Late Night Conversations Over a Rothmans by wieimmer [Rated PG-13]
Exchange Story for pips_n_chiaw
Title: Late Night Conversations Over a Rothmans
Author: wieimmer
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character Death, Angst, Language… No sex, sorry (should that even be a warning?).
Disclaimer: Um, as far as I know, I’m not JKR and my credit cards are all kinds of maxed out. If I were she, I’d have the Marc Jacobs purse I’ve been eyeing for months. Alas, I am not, and I don’t have my bag, nor do I make any $ from this whatsoever…
p.s. who wants to give me $1200 for said purse?
Author Notes: I’ve been working on this story for ages. Originally I was going to submit it for the Celebrate the Season Exchange, but I forgot to sign up. Oops! Anyway, thanks to Tori and to wafball for stepping up to be my beta(s). Do you know how hard it is to find a good one? Thank Jeebus they’re both great. OH! One more thing, the back and forth dialogue of this story was somewhat inspired by my favorite Ernest Hemmingway short, so I hope it comes off well. Anyway, I’m rambling as always.
Summary: As she manages with being left behind at the Order’s safe house, Hermione is caught off guard with the arrival of an unexpected guest. Will he help her out with an even bigger problem she is trying to deal with?
Late Night Conversations Over a Rothmans
Hermione was outside, sitting in her usual spot on the bench on the back porch. Her knees were curled up to her chest and her eyes were closed as she breathed in the cool night air. She had been there for several hours already; it was so quiet and peaceful. Hermione loved to be outside in the summer, it was one of her favourite things to do in life, just sit outside and listen to the chirping crickets, the buzzing cicadas, and the zephyr blowing through the yard. It gave her time to think, to clear her mind.
//earlier//
It had been exactly two weeks since Hermione had found a note from Ron and Harry telling her that for her protection they had left her behind as they began their search for the remaining Horcruxes. At first she swore she would never talk to either of them ever again, but almost at once she took those words back. She didn’t care if they had outside help as Lupin assured her they had; she didn’t care if they had ways of protecting themselves that Kingsley said they had. The only thing she cared about was seeing them alive again and Hermione was afraid she never would. She was afraid of being as alone as she was now.
Hermione wasn’t completely alone in the Order’s new safe house, but she might as well have been. There was no one she could talk to, no one to relate to, and no one to understand. Her parents had been missing for almost two weeks now with no word on their whereabouts, Ginny was with Fred and George; McGonagall, Kingsley, Lupin, and Moody were all over the place hardly staying two days in a row; Tonks, Bill, Charlie, Fleur and anyone else remotely close to her age was out on assignment for the Order… or on honeymoon. She was told people were searching for her parents, but Hermione wanted desperately to help out. Everyone seemed to be helping the Order’s cause except for her. All she was to do was basic house chores and other mediocre tasks.
It was like summer before fifth year at Grimmauld Place, only without the fun; she sympathized with Harry and felt terrible for closing him out during that time. She had strict orders to stay in the house and help anyone who was coming through with room and board. People were arriving and departing, most without a simple ‘hello’.
It was buzzing, the house that afternoon; people were whispering all day, looking worried and stressed; Order members were running in and out of the place, Flooing around, flying out mid-day on brooms and Apparating from the streets, completely ignoring the fact that they could get caught. There were people arriving whom Hermione had never seen before, and never even got the chance to meet because they stayed for mere seconds. Something was going on, and as usual, no one was telling her anything. It was frustrating her to the brink of insanity that she was being left out of the loop completely.
It was late in the evening when Hermione opened the back door to go outside for some peace and quiet in the fresh night air. Standing there was Professor McGonagall with the two last people she would have ever guessed to see at the door.
Hermione nearly screamed and fainted at the sight of the pair, but before she could do or say anything, Lupin wrapped his hand around her mouth and dragged her upstairs as she fought and kicked.
“What are they doing here?!”
“Hermione! Quiet down!”
“I will not quiet down! They are the reason why Dumbledore is dead and the reason why everything has gone wrong! They should be arrested! I want to know something for once! I deserve to know why they are here!”
“This house has certainly changed your attitude, Hermione. You sound like Harry, you know.”
“I don’t care! Harry was the only one thinking clearly!”
“No, no, Hermione, he wasn’t… Harry knows about what is happening; I sent him a letter with Sonora earlier. Please… there is an explanation… I assure you, now is not the time. Go to sleep, quietly, you’ll learn everything in the morning.”
“No! Now is the time!” Hermione brushed past Lupin and ran downstairs, skipping two at a time and barging into the kitchen. Professor McGonagall, Tonks, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, and Mad-Eye were all in sitting around the table, Severus Snape was hunched over a smoking glass of green potion and Draco Malfoy was next to him, looking particularly surly.
“Bloody cowards! Both of you!” Hermione pocketed something quickly, slapped a surprised Draco across the cheek and spat in the face of Snape; she was livid beyond livid. Mrs. Weasley jumped up and grabbed Hermione back as she lunged at Malfoy once more, clawing the air and snarling madly. Snape just sat.
“Hermione! Control yourself!” Minerva McGonagall jumped up quickly and pushed Malfoy down in his seat, who had his wand out in a flash. “Draco, put your wand away... What has gotten into you young lady?”
“Into me? Into me? You treat me like I’m some sort of child… Ugh! What has gotten into all of you?” She looked around the room at the astonished looking group of wizards. “Don’t you know what they have done? What they are responsible for?”
Snape wiped the side of his nose with his fingers.
“It’s all right, Minerva. She does not know what is going on.” He looked at his fingers and wiped them on his cloak. “If it were under any other circumstance I would say she was acting unreasonably and her behaviour was completely inexcusable. Please, join us, Miss Granger. You are owed an explanation and I would like to give you one myself.”
