A/n: Not going to lie, I had a really hard time with this chapter trying to get the flow right but I think I finally got them where I want them. Plus I think many of us (including me) have been waiting a while for this chapter.
And many thanks to everyone who has left reviews so far! I love hearing your thoughts and praises :)
October 6, 1998 - 7:24 AM
"The rest of your evening went well, I take it?" Ginny prompted nonchalantly as she sipped on her tea.
Hermione swallowed the last of her pumpkin muffin. "Why do you ask?" She prompted, hoping she wouldn't regret asking as she swept the crumbs from her mouth with a clean napkin.
Ginny shrugged, appearing to be oblivious. Though the glint in her eyes told Hermione otherwise. "You seem to be in good spirits today, is all."
Hermione opened her mouth, ready to attest when something else caught her attention.
A glimpse of bright, blond hair projected from the table Slytherin students typically occupied on the other side of the room. Between the heads of Blaise and Theo — who were busy chattering away — sat Malfoy, amused at their antics as he stood from the table.
To say she hadn't noticed his absence at breakfast over the past few weeks would be a lie. Usually the other two would stop by the Gryffindor table to bear brief greetings prior to taking their usual spots at their table. They hadn't done so this morning and now she saw why. This time, they had their third companion in tow and it looked like they had been there for a while. Given the poor mood he had reportedly been in the last two weeks, this was a considerable improvement.
He straightened his robes while he prepared to leave. As if he felt her gaze, Malfoy paused halfway while packing his bag and looked up to meet her stare.
This time, she didn't look away. Instead, she blinked at him. Twice.
Much to her surprise, his lips twitched upwards as he gave her a curt nod in greeting before turning to make his exit from the Great Hall. Speechless, Hermione turned back to Ginny, whose expression was nothing short of smug.
"Well?" She said expectantly.
Hermione cleared her throat. "Yes...my evening went well."
"Good." Ginny said simply, as she resumed to sip from her tea with a satisfied grin.
October 10, 1998 - 1:36 AM
.
.
.
Hermione couldn't remember how she got here.
Taking in her surroundings, she recognized it to be the dark corridors of Grimmauld Place once her eyesight settled. She walked on, entranced by an invisible pull. Like a magnetic force compelling her to leave the warmth behind and press onward but as she progressed, the atmosphere shifted.
Gone were the lit candles and soft, inviting bed and the overwhelming warmth.
Darkness encapsulated her rendering her practically blind.
She couldn't see anything in front of her.
Another thing that she couldn't shake off...
It was cold.
Too cold.
All she could focus on was the light tugging on her entire body. Persistently pulling on her.
So she did the first thing that came to mind.
She ran.
Despite her inability to see, she trusted she was headed to where she needed to be as the invisible force led her through the darkness.
Any noises were muffled by the loud pulsing in her ears.
Her heart was racing.
Her veins pumped with adrenaline.
She needed to get away.
To safety.
Inhale.
Exhale.
In.
Out.
She reminded herself that she couldn't break down.
She couldn't panic.
Not now.
After what felt like a millennium, she noticed there was a small amount of light visible.
The corridor was still dark but she was able to make out large, grand portraits on the walls being blurred together as she blew past them.
Mesmerized by their imposing characteristic, she found herself staring at each one she passed.
Without looking in front of her, she came to an abrupt halt when she hit a solid object—
.
.
.
Hermione's eyes flew wide open.
She jerked up in her bed, chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath. Forcing her mind from empty thoughts and unpleasant sensations, she grabbed her watch from her nightstand to check the time.
2:38 AM
She stared at the time in horror and tossed her watch back on the nightstand before throwing herself back onto her bed in exhaustion.
An hour passed and she was still wide awake.
Once she came to the conclusion that she wouldn't be getting more sleep tonight, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood to extract fresh robes from her trunk in the dark. All while being careful not to wake anyone. She quickly dressed and grabbed her bag before making her way out of the dorms.
After years of sneaking around the castle with Harry and Ron, she had the lesser travelled pathways memorized like the back of her hand. She was fully aware wandering about the halls this late was a risky choice but she figured she may as well spend the rest of the evening productive rather than tossing and turning around aimlessly in bed.
Using light footwork and swift movements, she hustled through seemingly endless stairways and corridors until she reached her destination in record timing. At the door, Hermione murmured an incantation and pushed it open with ease. Once on the other side, she gently shut it closed and locked it with a resounding click.
"Roaming about the halls at this late hour?" Came a sneer from behind.
Startled, Hermione gasped sharply and pivoted to brace herself against the frame of the door, dropping her bag in the process. Her alert eyes softened slightly when they landed on the other occupant in the room.
"Malfoy." Hermione exhaled with difficulty, her heart still pounding forcefully in her chest. "What are you doing here?"
"I asked first." He quipped, seemingly unfazed by her disheveled composure.
"I couldn't sleep." She said, almost defensively as she collected her bag from the floor and walked over to where he sat, conveniently situated as far away from the potion as physically possible.
"So you decided to look for trouble in the dead of night, instead. How fitting." He contributed dryly as he elegantly flipped a page.
"And what of yourself?" She countered dubiously.
He glanced down at himself as if to prove his point. With a book in hand, he was seated comfortably on a lounge she had transfigured from an old lamp several days ago. His legs were stretched out before him, only crossing at the ankle as his long body nearly took up the whole sectional.
"I hardly think reading in solitude constitutes as suspicious behavior." He drawled, watching her warily as she approached him. Coming to an abrupt halt at the lounge, she glared pointedly at him.
Or more specifically; at his feet.
"Problem with dragon leather?" He jeered.
"None, actually. I do, however, have a problem with you taking up the entire lounge," she retorted smartly, lightly tapping the side of his shoe. "Do you mind?"
"As a matter of fact—" he began what was sure to be a witty comment. Huffing, she nodded her head to the side in a jerking motion. He let out a sound of surprise when all of a sudden, his entire figure was forced to rotate so that his legs swung over the side of the lounge, freeing up two whole spaces on the lounge.
