. He could see from the garden that his windowsill was empty. So, he stayed lying on the grass, and instead of succumbing to the anxiety that threatened to rise at the thought of what Granger might do to not answer his letter, he meditated a little.
The warm summer air helped him to clear his mind more easily. He looked up at the stars, his eyes clouded with concentration. He spent a while sorting through his memories, an activity he found particularly soothing. Then he got up, his head feeling woozier than before, and went to his room to get his music book.
He was applying Granger's advice from her last long letter. "You could do that instead of going to the library, I'm sure the music would bring some warmth into this gloomy Manor."
So he went back down to the silent Manor, and took a corridor he rarely used. He passed his mother's study, then the guest wing, which no one ever occupied. He passed a large room where various rare objects were on display, before reaching the room he wanted: the music room.
The entire music room was plunged into darkness. As Draco entered, the torches magically lit up as he passed. Chubby had left no dust to show how long it had been since anyone had used the piano in the middle of the room. The double windows overlooking the gardens were closed, and the three portraits on the white walls were asleep.
Draco approached the piano and removed the sheet covering it. It looked exactly as it had when he had music lessons as a child. He sat down and ran his finger over the keys to check it was in tune, then placed the first sheet of music in front of him. Each note was carefully handwritten.
He began to play Letter Für Elise, the sound of the keys echoing off the walls of the deserted room. He remembered it well enough not to pause, but he still kept his eyes on the score, as if it were Granger, and not paper.
He'd played this music dozens of times with his teacher, but this was the first time he'd really heard it. It was beautiful and, strangely, his fingers glided along on their own, as if it had been engraved somewhere in his memory.
A - E - A - A - E - A - C - B - A...
The harmony emanating from the piano was slow at first, then the music quickened and Draco's hands flew over the keys, barely touching them. He thought back to the way Granger's fingers tapped the tables when she concentrated. The rhythm seemed to match the beating of his heart. Until he finished the music, and found himself back in complete silence.
Without knowing why, he felt a little out of breath. The portraits around him had woken up and were looking at him curiously. They must not be used to being disturbed like this. Draco lingered for a second over the notebook where Granger had written a small text in her round handwriting below the title:
"Beethoven is said to have written this composition for his piano pupil, Therese Brunswick, with whom he was in love. The composition is simple at first, so that his pupil, who was not very gifted at the piano, could play it herself. But when she became engaged to another man in the year it was written, Beethoven was so distressed that he made it too complicated for her to finish it."
Reading this, Draco felt his heart clench and the tears rise dangerously. Why did Beethoven's unrequited love remind him of his own?
Suddenly, he heard a small noise behind him and turned sharply. His mother was standing in the doorway, dressed in her dressing gown, looking at him tenderly. Draco fought back the urge to cry by immediately closing his mind.
"Forgive me for disturbing you." Narcissa said with a small smile. "It's just that I haven't heard you play for so long..."
"I'm sorry if I woke you, Mother." Draco apologised as he stepped back from the instrument.
"No, you did no such thing." she said as she approached him, her hand outstretched. She placed it gently on his shoulder. "You're not the only one having trouble sleeping."
Draco said nothing, and Narcissa rested her dark eyes on the keys.
"Were you playing Letter Für Elise?" she asked.
"Yes." he said, closing the notebook so she couldn't see the staples. "Pansy told me about it earlier and it made me want to play it."
"Could you do it again?" her mother asked with unfamiliar emotion. "I couldn't hear the beginning from my room."
Draco obeyed and began the piece again. He made no mistakes, the notes were flowing. This time, he did not need the score. Narcissa listened in silence, and when he finished and looked up at her, she seemed strangely affected.
"I have always loved listening to you play." she murmured, her hand still on Draco's shoulder. "I missed it. It's sad, a piano that no one uses."
He nodded and Narcissa did something she rarely did: she kissed him on the forehead. It was a gesture of affection that Draco was not used to: he froze in surprise.
"Good night, Draco." she said as she left the room.
He wished her good night and sat at the piano for a long time without playing.
.
.
.
.
That night, in his bed, when it was already late and he should have been asleep for a long time, Draco made up his mind.
He had to find out what had happened. Why hadn't Granger replied yet? Had something happened to her? He couldn't really send her another letter, because if she was in trouble because of that, it wouldn't be a good idea to send her another one. Besides, Ebony still hadn't returned. He had to find another way to contact her.
He considered several options. He was frightened at the thought of someone discovering him, realising who he was talking to and the consequences. But on the other hand, he was tired of being afraid. He couldn't live in fear all his life. If he was going to be discovered, it might as well be for a good reason. And checking on Granger was definitely one of them.
He made a mental plan and fell asleep after clearing some memories with Granger. The next morning, he woke up quite early, but didn't linger and headed downstairs quickly.
"Good morning, Master." Chubby greeted as he entered the dining room. "What would you like for breakfast?"
"Coffee, that's all. Has my mother left yet?"
"Yes, she left very early this morning. She asked me to wish you a good day."
Draco nodded and the elf disappeared, only to reappear shortly afterwards with a cup of coffee. Draco drank it quickly, thinking about the final details of his plan. Pansy would be busy welcoming Rodolphus and would undoubtedly pay no attention to him all day. Blaise and Theo had already left for the wedding. Lucius wasn't due back for at least a week. And Narcissa was away. Now was the best time to act.
"Chubby?" called Draco, and the elf reappeared. "Could you Apparate me to Diagon Alley today? I want to buy a new broom."
The elf's wrinkled face frowned.
"Your Mother..."
"Doesn't need to know." Draco finished sternly. "I have the right to ask you to come with me to London and to ask you to be silent. I'll go to Gringotts to get some money out of my safe, then I'll go shopping and come back a little later. You can just go back to the Manor, and dust off the piano room, I saw it was a bit dirty yesterday..."
It obviously wasn't, but the elf opened his eyes wide and squeaked in an uncertain voice:
"Master Draco, I... I cleaned it a few days ago, I just don't understand how..."
"Don't get so upset." Draco interrupted, realising that the poor elf was expecting corporal punishment. "I won't say anything to my parents, and you won't say anything in return. Is that clear?"
The elf nodded several times. As a Malfoy elf, he was bound to obey Draco.
"When do you want to leave?" he squeaked.
"In about ten minutes." Draco replied, excitement breaking through his voice a little, but he couldn't control it. "Wait for me here."
He quickly went back to his room, took a quick shower and put on the most basic clothes he had. He did not put on a wizard's robe. This earned him a strange look from Chubby when Draco returned, but he made no comment. They both walked out into the alleyway of Malfoy Manor and through the black gate, which evaporated as they passed.
