Interhouse Fest 2016: Where Home Is (4 of 5)
Chapter 4
The next morning, it was Draco who woke up first, with a stiff neck and feeling completely disoriented as to where he was and what happened the night before. At least, he was still dressed, and his head wasn't throbbing too much. When he opened his eyes, he realised that he was lying on a sofa, with Hermione nestled up in front of him; she was still fast asleep, and looked peaceful. Seeing her next to him, he remembered what had happened-he had had a fight with his father, and when he couldn't find her, got himself completely plastered until she had found him and brought him here. He let his tongue run over his slightly parched lips, and then further remembered that they had ended up kissing again. Gods! It had been an awkward moment already after the last time, as he really didn't know how to react to it afterwards. He had never guessed that she would be so audacious to say yes to his request that had been meant as a joke. And now she had done it again! What the hell was he supposed to do now? He had come to her place because he had hoped he wouldn't be chased away, and now she was pulling him in. He sighed. This time, they hadn't stopped after a few minutes-he couldn't stop after a few minutes because her lips had felt so damn good. This wasn't supposed to happen when he had first showed up at her doorstep...
He tried to shift his weight as gently as possible to keep her from waking, and then propped himself up; to his chagrin, she was blocking his way off the sofa with her body. Ignoring his throbbing head, he then started to climb over her. “Shit,” he murmured when he hit her hip with his knee, which caused her to stir.
“Morning,” she croaked, a soft, still sleepy smile on her lips, and opened her eyes. "You want to leave already?”
He froze mid-climbing, smiling embarrassed because she had caught him trying to get away silently. “Sorry,” he said, and tried to clear his throat. “I don't know, really.”
Still smiling, she waited for him to finish climbing over her, and then turned around to sit up. “Why not stay for breakfast?”
“Don't you have to go to work or something?” He seriously hoped he could avoid having to talk about the night before, but to his chagrin she shook her head.
“Dad decided to close the practice for a couple of weeks, only listed as an emergency contact. He doesn't want to work as long as Mum is in hospital.”
He nodded. “Okay, then.”
****
God, how much of an idiot had she been to kiss him again last night? Hermione used the few minutes in her bathroom to sort her thoughts before facing Draco again. She hadn't even been drunk this time! And they hadn't stopped after a few minutes! Her scalp tingled when she remembered how he had kept raking his fingers through her cascade of hair. If only it hadn't been so damn good both times, full of everything she had been missing whenever she had kissed Ron during their relationship. No, Ron's kisses had never given her goose bumps, nor had they ever really let her feel as excited as those she had shared with Draco. God, this wasn't supposed to happen when they had started their doorstep talks, yet... Yet now, there was some part in her that didn't want it any other way.
“I can still just leave if you'd rather be alone today. I mean I... I don't want to overstay the invitation,” Draco said when she came back to the living room.
“Please, don't worry about that,” she replied, passing through to the kitchen. “Besides, sneaking off after spending the night together would be rather rude, wouldn't it?” she added teasingly, and then started working on their coffee, while Draco sat down at the small kitchen table. She knew she had hit the nail on the head with her remark, she could see that he was thinking about something-probably the same thing that still circled through her mind as well. Their first kiss could have been excused with both of them being drunk and feeling lonely, but a second?
“How's your mother doing?” he finally asked, changing the subject to what felt like a safer territory for both of them. "She's still in hospital, right?”
Hermione opened the fridge to fish all the things out she would need for a breakfast-and today, she was in the mood for a couple of pancakes, amongst other things. “Yes, she is. The doctors are still a bit worried about her spleen, and the fractured ribs seem to be rather painful.”
“Why not give her one of the potions that help regrowing bones?”
Hermione turned around. “Honestly, I thought about that. But I shouldn't meddle with that-at least not as long as she is hospital-or I'll be in severe need of a good explanation. She's still a Muggle, so I'm a bit hesitant to just give her something like that.”
“Muggles must be patient people to go through something like that.”
She chuckled. “Gods know they aren't. And they would absolutely want to use those potions if they knew they existed. We're all just humans, after all. However, I might give her something to help with healing when she is back home-of course, only if she wants it.”
He nodded, tilting his head from side to side while staring outside; Hermione thought that he was even frowning a little.
“Are you going back home later? I mean the Manor,” Hermione asked, wincing as soon as she realised how stupid that question probably was; she could hear him groan in response.
“Yes. I only hope I'll be able to sneak in; I'm definitely not in the mood for another pointless argument with my father about you and... and what we have.”
“It's complicated enough, isn't it?” she asked, more to herself than him.
