Interhouse Fest 2016: Where Home Is (2 of 5)

[interhouse_mod]

Chapter 2

This time, Hermione was already waiting for the sound of someone Apparating into her vicinity. It was faint enough for Muggles to overhear it, but now that she knew Malfoy was visiting her, she was attuned to his arrival.

"One could think you were waiting for me," he commented dryly when he saw her stand on the steps.

"I heard you arrive," she countered, "but one could think that you want me to wait for you."

"Maybe." He chuckled, and beckoned her to sit down.

"Did you read a bit in the books I lent you?" she asked, and cast a Cushion Charm on her spot before sitting down.

"Yes. Not an easy read though, especially the one written by that woman-"

“You mean Arendt?” She handed him the now usual bottle of beer. “Yes, she is tough to read. But I do hope you understood some things while reading.”

He nodded, and rolled his bottle between his hands. “Oh, I definitely did,” he replied, and let his bottle open with a plop. “Just funny that I get another lesson in Muggle Studies from you...”

“Maybe you should have cared more in class, you know?” she retorted with the same teasing tone in her voice.

“It's not as if you wouldn't jump at any chance to teach someone a lesson in morality, especially if it's me.” He took his first sip of beer.

“Well, you definitely are an interesting challenge,” she replied, and opened her bottle with the same plop. It sounded just like an echo.

He nodded. “So, you read them all?”

“Yes. As a recluse, I have a lot of time to read when not at work.”

“So, you're not going out with some Muggle boy?” he implied jokingly. “Just for a bit of fun, I mean. I don't think any Muggle man would ever be a good match for you, you'd hex him into oblivion eventually.”

“You think?” she countered. “And why the sudden interest in my love life? I remember the last time you were interested-you taunted me.”

“Well, the arse I was back then did.”

“Just remember the rule, okay?” she said, and noticed a spark in his eyes. Was he...? He couldn't be, could he? What if he was? She started fumbling with the label on her bottle; for a moment, she found it rather eerie that he was still interested in her love life, for whatever reason.

He nodded, smirking at her obvious embarrassment. ”I won't forget your rule, Granger, and it's a challenge. I always liked teasing-”

“You mean bullying me,” she interjected.

“Fuck yes, I bullied you. I get it,” he huffed at her. “Now let me finish my point, will you?”

She stared right back at him, content that she finally got a rise out of him. “Okay, go on then.”

“No,” he retorted, and instead let his bottle swirl around, spraying the ground with some of his beer.

“Malfoy...” She froze the bottle in mid-movement to get his attention back, but he only shook his head. “What's going on? You go from basically flirting with me to fully irritated in seconds.”

“I wasn't flirting with you,” he finally muttered in defiance. “I just wanted to say that you're easy to tease-and I mean that in a good way-because you're not afraid to give back as good as you get. There aren't that many people that are as interesting to talk to as you are, you know? I know you remember me as a snarky bully-”

“Snarky is okay, Malfoy. Well, maybe not snarky, but sarcastic. Yes, sarcasm is okay,” she replied with a nod to emphasise her words. “It's just a bit strange reconciling my memories with how you're behaving now, you know? You're so not you. Don't get me wrong-it's interesting to talk to you, just a bit... yeah, strange.”

Nibbling on the label of his beer bottle, he looked at her, his slightly furrowed brows showing how hard he tried finding an answer. “It's your rule, Granger. You said I should rather behave or you'll reconsider your hospitality,” he finally said, shrugging. “And I've had nine months to reconsider my behaviour; it's a lot of time to figure out that I need to change something, so...” He looked at her shortly, flashing a grin. “So, here I am, behaving all nice and friendly because the great Granger said so,” he added and then raised his bottle to a mock toast.

“Another first then-you doing what I told you to.” Hermione could help but chuckle at that thought. Whenever they had been involuntarily teamed up in classes, he usually tried to do exactly the opposite of what she had told him. And now he sat here, following her one rule of no insults.

“Well, I guess there are going to be a load of firsts between us if we keep this up,” he replied with another teasing smile, letting the bottle float between his hands. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Certainly.”

“Did you move here to avoid your parents?” he asked with an earnest tone. “I mean you told me yesterday that you struggle with you having had to Obliviate them..."

“Yes. ” She gulped some of her beer. “I just had to. I know they still love me, but I feel like there's some sort of wall between us... I wish I could talk to my parents about what I've done, and what I had to go through in the War. Right now, I rather feel like a constant disappointment because of this.”

“Believe me, I know about that-”

She nodded, smiling faintly. “It's a bit like feeling disconnected to everyone I love, even more so since I broke up with Ron-”

“You broke up with that lazy redhead? ” he interrupted her in surprise, even stopped floating the bottle between his hands.

“Malfoy, please!”

“Come on, you have to admit he was lazy. You did almost all his homework-”

“Not the point here,” she retorted irritated. “But yes, he was lazy.”

“As I said.” He took a sip from his beer, smirking. “So, you avoid the Weasels, too, then, I take it?”

“I see you still notice everything...”

Now Draco chuckled. “Concerning you? Yes. Everything about you is noticeable-in a good way, before you get yourself riled up again...”

She found his playful, almost flirty tone rather unnerving whenever he tried to give her a compliment-at least that was what she thought he was doing; she simply wasn't used to hear sincere compliments from him, but she couldn't explain those moments otherwise. “But yes, I avoid them a bit. Haven't been to a Sunday lunch in a while. They still consider me family and everything, but...” She shrugged.