Then, Chubby held out his skeletal arm, and no sooner had Draco brushed his fingers against it than he was swept away in a whirlwind of Apparition. He felt his head shake from the force of the movement before he landed hard on his feet.
He was standing at the end of Diagon Alley, opposite the many colourful shop fronts. An array of colours, smells and people passed before his eyes, a welcome change from the deserted alleyway of his Manor.
"Gringotts Bank is in front of you, Master Draco." Chubby said, as if Draco had never been there.
Dobby would never have told him that, he knew him well enough to know that he would have taken it as a mockery. But Draco just nodded absently and sent the elf on his way.
"I'll be back in a few hours." the elf assured him, before Apparating again, leaving Draco alone in Diagon Alley.
Draco realised at that moment that it was the first time in his life that he had been alone on this street. His parents always accompanied him. In fact, now that he thought about it, he was rarely alone when he went anywhere.
He made his way down Diagon Alley, which he knew by heart. He kept his head down, afraid of being recognised, although even if he were, no one would care that he was there without his father. He wasn't doing anything wrong. That didn't stop him from hiding his face as best he could with his hood.
He reached Gringotts in a matter of minutes. He passed the goblin guarding the entrance, then went to one of the nearest counters and exposed his face to the goblin.
"I'd like access to vault 159." he announced in the deepest possible voice, then placed the golden key on the desk.
The goblin studied it for a few seconds. Draco tried not to look into its beady little eyes, which made him feel rather uncomfortable. After a moment, the goblin said:
"One of the Malfoy vaults, I presume?"
Draco nodded, suddenly less sure of himself. Was there a minimum age for access to a Gringotts vault?
"Follow me." the goblin announced, jumping to the ground.
Draco accompanied him to the carriage, sighing softly with relief. They both climbed in and the goblin drove, watching the road while Draco concentrated on not feeling sick. The carriage plunged into the depths of the Gringotts underground at a breathtaking pace. Then, they came to an abrupt halt in one of the dark corridors and Draco was thrown forward.
"Vault 159!" the goblin shouted.
He walked over to the door and slipped the key into one of the many locks. They heard a "click!", then hundreds of mechanisms clattered together in a loud noise, and the goblin stepped aside just in time for the door to open. Several coins fell through the opening as soon as the door was ajar.
Draco found himself facing a mountain of gold coins. They reached the ceiling of the room, so much so that he couldn't even see the back of the vault. He went over and filled his pocket with as many coins as he could carry, and then they returned to the bank hall.
On the return carriage, Draco dared to speak in a low voice:
"Is it possible to change money here?"
He'd never done it before. The goblin didn't look up, still staring straight ahead, as he replied in a perfectly even voice, despite the wagon shaking on the unsteady rails:
"Yes. You can exchange it for any currency in the world."
Draco nodded. When they returned to the hall, he waited for the goblin to settle back into his seat before depositing a few galleon and sickle coins.
"I'd like to exchange these for Muggle money." he said in a low voice.
The Goblin took out his ledger to record the transaction, but Draco stopped him:
"Is it possible not to write it down?"
The banker arched an eyebrow.
"I am obliged to record the exchange. But if you wish, you can give me another name."
"Greenger." Draco said without thinking. "Make a note of it in the name of Greenger."
The goblin nodded and counted the coins:
"You have given 6 Galleons and 16 Sickles, which comes to £49.52. We will take a commission of 9 Sickles. Does that suit you?"
Draco, who had no idea what the pound was worth in the Muggle world, agreed. He took the note and looked at it strangely: there was an old lady's face on it. Perhaps it was the "Jesus" Granger had mentioned in her letters.
He collected all his change, put it in his pocket, thanked the goblin and left the bank with his hood pulled down over his face. He crossed the street, which was much busier than before, and made his way to the Leaky Cauldron. Many wizards had stopped to take a break from their day's shopping, so the place was packed. Draco had no trouble squeezing past the wizards to get out through the Muggle entrance without being seen.
He opened the door and suddenly found himself in a street. Compared to Diagon Alley, it was much emptier and quieter, and yet, it oppressed Draco far more than the wizarding street.
Despite his plan the day before, he hadn't realised what he was actually doing. For the first time in his life, he was among Muggles. He had never been allowed to go there, his father had formally forbidden him to go near them.
A bald man walked past and Draco watched him without embarrassment. Apart from his outfit, there was nothing to distinguish him from a wizard. His father had always told him that they were all repulsive, but this was far from the case. Perhaps his father had never seen one either.
Draco walked aimlessly along the road. This part was probably the hardest. He used his limited knowledge and what Theo had already told him to try and get his bearings. He walked in the direction most Muggles took and came to a large square with cars going in all directions. It took Draco a good minute to tear himself away from the sight of these rolling machines. How did they work? He absolutely had to ask Granger.
He didn't understand how Muggles got from one side of the road to the other until the red light in front of him turned green and they all started walking, taking him with them. The cars had miraculously stopped.
He walked a little further, watching the shop fronts, which were nothing like the ones he knew. He stopped in front of the window of a clothes shop and tried to imagine someone dressed like that, but he couldn't.
Continuing his walk, he saw a sign in the distance that said UNDERGROUND and walked towards it. All the Muggles were pouring into the underground tunnel. Draco thought they were the kind of trains Theo often talked about and hesitantly descended the stairs.
He came to a dark underground hall where dozens of Muggles were pushing against machines to get through. They all waved some kind of card at the machine that let them through. From time to time, one of the Muggles passed a small square of paper, which was sucked up and the doors opened. Draco hesitated to put his paper with Jesus on it, but he preferred to go and check out one of the counters.
A man with a big black beard was tapping on a huge machine that Draco couldn't see. When he approached the counter, the man barely looked at him.
"Yes?" he asked in a dour voice.
"I'd like to go to... Hampstead Heath." Draco said, reading the letter he had put in his pocket.
"That's Northern Line to Edgware."
Draco didn't answer and the man shifted his gaze to him. He stopped at his bright blonde hair, his outfit, the letter in his hands, and raised his eyebrows. Probably seeing that he was having trouble understanding, the man leaned forward a little and spoke more clearly:
"You take the black line, the Northern one, which goes to Edgware, and you get off 9 stops later, at Hampstead. The park is right next to it. Have you got a ticket?"
Draco shook his head no, but put his hand in his pocket:
"No, but I've got pouns." he said, placing the coins and paper in front of the man.
His eyes widened at the amount.
"You don't need that much!" he exclaimed, handing the paper and some coins back to him. "Just £1.5. Here's your ticket, it'll get you to Hampstead."