He just nodded, grimacing. “Even before, I didn't want to marry someone I don't love. I mean, all those pure-blood girls are nice to look at, but...” He let his hand run through his hair, and the rubbed his neck.
“I think I get it,” she replied, and finished preparing the dough for the pancakes. “After all, you're supposed to share your life with them, so there should be at least some affection...”
“Affection, yes,” he murmured rather absent-mindedly. “It's not as if it matters any longer, anyway, as the other families are very reluctant to let me even date one of their daughters. No one wants to be intimately connected to my family...”
“And very reluctant is putting it nicely, right?” she replied, mixing everything together for the pancakes
“Oh yes.” Draco didn't even bother trying to hide his bitterness about that.
If she had thought that occupying herself with making pancakes for breakfast would distract her from her thoughts, then she was failing miserably. All she could think of, while stirring everything together, was them-how lonely he must be, and whether it was some sort of affection they now had for each other. There just had to be something between them!
***
The following Sunday, Hermione was invited to join the Weasley Sunday lunch. And despite how their last shared dinner had ended, Ginny had still been adamant that she should join them again, as her last visit was so long ago; and Ginny added once more that as part of the family she was expected to be there, despite everything, and that they would really love to see her again. Hermione had been very reluctant to accept the invitation, partially because her last visit had ended with her abrupt departure, almost fleeing the scene after starting to feel overwhelmed with the noise; and partially because Draco was now added to the mix as well. She was sure that someone would bring him up at one point, and she didn't want to go through another interrogation-turned-argument about her motives and intentions with Draco. Yet, since Ginny had insisted, she did show up that day.
“There you are!” Ginny came running outside when Hermione Apparated in front of the Burrow, with the intention to hug her. “Mum wouldn't believe when I told her you would come, too...”
“I can imagine,” Hermione replied, trying to sound friendly but taking a small step back because she just didn't want to be hugged right now-at least, not from Ginny.
“How's everything? And how's your mother doing? She is still in the hospital, right?” Ginny asked her warmly, accepting Hermione's dismissal with a short-lived frown. “Come, let's go inside, it's cold enough.”
“Mum's doing fine, yes, she is still in hospital,” Hermione confirmed, grateful for the subject because it meant she could avoid the other looming thing for the moment. “The doctors said that she could be released soon.”
“That's great!” Ginny exclaimed in a relieved tone, and was about to open the door.
Hermione had to smile at Ginny's enthusiastic response. “How's everybody?” she then asked, and braced herself for the chaos and the noise of the Weasley family. She would definitely have preferred to go back home and just nestle up on her sofa with a book and a nice cup of tea, but she had promised to come-so here she was, being dragged inside by her friend. After a deep breath, she put on a smile, hoping it looked warm and friendly enough.
“Oh, Ron has some news; at least he looks disgustingly happy and annoys everybody else with his good mood-”
“HERMIONE!” the others shouted in unison when she entered the kitchen where they all sat around the big table; Harry as well as Ron got up to welcome her with a short hug. Hermione tried to keep them at a distance, just like Ginny moments before, but she wasn't fast enough to avoid a short, cordial hug from Harry. With their disagreement over Draco's visits still between them, this felt a bit too close for her; however, swallowing hard, followed by a quick, false smile towards Harry, she tried to contain her uneasiness for the sake of the day.
“How is your mother?” Harry asked when he let go of her again with a friendly smile.
“She will be released in a few days. Dad has closed the practice until she is at least back home, probably even longer,” she replied, trying to clear her throat. “Thanks for asking.”
“You look good,” Ron commented; Hermione was grateful that he only patted her on the shoulder, and she gave him a more genuine smile in response.
“I feel a tiny bit better. But I heard you have some news?”
His grin grew broader. “Yes, I have. But let's eat first, I'm hungry.”
“You're always hungry,” she teased him, and followed her friends to the table, where everyone wanted to know what she had been doing since her last visit.
“No way, you didn't,” Hermione exclaimed in amused surprise when Harry told her about his newest case after lunch where he had to dress like an old woman for doing observations. Ginny was in stitches, and Hermione laughed out loud at the picture, like everybody else at the table.
“Well, after all, sore muscles and strained joints do let you walk like an old woman,” Harry added, himself chuckling.
“You're still not allowed to play?” Hermione asked, wiping her eyes, chuckling repeatedly.
“I believe he's rather happy to be put out of commission, my sister really is relentless and unforgiving when she plays,” Ron commented, in between resurfacing giggles. “We're glad she doesn't want to practise on Sundays...”