“You just don't feel home there,” he finished her sentence, and smiled faintly when he saw her shake her head. “After all, where is home anyway?” he then let out, sounding more melancholic than he probably intended while letting his bottle raise up until it was at the same level as his head.

“I think the saying is 'home is where the heart is'-”
“Bullshit.”
“Yeah,” Hermione concurred with his sentiment, watching him play with his bottle; she understood that he did that to keep himself from plunging even deeper into those upsetting thoughts that plagued them both. “Same for you then?”

“How do you figure?” he muttered, and let his bottle float back into his hands. “The Manor is just the place my family lived in for generations. I told you before that I don't really speak with my parents anymore...”

Hermione noticed the low growl in his voice and the force with which he held his bottle; his situation really had to frustrate him-no wonder he was up in arms every time they touched that subject. “Yeah, you did,” she said, mostly to encourage him to continue.

“There's not much else to it,” he replied with another shrug. “I would really love to move out, to have my own place somewhere, you know? But no one wants to sell or rent me anything just because I'm a Malfoy! So yes, if you want to talk about home, don't include me.”

Yes, Hermione understood this more than she cared to admit, though she was still astonished about his openness with her; he probably just didn't care any longer about a few things that previously ruled his life, such as their respective blood status-maybe he even somewhat liked her? “What about here? I mean you apparently like coming here...”

He looked at her, his fingers nibbling with the label, as he tended to do when trying to cover his confusion; after a few moments, he flashed another of his teasing smiles, and leaned in a bit. “I do, Granger. Or I wouldn't bother putting up with your strict rule...”

She returned his smile.

“You never thought you'd ever say that about me, have you?” she finally remarked, teasing him, and lifted her bottle in a toast; her smile grew wider when she saw him copy the gesture.

“Oh, I might have hexed any one back in Hogwarts if they even hinted at us having a proper conversation like this...” He took a sip from his bottle, and put the bottle on the ground between his legs.

“Severely hexed, sending them straight to Madam Pomfrey.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed with a chuckle.

“Yet, here we are. You, me, talking. Still strange, isn't it?”

“Oh yes.” He let his bottle wander over the ground in circles. “Still, despite your rule, it's a nice change to the constant fights with my father. And...” He leaned in once more, looking straight at her. “And you're definitely worth it, following your rule, you know? I'd even stick up with more than just that rule to keep talking to you.”

“Gods, Malfoy,” she let out in embarrassment, trying to hide her blushing cheeks behind her coat collar. This felt mighty strange to hear such a thing from Malfoy, but she had to admit that the liking was starting to be mutual-having left his cockiness and sneer behind, he was actually quite entertaining to talk to, and she did like his refreshing perspective on things.

“You don't believe me, do you?” he said, still leaning in, sounding amused about her embarrassment.

“It is a bit hard to believe, yes,” she admitted, nodding, and took a sip from her bottle. Yes, his remark had made her feel a tad embarrassed about realising that she started to like the new him, but it was nice to hear that he considered her worth following her rule of no insults.

“It's the truth, Granger. I'm sure you'll make me admit a few more times that I was an arse back then-”

“You were the king of arses,” she interrupted him mockingly.

“Come on, I wasn't that bad, I never hit you back when you almost broke my nose in third grade.”

Hermione let out a short laugh. Oh yes, she remembered that moment, and especially his shocked face that she had dared to smack him in the face for his snottiness. “You deserved that for having the Hippogriff persecuted because you were too stupid to follow a few simple rules in Hagrid's class...”

“Looking back, you're probably right, though it still hurts sometimes.” He mocked some pain while rubbing his nose.

“I certainly hope so!” she replied with a broad grin which then turned into a yawn; it was getting late, and she had to get up early tomorrow-at least earlier than Malfoy, she guessed. “Sorry, it's just getting late.”

“Continue reminiscing of our past tomorrow?” he said, still smiling, in response to her yawning.

She shook her head, and finished her bottle. “Sorry. Harry said he wanted to visit me for dinner. He's just checking on me, you know?”

“I understand. Better not come here, then.”

“Yes. Or you will have your guts ripped out, I guess...”

***

“You look good!”

“Thanks, Ginny, I know I look exhausted,” Hermione replied, hugging her friend briefly but cordially, when she and Harry arrived for dinner the next evening. Hermione wasn't exactly in the mood to receive her friends, but they insisted on checking on her every now and then to make sure she was okay. “But you look good!”

“Thanks.” Ginny let go of her with a broad smile and went inside.

“You look good, too, Harry. Anything I need to know about you two?” She hugged him as well and just as cordially; even if she felt somewhat disconnected to her friends and families, it didn't mean that she loved them any less.

“No, no... Just had a good day at work.” He let go. “But Ginny's right, you look better than last time.” He followed her inside.

“I always forget how small your place is,” Ginny remarked when they came in.

“I can't just magically enhance it, this is a Muggle neighbourhood,” Hermione replied, barely containing the sarcasm in her voice. “Beer, anyone? Dinner is almost ready...”

Ginny smiled and followed her into the kitchen. “Mum asked after you. She misses you, you know?”

“Yes, I know. Everybody seems to miss me these days-”

“You're still family, even if it didn't work out with Ron.”

Hermione opened the fridge to hand Ginny the bottles. If only they knew that the break-up with Ron wasn't the reason for her to move here but simply another consequence of her mixed, diffuse feelings. “I know.”

“It smells delicious in here,” Harry commented when he joined them, leaning against the door frame.