Draco hesitated to ask the man how to get through the gates, but he had a feeling it wasn't common for Muggles to ask that sort of question. He put his money away, took the ticket and stood behind one of the men queuing to get through the gates. The line moved quickly. Draco watched as the person in front of him put the ticket in the slot and did the same. The doors opened and he quickly walked between them before they closed on him.
He then followed the ticket office's instructions and walked down the stairs towards the black line. When he reached the platform, there was no train. He looked at the signs, which were different on each side, but before he could decide which was which, a woman approached him and spoke loudly enough to startle him.
"Hello, are you lost?" she asked, articulating each letter to make herself understood.
"Hum... I'm trying to get to Hampstead Heath." Draco replied without meeting her eyes.
When she heard his English accent, the woman looked surprised, obviously expecting a lost tourist. She pointed to the nearby platform:
"That's the one. Where are you from?"
"England." Draco replied, his ego bruised.
"Oh. Good." she said before walking away, perplexed.
Draco reached the other platform just as a train arrived. It was moving very fast. He had expected to see a Hogwarts Express, but this train was nothing like that: it was grey and sleek. It stopped and the doors opened in front of him. A few Muggles got off and Draco carefully climbed in. There were rows of seats on either side of the carriage, which was a little more reassuring than compartments. Draco settled into one of them.
A shrill alarm sounded and the doors closed so quickly he barely had time to see them move. Then, the train moved on and the windows went black. It was a tunnel. Draco realised it wasn't as turbulent as he'd thought. In fact, it was even less sensational than the carriage at Gringotts.
He looked around at the Muggles. Right next to him was a woman wearing a grey dress and some sort of hat. She had a strong smell of perfume. She didn't care about the tunnels or the speed of the train, she didn't even look at the map or the windows.
Draco watched her, wondering what Pansy would look like if she were a Muggle.
"Hampstead." the robotic voice said.
Draco stood up and stepped out of the train, then watched it leave, not knowing what to do. No one had gotten off at this station. He climbed the stairs and found the same magical doors opening each time he passed. Draco put his ticket back in, it came back crumpled, and the doors opened.
He found himself on another Muggle street. The sun had risen during his underground journey, casting a lovely glow over the cobbled street. There were far fewer people than in Leaky Cauldron Street, and no cars. Draco made his way through the streets at random.
A woman approached him and stared at him in surprise for a few seconds, although Draco had made sure his clothes were as inconspicuous as possible. He looked at his outfit again and rearranged his hair.
He saw a sign indicating the park to his left. All Draco could see were the black fences on the other side of the street. He walked along them, looking around. There were restaurants with waiters zigzagging between tables where people were eating outside, and shops where he could see outfits he'd never seen before. Draco understood better why Theo was so fascinated by Muggles.
When Draco had finished walking down the long street, he came to a crossroads.
He realised that he hadn't really planned that part of his journey. He had thought a lot about how to get to London, but not at all about how to find her. He'd never thought that Muggle London could be so vast. He thought there would only be Manors, like in his village, and that he would just have to find the one that most resembled Granger.
As Draco walked along the fences of the park, he realised that his plan was failing.
There were too many houses, too many people. He would never be able to find her in all the houses that surrounded the huge park. The fences never seemed to end. Which way could her home be?
He took Granger's letter from his pocket and reread the part that interested him: "I write to you from Hampstead Heath, the park where I spend my afternoons. I like to read here, and the park is ideally situated next to my house."
He randomly chose one of the streets that ran parallel to the park and ventured into it. There were fewer people here. There were only houses, which Draco observed as he walked. Some windows had curtains drawn, some did not, but all the living rooms looked the same. He had thought that Granger's house would stand out, that it would seem so much like hers, but it turned out that they were all the same.
It was inconceivable to him that anyone could live in such a small, cramped place.
He continued to wander the streets of the suburb. He didn't meet anyone, except for a woman walking her little dog on a lead. He had the impression that even the dog was looking at him strangely. He was tempted to put his hood back on.
After walking down three streets that ran parallel to the park, Draco saw that the sun had slightly faded, it must have been 1pm and he had no idea where Granger was.
The further he went, the more he realised how flawed his plan had been: if she hadn't replied to his letter, it was probably because she had left. Now that his thoughts were more moderate, he remembered a moment when she had mentioned her grandmother, who lived in Scotland. Perhaps she had just gone on holiday and hadn't had time to reply? Or perhaps Ebony was taking longer because he had a longer journey to make?
Draco felt deeply discouraged. The crushing reality that he wouldn't be seeing Granger for the rest of the summer hit him for the first time since he'd hatched his plan the day before. It hadn't worked. He would have to go home and wait for Blaise and Theo to return in the eternal cold of the Manor.
He was thinking about the journey home, his shoulders hunched in disappointment, when he turned the corner of a random street. He walked along the white houses and stopped abruptly in front of one of them, in the middle of the street. He stopped because, unlike all the other houses he had passed since he had arrived, this one had a bench under the window.
He couldn't really see it from the pavement, but he could see the four white cushions perfectly arranged on it, a piece of curtain and, above all, the bookshelf that took up a whole section of the wall behind it. This was exactly how he'd imagined the bench when Granger had told him she liked to read there.
Draco unconsciously approached the small gate in the fence that surrounded the little house. He looked up at the upper floors, but the windows were closed. Could this be...?
Suddenly, the front door opened.
A woman stepped out and closed the door behind her before walking down the narrow path to the gate. Without understanding why, Draco froze. She was wearing a strange white blouse, almost like the ones worn by the Healers at St. Mungo's. When she raised her head and met Draco's gaze, she stopped and stared at him.
Draco's breath suddenly stopped.
The resemblance was striking. This woman had the same features as Granger. Her nose, eyes and jaw were exactly the same. Her hair was slightly darker and more docile. Draco stared at her face in amazement, shocked that he could recognise Granger in this woman he didn't know. It was the exact same face, only older and more... less...
Less feverish. Granger's cheeks were always rosy and her features were constantly animated by some emotion. Joy, concentration, sadness, anger... This woman was calmer. Draco wondered if that was the difference between wizards and Muggles. This woman was less... magical.
He knew without a doubt that she was Granger's mother. Draco looked down again at the outfit she was wearing and realised that it was probably the typical outfit of a "dentist", as Granger had explained to him.
He tried to wipe the surprise from his face to appear more polite, but he couldn't. Granger's mother was still staring at Draco without embarrassment, her chocolate eyes scrutinising everything from his outfit to his blonde hair. She pursed her lips very subtly, almost amused, in contrast to the shock that must have marked Draco's face.