Hermione breathed heavily and glared at Malfoy.
“You should be ashamed! Showing yourself in this house after what you have done.”
“What I’ve done?” He pointed at his chest. “I didn’t do anything! I was following orders.”
“I mean the way you’ve treated us since first year. You and your friends.”
“Are you mental, Granger?” Malfoy shouted.
“Mrs. Weasley, ask Malfoy here what he’s done to Ron, Harry, Ginny, and me over the years at school!”
“Hermione-” Mrs. Weasley said nervously.
“Ask how he’s been nothing but a self-serving little prat! Ask how all he’s ever done is called me a mudblood and hexed Ron when he’s had his back turned!”
“Hermione, please-” Mrs. Weasley tried louder. Lupin walked in as well and stood behind Snape.
“Ask how he’s made life a living hell for all of us and still has the nerve to show up here with his head held high without the smallest of apologie-”
“That is enough!” Mr. Weasley rose from his chair. “Hermione!” He slammed his hand on the table. “I am not your father, but if he were here I am sure he would be ashamed of your behaviour and lack of respect at this moment.” He was red as his thinning hair and for the first time Hermione had ever been privy to, tremendously angry. “There is a reason why Severus and Draco are here, it is the same reason you are here, for your own protection! Severus may allow you to be here to hear the details of his mission, but I do not. Frankly, I am embarrassed for you now.” The whole kitchen was silent; Mr. Weasley kept his eyes on Hermione. “Take Draco to one of the spare rooms, he will be staying here as well under close watch. If he likes, he can inform you of what is going on, but for the time being you are to leave this room at once. You will learn what is happening, however not tonight in this kitchen. Is that clear!”
It was more than a statement than a question. Hermione glanced quickly at Malfoy; he was smirking.
“You’re right, Mr. Weasley, my father isn’t here and he would be ashamed if he were; has anyone heard anything on them? I thought not. Yes, yes sir, I’ll take him to a room at once.” Hermione’s voice cracked as tears started to well in the corners of her eyes; she pulled away from Mrs. Weasley’s grip and sauntered up the stairs, waiting a moment for Draco to rise from his seat. She was mumbling against the wall and realized how much of Ron’s and Harry’s attitudes and tempers had rubbed off on her over the years. She smiled a bit at the thought of them.
“Thinking of Potty and Weasleby?” Malfoy’s voice was carrying the usual tone of superiority and arrogance. “Is that my room?”
“Washroom is the one right across; if you need anything don’t bother me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking you for help.”
“What are you doing here?”
“You know, I can’t really remember. Must have been knocked out of my head.” Malfoy rubbed his cheek where Hermione had hit him. He pushed open his bedroom door and slammed the door in Hermione’s face.
“UGH!” Hermione stamped her foot, stomped to her room, and slammed the door as well. “…Stupid ferret!” She paced her room mumbling for what seemed like hours. She wanted to write a letter to Harry, but had no means of getting it to him; Sonora was the only owl that could find the safe house and she couldn’t use her now. “They treat me like a child! This is so unfair. Protecting me from what? I can help; they know I can.”
//1:47 a.m. the next evening //
The nights were no longer warm and sticky; cool air drifted by, a light jacket was needed to be out at night now. Hermione was on the back porch at the far end of the bench that was on the left side as you exited the house. The screen door opened and a dark figure stood in moonlight, searching his pockets.
“What are you doing out here?” Malfoy asked as he dug deep in his right pocket; he looked at Hermione, cigarette bobbing between his lips.
She held up her hidden left hand. “Same reason why you’re out here.” She took a short drag from her own cigarette and turned her head away.
“Perfect little miss-know-it-all not as innocent as one would presume… Got a light?” He walked over to her and stared down.
Hermione handed him her cigarette. He lit his own and gave it back.
“When did you start smoking?”
“When did you decide to kill Dumbledore?”
“Mudblood.”
“Asshole.”
Malfoy walked away and sat in the bench that was on the other side of the porch.
“You don’t smell like cigarettes.”
“I charmed them. Odourless.” She took another quick drag.
“Only you would do that to seem perfect.”
“Only you would notice how I smell.” Hermione put her cigarette out and dropped the butt in a knothole in the porch.
“You don’t look like a smoker.”
“And you don’t look like someone I would trust… Are you going to tell me why you are here?”
“Like you said regarding the fag, I’m here for the same reason you are… Frankly I think it’s hilarious that again, even where you are currently residing, you have no idea what is really going on out there. Same like good old Saint Potter. Never had a clue in the world until someone shoved it under his nose.”
//2:17 a.m. the next evening//
“Fancy a light again?” Hermione asked, holding her cigarette at the ready. Malfoy walked over and took it. “I’m surprised.”
“At what?” He puffed on his own until the tip glowed red-orange and handed hers back.
“That you take a favour from a Mudblood... You said you’d never dream of asking me for help, or have you forgotten?” She took a final drag and started towards the door.
“There is a lot you don’t know about me Jane. Don’t act as if you know me.”
//1:01 a.m. two days later //
Hermione again was outside on the left side of the porch, hidden cigarette in hand. She had just lit it when company joined her.
“My ever long dilemma… Forgot my matches yet again. Do you mind?” Hermione held out her cigarette to Malfoy; he lit his and without a nod of thanks, walked off to the other side of the porch and took his seat as he had yesterday and the night before at the far end of the bench. “You going to tell me why you started smoking?”
“Keeps me thin…” His silence acknowledged his disbelief; Hermione forced half a smiled before continuing. “Relieves stress. A year ago; Rothmans.”
“I see. Why don’t you want anyone to know you smoke?”
“I don’t want the lectures.”
“I see.” Malfoy was halfway through his when Hermione got up to leave. “Do you like it here?”
“I hate it here.” Hermione was about to go inside when he spoke up again.