“Just some braised meat and vegetables. My mum gave me her recipe.” She handed him the last bottle in her hand. “So, how's everyone?”

“Slowly doing better. George still has days when he buries himself in work at the joke shop, but Ron decided to help him out for a while,” Harry mentioned, and plopped his bottle open.

Ginny wanted to do open her bottle the Muggle way as well, but she struggled a bit until the lid of her bottle finally came off as well. “Mum still cries from time to time, especially when she sees one of Fred's old jumpers, or something else that belonged to him, but otherwise, she's almost like before.”

“I remember how she and George couldn't stop crying at the funeral,” Hermione said. Yes, the day they had buried Fred had been a very bad day for all of them, but it had hit Molly and George the hardest-Molly had lost one of her children, something that no mother should have to go through; George had lost his twin, his other inseparable half.

“Yes. It was a tough day." Harry took a gulp of his beer. “But it looks like George and Angelina are dating now; at least, I've seen them a few times out together.”

“That's nice to hear...” Hermione smiled, and checked the meat in the oven.

“What about you? Found someone?” Ginny asked, albeit in a more joking manner.

“I'm not even looking for someone right now, Ginny.”

“No cute boy coming to that doctor place of your parents? You still work there, right?”

“Yes, I still work there. And no, nothing of interest, it's mostly elderly people anyway.” No, Hermione wasn't even thinking about starting to date again. She had to come to terms with other things first, yet Ginny asked her every time.

“Pity. But maybe one day--”

“Yeah, maybe one day,” Hermione repeated with a friendly smile. She was happy for them to have found each other, and she smiled a bit broader when she noticed Ginny taking Harry's hand in an unceremonious, tender way. Yes, she was happy for them. “So, you're still practising for the try-outs this summer?” she asked, then checked the clock, only to realise that the meat was finished cooking.

“She's covered with bruises,” Harry replied, and let out a small, despaired sounding groan.

“You have even more bruises,” Ginny countered.

“But only because you have me practise with you all the time...”

Hermione smiled at the banter, and finally pulled the meat out of the oven. “You two can already sit down. Dinner will be ready in a few moments.”

“So, he tried to fool me with a feigned attack, and then he suddenly started to slip off his broom. You should have seen him hang on to his broom,” Ginny recounted a practice accident over dessert, barely able to finish the story because she started to laugh over it; even Harry giggled.

“Molly wanted to bring me to St. Mungo's when she heard me crash down, my dear Ginny only told me to stop whimpering and get up again.”

Now Hermione laughed, too. Yes, Ginny had a very high threshold for pain and sometimes forgot that others weren't so tough. Molly, on the other hand, tended to be overly careful with her children.

“In the end, I still had me checked out, and they said I had sprained several joints... So, now Ron has to play with her-”

“And you know how he plays.”

“Gods, yes. He was bad.” Hermione chuckled. “But he hasn't yet ended up in hospital, has he?”

“Not yet. Mum said I should be careful with him.”

Then, suddenly, Harry turned his attention to the door, looking alarmed. “Did you hear that?”

Hermione turned her head towards the door. “What?” she asked apprehensively.

“There was a faint crack as if someone was Apparating...” He got up to check at the window.

“Harry, please sit down again, it was probably just some door or something like that,” Hermione replied. She had heard the sound, too, and had actually hoped that they hadn't noticed it. But Harry still had his reflexes from the war, his ears were still sensitive to the faintest sound, and he still checked the surroundings for shadows. She followed him to the door, still wanting to persuade him to come back, though she knew full well that it was pointless. So much for a nice evening with her friends...

“It wasn't a door, Hermione.” He took one look outside, and immediately stiffened. “What's he doing here?!”

“Who?” Ginny asked, joining them, and wanting to have a look too.

“Hermione, what's Malfoy doing on your doorsteps?” Harry asked in a deep growl. “What, on earth, is he doing here?”

Hermione sighed, but crossed her arms in defiance. “He sits there. Is that good enough for an answer?”

“Why? Why are you allowing Malfoy to sit on your doorstep?”

“Because this is my bloody house and I decide who can sit on my doorstep...”

“Hermione, you can't possibly trust him,” Ginny added, joining Harry in taking his hand again.

“Gods, I was at his bloody hearing, remember? You didn't bother to show up at his hearing, you even only attended his mother's hearing because you had to as a witness after she saved your life. For the last nine months, you didn't care about their fate-”

“And you did?” Harry retorted, flexing his hands in irritation.

“I cared enough to keep Malfoy from being sentenced to house arrest like his parents. Harry, I know what he's done, what he had to go through-”

“It seems he's succeeded in blinding you. He's still a liar, Hermione-”

“He is not, Harry! All we do is talk, he hasn't been inside my house, and we usually sit on the steps and talk over a beer.” She glared at him, annoyed that he just had to play the big brother on her again. “I know you don't like to hear that, but we both feel lonely and somewhat cast out-Ginny, don't!” She raised her finger to warn her friend not to say a word right now. “You both have no bloody idea what it is like to feel this lonely and in severe need of a re-adjustment to the post-War society. You know, he asked me about forgiveness, and I gave him Arendt to read amongst-”

“Muggle authors?” Harry asked surprised.

“Yes,” Hermione replied, letting her head fall back in frustration. “We connected over our loneliness, because he gets it.”

“We don't?”

“No, Harry.” Hermione shook her head. “You just want me to come back, get a job at the Ministry and be content that the War is over. And you, Ginny, you ask me every time if I found someone. It's annoying!”