Then, she smiled at him.
"Hello there! You're a friend of Hermione's, aren't you?" she asked in a clear voice.
Draco's eyes widened. How could she have known? He nodded silently.
"She's in the park." she continued, pointing to the street he'd come from. "With her friend Danny. The first gate you see after taking the path to the left. Keep walking towards the middle of the park, they're usually sitting on one of the benches."
He was surprised to find that her voice was nothing like his daughter's. Granger's voice was high-pitched, while her mother's was louder.
"All right. Uh, thank you." Draco said, exhaling for the first time since seeing Granger's mother.
"I can't come with you, I'm sorry, I have to go to the practice. You won't have any trouble finding her?" she said, her tone conversational.
She crossed the path in a few strides and walked out through the small gate Draco was standing in front of. Up close, he noticed all the Granger-like details: the small freckles on her upper cheeks, the colour of her eyes, the way her lips curved slightly against her teeth.
"No, no. Thank you... A lot." he said awkwardly. "I'll... I'll go."
Draco rarely lost his words, and the fact that it was happening at this moment was embarrassing. But Granger's mother was looking at him tenderly, with a maternal smile that seemed so familiar. He'd never seen this woman before in his life, but she exuded a comforting aura, perhaps even more so than his own mother.
"Very well. Have fun!" she said before turning to leave for her dentist's office.
A cottony scent of white musk enveloped the boy's nostrils for a brief second before dissipating. Shocked by what had just happened, Draco looked at the bench under the window for a full minute without seeing it. It was the first time in his life he had ever seen a Muggle woman so close. His father's words sounded even more empty now. This woman was nothing like a monster, on the contrary, she had managed to relax Draco with just her smile.
On the other hand, he could see the differences between Muggles and Wizards a little better now. Granger's mother bore a striking resemblance to her daughter, yet, they were complete opposites. Granger had nothing in common with this calmness, this banality. She was much more energetic, as if magic was coursing through her veins at every moment.
Tearing himself away from his vision of Granger's bench, Draco couldn't help but smile. Finding this house again was a sign. Perhaps a nudge from Merlin himself. Or Jesus. Either way, it meant he was right to have come. Granger was in the park, he could see her at the very end of this street. All the planning and exploring had served a purpose.
He retraced his steps, following the route Granger's mother had indicated, until he saw the black fences of the park again. Only this time, the fences had nothing to do with the endless, discouraging expanse he'd walked along a few minutes earlier. Now, he saw the park as an invitation.
With his heart pounding in anticipation, Draco entered it. He scanned the area quickly but couldn't find Granger, so he walked along the path. If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed the beauty of the place: the plants surrounding the path in an explosion of summer colours, the lake to his left where swans were splashing about. But Draco wasn't even looking. He was only looking for Granger.
The path veered to the right and he found himself facing a slope that led to the centre of the park. There was a fountain and benches all around, and on one of them, Draco saw a girl with curly brown hair.
A burning wave of emotion ran through his body and he stopped for a second to take in the sight. There she was, just a few feet from him. She was fine. No one had read the letter and she was in no danger. She was as beautiful as she had been in the memories stored in his library: he hadn't unconsciously improved his image of her by consulting them. She was as beautiful as she had been at Hogwarts, perhaps more so, in the midst of those pink flowers.
She was sitting on a bench by the fountain, reading a Muggle book. He wanted to run and take her in his arms. He wanted to hold her, to confirm that his fears were unfounded and that Granger was there, with him, and that she was all right. He wanted to smell the strawberry in her hair and the cinnamon on her skin, to see her big chocolate eyes widen when she saw him, to see her smile, to hear her laugh, to listen to that voice he'd been imagining every day for almost a month.
The impulse made him take a step forward on the path, but he stopped when he remembered what he was doing here.
Why hadn't she answered his letter if she was safe? Why was she reading a book instead of reassuring him? He had been so worried about her that he had broken every rule to find her. And she was all right?
Draco turned his head to see the person she was sharing the bench with. He'd been so overwhelmed by seeing Granger's mother that he'd forgotten who Granger was supposed to be with. Her friend Danny. He guessed it was the Muggle next to her, the one she sent letters to, the one she always avoided talking about.
Draco approached them, much more moderately this time. The euphoria he felt at seeing Granger matched his resentment. She hadn't answered the letter he'd been waiting for for days, the one thing that had kept him going all summer without her. And she was spending her afternoon with a Muggle?! Without thinking about him for a single second?
Granger lifted her head to exchange a few sentences with her friend Danny, not seeing Draco coming down the hill. Muggle Danny smiled. He had ash blond hair and slightly round cheeks. He looked like Longbottom, except he was a little taller and his smile wasn't quite so corny.
Draco walked the few metres that separated him from Granger and stood in front of the bench.
She felt a presence in front of her, lifted her head from her book and looked at Draco.
A pleasant sensation tightened in his stomach as Granger's eyes widened, just as he had predicted. Her mouth opened in surprise, revealing her short teeth, and she froze in surprise for a second.
She blinked several times, as if to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.
"Dr- Draco?" she squeaked in her most piercing voice.
Draco didn't answer, but he couldn't hide a small smile. How could he not? He was incapable of not smiling when she said his name.
Granger rose from the bench without taking her eyes off Draco, her mouth still open in surprise.
"Breathe, Granger. You're going to faint." he said in his most cynical voice.
"Draco, I..."
She stopped mid-sentence and turned to her friend Danny. He had looked up from whatever he was doing (scribbling on a piece of paper, apparently) and was looking at them both uncomprehendingly. Draco had completely forgotten about him. The fact that she hadn't annoyed him.
"Um, Danny, this is... A friend from school, er... Draco." she said awkwardly.
Danny stood up, a look of surprise on his face, but still held out his hand to Draco:
"Oh, I see. Nice to meet you, I'm Danny."
Draco growled inwardly.
A Hufflepuff.
He looked at the boy's outstretched hand but didn't take it. Danny didn't seem offended and continued to smile.
"A friend from school, eh?" he said cheerfully, lowering his arm. "Are you in London for the holidays, or do you live in France?"
Draco saw the look of sheer panic on Granger's face out of the corner of his eye as a silent warning. As if Draco needed that to understand that he was a Muggle! It was so obvious! Even Longbottom wasn't that hollow.
"Holiday." Draco replied bitterly.
He'd come to see Granger, not to chat with that Danny.
The boy was undeterred by this lack of politeness.
"Draco..." he continued, still smiling. "That's an original name, is it French?"