“Why?”
“Are we playing twenty questions?”
“You’ve been around Potter and Weasley too much.”
“Obviously not. I want to be out there; I want to help out. I know I can. I want to find my parents, they have them; I know it.”
“No one cares about us Granger. They don’t care if we can help or not, they just want us out of their hair so they can do what they have to do. Your parents are at the bottom of their list of to-do’s; they’ll find them when they find their bodies.”
“Don’t say that!” She could hardly move, frozen in place as she imagined her parents in the worst of situations.
“No one comes out alive when they have you...” Hermione was trembling from his words. “Don’t you get it Granger? Don’t you get why we’re both here? Weasley’s dad laid it out clear and simple to you the other night, or have you forgotten? Be glad you aren’t out there, not knowing if you’ll be alive for tomorrow. You know the story, you heard it earlier from my Godfather and me, believe what you like, it’s a miracle we’re both alive.”
“You two are alive because you’re both murderers.”
Malfoy stared straight ahead. “I could hardly care less if I have your approval. Deep down you believe it all; you’re just having trouble admitting so. All along you trusted my Godfather, why stop now? Personally, I’m glad I’m here. I’ve got no obligations to help and no one can blame me if anything goes wrong. Plus, I get to stay alive.”
Hermione stared at him for a long second; he kept his eyes out to the yard and flicked his cigarette every minute or so with his thumb. Hermione usually tapped hers. “…No one asked you!”
//1:47 a.m. the next day //
Hermione came outside, lighting her cigarette as she walked. She stopped on the doormat and looked around the yard. The night sky was blanketed with stars and a soft breeze cooled her slightly. To her right, Malfoy was sitting in his bench, this time on the right side, closer to the door.
“Remembered your own light this time?”
“There is always a first for everything.”
Hermione didn’t sit on the bench this time; she sat on the edge of the porch, as far away from him as she possibly could.
//2:23 a.m. four days later //
Hermione wasn’t surprised when she saw Draco outside already, waiting for her. This time she asked him for a light.
“I don’t really need your help.” She said with a trembling hand. “Thank you… Is this going to be every night? This was always my me time. Are you going to spoil it every time by gracing me with your presence?” Hermione asked.
Draco moved to the other side of his bench. “I thought you were supposed to be polite... and inconsolable perhaps?”
“You thought wrong. There is a lot you don’t know about me, Malfoy, don’t act as if you do.”
“I know your middle name, Jane.”
“Don’t call me Jane.”
“Why not?”
“My dad used to call me that.” Draco glanced quickly at her; she was crying freely. “Everything has changed.”
//3:43 a.m. the next evening //
Draco came outside with a blanket around his shoulders; even though it was the end of August, it was growing rather cold. The current weather fit the atmosphere around the house. He looked to his left; Hermione was not there, he didn’t expect her to be there.
//2:52 a.m. the next evening //
Again, Draco was in need of a blanket as he went outside. He clutched it close to himself for protection against the blowing wind and again, looked for Hermione. She was sitting at the edge of the porch, her head drooped low and her cigarette held in the air above her head. Draco walked, his bare feet slapping against the wood and took a seat next to her.
“How are you holding up?” He took her cigarette from her fingers and took a long drag. “Always liked Rothmans.” He blew the smoke from his mouth, took a quick puff and gave it back to Hermione. She lifted her head and dried her red eyes.
“They’re heavier than most…” She replied. “What brand do you smoke?”
“Chesterfield.” He threw part of his blanket over Hermione’s shoulders. “I’m nearly out … I don’t think I’ll be able to get anymore for a while.”
“Me neither… You don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Be nice.”
“…All right then.“ Draco got up but left the blanket for her.
Hermione pulled the tartan cloth closer to her and finished her cigarette alone.
//1:29 a.m. the next evening//
The blanket Draco had been bringing with him outside was missing; Hermione had it. He headed outside and there she was sitting on her bench all the way at the end. He sat next to her, but she got up and sat on the ground at the end of the porch.
“You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.” He said, rubbing his arms against the cold wind. “It’s awful chilly out.”
Hermione looked back at Draco; she stood and walked to the bench, sat, and threw the blanket over him as well. She drew herself close and rested her head against his shoulder.
“I knew they were dead since the first day they had gone missing, Draco. They took them away from me. I’ll never see them again and it isn’t fair. I need to fight now, more than ever.”
“Are you stupid or something? Don’t you realize it’s just a trap? Your parents were killed so you can go out and get revenge. That’s when they would get you and use you to lure Potter in. Don’t you understand that’s why he left you behind here, where it’s safe? I thought you were supposed to be smart.”
“I want my mum and dad back.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “It’s not fair. They were never a part of this. It’s not fair… It’s not fair.”
“There is nothing you can do to get them back. If you go out and get yourself killed, they would have died for no reason. Trust me on this.”
Hermione carefully grabbed his arm and lifted his sleeve over his forearm. “I can’t trust you; not with this.”
Draco hissed as she ran her fingers over the black snake. “My Godfather has one.”
“He’s different. Dumbledore trusted him. I don’t know about you. ”
“If you don’t trust me, then why are you curled on top of me like some sick puppy? You know, I thought you were different, Granger. Guess I was wrong…” He stood from the bench. “You know, everyone thinks I’m the one who is prejudiced against the world, but look at yourself first! You’re the one acting superior, not me, as if your values are better than mine.” He bent down and placed his hands on either side of Hermione, trapping her against the bench. “Maybe I should do something to you to make you happy. To prove to the world that you’re right, that a Mudblood can’t trust a Malfoy.” Hermione stared into his eyes and shuddered at the malice they possessed; Draco chortled at her unease. “Be glad I promised my Godfather I wouldn’t harm you; oh, how I yearn to see you writhe on the floor under my wand at this moment… Fuck you and this load of rubbish.” Draco walked off; he yanked the screen door open and made his way upstairs.