“Hermione, we just care about you, okay?” Ginny replied, trying to keep a friendly tone. “I mean you withdrew to this place, you don't want to come to the lunches any more, and you broke up with my brother-”

“And now Malfoy sits on your doorsteps,” Harry added, sounding something between worried and irritated. “This isn't good.”

“Says who?” Hermione sneered. “Don't even try telling me what I can do and what I can't. Don't tell me that I can't talk to Malfoy about feeling lonely and uprooted, because he gets it. You can't forbid me to connect with him over that fact that we don't feel at home anywhere. Just don't.”

“Hermione, you know you're always welcome at the Burrow, -” Ginny started, but got interrupted by Harry.

“But having him on your doorsteps now feels like home?” Harry asked with a raised voice, pointing at the door.

“I never said that. You just don't want to listen, do you?” Hermione retorted, raising her voice as well. She had never been intimidated by his angry outbursts. “I love you all, but right now, the Burrow is not the place I want to be.”

“It's Malfoy, for God's sake!”

“I KNOW!”

“Then you will tell him that he can't come here-”

“HELL KNOWS I WON'T!” Hermione saw him flinch at her outburst, which gave her a short moment of satisfaction. “You're not my brother, Harry...” Taking a deep breath, she went for the door. Holding it open, she harshly demanded, “Now, please leave.”

“Hermione-” Ginny started, but stopped when she saw Hermione's determined expression that didn't allow for any further discussion.

Draco turned around as soon as he heard the door being opened, and immediately got up when he saw Potter in the frame, about to be thrown out. He knew that his old rival was here when he had fled the Manor earlier after another row with his father-it was somewhat satisfying to watch Potter being dismissed by Granger.

“Just get out. This is my house. I decide who gets to stay and who should better leave right now, no one else.” She shortly looked at Draco, and nodded once in his direction.

“Hermione, you can't be serious about this-”

“Stop it, Harry. You're my friend, but right now, you have no right to question my life or my decisions.” She Summoned their coats and bags to throw them at her friends. “This is my place, and Malfoy can stay if he wants to. You, on the other hand, should better leave.”

“HERMIONE!”

“Let her be,” Ginny tried to assuage Harry who was seething, “you won't be able to change her mind. Not like that. She just needs time to see her mistake.” She took his hand, and started to pull him towards the road. “Let's leave.”

“We will talk about this,” Harry warned Hermione. “And you, Malfoy, I don't know what your motivation is to come here at all, but it better be bloody good...”

Draco simply smirked, he was used to Potter treating him like this, it was nothing new. “I see, you haven't changed a bit,” he said, shrugging. “Still hanging on to the same old things...”

“Says the Death Eater,” Harry retorted.

“I couldn't care less about what you think. But I'd better leave if I were you, Granger looks like she's about to hex you...”

“He's right, Harry. You better leave. And yes, we will talk about this, when you've come to your senses."

With one last growl, Harry left for the hidden spot they had used for Apparating here, Ginny easily following his fast stride.

“Sorry about that.” Hermione sighed deeply when she finally saw them turn around the corner.

“Quite a show you put up there.” Draco came up the steps, a small smile on his lips. He noticed how she tried to hide her upset state behind her usual smile; it was her eyes-they were still burning with an intensity that surprised him. But it only added to his impression that she seemed to feel similarly as he did-lonely with a side of furious. That fire in her eyes resonated with his own still simmering anger from the argument with his father.

“At least you've kept your snark, I noticed.”

“Oh, with Potter? I'd never not be snarky around him, he just asks for it.”

“Idiot,” she countered, chuckling. “He heard you Apparate, and he just had to check through the window. Old habits die hard.” She rubbed her arms. “Want to come in? I still have a couple of beers left, plus some dinner if you're hungry.”

“I'm not sure I should come in...”

“Don't worry about Harry,” she replied with a warm smile, and beckoned him inside. “As I said, this is my place, and he knows better than to piss me off any further.”

“Ironic though that the biggest hero of our time is afraid of your wrath,” he remarked, and followed her inside. In the first moment, he was surprised how small it was. Magical Enhancement Charms being used so rigorously in the wizarding world to extend any living space, few places lacked space. -She hadn't applied any Charms, so this was a proper Muggle place.

“He should be.” She went for the kitchen to get the beers.

Draco used the few seconds until she came back to have a short look around, not surprised to find two walls plastered with book shelves, though she also had those Muggle devices that he never quite understood. Yes, this place really screamed Granger. He liked it; it had a comfortable feel to it, a complete contrast to the Manor.

“So, why did you show up tonight?” she asked curiously when she came back, a bottle in each hand. “I mean I warned you that Harry wouldn't like seeing you here, so you probably have a very good reason...”

“You mentioned something about having my guts ripped out,” he replied, raising his eyebrow mockingly. “Since I still have my guts, I think that went better than expected...”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She pointed at the sofa, then handed him one the bottles. “So, did anything happen?” she then repeated her initial question.

Draco nodded, and let himself fall on the sofa; he had almost forgotten the reason why he had come here, but Granger started to have this effect on him. “My father found your books, and we had a fight about it. I never thought I'd ever hear him shout at me that loud. I think my ears rang for a couple of minutes after I left the Manor.” He opened his bottle with a plop. “He thinks I've gone mad for reading those books. I'm afraid he's incinerated them.”

“I can buy them again,” she replied, playing with the lid of her bottle. “What did you tell him?”