Draco was about to brush him off when Granger stepped between the two of them, facing Danny, clearly about to explode with fear:
"No, no, Draco's English, he's just studying in France with me!" she said in her high-pitched voice. "I had no idea he was coming to London! A lovely surprise, haha!"
Danny must not have known Granger at all, because he didn't notice the change in mood and just nodded happily.
"Great! I'll leave you to it then, I had to pick up Leonie from drama class anyway. Enjoy London, Draco!"
He picked up his papers and stuffed them into a battered satchel. He nodded goodbye to Draco (having realised he probably shouldn't shake his hand), and then grinned broadly at Granger:
"See you later, Mimi!"
Granger gave him a tight smile as Draco grimaced. Why did all the boys around Granger butcher her name so much? Couldn't anyone call her Hermione?
Danny took the path that Draco had just left. When he was far enough away that he couldn't hear their conversation, Granger turned back to Draco, still so shocked to see him.
"What are you doing here?" she asked at the same time as Draco:
"What the fuck is he doing here?"
They looked at each other for a second, Granger stunned and Draco quite annoyed.
"What are you doing here?" she repeated.
"What do you think?" he said, a little too abruptly for his liking. He hadn't realised how angry he was. "You didn't answer my letter! I was worried, I thought someone had read it! Or worse, that you'd..."
"Draco..." she interrupted in a low voice. "You came to London... You came all this way... To check on me?" she asked, full of hope.
Draco stopped talking and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't know if he wanted to yell at her or kiss her, and those were two very different urges and difficult to manage. He looked up at the sky and sighed before answering softly:
"Well, yeah."
Granger grinned broadly and threw herself at him to give him a hug.
.
.
Hermione
.
.
Hermione was reading the last chapter of her novel when Danny interrupted her:
"Mimi?"
She looked up from the pages and turned to her friend. He was drawing the fountain in the park with pastels, but he was having trouble recreating the colours of the water. Besides, some children were wading in it, creating ripples on the surface that were difficult to capture.
"I'd use pink here to show the reflection of the sun." Hermione said, putting her finger on the paper at the end of the pool.
"What? Oh, yeah." Danny said, picking up the pink pastel to paint over the indicated spot. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something."
"Go on?"
"Do you remember when your parents took us to see a magic show in Piccadilly Circus?" he asked.
"Yes?" Hermione replied.
The show seemed so long ago that she could hardly remember it correctly. It was over four years ago now. The summer Hermione had found out she was a witch.
"I was thinking we could go back this week before you go to your friends."
"Oh!" replied Hermione, not at all expecting such a request. "Yes, why not. Have you any idea what you'd like to see?"
They discussed the latest shows. Or rather, Danny told her about the current programme, which she had no idea about. He offered to tell his parents about it that evening, and they returned to their respective activities: Hermione's novel and Danny's drawing.
After several minutes of silence, Hermione looked at the paper again.
"See? I told you pink would look good there." she said, noticing the sparkle it gave to the fountain.
Danny smiled:
"You're even better at drawing than I am. Am I to understand that you excel at everything?"
"Nonsense." Hermione denied. "You're much better at drawing than I am, I wouldn't be able to do that."
Danny still grinned as he continued to spread the pink around the water. Hermione went back to her book, but noticed that the pages had suddenly darkened, as if someone was hiding the sun from her. She lifted her head and looked at the figure in front of her. As she looked at his face, she was immediately caught by two grey pupils.
Draco.
Draco Malfoy was standing before her.
He was watching her read.
Just like in the Hogwarts Library, only they weren't at Hogwarts.
They were in Hampstead Heath, in the heart of Muggle London, and Draco Malfoy could never be here.
It wasn't possible. She was dreaming. Perhaps she was in the middle of a dream and would wake up in her bed at any moment. But then a second passed, and Draco Malfoy was still standing in front of her. He was looking at her with a very slight smile, the kind of smile that was very hard to imagine so perfectly in a dream...
"Dr- Draco?" she asked the apparition in front of her.
She sounded like a madwoman. How could she honestly believe that Draco Malfoy was really standing in front of her? It was impossible: he lived in a Manor hundreds of miles away from London, in a wizarding village with parents who hated Muggles... He couldn't be there, the information couldn't get into her brain.
She stood up to look at him more closely. His grey eyes were as hypnotic as they had been at Hogwarts, his hair even blonder than usual, and his minty scent so distinctive that it was impossible to imagine it so vividly.
She wasn't dreaming.
Draco Malfoy was really standing in front of her.
"Breathe, Granger. You're going to faint." he said amusedly, and Hermione realised that she had indeed not breathed for a good minute.
"Draco, I..."
She wanted to ask him a hundred questions, as she did every time she saw him. The boy was so unpredictable! How had he managed to get here? Why? How did he know she was here? How could he be in a Muggle park...
Hermione suddenly remembered Danny's presence on the bench. She had forgotten that he was here. When she turned to him, she was shocked to see how different he was from Draco.
"Um, Danny, this is... A friend from school, er... Draco." Hermione said, pointing at him with a wave of her hand.
It was a pathetic introduction compared to the real picture she had of this boy. Arrogant, petty, sneaky, but also fascinating, cultured, mysterious, funny, kind, captivating, honest...
Danny, as usual, greeted him warmly, despite his surprise. Draco, as usual, replied with a coldness that sent shivers down her spine. He looked at Danny like he was dirt on the bottom of his shoe. When Hermione feared Draco might reveal something he shouldn't, she stepped between them:
"No, no, Draco's English, he's just studying in France with me!" she said in her high-pitched voice. "I had no idea he was coming to London! A lovely surprise, haha!"
Danny nodded, genuinely interested. He was so sweet. Hermione didn't want to embarrass him with Draco's obnoxious attitude.
"Great! I'll leave you to it then, I had to pick up Leonie from drama class anyway. Enjoy London, Draco!" exclaimed Danny.
Hermione sighed in relief as Danny put his drawing materials away. She preferred to keep him away from this far too bizarre scene. The flood of emotions she'd felt since seeing Draco was unsettling, and the fact that Danny was there too was distracting.
The boy waved at her warmly and walked away. When he was far enough away, Hermione dared to meet Draco's grey gaze again. He was still there, his face much harder this time.
The first question she wanted to ask him came out of nowhere:
"What are you doing here?"
"What the fuck is he doing here?" he asked at the same time, pointing to Danny's silhouette on the path.
He was there, she was sure of it now. She wasn't dreaming. In the mix of incomprehensible emotions she felt at the moment, one stood out: the joy of seeing him again. It warmed her heart and sent delicious shivers down her spine.
"What are you doing here?" she repeated, more quietly.
"What do you think?" he asked in a tone of impatience. "You didn't answer my letter! I was worried, I thought someone had read it! Or worse, that you'd..."