At the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut, Hermione burst into tears. She did not return to her bed for at least an hour.
//2:09 a.m. four days later //
Hermione hadn’t seen Draco outside in several days. She was upset and it took her less than one day to realize she missed his company. He avoided her in the house as much as he could; tending to broken brooms, helping with minor injuries of passers-by, and cleaning out the fireplace; just odd and end jobs that he did with no questions asked. Something had changed about him since Dumbledore’s death, Hermione knew it, but as Draco had said to her when he first arrived, she was having trouble admitting it.
Hermione was sitting with her legs folded under her at the end of the bench. She had her head rested on her hand and when she heard the screen door open, she sat up quickly and looked towards it.
“This is my side of the porch.” Draco walked over to her. “The left side is yours.” He sat on the other end of his bench and kept his eyes straight ahead.
Quietly, Hermione got up and moved to the other side of the porch and sat at her bench; however on the end closer to Draco. “I’m sorry.” She whispered.
“What was that you said?” He jerked his head to her. “I didn’t quite catch all of it.”
She smiled a bit. “I said, I’m sorry.”
“Good.” He answered rather callously. “Do you have a smoke? I ran out completely the other day.”
The smile vanished from Hermione’s face and as infuriated as could be, tossed him the package she had and ran inside. She could hear him laughing as she stormed up to her room.
//1:49 a.m. the next evening//
Hermione was sitting on the porch in front of the doorway as Draco stepped out.
He walked over and sat next to her. Without even a glance at him she held her hand out and spoke in the most demanding tone he had ever heard. “You have my last pack. I want it back.”
“Oh, you mean this one?” He brought the package close to his mouth and closed his lips around a cigarette. “Here you go.” He dropped it in her lap.
She stuck her fingers in and crumpled the package in her fist. “Was the last one? Give it here.”
“No, it’s mine.” He cocked his head sideways and lit it, tossing his match aside. “You gave it to me yesterday.”
“There was half a pack left then!”
“I had a rough night.” He tried to get up, but Hermione held him down. “Let me go Jane. We already established that I am perfectly all right with hexing you.”
“I said don’t call me that! Now give it to me.” She reached out but he moved his head back in avoidance.
“No.”
“Give it to me!” Hermione was growing angrier and angrier by the second. “Give it to me!”
“Ask politely.” He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and placed it carefully on the edge of the porch.
“Draco, I’m not going to say it again, give it to me! Just give it to me!” She slapped him in the shoulder and then in the face and with her fists in his chest. “Give it to me! Give it to me! Give it to me!” At that point she began to sob as he just sat there and took everything she was throwing at him. “Give it to me! Give it to me! Give it to me! Give it to me!” Her punches were becoming feeble and weak. “Give it to me… Give- give it to me. Give… give.”
Draco reached forward and grabbed her by the wrists; she let out stifled screams as she jerked her hands, trying to pull them free.
“Give it… gi, give…” Draco just pulled Hermione into his lap as she broke down crying hysterically. “Why, Draco? Why did they have to die? Why? Why did they have to leave me alone…”
Draco rocked Hermione in his arms and held her close to his chest. He rubbed her arm, kissed the top of her head, and sat with her as she cried.
“I can’t even give them a proper burial… They won’t let me leave this place.” Draco shifted back and she settled between his legs. “It’s not fair… I didn’t even get to say ‘good bye.’ I saw them last, when school ended... I want them back.”
Draco reached to his right and picked up the half burned cigarette from the porch and held it out to her. She shook her head ‘no’; he finished it and put it out.
“I’m scared… for Harry and Ron; what if I never see them again? I can’t be left alone, I can’t… They have to come back. We have to help them… Harry and Ron. Will you come with me, to help them?”
Draco didn’t answer; he just let out a deep breath. Hermione leaned into him and drifted to sleep as he pulled the blanket tighter around them both.
//6:17 a.m. almost five hours later//
Hermione awoke in a different room than her own. She was facing Draco who was across from her on top of the sheets, their hands clutched between them and the tartan blanket keeping them warm. She closed her eyes.
“Why you pretending, Granger?”
“Am not.”
“Liar.” Draco pulled on her hand and drew her close. “I’m only doing this because you are grieving.” He sighed. “You need… support.”
“You don’t have to. You can go back to hating me if you want. I’ll just go to downstairs now, ready breakfast early today, before anyone wakes up. No one will know.”
Hermione tried to get up, but he held on.
“You‘ll need your rest for when we leave tonight Granger.”
She looked at him and bit her lip. He had his eyes closed trying to sleep, but she could see them trembling under the lids. Without thinking, Hermione pressed her lips into his and kissed him gently. He didn’t pull away or turn his head in disgust, he just allowed her to kiss him; and as she pulled her mouth from his, he pushed back, just for that split second he did.
Hermione opened her eyes and saw that his were open too, staring at her. Disbelief, surprise, appreciation, understanding, interest? She couldn’t tell what Draco was feeling. After a minute of just looking, knowing he wouldn’t dare close his eyes first, Hermione did and rested against him.
“Thank you.” He said.
// //
Assignment:
BRIEFLY describe what you'd like to receive: Something really believable and plausible. Angst is fine, but a happy ending is just as good. :D Draco should, at one point, call Hermione "Jane". The fic should conform, as much as possible, to HBP and... preferably a one-shot, or maximum of three parts.
What rating would you prefer?: PG-13 to R
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): Harry and Ron being either too cold or too accepting about D/Hr's relationship. No slash, rape, incest, cross-species or cross-gen. Ginny portrayed in a positive light.
Final Author Notes:
this was fun. ^_^
TBC
Thank-you for participating in the Hot Summer Nights with Draco and Hermione fic exchange.