He shrugged. “That I was trying to find answers to some questions. I didn't mention you, though, or I'd be in St. Mungo's right now.” He swirled the bottle in his hands, studying her; she looked at him with those earnestly curious eyes, interested in what he was telling her. Just as she found his change in attitude-at least towards her-rather weird, he wasn't used to be looked at the way she was looking at him. It made him open up to her, as if he was in some safe, comfortable bubble next to her. And it made him want more-more of that comfortable safety, more of her.

“Seriously? That bad?”

“I told you that he still tries to tell me what to think or do. But he can't impress me anymore.” He looked down on his hands for a moment, mentioning his father still managed to rile him up again. He took a sip in the hope it would diffuse his resurging anger. “So, Potter found out about us talking?” he then asked, changing the subject because he knew she wanted to steam off. She had never been one to hold it in for long, not even at Hogwarts-that had made riling her up in those days so easy, but now he preferred seeing her smile again.

“Yes. They sometimes think they know better,” she replied cynically, and finally opened her bottle, letting the lid jump to the floor in a high arch.

“The lazy redhead didn't bother coming along?”

“Don't call him that, even though you might be right,” she replied, raising her eyebrow at him.

“Come on, that wasn't even an insult, Granger, I was merely stating a fact.”

“I know. I just don't like you calling him that, that's all. And no, he didn't come tonight. Harry said he couldn't come because of work...”

“Work, yeah. He's probably dating someone else and just didn't want to brag about it in front of you...”

“Ginny would have told me!”

“Sure?” he replied, and then cracked a teasing smile. He liked how she managed to defend her ex, and in the same time still agreed with him. Yes, that was Granger.

Hermione chuckled and after another sip from her beer, she continued, “Harry wasn't even at your hearing, and he still dares to call you a liar, you know?”

He turned his head to look at her. “He did?” he asked, though he wasn't exactly surprised that Potter would continue to distrust him.

She nodded. “Yes. Like he wanted to say, 'Malfoys are liars, don't trust them', or 'they just play the victim to avoid sentencing'. Idiot,” she grunted, and took a sip to flush her irritation down.

“My family has been rather flexible with the truth in the past,” he admitted. “But I wouldn't risk lying to you now.”

“I know.”

“So, one evening-I think it was a late summer evening at the Burrow-Ron sits next to me at the table after we finished dinner in the garden, and he bloody tries to be intimate, kiss me and stuff. And I was sitting there thinking, 'nope, not going to happen'. I was so not turned on by what he was doing, and even less so by his kisses,” Hermione recounted hours later, and took a gulp from her now third bottle of beer. “I think I broke up with him shortly afterwards...”

Draco studied her for a moment-alcohol definitely loosened her up quite a bit, her cheeks flushed from the mix of alcohol and anger, and her eyes burning in dark amber. Potter must have severely pissed her off; he had only witnessed the last part of their argument, despite having been the cause of it. And she was mighty frustrated. Oh yes, she was most definitely intense in everything. Was she liked that in bed too? He immediately shook his head to lose that thought again. “I remember a similar moment with Pansy-”

“You and Pansy... I still can't believe it. I mean she wasn't the brightest witch-”

“She was no you, but she wasn't stupid either,” he replied a bit more defensive than he intended. After all, Pansy had been the closest thing he ever had to a girlfriend, and he had liked her at least somewhat. “She was okay, and she would do whatever I asked her. Most of the times, she was good enough for relief. That was nice to have, but gods, her groping sometimes wasn't a big turn-on either. ”

“You're such a romantic type, Malfoy.”

“What can I say? It's not like I had many opportunities to be, right?” he retorted cynically. "And how many times do I have to admit that I was a selfish arse back then, Granger?”

“A few more times, I think,” she replied, a devious smirk on her lips.

“Really?” he groaned. He was never going to live that up, was he? “So, you were turned off by his kisses?” he then asked, flushing down his irritation with a gulp from his bottle.

“God, yes! It was like being kissed by a dog sometimes, you know? All sloppy and wet. I mean he was sweet and loving as boyfriend, but I was missing something... I wanted something more passionate, more exciting, you know? Something that would sweep me off my feet.” She huffed and rubbed her face. “He just didn't do it for me...”

“Ever tried it with someone else? Potter maybe?” Draco doubted that Potter would be any good for her, too bloody good for his own sake; it made him chuckle at his own words.

“Harry? Gods, no! He's like my brother, I could never kiss him like that!” she retorted and laughed out loud, her cheeks blushing from her embarrassment about that idea. “Gods, no!”

“What about now? I mean with me?” He tried to keep a playful tone in his voice, mostly to hide the fact that this was something he had started to think about recently. He had always been drawn to her fire, her challenging nature-though it had mostly annoyed him back in Hogwarts-but now he was drawn to her because of her willingness to give him a chance, and being close to her almost every evening during their talks over the last couple of weeks only added to it all. He didn't really expect an answer to his question anyway, and he could always play it down as a joke. But to his surprise, he noticed that Hermione was looking at him in some bewilderment, her brows furrowed-she must have like a million questions race through her mind.

After a seemingly endless moment, a devious smirk grew on her lips. “You think you're such a good kisser?” she replied, playing the innocent girl-the teasing smile on her lips, however, betrayed her game. “You think you'd be able to sweep me off my feet?”

Oh gods, she was really considering it! Draco almost choked on his beer, hearing her answer. “Oh, why not find out then?” he replied, still coughing, but keeping his teasing tone. “It's not like as if anyone will ever believe me anyway that I kissed you...”

She giggled in response to his choking coughs. “I hardly believe that you even proposed it,” she said, giggling once more.