"Draco..." she said, realising what his presence implied. "You came to London... You came all this way... To check on me?"
She looked at him, hoping to see an answer to her question in his stormy grey eyes. He sighed and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. He was troubled, it wasn't like him. He avoided her gaze to answer:
"Well, yeah."
Hermione's heart seemed to explode with joy. In one hasty movement, she threw herself on top of him and wrapped her arms around his neck to hug him. The minty scent clung to his clothes: she inhaled sharply, as if to reassure herself that it was really him. She pressed her face to his chest and smiled.
Draco froze at first, but reacted very quickly and put his arms around Hermione's waist to hug her as well. They'd never really done that before and she could tell it wasn't something he did very often. But she got the distinct impression that the anger he was feeling evaporated in their embrace. He held her close, and she felt his cheek on the top of her head, as if he could smell her hair. They held each other for long seconds.
She'd never had this kind of embrace with anyone before. It was different from Harry's: where Draco's hands touched her hips, her skin burned with delight.
Hermione pushed aside everything she was supposed to feel when she saw Malfoy and concentrated instead on how she felt when she saw Draco.
When she pulled away from him, the boy's grey pupils were no longer cold: they were dilated and he was smiling.
"I can't believe you're here!" she exclaimed. "My God, it's so... Draco, how can you be here? How did you even get here?"
"Before I answer your question, would you mind answering mine?"
"Of course." she replied hastily.
"Why didn't you answer my letter?" he asked.
"Oh, Draco, I'm so sorry!" cried Hermione, realising at that moment how worried he was. "I got your letter yesterday morning, and I spent the day with my parents, and I went to Henley-on-Thames to stay with family friends, and I was going to write to you on the way back, but I fell asleep in the car, and my father carried me to bed, and I couldn't write to you... But I replied this morning, I gave the letter to Ebony as soon as I finished and asked him to hurry up so you wouldn't worry..."
She watched anxiously at Draco's reaction, which showed nothing but deep relief. The idea that he might have been worried about her was both unthinkable and terribly pleasing.
"Merlin, Granger..." Draco said with an exasperated sigh. "You could have at least sent me something, a note, something... I thought my mother had intercepted the letter... I was worried sick!"
"I'm sorry." she said sincerely. "I'm sorry I worried you. I just didn't have time, but I know you were... waiting for my answer..."
She thought back to the words she had unintentionally imprinted on her brain "Hermione, does this mean we can no longer write to each other?" and bit her lip as she imagined Draco, overwhelmed and alone in his Manor. Draco's eyes suddenly became a little sad:
"So it's true, then? You're really going to the Weasleys' at the end of the week?" he asked in a small voice.
"Yes... I'm leaving on Sunday." she said apologetically. "I'm sorry, Draco. I know you were counting on our letters."
He nodded without speaking, his eyes blank. She hated knowing she was causing him so much pain. She wanted to take him back into her arms and use their contact to convey her apology.
Seeing his reaction, she hesitantly put her hand on his arm:
"I am very sorry. If I could, I would have written back, I promise. Your letters are as important to you as they are to me..."
He laughed bitterly.
"No, I don't think so." he murmured.
"But you're here now!" she said more cheerfully. "You're here, in London, I can't believe it! How did you even get here?"
Draco's pained face came alive with a spark of pride.
"I came on my own." he said.
"On your own? But your parents..."
"Obviously don't know I'm here." he explained. "My mother's gone for the day and my father's still... "on business." I took advantage of her absence to get away for a few hours and find you. I wanted to check on you."
Hermione hurried to ask him all the questions that came to mind: How had he come? By what means? With whose help? With what money?
Instead of sitting on the bench she had occupied with Danny, they decided to take a walk in the park. Hermione's adrenaline from seeing Draco still hadn't worn off and she was desperate to use that energy up by walking. So Draco told her about his trip through Hampstead Heath: they took a path and walked around the whole park.
They paid no attention to what was going on around them, too caught up in their own bubble to notice. Draco told her in detail about the plan he had hatched the day before and his vision of Muggle London. Hermione couldn't help but laugh at his story. As he spoke, she continued to stare at him, still unsure that she was not dreaming. Draco Malfoy in her childhood playground... The two images couldn't quite overlap.
"How did Pansy react when you told her you were coming?" asked Hermione when he had finished telling her about his train journey.
"I didn't tell anyone." he replied.
"What? No one?" she wondered.
"No one would have understood. Even Blaise would have tried to stop me. I don't know if you realise this, Granger, but I risked a lot to come here today."
He said this in a light tone, but the sentence touched Hermione. He had planned ahead, despite the disastrous consequences it could have. She wanted to thank him again, but she didn't want to dampen the mood, so she simply took his arm and hugged it to her, still walking. He said nothing, just moved closer to her as if this was something they did every day.
"So what did you tell them to justify your absence?" asked Hermione.
"Nothing in particular. Blaise and Theo have gone to Italy today for Blaise's mother's wedding, and Pansy is hosting her cousin Rodolphus at her house, so no one was worried about where I was today." he said dully.
"Oh. And when are Blaise and Theodore due back?"
"In a week. I don't know what I'm going to do in the meantime..."
"Don't you want to go to Pansy's?" she offered.
"No." he replied with a sigh. "She will be with Rodolphus. I've known him since I was a child and I've never liked him very much. He lives in the States and has only been here a few times, but each time I avoid being around him."
Hermione felt a small pang of sadness at the thought of Draco being alone for a week in the Manor he hated so much. Going to the Burrow now seemed very selfish of her: two homely houses in one summer when he had no right to the comfort of his own home.
Shaking his head, Draco changed the subject:
"I'd forgotten how much I talk when I'm with you. I confide in you more than anyone else." he admitted in a low voice.
"It's called being friends, Draco."
"I'm friends with Pansy, but I never talk that much." he objected, giving her an amused sideways glance. "I think you're being particularly curious, Granger. It's my turn to ask you a question."
"I'm listening."
"Who is this Danny?" he asked immediately, as if he'd been holding back the question all along. "I know you write him letters, I've seen them in the Library, but you've never wanted to tell me who he is."
"And I'm the one who's too curious?" she asked without looking at him.
"Just asking." he replied. "Is it someone in your family?"
"No." she said, and felt Draco's arm tighten a little against hers. "It's my neighbour."
"You write letters to your neighbour?" he asked, full of sarcasm.
"Yes, he's my oldest friend. I was in the same class as him in primary school, and his parents are friends of mine, so we're pretty close."
"But he's a Muggle." he said in surprise.
