Fic: To Get To You (Draco/Hermione)
Title: To Get To You
Author: kalina_blue
Rating: PG-13
Prompt Set: 100.1 (Draco/Hermione)
Prompt: 86. Flying
Word Count: 813
Summary: Draco tries to help Hermione through her grief.
Warnings: Post-DH, EWE, AU in that Hermione’s parents are dead
A/N: Written for the Fanswap at thehogwartslife. The prompt was 51. Draco/Hermione - inspired by Deer Tick - These Old Shoes.
Hermione was startled badly when she heard a tap on her bedroom window. Her flat was on the fifth floor, so people usually didn’t knock on her window. Of course somebody could have flown up on a broom, but she lived in a Muggle neighbourhood. Wizards and witches arriving by broomstick would probably scare her neighbours, which was exactly why she had strictly forbidden Harry and Ron to ever visit her in such a way.
Besides there was a thunderstorm raging outside. No sane person would fly in such bad weather.
Just as Hermione had convinced herself that she must have imagined the knocking, she heard another tab. She was sure it came from the window. She opened the blinds and was surprised to see Draco Malfoy hovering in front of her window on a broomstick. He was completely drenched and shivering from the rain and the cold. Hermione quickly opened the window to let him inside.
“Merlin, Draco. Don’t tell me you flew in this weather,” she said, helping him over the windowsill, still puzzled as to why he had come to visit her. They were co-workers at the Ministry of Magic and over the years they had managed to shed at least some of their childhood animosities. But while they may tolerate each other on the job, they usually weren’t in the habit of socialising outside of the Ministry.
“How else was I supposed to get here?” Draco asked, sounding bored, though the effect was somewhat ruined by his shattering teeth. “You warded your flat so that nobody could Apparate anywhere near it, you don’t answer any owls and you blocked your Floo. Short of walking, flying was the only option to get to you.”
“Has it occurred to you that maybe I just want to be alone? This is a hard time for me,” Hermione replied, looking at Draco disapprovingly. He was standing in the middle of her bedroom, a puddle already forming at his feet. Hermione’s frown deepened.
“I know that. Every year on the day of your parents’ death you shut yourself off from everyone else and wallow in your grief. You don’t come out of your flat for days, which by the way means I have to do your work at the Ministry on top of my own, and in the end either the Weasel or Potter have to come and force you to rejoin the world of the living. It’s not healthy, not to mention damn inconvenient for me.”
“I’m sorry my grief is bothering you,” Hermione said sarcastically.
“You know what I mean.” Draco replied, rolling his eyes. “Can’t you just get over it? It’s been five years.”
“Draco, my parents were killed because I am a Muggleborn. I thought giving them new identities and sending them to Australia would keep them safe, but Voldemort still came after them. It’s my fault they are dead. You don’t just get over something like that.”
“Then at least learn to live with it. Because hiding in your flat clearly isn’t working. You are making yourself miserable.”
“Since when do you care if I’m miserable?”
“You know damn well I care,” he hissed.
Hermione looked down on her hands, unable to meet Draco’s eyes. It was true, he had come a long way since their time at Hogwarts. He was still arrogant, of course. A spoiled, egoistical brat who thought himself to be better than most others. But he was working hard and while his people skills might have been severely lacking, she never had a reason to complain about his work.
But somehow Hermione couldn’t shake the feeling that Draco hadn’t meant work when he had said that he cared.
“Come on, let’s get you out of these wet clothes. You must be freezing,” she mumbled, leading Draco into the bathroom. Draco followed her quietly. He accepted the towels she gave him, and took a hot shower while she waited outside. By the time he was done, Hermione had already magically dried his clothes.
“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Draco said when he was finally dry and warm.
“It’s my fault,” Hermione whispered.
“You were not the one casting the killing curse.”
“No, but I might as well have. They would never have died if it wasn’t for me,” Hermione burst out. Draco didn’t even flinch.
“Do you think your parents would want you to hurt like that?”
“I don’t think they wanted to die either, and look how that worked out for them.” She could be stubborn. Draco sighed, but remained quiet otherwise.
It’s just my way of dealing with things,” Hermione said after a while.
Draco sighed again. “Fine, but I’m staying with you.”
“I’d much rather be alone,” Hermione said quickly.
“Are you nuts? There’s a thunderstorm outside. I can’t go out in this weather.”