Title: Late Night Conversations Over a Rothmans
Author: wieimmer
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character Death, Angst, Language… No sex, sorry (should that even be a warning?).
Disclaimer: Um, as far as I know, I’m not JKR and my credit cards are all kinds of maxed out. If I were she, I’d have the Marc Jacobs purse I’ve been eyeing for months. Alas, I am not, and I don’t have my bag, nor do I make any $ from this whatsoever…
p.s. who wants to give me $1200 for said purse?
Author Notes: I’ve been working on this story for ages. Originally I was going to submit it for the Celebrate the Season Exchange, but I forgot to sign up. Oops! Anyway, thanks to Tori and to wafball for stepping up to be my beta(s). Do you know how hard it is to find a good one? Thank Jeebus they’re both great. OH! One more thing, the back and forth dialogue of this story was somewhat inspired by my favorite Ernest Hemmingway short, so I hope it comes off well. Anyway, I’m rambling as always.
Summary: As she manages with being left behind at the Order’s safe house, Hermione is caught off guard with the arrival of an unexpected guest. Will he help her out with an even bigger problem she is trying to deal with?
Late Night Conversations Over a Rothmans
Hermione was outside, sitting in her usual spot on the bench on the back porch. Her knees were curled up to her chest and her eyes were closed as she breathed in the cool night air. She had been there for several hours already; it was so quiet and peaceful. Hermione loved to be outside in the summer, it was one of her favourite things to do in life, just sit outside and listen to the chirping crickets, the buzzing cicadas, and the zephyr blowing through the yard. It gave her time to think, to clear her mind.
//earlier//
It had been exactly two weeks since Hermione had found a note from Ron and Harry telling her that for her protection they had left her behind as they began their search for the remaining Horcruxes. At first she swore she would never talk to either of them ever again, but almost at once she took those words back. She didn’t care if they had outside help as Lupin assured her they had; she didn’t care if they had ways of protecting themselves that Kingsley said they had. The only thing she cared about was seeing them alive again and Hermione was afraid she never would. She was afraid of being as alone as she was now.
Hermione wasn’t completely alone in the Order’s new safe house, but she might as well have been. There was no one she could talk to, no one to relate to, and no one to understand. Her parents had been missing for almost two weeks now with no word on their whereabouts, Ginny was with Fred and George; McGonagall, Kingsley, Lupin, and Moody were all over the place hardly staying two days in a row; Tonks, Bill, Charlie, Fleur and anyone else remotely close to her age was out on assignment for the Order… or on honeymoon. She was told people were searching for her parents, but Hermione wanted desperately to help out. Everyone seemed to be helping the Order’s cause except for her. All she was to do was basic house chores and other mediocre tasks.
It was like summer before fifth year at Grimmauld Place, only without the fun; she sympathized with Harry and felt terrible for closing him out during that time. She had strict orders to stay in the house and help anyone who was coming through with room and board. People were arriving and departing, most without a simple ‘hello’.
It was buzzing, the house that afternoon; people were whispering all day, looking worried and stressed; Order members were running in and out of the place, Flooing around, flying out mid-day on brooms and Apparating from the streets, completely ignoring the fact that they could get caught. There were people arriving whom Hermione had never seen before, and never even got the chance to meet because they stayed for mere seconds. Something was going on, and as usual, no one was telling her anything. It was frustrating her to the brink of insanity that she was being left out of the loop completely.
It was late in the evening when Hermione opened the back door to go outside for some peace and quiet in the fresh night air. Standing there was Professor McGonagall with the two last people she would have ever guessed to see at the door.
Hermione nearly screamed and fainted at the sight of the pair, but before she could do or say anything, Lupin wrapped his hand around her mouth and dragged her upstairs as she fought and kicked.
“What are they doing here?!”
“Hermione! Quiet down!”
“I will not quiet down! They are the reason why Dumbledore is dead and the reason why everything has gone wrong! They should be arrested! I want to know something for once! I deserve to know why they are here!”
“This house has certainly changed your attitude, Hermione. You sound like Harry, you know.”
“I don’t care! Harry was the only one thinking clearly!”
“No, no, Hermione, he wasn’t… Harry knows about what is happening; I sent him a letter with Sonora earlier. Please… there is an explanation… I assure you, now is not the time. Go to sleep, quietly, you’ll learn everything in the morning.”
“No! Now is the time!” Hermione brushed past Lupin and ran downstairs, skipping two at a time and barging into the kitchen. Professor McGonagall, Tonks, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, and Mad-Eye were all in sitting around the table, Severus Snape was hunched over a smoking glass of green potion and Draco Malfoy was next to him, looking particularly surly.
“Bloody cowards! Both of you!” Hermione pocketed something quickly, slapped a surprised Draco across the cheek and spat in the face of Snape; she was livid beyond livid. Mrs. Weasley jumped up and grabbed Hermione back as she lunged at Malfoy once more, clawing the air and snarling madly. Snape just sat.
“Hermione! Control yourself!” Minerva McGonagall jumped up quickly and pushed Malfoy down in his seat, who had his wand out in a flash. “Draco, put your wand away... What has gotten into you young lady?”
“Into me? Into me? You treat me like I’m some sort of child… Ugh! What has gotten into all of you?” She looked around the room at the astonished looking group of wizards. “Don’t you know what they have done? What they are responsible for?”
Snape wiped the side of his nose with his fingers.
“It’s all right, Minerva. She does not know what is going on.” He looked at his fingers and wiped them on his cloak. “If it were under any other circumstance I would say she was acting unreasonably and her behaviour was completely inexcusable. Please, join us, Miss Granger. You are owed an explanation and I would like to give you one myself.”
Hermione breathed heavily and glared at Malfoy.