Draco took her giggling as a sign that she had now completely forgotten about her previous anger; he actually liked the sound of her giggle. “What? Can't a Slytherin be straight-forward for once?” He sat up to put his bottle on the sofa table; he started to feel rather excited about the fact that she hadn't yet stopped him-it encouraged him to dare the next step, leaning closer.

“Slytherin and straight-forward?” she snorted. “You're joking, right?” She sat up as well, putting her bottle on the table next to his.

“Oh, there are a few things I don't joke about...”

His remark made her laugh again, with what Draco thought a slight nervous undertone. “You seriously have some nerves,” she said, shaking her head in amused disbelief, but still coming closer. “Harry will kill you for this.”

Now Draco couldn't keep a straight face any longer, with her leaning towards him. “Sod him,” he countered, placing his hand gently on hers, just to test her a bit. She didn't pull back, and the touch even had an electrifying effect on him. They hadn't really touched before, as he preferred to respect her boundaries-and touching, even just a simple pad on the shoulder, had previously felt like a violation of those unspoken boundaries. So yes, he figured that it was up to her to make any first move; he had already been happy enough to just talk to her. But this now? This was utterly exciting, with her only inches away, looking at him with those expectant, dark amber eyes. “Granger?”

“Shh...”

“I was only joking,” he husked, able to take in her scent now-it was a subtle hint of jasmine and books.

“You weren't.” She tilted her head slightly, licking her lips. And then, after another heartbeat, she completely surprised him with pressing her lips on his.

“No, I wasn't,” he breathed seconds later, blown away by her audacity. And her hair was really as soft as he had thought ever since he could see it from up close, raking his fingers through it. Oh, she was definitely worth following that stupid rule, if it meant she would do something like that! Encouraged by her hands running through his hair-surely messing it up completely in the process-he then claimed her lips in a second kiss, daring to deepen it because he definitely wanted to roam her mouth now, and suck on those lips until they were all red and puffed. .

****

The next day, all Hermione could think of in her hung-over state was what had driven her to actually dare to kiss Malfoy of all people the evening before. If only she could completely blame the alcohol she had had in her system at that point, but she wasn't so sure about that now. At least it was Saturday, and she didn't have to face anyone else today, which gave her time to sort her thoughts out. God, they had only kissed for a few minutes at tops, yet he had managed to sweep her off her feet with it.

She could still feel his fingers rake through her hair, and it sent shivers down her spine. She hadn't previously really thought about him that way-she even wondered what had driven her to respond to his proposition like she had; and then the kiss just had to resonate in her, utterly excite her. His lips had been so soft, yet eager to meet hers. It was just that now, she didn't quite know at all how to handle this situation-as fantastic as their kiss had been, it also felt like some sort of breach of boundaries between them; so far, they had only talked, only just started to like each other, and were slowly building what could be considered a friendship. A kiss shouldn't be part of that.

Contemplating the consequences of her drunken move all afternoon, Hermione managed to at least do her laundry to feel somewhat productive that day. She was putting the folded laundry away in the evening when she heard a knock on her front door, which surprised her because no one really visited her on a Saturday without notice. They all knew that she wanted to be prepared for her visitors. Somewhat irritated, she finally opened the door, and was rather baffled to see Malfoy stand there, smiling and clad in a nicely fitting casual coat. “I kind of didn't expect you today,” she said after a few seconds of staring at him in disbelief, the memory of their kiss flashing through her mind again, making her blush lightly.

“I can see that,” he replied teasingly. “Did you even change today?”

“Saturday is pyjama day.” She stepped aside and let him in. “But what are you doing here? I mean it's too early for your usual appearance-”

“Oh, I know, Granger. But I thought I could invite you to dinner tonight for once.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes, but I won't take you out looking like this,” he replied, nodding, and pointed at her pyjama.

“Why?” She was still baffled at his proposal. “I mean, we were drunk and everything, but-”

“No, no, don't get me wrong, Granger!” he stopped her with a chuckle. “This is for standing up to your friends for me, nothing else.”

“Right.” She smiled, and started to like the idea of being taken out by Malfoy. She probably wouldn't have agreed to go out if her friends had asked her, but it was Malfoy, not her friends. She just didn't quite believe him that it was just for standing up to her friends for him. “Okay, I'll get ready then. Do I need to wear anything fancy?”

He shook his head. “No, whatever you feel comfortable in. Though I wouldn't mind something nice to look at-”

“Whatever,” she countered. “Make yourself comfortable, I'll hurry. In the meanwhile, feel free to check out the rest of my books...” She pointed at the other side of the living room area, and then, with a smile, started climbing the stairs.

About an hour later, they settled at the table of a nice little Italian restaurant not too far off from her place that had looked cosy from the outside. “You ever had Italian food?” Hermione asked rather naively when they sat down at the table at the window.

“You'd be surprised, but yes, I have had Italian food before,” Draco replied, sounding as if he was amused that she even thought about asking that. “My family has a summer house in Northern Italy, at the Adriatic coast.”

“You probably have a house everywhere in Europe,” she mocked, and pulled the small menu card from the holder.

“No, just that one plus one in Southern France, I think.” He grabbed the other menu card to have a look at it. “Oh nice, they have my favourite!”

She smiled broadly. “So, you really just take me out as a thank you for fighting my friends?” Thank God for the menu card, she wouldn't have been able to look at him right now.

“Good evening,” the waiter greeted them politely-he was an elderly, likeable man with a well-polished smile, and thick Italian accent. “Do you know what you want to order? Or do you need more time?”