He watched her in disbelief as she sat down beside him on the newly vacated cushions.
"You'd be surprised how often I had to do that to Harry and Ron." Hermione explained earnestly.
"I can't believe this—" he grumbled scornfully.
Hermione glanced at him sharply while extracting her newest book from her bag. "Need I remind you, I was the one who transfigured this lounge for us to share."
His mouth twisted up at her as he shifted into a more comfortable position to accommodate for the involuntary predicament. Within minutes, they settled into their respective books with their potion bubbling lightly in the background.
Several chapters later, Hermione had reached a good stopping point. She marked her spot and let her eyes extract her from the realm of fantasy, drifting up to Malfoy who was now in her line of sight. Heavy concentration was embedded upon his features as his eyes trailed lightly over the pages. Her eyes fell to the book he held, grazing over the unfamiliar title and finding herself unable to read it. Scrunching her vision to focus on the words, it appeared to be in a different language.
"What's that you're reading?" She heard herself ask.
"You can see the title, can't you?" He responded coolly, raising an eyebrow at her.
"I see it but I can't read it. Mind translating for me?" She asked sweetly, her voice dripping with annoyance.
He exhaled, irritated. "Escape from Evergreen. And before you begin a slew of unnecessary questions, it is written entirely in French—"
"You can read French," she repeated, impressed.
"I can," he sniffed. "My family have — well, had — several close ties in France. They deemed it necessary for me to learn at a young age."
"And here I thought your brain was incapable of anything besides conjuring sarcasm and misery." She said, struggling not to laugh at the appalled look on his face and failing miserably. "I've been enjoying a lovely book, myself," she offered as an opportunity for intellectual conversation.
"Oh?"
She nodded in excitement, thrilled at the prospect of sharing her passion with someone who had a similar fancy for literature. "Have you read the 'Black Roses' series by A. Penmenski?"
"Oh." He scrunched his nose at the name.
"What is it?"
"Can't say I'm an advocate of his work. His novels are redundant and romanticized," he stated flatly, seemingly dismissive as he addressed her head-on. "Especially the 'Black Roses' series," he emphasized.
Astonished, she blinked at him. "How...how could you say such a thing?"
"Don't get me started on the latest book he released." His eyes gleamed with delight at her state of distress.
"So you've read it then." She was only halfway through the last book but even she, along with the majority of the population, felt it was his best work yet. No questions asked.
"Unfortunately, yes—" he started off in that derisive tone Hermione was beginning to associate as his default. "It was an absolute waste of time."
Hermione gaped at him, feeling betrayed somehow.
"Think of all the loose ends that would have been left untouched without the final book! Not to mention the character development that allows for the redemption of not one but two of the most tragic characters—"
"Without the final book, it would have been a decent series." He abruptly cut her off.
"'Would have been?!' She exclaimed, flabbergasted. "It's one of the most appreciated series of all time! A well-written, established classic—!"
"Well-written? Debatable. A classic? Perhaps it is officially, though my judgement remains. They are overrated works of literature. Nothing more. Nothing less." He injected boorishly.
"Care to enlighten me on how you came to that conclusion?"
He shrugged his shoulders absentmindedly, his eyes glinting with mischief at her manic. "It's just another love story using the two characters he knew would receive the most sympathy. It's not original by any means. Even you can't deny its uninventive nature." He said, looking quite pleased with himself.
"It's unique in the mere fact that is not like any other love story. You've neglected to factor in the character development that occurs solely with the underlying conflicts that took place during their adolescence. Not to mention the unpredictability, the suspense, the allure of forbidden love—"
"It's a waste of time—" he repeated firmly.
"No it's not!" she debated. "It may not be completely essential to the original story line but—"
"Exactly. It's not essential. I don't understand why he had to make such a distasteful ending to the series. Everything prior was fine. Then he just had to go and ruin it with this half-arsed attempt to make money nearly a decade later."
She had no words. She opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, only being able to muster a meek, "I disagree."
He wasn't letting it down so easily. "That's it? No further arguments? Nothing to suggest that I'm wrong? Or that I'm pigheaded for believing such a thing?"
"There are plenty of other things factoring into your pigheadedness. You're entitled to your own opinion, misguided as it may be." She stated, deciding there was no point in dwelling on the topic any further. "It seems pointless to argue with someone with his head stuck so far up his own ego."
"Such foul language, Granger." He tutted.
"Matches perfectly with your poor taste in literature." she retorted, lacking any tones of animosity.
The corners of his lips quirked when she turned her nose up at him. He then closed his book and stood from the lounge and began putting on his robe.
"Offended you, have I?" she half joked with him, partially worried she overstepped and that he was leaving as a result.
Smirking, he shook his head. "Quite the contrary. But it's late and I think at least one of us should pay attention in class in the morning." Once he collected his items, he threw his bag over his shoulder.
He was almost out the door when she spoke up again.
"You never told me why you stayed late."
He stopped dead in his tracks.
She could already see his posture beginning to tense up and reacted quickly.
"I only want to make sure nothing went wrong with the potion, is all." She admitted truthfully.
He stood still for several moments, mulling over her words. "The potion was fine." He paused, considering. Then he continued, "I left and returned shortly before you arrived."
She stared at him curiously for he made no move to exit. It was like he expected her to ask him—
"Why?"
He threw her one last glance over his shoulder, allowing her to witness the unease in his eyes for the first time all evening.
"I couldn't sleep either."
October 15, 1998 - 9:38 PM
Her large brown eyes snapped up, widening with surprise as Malfoy flung open the door and used his body to slam it shut, frantically locking it.
She could tell he left straight from quidditch practice as he was currently donning the training gear. Her eyes trailed along his figure while he was preoccupied with brushing a few errant hairs back into place and straightening out his disheveled appearance.
"You're looking well." She noted, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Your commentary isn't needed," he snapped harshly, slightly out of breath as he walked further into the room. "I didn't come here for a social visit."
"What are you doing here, then?" she questioned with an undertone of suspicion.
He paused.
Then he cleared his throat. "If you must know, I'm hiding."
"Hiding." She echoed suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at him. "Hiding from what—?"