“But…”
“Give it up, Granger. I’m staying.”
Author: kalina_blue
Rating: PG-13
Prompt Set: 100.1 (Draco/Hermione)
Prompt: 86. Flying
Word Count: 813
Summary: Draco tries to help Hermione through her grief.
Warnings: Post-DH, EWE, AU in that Hermione’s parents are dead
A/N: Written for the Fanswap at thehogwartslife. The prompt was 51. Draco/Hermione - inspired by Deer Tick - These Old Shoes.
Hermione was startled badly when she heard a tap on her bedroom window. Her flat was on the fifth floor, so people usually didn’t knock on her window. Of course somebody could have flown up on a broom, but she lived in a Muggle neighbourhood. Wizards and witches arriving by broomstick would probably scare her neighbours, which was exactly why she had strictly forbidden Harry and Ron to ever visit her in such a way.
Besides there was a thunderstorm raging outside. No sane person would fly in such bad weather.
Just as Hermione had convinced herself that she must have imagined the knocking, she heard another tab. She was sure it came from the window. She opened the blinds and was surprised to see Draco Malfoy hovering in front of her window on a broomstick. He was completely drenched and shivering from the rain and the cold. Hermione quickly opened the window to let him inside.
“Merlin, Draco. Don’t tell me you flew in this weather,” she said, helping him over the windowsill, still puzzled as to why he had come to visit her. They were co-workers at the Ministry of Magic and over the years they had managed to shed at least some of their childhood animosities. But while they may tolerate each other on the job, they usually weren’t in the habit of socialising outside of the Ministry.
“How else was I supposed to get here?” Draco asked, sounding bored, though the effect was somewhat ruined by his shattering teeth. “You warded your flat so that nobody could Apparate anywhere near it, you don’t answer any owls and you blocked your Floo. Short of walking, flying was the only option to get to you.”
“Has it occurred to you that maybe I just want to be alone? This is a hard time for me,” Hermione replied, looking at Draco disapprovingly. He was standing in the middle of her bedroom, a puddle already forming at his feet. Hermione’s frown deepened.
“I know that. Every year on the day of your parents’ death you shut yourself off from everyone else and wallow in your grief. You don’t come out of your flat for days, which by the way means I have to do your work at the Ministry on top of my own, and in the end either the Weasel or Potter have to come and force you to rejoin the world of the living. It’s not healthy, not to mention damn inconvenient for me.”
“I’m sorry my grief is bothering you,” Hermione said sarcastically.
“You know what I mean.” Draco replied, rolling his eyes. “Can’t you just get over it? It’s been five years.”
“Draco, my parents were killed because I am a Muggleborn. I thought giving them new identities and sending them to Australia would keep them safe, but Voldemort still came after them. It’s my fault they are dead. You don’t just get over something like that.”
“Then at least learn to live with it. Because hiding in your flat clearly isn’t working. You are making yourself miserable.”
“Since when do you care if I’m miserable?”
“You know damn well I care,” he hissed.
Hermione looked down on her hands, unable to meet Draco’s eyes. It was true, he had come a long way since their time at Hogwarts. He was still arrogant, of course. A spoiled, egoistical brat who thought himself to be better than most others. But he was working hard and while his people skills might have been severely lacking, she never had a reason to complain about his work.
But somehow Hermione couldn’t shake the feeling that Draco hadn’t meant work when he had said that he cared.
“Come on, let’s get you out of these wet clothes. You must be freezing,” she mumbled, leading Draco into the bathroom. Draco followed her quietly. He accepted the towels she gave him, and took a hot shower while she waited outside. By the time he was done, Hermione had already magically dried his clothes.
“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Draco said when he was finally dry and warm.
“It’s my fault,” Hermione whispered.
“You were not the one casting the killing curse.”
“No, but I might as well have. They would never have died if it wasn’t for me,” Hermione burst out. Draco didn’t even flinch.
“Do you think your parents would want you to hurt like that?”
“I don’t think they wanted to die either, and look how that worked out for them.” She could be stubborn. Draco sighed, but remained quiet otherwise.
It’s just my way of dealing with things,” Hermione said after a while.
Draco sighed again. “Fine, but I’m staying with you.”
“I’d much rather be alone,” Hermione said quickly.
“Are you nuts? There’s a thunderstorm outside. I can’t go out in this weather.”
“But…”
“Give it up, Granger. I’m staying.”