“What do you say, Granger, two glasses of red wine?”

She nodded in agreement. “I take the Peperonata, and a small salad,” she said, smiling at the waiter, who noted her order on his little pad.

“I never took you to be a pizza lover,” Draco commented, and looked up as well. “I'll take the Arrabiata, but with spaghetti, not penne, no salad. And two glasses of your best red wine.”

“And I never took you to be the spicy type,” she remarked dryly, and put the card back in the holder.

“Thank you.” With a smile and a bow, the waiter left them again to give the orders through to the kitchen.

“You'd be surprised how spicy I actually like it,” Draco said teasingly.

“Oh, I can imagine,” Hermione replied, smirking. His constant teasing remarks gave her the impression that this invitation wasn't about her standing up for him, but rather a consequence of their kiss. She still wasn't quite sure how to take it, but she decided that she wouldn't bring it up if he didn't bring it up either, and rather enjoy the evening.

Draco looked outside for a moment, as if he was looking for something. “You know, the Muggle world is rather weird sometimes. I mean how they do things without magic,” he finally continued, turning his attention back to her. “But from what I was able to read before my father discovered your books, it is also surprisingly similar to our world.”

“What do you find weird?”

“Muggle technology mostly. I mean... How does a-what's it called?-carts work?”

“You mean cars? That people use to drive in?”

He nodded, grinning sheepishly/embarrassed. “Yes, cars.”

She smiled warmly, his open embarrassment for not remembering the expression was almost endearing. “They have what I think is called a combustion motor where a fuel is burned which produces the energy that in turn moves the wheels, and voilà, the car moves. That's as simple as I can put it...”

“But it still takes ages to get somewhere that way, does it?”

“Compared to what wizards can use, yes, it takes ages. Though I remember that I liked the trips I used to take with my parents before I got into Hogwarts. Driving there had always been fun, and my father always tried to make it worth remembering, like make a visit to some place, a museum for example, before we got to our destination. Or I remember getting excited about flying to Italy for our vacation at the beach as a little girl. Sometimes it's just as much about the experience of travelling as the destination itself...”

The waiter brought their wine. “Your dinner will be served shortly. Signorina, would you like your salad as an entrée or as a side to your pizza?”

“As a side, thank you.”

Draco watched the waiter leave again, and then raised his glass for toasting. “To whatever this has become.”

“Yes, to whatever this has become,” she repeated and raised her glass as well. It had definitely become confusing, this much was clear, but she also figured that his inviting her to dinner-even if it was only to this small Italian place-was a surprisingly nice gesture, a step into the right direction. So, yes, she was enjoying the evening very much, even though she hadn't initially planned to go out at all; she took a first sip from her wine. “Hmm, nice.”

“Yes.” Nodding, he put his glass back down. “There's something else you told me about the Muggle world that made me think. Those two wars...”

“What about them?”

“You were rambling about them a couple of days ago-”

“I wasn't rambling!”

“You were. And you love doing it...” He chuckled when she shot him an annoyed glare. “But seriously, you said they reminded you of the way the Ministry is handling the situation right now-”

“They do, yes. You want to know more?”

Draco nodded. “Muggle history wasn't really covered in Muggle Studies if I remember correctly?”

“No, it definitely wasn't. But it should be included in my opinion.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “You said that the events after the first war triggered the second, right?”

“Yes. Germany as the losing party-they hadn't even started it all-had to pay an unbelievable amount of reparations, they still pay for it if I remember correctly. Then there was a recession, which gave a racist movement the opportunity to take over. Thinking about it now, that movement wasn't so different to the Death Eaters.” Hermione watched him closely as she made that comparison, but he seemed to listen intently, without even thinking of objecting. “They were elitist, agitating against those they thought second-class or even unworthy of life - back then it was mostly Jews, but they didn't refrain from interning or executing mentally ill people, political dissidents, basically anyone who didn't adhere to their ideal of the perfect human. Just like Voldemort and his followers were agitating and persecuting those they thought didn't adhere to their ideal of the perfect wizard or witch.”

“A salad and Pizza Peperonata for the signorina, and the Spaghetti Arrabbiata for the signore.” The waiter placed the plates in front of them, pulling them from their moment.

“Thanks.” Hermione started with her salad, though her pizza looked gorgeous, just the way it should be. She put the first fork of salad in her mouth when the waiter left them again.

“This is just scary what you told me,” he finally commented while forking his first load of his spaghetti. “So, you say that the Death Eaters-me included-were like those... those people? You're serious about that?”

“To be honest, yes, I am.” Hermione had finished her small salad, and started cutting up her pizza. “Though reality is probably not as simple, your case for example-”

“My case?”

“You were raised in that environment, just like the children back then in that dictatorship-no chance to escape the indoctrination, so you had to believe it. And in the end, those children were used in the war.”

He nodded. “...like I was used you mean to say,” he commented laconically, and filled his mouth with another fork load of pasta.

“I guess you were. We all were. Like pawns.” She put her first cut piece of pizza in her mouth, and immediately let out a small moan of delight. “Delicious.”

“Gods, one could think that pizza is giving you an orgasm,” he snickered, highly amused about the sounds she was making from just eating a piece of pizza. “Is that what you sound like-?”

“Malfoy!” she choked, not hiding her own amusement about his remark. “You'd like to know, don't you?”

“Oh, do I?” Raising his eyebrow in a teasing manner, and started rolling up another fork load of spaghetti, while watching her cut up another piece of her pizza; he was definitely eager to hear her make those sounds again while chewing.