Their heads jerked towards the door when a knock sounded from the other side.
"Draco?...are you in there?"
Astoria.
He cursed under his breath and she threw him a dirty look. "You are not dragging me into your romantic quarrels, Malfoy," she scowled.
"Just continue with what you were doing." He muttered before making his way over to the locked entrance.
Begrudgingly doing as he said, she kept her head down in a textbook in hopes following through will make her go away sooner. When he opened the door, she had to force herself from wincing once she heard Astoria's sickly voice riddled with concern for him come through.
"Draco, there you are. Are you alright? You left the pitch in a hurry."
"I didn't feel like talking to anyone. It's been a long day."
Hermione could tell by his current state of exhaustion that he wasn't lying.
"I shooed the other girls away. They won't be bothering you during practice anymore." She paused, likely expecting gratitude from him.
Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. There were many witches who liked to stack themselves at the path between the pitch and the boy's locker room. Several have dubbed this group as the quidditch fan club. While she could admit most of the current wizards at Hogwarts have aged well, she knew who they were really coming out for.
She wasn't blind.
He said nothing in response so Astoria continued. "I wanted to talk to you about our last meeting wit—what is she doing here?" Her eyes widened slightly. Hermione would have guessed she saw her past Malfoy's shoulder. Not like she would know as she kept her head down as instructed.
"Astoria—" he started warningly.
"You aren't supposed to be here with her," she heard her hiss. "What will Madame Beaudoux think when she hears that you've been spending your evenings with another woman?" she nearly shrieked, not noticing Hermione lifting her head and flashing her eyes dangerously at her.
"The dramatics aren't necessary, Astoria. We can discuss this tomorrow—"
"Draco, I'm not letting you be aloof about this."
"I'm not trying to be aloof," he tried to reassure her. "It's late, I've had a rather long day and there are other things I need to get done tonight—"
Something Hermione gained from the years of being the constant target of his hate was the ability to recognize the signs when he was cross by means of provoking; the prominent vein in his temple that pulsed. When his voice dropped to acquire a harsh bite. When his slightly slumped posture shifted to accommodate his full, towering height.
With those factors in mind, she knew his patience was wearing thinner by the minute. The last thing she needed was for the situation to escalate and cause their potion to become unstable.
"We can't go into this marriage if we have a scandal like this hovering over our shoulders—"Astoria continued to berate, seemingly unaware.
When she saw the potion rumble and darken slightly in color as she continued, she knew she had to intervene.
"I hope you pardon my intrusion on this wondrous display of affairs—" Hermione kept her focus on the potion as she took on a tone of nonchalance, using it as a guide to keep her emotions even and to ensure she wasn't causing any drastic shifts. That meant she had to keep her head down but she didn't have to look up to know she had captured their full, undivided attention.
"—I will have you know Malfoy and I are perfectly capable of being professional and I see absolutely no reason why you feel it is necessary to discuss this at the present moment." She paused, the ghost of a smirk presenting itself as she decided to try a new card. "Unless...it is because you don't trust him." She finished with a tone of finality.
She took the risk and looked up to find Malfoy staring at her in awe and Astoria completely stunned into speechlessness.
"How—how dare you." She began to hiss.
"How dare you—" Hermione interrupted fluidly, pointing her ladle at her like a mother scolding her child. "You come intruding in my sanctum where I am brewing a potion for academic purposes and you're here spewing off vile and heinous accusations about my partner and I; my partner, who I know would rather be anywhere else than spend an entire evening with me. So unless you plan on getting your hands dirty by means of extracting blood from a toad, I highly suggest you leave us to it."
With an over-dramatized scoff, Astoria turned her heel and walked off.
Wordlessly, Malfoy closed the door as Hermione resumed organizing their workstation as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired.
"The potion doesn't call for toad's blood." She heard him say.
"Did you want to run and tell her that?"
After a moment's beat, he chuckled lightly. She didn't know which part she wanted to dwell on more; the fact that for the first time in her life, she was successful at conjuring and delivering a lie, or the full blown wonderment and complacency displayed on Malfoy's face. She found it was easier to decipher the latter as she knew there was no mistaking it this time.
He was thoroughly impressed.
November 4, 1998 - 7:38 PM
Overall, the past few weeks have been peaceful.
So peaceful, Hermione would dare call them some of the best weeks she's had at school to date — excluding those involving exams of any sort. Even when she took her O.W.L.s. No impending threats had occurred, her grades were beyond satisfactory — as expected — and best of all, their potion was prospering without any major issues.
Subsequently, her encounters with Malfoy improved as well.
In the weeks that followed the incident with Astoria, she seemed to have gained a new sense of respect from him. He started making appearances on a few of the nights she was scheduled to watch over their potion. Halfway through the night, he would arrive and seat himself on the lounge to study or complete homework. Sometimes without saying a single word. She didn't dare question it or disturb him, knowing how peculiar she was with her own study habits.
Most nights, they kept to themselves. Other nights, they would engage in small banter. Even throwing the occasional jab at each other without having to extract their wands and that was more than she could ask for.
It seemed her year had finally taken a turn for the better. Even her social life was well maintained with old friends and new, even old enemies turned into...something else. She even managed to keep in touch with Harry regularly. All of these factors almost caused her to forget about her unresolved issues with Ron.
Almost.
Seemingly out of nowhere, she received a letter from him this morning, marking the first time she had heard from him since their parting at King's Cross. Fast forward to the current moment where she sat in the middle of study hall with Ginny.
Instead of completing next week's assignments or reading the novel she selected earlier this week for leisure, her mind had decisively set on reciting the words from his letter over and over:
Hermione,
I hope you've been doing well. I'll be at the Hog's Inn with some coworkers if you want to meet me there.
Best, Ron
Truth be told, she would have thought it was fake if his handwriting weren't so easily distinguishable. Ever since she opened his letter, her cognitive functions had been on overdrive, rendering her incapable of focusing on anything else all day. This only added to her frustrations, knowing she would have to make up for her mental absence during classes at some point.
"Are you going?" Ginny asked, fully aware of where her mind was.