"If I stopped talking to Muggles because they were Muggles, I wouldn't have any parents." she countered, and Draco was forced to nod.
"I see. And how long has he been in love with you?" asked Draco.
Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and quickly removed her arm from the boy's.
"Excuse me?!" she cried in horror.
"Since when is this Danny boy in love with you?" repeated Draco, without a trace of laughter or anger on his face.
"Danny's not... Danny's not in love with me!" exclaimed Hermione, eliciting a confused look from a passer-by.
"Oh, give me a break." he replied, rolling his eyes. ""Mimi"?"
"It's a childhood nickname!" exclaimed Hermione. "It's what my parents call me, and he repeats it to annoy me, he... ... Why are you so convinced that all the boys around me are in love with me?!"
"I don't think so." he said calmly. He continued walking, taking Hermione's arm again and wrapping it around his own. "I don't think Potter's in love with you. Or the Weasley twins, or Snape, or Lupin, or Hagrid..."
"Yuck, Draco!"
"I'm just saying Weasley is, and Longbottom, and Krum, and that Hufflepuff." he said, making a little face as he said each name.
"What Hufflepuff?" repeated Hermione in disbelief.
""Danny."" he said, imitating a wispy voice, presumably her own.
"You're being childish." Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
"And you're naive if you think those boys don't have feelings for you." Draco retorted.
"Neville and Viktor, I can conceive." she said, staring down at the ground to keep from blushing. "But Danny, absolutely not, he's my childhood friend, there's never been any ambiguity between us..."
"You're forgetting someone." Draco pointed out with a voice full of reproach.
Hermione sighed loudly.
"I don't want to talk about Ron."
They walked on, Hermione preferring to change the subject. Draco was here, she wanted to enjoy his company instead of arguing in the middle of the park.
"You never told me if you used the sheet music I gave you for your birthday."
Draco had the shadow of a smile on his face, probably because he realised she wanted to talk about something else, but he answered anyway:
"Actually, I used them yesterday. I played the first one, La Lettre à Elise. My mother was amazed."
"Your mother?"
"Yes. She heard me playing and came down to hear me. It's quite rare that I use the piano room anymore."
"The piano room?! You have a room just for your piano? God, I'll never get used to the fact that you have a Manor."
"I don't have a Manor, my parents do." he corrected fervently. "And yes, I have a room with a piano, that's where I learned to play, with Pansy and our private teacher."
"I would dream of having a piano in my house." Hermione said with a sigh.
"You don't have one?" he asked, genuinely surprised.
"No, I had to go to music school to play it. I don't have a place for it at home."
They turned the corner of the path and found themselves near the lake that covered the left side of the park. A cheerful little tune was tinkling beside them, and when Hermione saw where it was coming from, she exclaimed:
"Oh, an ice cream van!"
She pointed to the small travelling van that served ice cream. Draco looked at it like an animal watching a wild predator.
"Come on!" she called.
She stepped forward before Draco could object. Still holding each other's arms, he was forced to go too. They stood in front of the van.
"What's the matter with you? You look like you've never had ice cream before." she said with a laugh when she saw his frightened face.
"I've never had Muggle ice cream." he said, whispering so the others wouldn't hear.
"Oh." she said, not realising there could be a difference. "It's simple, you choose one or two flavours and put them on a cone. All you have to do is listen to my order and do what I do, all right?"
He nodded and the lady in front of them left with her ice cream.
"Hello!" greeted the ice-cream man. "What would you like today?"
"Good morning! I'll have... Blackcurrant and pistachio." Hermione chose.
"Very well, and for you?"
Draco gave Hermione a panicked little look, glanced at the flavours spread out on the counter and stammered:
"Um... Coffee and mint, please."
The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow in surprise, but complied. Hermione almost burst out laughing.
When the man handed them their two cones, Hermione reached into her pocket, but Draco stopped her:
"Wait, I can pay."
He held out a few coins and collected his change as Hermione looked on in disbelief. Draco Malfoy paying with Muggle money was definitely an image she thought she would never see in her life. She thanked him and he waved his hand as if to say "it's nothing."
They retrieved their cone and Hermione hurried to lick off the blackcurrant before it dripped.
"You'd better hurry, the ice cream's melting!" she warned.
A lady gave them a strange look when she heard Hermione give such advice to a boy of that age, but Draco didn't notice: he was too busy trying to eat his ice cream in a dignified manner.
"Oh, you can't." Hermione said with a laugh. "Muggle ice cream has to be eaten by getting it all over you, that's the law of ice cream."
He gave her an outraged look.
"I have to stain my clothes?!"
Hermione took her seat on the grass. Draco looked down at her, uncomprehending.
"I think it's inevitable, yes." she announced in a falsely serious tone.
Draco looked at the grass, his lip raised in disgust, before giving in and sitting down on the ground.
"Your ice cream is dripping." Hermione said.
"What? Oh!"
Hermione licked the blackcurrant off her ice cream. He watched in surprise, then copied the gesture and took a sip of coffee before attacking the mint. Immediately his face contorted:
"Yuck, that's disgusting!" he cried, his usual accent so out of place with the exclamation that Hermione burst out laughing.
"No, mint and coffee don't mix. Take one at a time."
"At Fortescue's, ice cream flavours always goes well together. There's more choice. And they don't melt. And they don't stain clothes." he listed as he hurried to eat his ice cream before it dripped again.
"Maybe, but don't you think these are tastier?" she objected.
He shrugged, but Hermione was sure he did think they were better, because he ate them with an enthusiasm he'd never shown before, except maybe for the chocolate Easter egg.
"I've never had blackcurrant ice cream before." he said after a few minutes of tasting. "Is it any good?"
"Here, try it." Hermione swapped their two cones and attacked Draco's coffee scoop.
He watched her in amazement.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing." he said, tasting the blackcurrant in Hermione's ice cream. His eyes rounded slightly. "Oh, that's... delicious."
"Do you want to keep mine?"
"No, it's yours."
"You paid for it, you have every right. Thank you again, by the way."
"My pleasure. The pistachio is really good. The mix is perfect." he said, alternating the two flavours. Then he looked around and laughed. "Merlin, I never thought I'd be doing this."
"Eating ice cream?" asked Hermione.
"Eating Muggle ice cream, in a Muggle park, surrounded by Muggles..."
"Is it that different?" she asked, looking around at the park as it spread out in front of her.
"You can't even imagine." Draco said. "Just sitting on the ground and eating. My mother would kill me if she saw me sitting on the grass. I've always eaten at a table. And the dripping ice cream? I've never seen that, I've only ever eaten ice cream that doesn't melt."