“You should be ashamed! Showing yourself in this house after what you have done.”
“What I’ve done?” He pointed at his chest. “I didn’t do anything! I was following orders.”
“I mean the way you’ve treated us since first year. You and your friends.”
“Are you mental, Granger?” Malfoy shouted.
“Mrs. Weasley, ask Malfoy here what he’s done to Ron, Harry, Ginny, and me over the years at school!”
“Hermione-” Mrs. Weasley said nervously.
“Ask how he’s been nothing but a self-serving little prat! Ask how all he’s ever done is called me a mudblood and hexed Ron when he’s had his back turned!”
“Hermione, please-” Mrs. Weasley tried louder. Lupin walked in as well and stood behind Snape.
“Ask how he’s made life a living hell for all of us and still has the nerve to show up here with his head held high without the smallest of apologie-”
“That is enough!” Mr. Weasley rose from his chair. “Hermione!” He slammed his hand on the table. “I am not your father, but if he were here I am sure he would be ashamed of your behaviour and lack of respect at this moment.” He was red as his thinning hair and for the first time Hermione had ever been privy to, tremendously angry. “There is a reason why Severus and Draco are here, it is the same reason you are here, for your own protection! Severus may allow you to be here to hear the details of his mission, but I do not. Frankly, I am embarrassed for you now.” The whole kitchen was silent; Mr. Weasley kept his eyes on Hermione. “Take Draco to one of the spare rooms, he will be staying here as well under close watch. If he likes, he can inform you of what is going on, but for the time being you are to leave this room at once. You will learn what is happening, however not tonight in this kitchen. Is that clear!”
It was more than a statement than a question. Hermione glanced quickly at Malfoy; he was smirking.
“You’re right, Mr. Weasley, my father isn’t here and he would be ashamed if he were; has anyone heard anything on them? I thought not. Yes, yes sir, I’ll take him to a room at once.” Hermione’s voice cracked as tears started to well in the corners of her eyes; she pulled away from Mrs. Weasley’s grip and sauntered up the stairs, waiting a moment for Draco to rise from his seat. She was mumbling against the wall and realized how much of Ron’s and Harry’s attitudes and tempers had rubbed off on her over the years. She smiled a bit at the thought of them.
“Thinking of Potty and Weasleby?” Malfoy’s voice was carrying the usual tone of superiority and arrogance. “Is that my room?”
“Washroom is the one right across; if you need anything don’t bother me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking you for help.”
“What are you doing here?”
“You know, I can’t really remember. Must have been knocked out of my head.” Malfoy rubbed his cheek where Hermione had hit him. He pushed open his bedroom door and slammed the door in Hermione’s face.
“UGH!” Hermione stamped her foot, stomped to her room, and slammed the door as well. “…Stupid ferret!” She paced her room mumbling for what seemed like hours. She wanted to write a letter to Harry, but had no means of getting it to him; Sonora was the only owl that could find the safe house and she couldn’t use her now. “They treat me like a child! This is so unfair. Protecting me from what? I can help; they know I can.”
//1:47 a.m. the next evening //
The nights were no longer warm and sticky; cool air drifted by, a light jacket was needed to be out at night now. Hermione was on the back porch at the far end of the bench that was on the left side as you exited the house. The screen door opened and a dark figure stood in moonlight, searching his pockets.
“What are you doing out here?” Malfoy asked as he dug deep in his right pocket; he looked at Hermione, cigarette bobbing between his lips.
She held up her hidden left hand. “Same reason why you’re out here.” She took a short drag from her own cigarette and turned her head away.
“Perfect little miss-know-it-all not as innocent as one would presume… Got a light?” He walked over to her and stared down.
Hermione handed him her cigarette. He lit his own and gave it back.
“When did you start smoking?”
“When did you decide to kill Dumbledore?”
“Mudblood.”
“Asshole.”
Malfoy walked away and sat in the bench that was on the other side of the porch.
“You don’t smell like cigarettes.”
“I charmed them. Odourless.” She took another quick drag.
“Only you would do that to seem perfect.”
“Only you would notice how I smell.” Hermione put her cigarette out and dropped the butt in a knothole in the porch.
“You don’t look like a smoker.”
“And you don’t look like someone I would trust… Are you going to tell me why you are here?”
“Like you said regarding the fag, I’m here for the same reason you are… Frankly I think it’s hilarious that again, even where you are currently residing, you have no idea what is really going on out there. Same like good old Saint Potter. Never had a clue in the world until someone shoved it under his nose.”
//2:17 a.m. the next evening//
“Fancy a light again?” Hermione asked, holding her cigarette at the ready. Malfoy walked over and took it. “I’m surprised.”
“At what?” He puffed on his own until the tip glowed red-orange and handed hers back.
“That you take a favour from a Mudblood... You said you’d never dream of asking me for help, or have you forgotten?” She took a final drag and started towards the door.
“There is a lot you don’t know about me Jane. Don’t act as if you know me.”
//1:01 a.m. two days later //
Hermione again was outside on the left side of the porch, hidden cigarette in hand. She had just lit it when company joined her.
“My ever long dilemma… Forgot my matches yet again. Do you mind?” Hermione held out her cigarette to Malfoy; he lit his and without a nod of thanks, walked off to the other side of the porch and took his seat as he had yesterday and the night before at the far end of the bench. “You going to tell me why you started smoking?”
“Keeps me thin…” His silence acknowledged his disbelief; Hermione forced half a smiled before continuing. “Relieves stress. A year ago; Rothmans.”
“I see. Why don’t you want anyone to know you smoke?”
“I don’t want the lectures.”
“I see.” Malfoy was halfway through his when Hermione got up to leave. “Do you like it here?”
“I hate it here.” Hermione was about to go inside when he spoke up again.
“Why?”