"I don't know. This Saturday is my turn to watch the potion—"
"I'm sure Blondie wouldn't mind taking over for a night," she paused, looking past her shoulder. "but you probably don't want to ask him tonight."
That caught Hermione's attention. "Why do you say that?"
"See for yourself." Ginny nodded in a direction behind her. Hermione turned her head to see Malfoy seated with Blaise and Theo on the other side of the room. The former had a book open in his lap while the latter pair appeared to be interrogating him. It seemed whatever the subject matter was, it wasn't a conversation he wanted to partake in.
"What do you think they're talking about?" Ginny asked, catching sight of Malfoy slamming his book shut and standing in a subdued rage.
"How should I know? It's not any of my business." She turned back around, refusing to let herself get caught up in any more of his disputes. Especially when she was undergoing her own personal bedlam.
"Considering how much time you've been spending together, I think it is." She stated sternly before her expression turned into a panicked one. "Quick, act natural." Ginny whispered hurriedly as she stuck her head into her book.
Hermione frowned at her. "What's the matter with y—?" She froze when someone cleared their throat behind her.
"It's time. Are you ready to go?" The smooth voice acting as a mild sedative to her nerves.
Hermione nodded hesitantly, grabbing her bag as she stood to leave. "I'm ready." She responded, her voice unwavering. "I'll see you later, Ginny" she said to the redhead, who could only nod dumbfoundedly as they proceeded to make their exit out of study hall together.
The journey was quiet with him taking the lead and her trailing behind by a few feet. The silence proved to be an adversary contributing to their troubled minds. Hermione dreaded the moment they arrived, fully aware she was going to be forced to keep her emotions to a minimum for the next hour or so. She told herself it would be a short night and they should manage without any issues...right?
Once they reached the door, he made no sudden movements. Instead, he stayed perfectly still. Contemplating.
Then she stepped up to him.
"Are you alright?" She implored as he inhaled sharply and stiffened even further.
"I'm fine." He quipped promptly while gripping the doorknob tightly.
"Let's get this done."
It turned out diving in head first was not the best method of approach.
"Well this isn't good—"
"Really? You don't say—"
"Don't berate me, Granger—"
"It's not my fault you didn't neutralize it properly."
"There was nothing to neutralize. I didn't put in the powder—" he noted calmly.
"What?" Hermione shrieked. "What do you mean you haven't added the powder?"
"For fuck's sake," he groaned in exasperation. "I can't add anything. In case you haven't noticed Granger, our potion is on fire—"
"And if it's not because we altered the composition, what else could it be, I wonder." She could tell he didn't appreciate her accusatory tone.
"You're blaming me." He noted, emotionlessly.
"Because you know exactly why it's acting this way," she snapped, setting his eyes ablaze.
"You're right. I do—" he replied breezily, suddenly grabbing her wrist and yanking her from the room.
"Malfoy, the potion—" she flinched when he swiftly slammed the door shut behind them.
"The potion is better off without you adding fuel to the fire. Go on then," he instructed blankly as he crossed his arms, watching her expectantly.
"And what is it you're expecting me to do, exactly?" She asked slowly, mimicking his motion by crossing her own arms.
"Don't think I haven't noticed you sulking about all evening," Malfoy noted. "I want you to talk, Granger."
She gaped at him before huffing a harsh laugh. "You can't be serious."
He clenched his jaw. "Try me."
"Why?" she asked, disbelieving.
"We have to complete the second phase of the potion tonight."
"Is that all?" She retorted, unconvinced.
With a snide smirk, he replied. "I said I was going to try and tolerate you, didn't I?"
"Forgive me if I choose not to believe every word you say," she shot back defensively, expecting him to retract but he was unperturbed. Almost as if he expected her to exude such behavior.
"You're free to believe what you want, Granger. It's not like I'm in any position to fault you for it." He admitted dryly.
Malfoy's composed exterior was the necessary contrast to her tempered, unstable form. As her pride and anger began to dissipate with his words, the reality of the situation became clear to her. She was letting her frustrations take over, irrationalities surfacing. And true to his word, he refrained from unneeded remarks or side-handed comments. More than that, he was being patient with her.
"Malfoy, I—I didn't mean—" she only mildly stumbled with her words, discomfited for letting her emotions get out of hand.
"I'm going back inside." He stated firmly. "You can come inside if you've collected yourself. Otherwise, I will see you in the morning—"
As he turned to head back inside, he found himself unable to reach the door. Much to his surprise, Hermione had grabbed onto his arm to keep him from advancing any further.
And so he stayed put. Waiting.
"Ron sent me a letter this morning," she finally admitted. "It's the first time I've heard from him since we started school. I had been sending letters to both of them and gotten responses from Harry" She paused, considering her next words carefully. "I was mistaken. About Ron and I. When we finally had time to ourselves, we discovered that we weren't all that compatible."
He feigned an expression of shock, "Really? Whatever gave you that idea?"
She elbowed him, ignoring his grunt of discomfort.
"What did he say?" He asked as he rubbed his recently injured rib cage.
"He's going out with his coworkers in Hogsmeade this weekend. He wants me to meet him there."
He barked out a laugh, "What a coward."
"You're one to talk!" She bit her lip when the words fell out of her mouth, hoping he didn't react too negatively. Much to her shock, he simply shook his head and grinned smugly.
"Courage has never been my strong suit. He's a bloody Gryffindor for Merlin's sake. It's such a half-arsed attempt to reach out to you. He's doing it this way so you don't hex him into oblivion. Probably needs you to do his auror homework or something." He half-joked.
"Malfoy. I thought we agreed you weren't going to talk about them like that." She reminded, a tone of warning beginning to surface.
"Not my fault he's a predictable simpleton." he grumbled under his breath.
"What was that?" She asked hotly, placing her hands on her hips as an attempt to appear authoritative.
"Nothing." He responded briskly. "So what finally did it? Another argument in regards to your shockingly incompatible personalities?"
"We weren't arguing. We just couldn't come to an agreement."
Malfoy eyed her with amusement. "Is that not what an argument is?"