"That's less fun." Hermione replied, just as a drop of mint ice cream fell on her jeans. "See, a stain!"
Draco chuckled and swapped the ice cream for another mint. Hermione smiled as she watched him. It was such an un-Draco gesture. Seeing him in such a familiar place was still so surprising.
"Do you remember, in second year, when you asked me if I'd ever seen any Muggles?" he asked suddenly, his face still turned towards the park in front of them.
"Er... No." she replied earnestly.
"We were at the Owlery. We had a lot of conversations at the Owlery before we became friends, now that I think about it." he realised, raising his eyebrows. "I had probably just insulted you and reminded you of your origins, stupid as I was. And you asked me if I'd ever seen a Muggle in my life, or if I'd just been lulled by my parents' prejudices."
"That sounds vaguely familiar." Hermione said in a whisper, her head buried in the memories.
"You wanted to write a letter to your parents and you asked me if the grey owl you'd chosen looked like a pigeon." he said. "And then you left. And I stood in the Owlery for a long time, wondering how you'd got your aim so right."
Hermione turned to him, stunned.
"You've never seen a Muggle before?"
"I've seen them, of course. At the station, or in a few places where my parents couldn't avoid them." Draco explained, continuing to eat his ice cream as elegantly as possible. "But I'd never spoken to any of them. I had no idea about any of this." He points to the green space in front of them. "I didn't know how much they were like me. And so different at the same time."
"What do you mean, different?"
"I don't know... Their manners?" said Draco. "Everyone sitting on the floor, people playing, people running, children wading in the fountain!"
Hermione laughed a little when she heard this list. These were things she considered perfectly normal, it was funny to hear Draco wondering like that.
"But apart from that, they're just like wizards!" he continued, looking at some children a little further on. "They walk the same, they talk the same, they feel the same..."
"Who did you talk to?" asked Hermione, curious about his first interactions.
"The man who sold the train tickets, a woman who asked me if I was lost and... your mother."
Hermione choked on her pistachio scoop.
"What?!"
"Your mother." Draco repeated with a broad grin as he watched her reaction. "She's the one who told me where to find you."
"My mum... My mum saw you?! Did you ask her where I was?"
"No, I didn't ask her. I was just outside your house, which I recognised from your description of the bench where you were reading. Your favourite place in the world." Draco explained with a smile. "I used your letter to find out where it was, and when I got there, I knew it was your house. And just then a woman came out... It wasn't hard to work out that she was part of your family. You look very much alike."
Hermione was too stunned by this new information to reply.
"She understood that we knew each other because she was the one who showed me the way to the park. I didn't tell her, I don't know how she knew. I guess my clothes gave me away, I didn't quite manage to dress like a Muggle. Another difference with them."
Hermione hadn't even thought to ask Draco how he knew exactly where to find her. The possibility that he might have met her mother had never occurred to her.
"Oh." she managed to say simply.
"Don't worry, I didn't tell her who I was." he said as he finished his ice cream. "I know you didn't tell them about me and our letters, and I understand. Your pistachio is melting."
Hermione felt the ice cream on her fingers and licked them absentmindedly.
"Maybe she did recognise you." she admitted. "She knows you."
"What do you mean?" Draco asked with a frown.
"Well, do you remember when your father fought with Ron's father at Flourish and Blotts? My parents were there. They have vivid memories of that day. It was the day I explained to them the prejudice some wizarding families had against Muggles."
Draco turned his head towards her, his eyebrows still furrowed and much less enthusiastic.
"Oh. I see." he said pitifully.
"It was a long time ago and they were far from the scene, but my mother might have recognised your blonde hair. Anyway, I don't think they hold it against you, or she wouldn't have led the way to find me."
"I'm sorry." Draco said quietly.
"You don't have to apologise, you haven't done anything wrong." she said resolutely.
They ate their ice cream cones in silence. Hermione looked out over the park in the colours of summer. She could hear the cries of joy from the children playing a little further on. She rested her elbows on the grass and half lay down to enjoy the magnificent view.
Draco ate his ice cream without saying a word, then sat back down on the grass, a bit too stiffly.
He spoke again in a whisper:
"Yes, I did."
"What?" she asked, not knowing what he was talking about.
He turned to face her, his grey eyes as determined as ever.
"I have done something wrong. Granger, I know I've told you this before, but I want to do it officially again. I'm sorry, I really am. I'm sorry for saying all those horrible things to you before, for insulting you. I hate that you're going through all this because of me. I know that's not much of an apology, but now that I've seen... Now that I've seen what the Muggle world is really like, I realise how stupid and mean everything I've said to you has been."
Hermione smiled a little at this admission. Without really knowing why, she was surprisingly moved. It mended an inner wound that had been struggling to heal for a long time, somewhere in her heart.
"Draco..."
"Wait, let me finish." he said, taking her hands to stop her. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, that I've hurt you too many times. Merlin, I don't even deserve to be able to speak to you now. I took advantage of your kindness and innocence and used it to hurt you. I'm sorry, Hermione, I really am. I've never been so sorry. And you have every right to hate me, and yet you spend all day with me, and you write me letters, and I don't know what I've done to deserve your attention, but I want to thank you and ask you to forgive me. I know that rejecting you this year has hurt you. When I called you a..."
"Let's not talk about it anymore, Draco." Hermione cut in. "You said all the right things. Don't blame yourself anymore. I forgive you, Draco, for everything. I told you I needed some time before I could be sure you wouldn't hurt me again." she smiled. "I don't blame you anymore. You're completely forgiven."
Draco let out a sigh but didn't let go of Hermione's hands. Draco's palms were cool, which felt good on this hot summer day. Hermione ran her thumb over the back of Draco's hand in an automatic gesture of comfort, and he looked at their joined hands thoughtfully.
"I don't know if I deserve to be forgiven." he said quietly, his eyes still on their entwined hands. "Merlin knows I'll probably ask you for another chance after I've ruined everything again. But I'm relieved to have your forgiveness because I have something to tell you, Granger. And I need you to listen to me without interrupting."
Hermione gave him a confused look. She stifled the questions that threatened to fly and waited patiently for him to speak.
Draco took a deep breath and then locked his unnaturally burning grey eyes in hers, more determined than ever.
"Granger, I have something to tell you." he repeated softly. "I've known it for some time, and I've tried everything to stop it, but I couldn't control it. I'm going to tell you, but I don't want you to answer me, please. I don't want you to ask me questions or tell me anything, I just need to tell you so that you know how I feel."
"What are you talking about, Draco?" she asked, completely lost.
He took another breath and looked at her face for a few seconds before saying:
"Granger, I'm in love with you."