“Are we playing twenty questions?”
“You’ve been around Potter and Weasley too much.”
“Obviously not. I want to be out there; I want to help out. I know I can. I want to find my parents, they have them; I know it.”
“No one cares about us Granger. They don’t care if we can help or not, they just want us out of their hair so they can do what they have to do. Your parents are at the bottom of their list of to-do’s; they’ll find them when they find their bodies.”
“Don’t say that!” She could hardly move, frozen in place as she imagined her parents in the worst of situations.
“No one comes out alive when they have you...” Hermione was trembling from his words. “Don’t you get it Granger? Don’t you get why we’re both here? Weasley’s dad laid it out clear and simple to you the other night, or have you forgotten? Be glad you aren’t out there, not knowing if you’ll be alive for tomorrow. You know the story, you heard it earlier from my Godfather and me, believe what you like, it’s a miracle we’re both alive.”
“You two are alive because you’re both murderers.”
Malfoy stared straight ahead. “I could hardly care less if I have your approval. Deep down you believe it all; you’re just having trouble admitting so. All along you trusted my Godfather, why stop now? Personally, I’m glad I’m here. I’ve got no obligations to help and no one can blame me if anything goes wrong. Plus, I get to stay alive.”
Hermione stared at him for a long second; he kept his eyes out to the yard and flicked his cigarette every minute or so with his thumb. Hermione usually tapped hers. “…No one asked you!”
//1:47 a.m. the next day //
Hermione came outside, lighting her cigarette as she walked. She stopped on the doormat and looked around the yard. The night sky was blanketed with stars and a soft breeze cooled her slightly. To her right, Malfoy was sitting in his bench, this time on the right side, closer to the door.
“Remembered your own light this time?”
“There is always a first for everything.”
Hermione didn’t sit on the bench this time; she sat on the edge of the porch, as far away from him as she possibly could.
//2:23 a.m. four days later //
Hermione wasn’t surprised when she saw Draco outside already, waiting for her. This time she asked him for a light.
“I don’t really need your help.” She said with a trembling hand. “Thank you… Is this going to be every night? This was always my me time. Are you going to spoil it every time by gracing me with your presence?” Hermione asked.
Draco moved to the other side of his bench. “I thought you were supposed to be polite... and inconsolable perhaps?”
“You thought wrong. There is a lot you don’t know about me, Malfoy, don’t act as if you do.”
“I know your middle name, Jane.”
“Don’t call me Jane.”
“Why not?”
“My dad used to call me that.” Draco glanced quickly at her; she was crying freely. “Everything has changed.”
//3:43 a.m. the next evening //
Draco came outside with a blanket around his shoulders; even though it was the end of August, it was growing rather cold. The current weather fit the atmosphere around the house. He looked to his left; Hermione was not there, he didn’t expect her to be there.
//2:52 a.m. the next evening //
Again, Draco was in need of a blanket as he went outside. He clutched it close to himself for protection against the blowing wind and again, looked for Hermione. She was sitting at the edge of the porch, her head drooped low and her cigarette held in the air above her head. Draco walked, his bare feet slapping against the wood and took a seat next to her.
“How are you holding up?” He took her cigarette from her fingers and took a long drag. “Always liked Rothmans.” He blew the smoke from his mouth, took a quick puff and gave it back to Hermione. She lifted her head and dried her red eyes.
“They’re heavier than most…” She replied. “What brand do you smoke?”
“Chesterfield.” He threw part of his blanket over Hermione’s shoulders. “I’m nearly out … I don’t think I’ll be able to get anymore for a while.”
“Me neither… You don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Be nice.”
“…All right then.“ Draco got up but left the blanket for her.
Hermione pulled the tartan cloth closer to her and finished her cigarette alone.
//1:29 a.m. the next evening//
The blanket Draco had been bringing with him outside was missing; Hermione had it. He headed outside and there she was sitting on her bench all the way at the end. He sat next to her, but she got up and sat on the ground at the end of the porch.
“You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.” He said, rubbing his arms against the cold wind. “It’s awful chilly out.”
Hermione looked back at Draco; she stood and walked to the bench, sat, and threw the blanket over him as well. She drew herself close and rested her head against his shoulder.
“I knew they were dead since the first day they had gone missing, Draco. They took them away from me. I’ll never see them again and it isn’t fair. I need to fight now, more than ever.”
“Are you stupid or something? Don’t you realize it’s just a trap? Your parents were killed so you can go out and get revenge. That’s when they would get you and use you to lure Potter in. Don’t you understand that’s why he left you behind here, where it’s safe? I thought you were supposed to be smart.”
“I want my mum and dad back.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “It’s not fair. They were never a part of this. It’s not fair… It’s not fair.”
“There is nothing you can do to get them back. If you go out and get yourself killed, they would have died for no reason. Trust me on this.”
Hermione carefully grabbed his arm and lifted his sleeve over his forearm. “I can’t trust you; not with this.”
Draco hissed as she ran her fingers over the black snake. “My Godfather has one.”
“He’s different. Dumbledore trusted him. I don’t know about you. ”
“If you don’t trust me, then why are you curled on top of me like some sick puppy? You know, I thought you were different, Granger. Guess I was wrong…” He stood from the bench. “You know, everyone thinks I’m the one who is prejudiced against the world, but look at yourself first! You’re the one acting superior, not me, as if your values are better than mine.” He bent down and placed his hands on either side of Hermione, trapping her against the bench. “Maybe I should do something to you to make you happy. To prove to the world that you’re right, that a Mudblood can’t trust a Malfoy.” Hermione stared into his eyes and shuddered at the malice they possessed; Draco chortled at her unease. “Be glad I promised my Godfather I wouldn’t harm you; oh, how I yearn to see you writhe on the floor under my wand at this moment… Fuck you and this load of rubbish.” Draco walked off; he yanked the screen door open and made his way upstairs.