"Contrary to popular belief, there is a difference between an argument and disagreement." She chuckled lightly, "There was never any malice or bad blood between us," she continued, not noticing his composure shift briefly. "We simply stopped seeing eye-to-eye. Or perhaps we never did. Ron's always been an easy person. He knew what he wanted."
"And you didn't?"
"I knew I wanted more than just a title. I didn't want the fame and glamorous job I didn't feel I had truly earned. I was foolish for believing starting a relationship with him would solve everything. Like it would provide me with some form of closure. If anything, it made me realize there's a part of my life I'll never get back —" she trailed off.
"You wanted to feel something — anything. And the harder you tried to feel, the more pain it ended up causing you."
He spoke softly, yet she was able to hear every word. That was what she failed to convey to Ginny because she never knew how to put it in words like he just did.
She stared at him in awe. Then his eyes met hers.
Simultaneously, they looked down to where her hand was firmly latched onto his arm. She let go of him, feeling her cheeks heat and refusing to meet his gaze again.
He cleared his throat in discomfort. "We should get started." He proceeded to open the door and this time, she didn't stop him.
Once the door closed behind him, she let her thoughts drift away yet again. Tonight had shown their progression on another level beyond her expectations.
It was like they were seeing one another for the first time with an immediate understanding between them. With that simple fact, she accepted the unspoken truths they didn't dare touch for the time being.
On the other hand, she would be delighted if she never had to address the unanticipated fluttering in her chest.
The night progressed as originally planned. For the majority of it, they didn't speak outside of what was necessary; she recited instructions and kept the brew in motion as he prepped the few ingredients she listed. While in a trance induced by their relaxing ambiance, her mind began to drift again.
She hadn't felt this at peace with herself all day. Much to her surprise, it was all because of Malfoy, who had taken the time to listen to her and let her have the chance to vent. She looked past her shoulder to see him shuffle through various bottles as he searched for the next ingredient. He maintained his usual icy façade. Then she thought back to how tense he had been when he first approached her this evening. Despite his calm exterior, she knew deep inside there was a considerable amount of turbulence than he was willing to admit.
After practicing Quidditch with him and talking to Blaise a bit about their past, it may be worth it to talk to him. And I mean, really talk to him...
"What about you?" She blurted aloud as he found the bottle he had been searching for. He glanced over, silently asking for clarification so she continued. "You should talk about what's been bothering you."
"You're barking."
"No. I'm quite serious." She deadpanned.
"I don't think that will be necessary." He grunted as he opened the container of preserved butterfly wings.
"But—"
"I wanted you to talk because it was detrimental to our potion. Clearly, I'm fine."
She took in his icy façade as he drained the wings of their preserving fluid, fully aware as to why their potion hadn't been affected by his own inner turmoil.
"You're very skilled, Malfoy." She analyzed and he remained silent, continuing to pour the liquid down the sink. "I know you've been keeping your occulmency walls up this whole time."
He pursed his lips in response. "I hardly think this is an appropriate time. Not to mention it'll risk setting off the potion."
She threw him a grin. A grin she saved for moments when she was being knowingly clever.
"You've had to suppress your deepest thoughts and fears from a dark, powerful madman living in your own home." She saw, for a brief moment, his lips twitch upward. "I won't press and I won't antagonize you. I know you don't want to but it does feel better to talk about it."
He said nothing further when he finished straining the residual liquid, walked over to her and tossed the drained wings into the cauldron.
Midway through incorporating the added ingredient, Hermione could hear him taking deeper breaths than usual.
When he spoke next, his tone had been deadened, completely devoid of any emotion. "Since the school year began, Astoria and I have weekly mandatory meetings with the officiate. To say she hasn't been pleasant to deal with in the last few is an understatement."
"It isn't because of what I said, is it?" she asked tentatively, taking their encounter a few weeks ago into account.
He failed to conceal his grimace and she was positively horrified. Her tone drastically contrasting from the confident one she enforced all those weeks ago. "Oh Merlin, no—"
Her mortification only grew when he smirked triumphantly. "Not to worry, Granger. While I know she doesn't share my sentiment, I found your outburst to be quite the spectacle."
She plopped her head in her hands and groaned aloud when she heard him chuckle lowly in amusement. "Regardless, I apologize. My intentions were not to worsen the circumstances between you two. Nor damage any preexisting relationship I held with her."
He paused, considering her candor. "I appreciate your concerns, Granger but I should tell you she already had her predispositions regarding my working with you."
"Why? I already told her I didn't see you in that way—" she trailed off when he shook his head.
"It doesn't matter. However considerably insignificant the time we spend together may be, you are now a part of my daily life and that fact alone means you're a subject that constantly gets brought up in our meetings."
Hermione swallowed the lump on her throat his words created. She never would have expected this would become her life; a conflict in Draco Malfoy's love life because they were partners for a school assignment.
"What exactly goes into these meetings, if you don't mind my asking?" She implored curiously.
He sighed before answering, "In essence, it's an entire day devoted to discussing and practicing proper etiquette with our officiate. Mind you, these are things that we were already taught in our youth. Another portion of the day involves having one-on-one sessions with her where we talk about our day and how we integrate the other into it. The meetings usually conclude with what we plan to do in our future together."
It honestly seemed a bit excessive in her opinion. Instead of voicing it, she held back her tongue and stayed quiet and attentive.
"Traditionally, when Pureblooded witches and wizards marry, it's quite an ordeal. Especially when you have ones who come from old-fashioned families like ours," he explained. "I told her from the beginning that school was and should be, the main priority. She agreed at the time but now that we're a few months in, she's already gone ballistic, laying claims that I spend too much time with my friends and other witches to have any for her."
From the little exposure she had with Astoria and hearing her friends' experiences, she has noticed her demeanor change since she first encountered her on the train.
"What does your officiate have to say about her behavior?"
"Madame Beaudoux has always adored the Greengrass family." He added dully.
She waited for him to say the same for his family. But it never came.