However, they spent the rest of their dinner mostly in silence, and Hermione had a good chance to study him in the meantime-he rolled up each fork load rather slowly, as if he was in deep thoughts; his openly pensive face did surprise her, it was clear that her words had struck a chord with him.-

The waiter came back to their table when they were finished with their dinner. “Would you like a dessert? Tonight's special is my wife's tiramisú, molto bene!”

“That's sounds like a wonderful finish, don't you think, Malfoy?”

“If it makes you moan again like before,” he replied, and dabbed his mouth clean with his napkin to hide his grin when she let out another mocked groan at his remark.

“Yes, please, one for each,” she then answered the waiter's proposition.

“Of course, Signorina.” And with their plates in his hands, the waiter left them again, shouting something in Italian into the kitchen, from which a female voice responded; it sounded as if his wife was indeed standing in the kitchen.

“You know, pawns might be fitting for what happened to us,” he then continued in a more serious tone, returning to their previous subject before their respective dinners had arrived. “But is your knowledge about those Muggle wars really the reason why you think that forgiveness is so important for our society to move forward?” Draco asked when the waiter was out of earshot once more, studying her intently.

“Yes, I guess it is.” She shrugged, and looked straight back at him-she thought she could see a notion of pensive doubt flash up in his eyes. However, she still took his questions and his willingness to listen as signs that he was going through a change in thought, and a probably rather humbling one at that. “We can't persecute every single wizard or witch for what they've done in the War. Depending on the involvement, we need to be able to forgive...”

He nodded, and looked out of the window, biting his lower lip. “I know we've talked about this before, but this is really something I want to know,” he started a few seconds later.

Hermione watched him staring outside, his gaze fixed on one of the cars parking just in front of the small restaurant; she noticed that his previous playfulness was gone. “What do you want to know?” she beckoned, knowing now that if he started like this, he was about to ask something.

“Do you think you could forgive me?” he finally asked quietly, still looking outside. “I mean what I've done in the War?”

Even though they had in fact already talked about whether she could forgive things done in that War, Hermione was still blown away by his question and didn't know what to respond in the first moment. Malfoy was asking her to forgive him-that was definitely something. She remembered her impression of him at his hearing, that she thought that he was hiding a feeling of guilt beneath his cocky defiance. Was that why he was asking? Because he actually felt guilty about it? In order to stop her own mind from going in circles-and to gain a few more seconds before responding-she finished her wine.

“I... That is still an immensely difficult question to answer, Malfoy,” she finally broke the silence between them, and saw him nod slowly in agreement, his eyes still fixed on that car outside, holding his breath. Was he waiting for her judgement? Was her opinion so important to him? “Look... I thought about that question, too, ever since we first talked about it and you showed me your Mark, you know? What I mean is, if you had asked me that same question right after the War, maybe even right after your hearing, I don't know whether I would have been able to answer it. Probably not. I think I might have even hexed you for daring to ask me that with everything your family has put me through...” She smiled faintly when she saw him nod again, without the slightest objection to her words. Breathing in, she leaned forward. “But you've changed since those days... You sound like you're willing to take the chance and do better.”

At that, Draco turned his head back, now looking straight at her-his eyes were a stormy grey now, reflecting his own inner turmoil in that moment.

Again, Hermione was surprised by him, even taken aback by his expression, that he let her see what was going on inside him. Her, of all people. This was definitely something she would never have guessed might happen, and yet he was sitting here, with her, brave and humble enough to genuinely ask her for her forgiveness. She tried to smile, hoping it would come across as warm and encouraging. “Yes, I think I am able to forgive you for what you had to do in the War,” she said, whispering now to her own surprise. “You did what you had to do to keep your family safe...” As soon as she had said those words, she could see a weight lifting from his chest; he finally let out that breath he had been holding while she had tried to formulate her answer. “However, you were still an elitist arse at Hogwarts-”

“Really, Granger? You had to add that?” he countered, flashing a hugely relieved smile, and raked his hands through his hair. “Sounds like you'll hold that against me for the rest of my life...”

“Just for a little while longer. I wasn't exactly innocent either.”

“Finally! You admit it!” he let out in mock exasperation, grinning broadly.

She chuckled. “Just remember, I do forgive, but I do not forget, Malfoy, okay?” she then added in more earnest tone. “Your Mark should always serve you as a reminder not to repeat those things...”

“It's the first thing in the morning I'm reminded of, and the last thing in the evening. Believe me, I won't ever forget those days.”

“Good. Besides, that I forgive you doesn't mean I free you from making amends, from trying to redeem yourself. I just no longer hold it against you.” His curt nod showed her that he understood and accepted it, that he better heeded her words if he didn't want to lose her again-as a friend, or whatever this was turning into.

The waiter came back with their dessert, two delicious looking portions of tiramisú. “Enjoy, my wife's tiramisú is loved by a lot of customers.”

“Thank you, it looks gorgeous!” Hermione immediately dug her dessert spoon into her portion. “Come, let's talk about something else. I think we dwelt long enough on that matter... Is there anything else about the Muggle world you want to know?” she asked when the waiter had left their table again. “Anything that you find weird?”

“Yes, how do those-what was it called in Muggle Studies?-those telephones work? I think I saw one at your place,” Draco asked, digging into his dessert in front of him.

“You should have paid better attention in Muggle Studies, you know?” she retorted teasingly, glad that the more playful tone between them had returned to some extent.

Continue to Part 3

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