At the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut, Hermione burst into tears. She did not return to her bed for at least an hour.
//2:09 a.m. four days later //
Hermione hadn’t seen Draco outside in several days. She was upset and it took her less than one day to realize she missed his company. He avoided her in the house as much as he could; tending to broken brooms, helping with minor injuries of passers-by, and cleaning out the fireplace; just odd and end jobs that he did with no questions asked. Something had changed about him since Dumbledore’s death, Hermione knew it, but as Draco had said to her when he first arrived, she was having trouble admitting it.
Hermione was sitting with her legs folded under her at the end of the bench. She had her head rested on her hand and when she heard the screen door open, she sat up quickly and looked towards it.
“This is my side of the porch.” Draco walked over to her. “The left side is yours.” He sat on the other end of his bench and kept his eyes straight ahead.
Quietly, Hermione got up and moved to the other side of the porch and sat at her bench; however on the end closer to Draco. “I’m sorry.” She whispered.
“What was that you said?” He jerked his head to her. “I didn’t quite catch all of it.”
She smiled a bit. “I said, I’m sorry.”
“Good.” He answered rather callously. “Do you have a smoke? I ran out completely the other day.”
The smile vanished from Hermione’s face and as infuriated as could be, tossed him the package she had and ran inside. She could hear him laughing as she stormed up to her room.
//1:49 a.m. the next evening//
Hermione was sitting on the porch in front of the doorway as Draco stepped out.
He walked over and sat next to her. Without even a glance at him she held her hand out and spoke in the most demanding tone he had ever heard. “You have my last pack. I want it back.”
“Oh, you mean this one?” He brought the package close to his mouth and closed his lips around a cigarette. “Here you go.” He dropped it in her lap.
She stuck her fingers in and crumpled the package in her fist. “Was the last one? Give it here.”
“No, it’s mine.” He cocked his head sideways and lit it, tossing his match aside. “You gave it to me yesterday.”
“There was half a pack left then!”
“I had a rough night.” He tried to get up, but Hermione held him down. “Let me go Jane. We already established that I am perfectly all right with hexing you.”
“I said don’t call me that! Now give it to me.” She reached out but he moved his head back in avoidance.
“No.”
“Give it to me!” Hermione was growing angrier and angrier by the second. “Give it to me!”
“Ask politely.” He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and placed it carefully on the edge of the porch.
“Draco, I’m not going to say it again, give it to me! Just give it to me!” She slapped him in the shoulder and then in the face and with her fists in his chest. “Give it to me! Give it to me! Give it to me!” At that point she began to sob as he just sat there and took everything she was throwing at him. “Give it to me! Give it to me! Give it to me! Give it to me!” Her punches were becoming feeble and weak. “Give it to me… Give- give it to me. Give… give.”
Draco reached forward and grabbed her by the wrists; she let out stifled screams as she jerked her hands, trying to pull them free.
“Give it… gi, give…” Draco just pulled Hermione into his lap as she broke down crying hysterically. “Why, Draco? Why did they have to die? Why? Why did they have to leave me alone…”
Draco rocked Hermione in his arms and held her close to his chest. He rubbed her arm, kissed the top of her head, and sat with her as she cried.
“I can’t even give them a proper burial… They won’t let me leave this place.” Draco shifted back and she settled between his legs. “It’s not fair… I didn’t even get to say ‘good bye.’ I saw them last, when school ended... I want them back.”
Draco reached to his right and picked up the half burned cigarette from the porch and held it out to her. She shook her head ‘no’; he finished it and put it out.
“I’m scared… for Harry and Ron; what if I never see them again? I can’t be left alone, I can’t… They have to come back. We have to help them… Harry and Ron. Will you come with me, to help them?”
Draco didn’t answer; he just let out a deep breath. Hermione leaned into him and drifted to sleep as he pulled the blanket tighter around them both.
//6:17 a.m. almost five hours later//
Hermione awoke in a different room than her own. She was facing Draco who was across from her on top of the sheets, their hands clutched between them and the tartan blanket keeping them warm. She closed her eyes.
“Why you pretending, Granger?”
“Am not.”
“Liar.” Draco pulled on her hand and drew her close. “I’m only doing this because you are grieving.” He sighed. “You need… support.”
“You don’t have to. You can go back to hating me if you want. I’ll just go to downstairs now, ready breakfast early today, before anyone wakes up. No one will know.”
Hermione tried to get up, but he held on.
“You‘ll need your rest for when we leave tonight Granger.”
She looked at him and bit her lip. He had his eyes closed trying to sleep, but she could see them trembling under the lids. Without thinking, Hermione pressed her lips into his and kissed him gently. He didn’t pull away or turn his head in disgust, he just allowed her to kiss him; and as she pulled her mouth from his, he pushed back, just for that split second he did.
Hermione opened her eyes and saw that his were open too, staring at her. Disbelief, surprise, appreciation, understanding, interest? She couldn’t tell what Draco was feeling. After a minute of just looking, knowing he wouldn’t dare close his eyes first, Hermione did and rested against him.
“Thank you.” He said.
// //
Assignment:
BRIEFLY describe what you'd like to receive: Something really believable and plausible. Angst is fine, but a happy ending is just as good. :D Draco should, at one point, call Hermione "Jane". The fic should conform, as much as possible, to HBP and... preferably a one-shot, or maximum of three parts.
What rating would you prefer?: PG-13 to R
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): Harry and Ron being either too cold or too accepting about D/Hr's relationship. No slash, rape, incest, cross-species or cross-gen. Ginny portrayed in a positive light.
Final Author Notes:
this was fun. ^_^
TBC
Thank-you for participating in the Hot Summer Nights with Draco and Hermione fic exchange.