Hermione held back from going off on a tangent regarding how unfair that whole situation was. Astoria had clearly changed since the process began. But how could she? Sure, their dynamic had changed but it was still delicate and new. While she had many questions regarding the process, the one she kept circling back to was how often was she brought up in these weekly meetings? Wait.
Weekly meetings.
"Malfoy, these meetings...do they happen to take place on Sundays?"
He didn't answer. To be fair, she didn't really need his confirmation to know she was correct in her assumptions.
She felt a pang of guilt for giving him grief for not eating or acting like he was too busy to give her the time of day. Now she understood. His alleged 'obligations' she never believed to exist were indeed very real.
"She cares about you." She offered after a moment's pause. At least that much she knew to be true.
She heard him exhale slowly before saying, "I know."
They didn't speak beyond that as they proceeded with the last additions for the evening.
Once finished, they cleared up their area and collected their belongings.
"When is he expecting you?" he asked suddenly, catching her off guard from packing the rest of her bag.
"Saturday evening."
He paused, sorting through a series of calculations in his head. "I can watch the potion if you'd like."
She gaped at him, floored by his generosity. "That's...awfully kind of you."
He grimaced at her choice of words. "Don't ever say that again."
November 7, 1998 - 11:44 PM
The Hogs Inn wasn't particularly known for its hospitality or its splendorous décor. Most of the time, it was crowded and dingy, perfect for anyone looking for a place to escape and drink their sorrows from the work week away.
Hermione glanced around, looking past stumbling and roaming figures for a familiar head of red in the filled, dark room.
"Well hello there—" A deep voice caught her off guard, causing her to jump in place. She spun around and found herself face to face with an unfamiliar, attractive face.
"Granger, right?" She tried not to grimace at the imposing character's usage of her surname. Not when she had become familiar to others close to her using it on a regular basis. Or really one person in particular—
"Yes, that's me." She answered hesitantly.
"Auror Jeremy Adams." He held out his hand invitingly. "I work closely with your friends, Aurors Potter and Weasley. Though I wouldn't mind getting on a first name basis." He smiled slyly when her cheeks reddened at his forwardness.
"Perhaps later," she clarified, eventually accepting his hand to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise. I'm ordering a round of Ogden's for my mates and I. Would you care for one?"
She prepared to decline as she was very well aware of the effects alcohol had on her.
"She'll pass, Adams. She's more of a butterbeer kind of gal—"
Months ago, that particular voice had the ability to make her stomach flip and her head spin. Whereas now, it made the veins in her body run cold. When she felt the vibrancy of rebellion begin to surface, she willingly let it take over.
Conjuring a fake smile, she beamed at the handsome auror in front of her, "Actually yes. I would love one."
Grinning enthusiastically, he winked at her. "Coming right up."
Without another word, he ducked away and headed straight for the bar. His company was quickly replaced with the wizard she had been in search of all evening. Aside from the guilt-ridden expression, he hadn't changed much in physical appearance. Though she couldn't say the same for his equanimity. She could tell the past few months had changed him, the stresses of auror training having taken their toll. Hermione didn't like to ponder on some of the things he had probably seen as Harry mentioned they were delving deeper into the more horrific crimes that were kept concealed. Things she knew he could have gone his entire life without seeing.
It was strange...seeing a person she had known nearly half her life while feeling like he was a complete stranger as he stood in front of her.
"Hey 'Mione," he greeted nervously with his hands deep in his pockets.
"Ronald." He grimaced at the iciness in her tone.
"So...how've you been?" He offered hesitantly.
"What do you think?" She snapped, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
Ron drew back, unsure of how to mediate her resentment towards him. "You look well," he tried.
"You can't be serious," she huffed angrily, glowering at him in disbelief. "It's been nearly two months, Ronald! Two months of ignoring my letters or any acknowledgement of my existence, all you can say is I look well?"
"I've been really busy—"
"And you couldn't have written a short response saying that? I would have understood."
The last of his restraint broke and he let the floodgates open. "What could I have said, Hermione? You were already upset with me. You would have thought I was making excuses."
Hermione bit back a furious retort, knowing he wasn't wrong in his assumptions.
"And it's not like I could tell you about work anyway—"
"You don't have to talk about your work. There are plenty of other things to discuss. Like your well-being or what you're eating for dinner. Anything. Harry's in the same situation as you and he managed."
"It's different," he blurted before retracting with regret.
At that, her eyes narrowed at him. "How is it different?"
He winced. "Well, for starters," he cleared his throat. "I didn't want to distract you from school."
"You'll have to do better than that—"
"Wait Hermione, hear me out." He clarified hastily. "After Harry and I left King's Cross, we talked about you. We felt like you deserved to have a school year to yourself without worrying about us. Me in particular. I'm sorry. I really am but I told myself that I wasn't going to be a distraction. I've held you back long enough," he admitted pitifully.
Hermione felt the pent up anger dissipate at his verbiage. "You really mean that."
"Of course I do. Granted, I didn't expect it to affect you as much as it did and I feel terrible. I'm sure Ginny's had her hands full substituting for both Harry and I." he threw her his lopsided grin that she used to be fond of.
Except her smile disappeared as quickly as it came when she realized his insinuations. He wasn't aware of the people she had befriended since the start of the year. She hadn't even mentioned it to Harry. The two of them had been spending the last few weeks digging into the lives of many death eaters. Some of which had familial ties to the people she got along with.
She was forced from her thoughts when Adams thrust a tray of shot glasses in front of her with a flirtatious smile. "Ogden's for the lady?"
Graciously, she took a random glass and thanked him.
He smiled earnestly at her, which she returned.
"What was that?" Ron asked, visibly agitated when Adams walked off to hand off the rest of the shots.
"What was what?" Feigning innocence as she swirled the brown liquid in her glass.
"You were flirting with him."
"I wasn't flirting with him. Either way, I don't think it's any of your concern." She countered defensively and with utmost hesitance, she took a sip of the whisky, wincing at the burn as it traveled down her throat. She only managed three sips before she had to put the glass down.
"You're supposed to drink the whole thing in one go." He contributed, bemused.
"I prefer to drink it this way." She stated, suddenly feeling a wave of bravery wash over her. "And I'll have you know, I've actually made some friends this year."
His eyebrows shot up. "Really?"
"Why is that such a shock?"
"I didn't expect you to reach out to people in your last year at Hogwarts, is all." He explained.
"Professor McGonagall is headmaster now. A significant change she encouraged was more interactions between houses. To make Hogwarts not feel as divided, so to speak." She took another sip. Oddly enough, the burn was becoming pleasant to her.
"Oh. That's not a bad idea. We've always got on well with other houses. It's not like you're befriending Slytherins or anything."
She winced, choosing to remain silent rather than attempt to lie.
He inhaled sharply in horror, "No. Mione, please tell me you haven't."
She quickly downed the rest of the liquid before answering. "What if I have? Times have changed, Ronald. And so have they."
"They're the bloody enemy—" he argued.
"They were the enemy." She tilted her glass at him for emphasis. She observed the empty glassware curiously, deciding she would make the most of her night while she had the chance. "Could I have another?" she asked aloud to the bartender, waving her glass in the air. She made a noise of appreciation when the glass was magically filled.
"This is serious, Hermione." Ron hissed under his breath. "Who have you been talking to?" He demanded.
She didn't know if it was his sudden invasiveness or the whisky, but she was not pleased in the slightest.
"I hardly think that's any of your business." She quipped while continuing to sip on her drink.
"Of course it's my business. You getting involved with them dangerous and I'm concerned for your safety if I'm honest—"
Her eyes shot open in disbelief. "My safety—?"
"They hate everything we stand for. They wanted people like you dead." He continued, ignoring her.
"How else do you expect them to act when they were raised to behave that way? They were children, Ronald. Children who were thrown into the war, just like us. I'd like to think they can make those distinctions for themselves at this point."
"You of all people should know better than to believe everything they tell you. They're snakes for a reason."
"You're generalizing—"
"No, I'm not. I've seen what these people did, Hermione. I've seen what they're capable of."
"So have I." She drank the last of her shot and it was filled instantaneously. "And there's not a day goes by that I don't have nightmares of dead, bloody bodies at the castle. You have dealt with death eaters who don't wish to change and deserve to suffer for what they've done. The ones I see everyday are the ones who chose to return to Hogwarts because they genuinely want to be there."
"I'm only concerned for you." He admitted earnestly.
"And I beg of you to stop. Especially when you're harbouring your own secrets." She downed the next shot in one go and slammed the glass on the table while glaring at him pointedly.
"I-I don't know what you're—" he babbled while eyeing her empty glass warily.
"Cut the bullshit, Ronald." His mouth closed abruptly, wide-eyed at her straightforwardness. She however, felt no penitence as the liquid courage shot through her like Fiendfyre. "I know there's something else. Something unrelated to your work that you're not telling me." There it was again. That flash of guilt in his eyes that gave him away the first time.
"Out with it, Ron."
A moment's pause passed before he finally responded.
"I'm seeing someone."
She felt the air leave her lungs.
"Is it someone I know?" She forced out.
Breathe, Hermione. Breathe.
"I'd rather not disclose too much information. It's still fairly new. Harry doesn't even know."
"How does he not know? You live together." She asked incredulously.
"He doesn't know who it is" he corrected, growing more uncomfortable the more she became riled up.
All of a sudden, she felt her body flush with warmth, feeling light in her shoes.
Once she came to the realization she needed to leave before she said anything she would regret, she attempted to force a smile. "Well, I hope she makes you happy." She stumbled in her step and let out a gasp when he caught her by the arm, steadying her.
"Hold on, Hermione. You've had too much. I should take you back to Hogwarts."
"Let me go." She warned, dangerously low.
"Hermione, please. Let me take you home." He urged.
Despite having the whisky she ingested far too quickly taking over, she still was able to register the instinct to get as far away from him as possible.
She wrenched her arm out of his hold. "I'll be fine...I just need to go."
"You can't get anywhere like this—"
"I'll manage. Goodbye, Ron."
"Hermione, wait!"
"—and don't you dare follow me out."
Hermione managed to make her way out the door but didn't get far past the entrance as someone grabbed her from behind, holding her in place.
"No, get off!" She grunted and squirmed in the stranger's grasp.
"Hey, hey. Relax." She froze at the sound of Auror Adams' voice. "Come on now, I'm going to get you home."
"Auror Adams. Fancy seeing you here." Came a low tone.
Even moderately intoxicated, she would recognize that drawl anywhere.
"Malfoy." He acknowledged.
They knew each other?
"I do hope you're on your best behavior." Something about the aversion in Adams' tone didn't sit right with her.
"Just enjoying a Saturday evening. You seem to be making good use of your night."
Why was his grip so tight? Maybe if she wriggled around a bit more, she could get free without Malfoy recognizing her face—
"Granger?"
Shit.
Shitshitshitshitshit.
"What have you done to her?" In the midst of her stupor, the danger in his voice was difficult to misplace.
Adams, on the other hand, seemed a bit disgruntled at the opposition in his tone. "She's had a bit much to drink is all. Rest assured, she's in good hands." He tightened his grip on her. Hermione made a noise of discomfort and used the last bit of her strength to finally wrestle herself free from his grasp. She lost her balance, causing her lithe body to fall slump against Malfoy who managed to catch her just in time to keep her from face planting on the ground.
"Stop fooling around, Granger. We need to get you home."
She found herself hating the sound of her surname on the auror's tongue, feeling like pin pricks in her ears. Instead of letting go at his insistence, she whimpered at the unpleasant sensation and nestled her face into the warm body she was leaning against.
She could hear a few more words exchanged before the sound of the Adams' shoes fading away took over. Once they completely dissipated, she found herself relaxing in the blond's hold, her nerves being put to rest for the first time all evening.
"Did you find Weasley?" She heard him say after a few moments of silence.
She only grunted in response, refusing to leave the warmth.
"Well where is he?"
"—"
"What?"
"—"
"Use your words, Granger."
She lifted her face from his chest enough to mumble. "I left him...he wanted me to come...he's with...he's with someone else."
"Shit. You have awful taste in men." He grumbled under his breath. "Come on. We need to get you out of here." Holding her steady so that she could stand on her own feet, they slowly made their way from the bar.
"What are you doing here? You were suppos'd to be watching the potion." She eventually asked with a slight slur when they reached the edge of Hogsmeade.
"It's nearly one in the morning, Granger. I wasn't planning on spending my entire Saturday evening watching a potion."
She started to count her steps as they walked, frustrated when she couldn't keep her numbers straight past ten.
"You haven't told me why you were here," she asked, deciding to put her focus on anything else.
"What is this, an interrogation?" He scoffed. "I wanted a drink."
"Is it because of Astoria?"
"No."
"Blaise?"
"No."
"Theo?"
"No."
"Harry?"
"Fuck no."
"What is it, then?"
"I would have left you with that bloody auror had known you were going to be like this." he grumbled under his breath.
"I'm only asking, Malfoy."
"Well don't ask," he nearly snarled at her.
"I don't understand why you keep shutting me out...your friends had no issues with opening up to me. What is it with you?" She pouted, too far gone to care about how hysterical she sounded. "It's because of my filthy blood, isn't it?" she spat pitifully, feeling a blemish of rage spark from deep within.
"It has nothing to do with your blood, Granger." She heard him say calmly.
"Then why?"
Just when she thought he was going to leave the question unanswered, he spoke.
"You hate me."
She stopped walking.
And so did he.
She lifted her head to take him in. Her eyes — while still evidently muddled — were slightly clearer as she attempted to focus her gaze on him.
When she looked at him, she could still see the shadow of the boy who called her a foul name in the middle of the courtyard. She could still hear him laughing along with his schoolmates when her teeth were enlarged by means of his hex.
In retrospect, she could still see the glimpses of desperation and fear he tried to blanket behind his walls. She could still hear the sobs he dispelled when he thought he was alone.
There was a time, she hazily recalled, when she could easily claim that to be true. On the multiple occasions others tried to suede her to his changed perspectives, she refused to believe them every time. Why would she when everything he had done up to this point showcased how much he hated her.
While it may have been true at one point, just his actions this evening alone told her otherwise. Their interactions and cooperation the last two months spurred a new level of complexity than either of them were willing to address. But at least now, Hermione could answer one thing with certainty;
"I don't hate you." She admitted quietly, just before a sharp pain hit her.
"Ah—" She gripped her head tightly.
"Granger? What is it?" he asked, a trace of concern overtaking his features.
She registered that her mind and body were beginning to shut down, with every inch of her screaming to be put to rest.
Thankfully, he reached out to steady her right when her legs decided to give out.
"Mal...Malfoy—" she grimaced as her head became heavy, tilting it back against the crease of his arm. Then, a pleasant aroma filled her senses. "Mmm...you...mm...smell…"
"What?" She was too far gone to notice the light flushing on the tops of his cheeks.
She groggily smiled and nuzzled the sleeve of his shirt weakly. "You smell like...apples."
The last thing she saw were a pair of silver, alert eyes focused on her before everything went black.
November 8, 1998 - 11:12 AM
Hermione woke up that morning to a throbbing headache, a dry mouth, and a concerned Ginny hovering directly above her. She sat up slowly, releasing a groan and balanced her head in her hands as it throbbed.
"Ginny...what happened last night?"
"How much do you remember?" She asked.
"Not much...why am I covered in bruises?" She said, horrified as she examined her arms which were riddled with finger-shaped, purple splotches.
"You were at the Hog's Inn visiting Ron. There was a man there. A friend of his."
"Oh. Did he...?"
"No. He was an auror. I think he tried getting you home but you put up quite a fight." She gestured to the markings trailing along her arms.
"So he didn't bring me here?"
She shook her head. "No, he didn't."
"Then how did I get back here? I don't remember walking home last night—"
"Ah, our Princess has awakened—"
If those words didn't cause her stomach to drop, the person who said them certainly did.
Hermione jerked up in surprise, turning behind her to see faces she didn't expect to see. The cloudiness dissipated and her eyes landed on Blaise Zabini, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. Then she glanced down at the bed sheets covering her body.
Dark, velvet green.
The air was forced from her lungs.
"Oh dear Godric, no," she choked.
Seemingly out of nowhere, Theo walked in past Blaise and up to her with a vial in hand.
"Morning, Granger. You may want to take this now." He chirped, holding out the vial in front of her to take. Though she remained frozen as she took in her surroundings.
"I'm in the Slytherin dormitories," she squeaked.
"Good to see she hasn't lost her ability to point out the obvious." Blaise remarked.
Her eyes narrowed to slits when she grabbed the vial from Theo. "I'm obviously stuck in a nightmare because I would never be caught dead in your bed." Her voice clipped before she uncapped the vial and drank it with one swallow.
Theo grinned widely while Blaise whistled, "Even hungover, Golden Girl's still got some fire in her." His dark chuckle vibrated in sync with Hermione's aching head. "You're not in my bed, Princess."
What? Then whose bed was she in...?
As the ache in her head began to clear, she remembered the soft silk feeling against her cheek when she woke up this morning. Her eyes fell on the rich cashmere blanket on top of her. Then the smell hit her.
Fresh parchment.
Expensive cologne.
And...
Apples?
Oh.
"Did I? Did we—" She rambled hysterically. Truthfully, she didn't even know what she was asking.
But Blaise seemed to understand completely. "Not to worry, Princess. He slept on the floor like a true gentleman and made sure no one bothered you."
"Draco was going to take you to your room but didn't have access," Theo added. "So he brought you here instead."
Furrowing her brow, Hermione looked around for him. The room was empty save for the four of them. "Where is he?"
Ginny looked at her guiltily while Theo and Blaise eyed each other, uncertain. Like they were searching for affirmation.
"He's with Astoria." Theo eventually offered, like that was enough information to answer her question.
As the haze continued to fade, it became clear to her.
It was Sunday.
A/n: Is anyone starting to feel a slight burn, yet? :P