“Yeah, I can imagine.” Hermione smiled warmly, and finished her last bites before Molly let the empty plates float over to the sink for the washing up later. “So, what is your news then? You were grinning broadly when I arrived--”
“Yes, brother, do tell us!” George added teasingly. “You only ever smile because of two things: when Mum calls for dinner, and a new girl. And since we just had lunch, it can only mean the other...”
Molly came back to the table. “You've met someone?” she asked, a tone of happy surprise in her voice.
Ron nodded eagerly. “Yes. At work.”
Hermione joined in the happy smiles all around the table. This meant that he was no longer pining after her, happy to move on and let her go. And then she remembered Draco's cynical comment that Ron hadn't come along with Harry to their dinner because he didn't want to brag about having found someone else in front of her-she knew that Draco had meant it as a joke, but it didn't surprise that he unknowingly hit the truth. Oh yes, his ability to notice the small things about others and then wrap it with sarcasm was a refreshing contrast to her straight-forward, more oblivious friends. “Do we know her?” she then asked, feeling genuinely happy for Ron, who was beaming proudly, yet slightly embarrassed.
“No, I don't think so. She was in Ravenclaw a year above us. Tilly is her name.”
“What is she like?” Molly asked sitting down again. "And what does she look like?”
Hermione exchanged a brief look with Harry, who looked like he had known earlier than the others; he probably told Ron to move on, and take the chance to date that girl. She felt a bit disappointed that Ron hadn't told her earlier as well, but she could live with it.
“She's nice... She was the best in her year in Charms, if I remember right. And she can cook! You should taste her pies, seriously.” And Ron continued into a list of things she had cooked for him already, it sounded as if their relationship had already progressed to something more solid, which surprised then all.
“You should bring her next time,” Molly exclaimed happily to Ron's embarrassment.
“I-I don't know if she wants to come,” Ron stammered, his face red like his hair, much to the delight of the others.
“You know Mum won't stop badgering you until you bring her along, you knew the risk when you told us,” George countered.
“Oh yes!” Ginny added, grinning at her brother's on-going embarrassment.
Amidst the on-going discussion about why Tilly wouldn't want to come to a Weasley Sunday lunch, George suddenly looked at Hermione as if he was remembering something; he was sitting directly opposite her. “You know, I saw something peculiar this week,” he then started with a grin.
“What?” Hermione asked, tensing up; she had an idea where this was going, and she wasn't quite sure how to take it.
“I saw Malfoy check out our window. He didn't come in, he just seemed curious about what we have,” he replied, with a short shrug. “He seemed different...”
“Malfoy?” Harry chimed in at the name of his old rival. Hermione didn't even bother hiding her bitter smile, and slowly shook her head. It had been great to hear that Draco finally went out on his own, trying to mingle with others who seem to leave him in peace on the streets, but Harry just had an impeccable timing in destroying the moment.
“Yes, Malfoy,” George repeated; his short look at Hermione made clear that he had noticed her reaction. “He didn't do anything, just checked out our window.”
“What's going on?” Molly asked, as the conversation was now clearly taking a more serious turn.
“Malfoy,” Harry started to explain. “He was in the Muggle hospital, too, where Hermione's mum is treated.”
Of course, Hermione noticed the disappointment in the glare he shot her; it made her heave a sigh. “Yes, he was there, for the same reason you were. You make it sound like a problem, Harry.”
“I told you that you can't trust him, Herm-”
“I heard you the first time,” she interrupted him, in a clear dislike of his tone. This was what she had expected-only one more or less friendly mention of Draco was needed, and they were at it again.
“Are you still just talking?” Harry asked her.
“I ask again, what's going on here?” Molly asked, her voice clearly indicating that she didn't like the tone the conversation was now taking.
“Mum, Malfoy visits her every night for talking,” Ginny explained, forming quotation marks with her hands.
That was the last straw for Hermione. She snapped at her friend, only barely restraining from slamming her clenched fist on the table “There's no need to put it like that, Ginny. I seriously hate it. Why are doing this? I thought the fact that you were so adamant about me coming to the lunch was a sign that you were willing to put it aside. I see that I was wrong to believe that.” Hermione stood up, anger rising inside her, making her fingers twitch with the urge to hit Harry-she was sure that the sound of his breaking glasses would be a satisfying one.
“Herm-”
Hermione shot Harry a glare to shut him up; she wasn't finished. “It is the truth when I say we only talk about things. You have no idea what he's going through, Harry,” she continued, curling her lips, and crossing her arms. “You don't want to see past your prejudices because it's easier. But I did. And unlike you, he's left alone to deal with his situation in this damn aftermath. He has had a lot of time to think about things, and we talk about those things, forgiveness for exam-”
“Malfoy and forgiveness,” Harry sneered. “Hermione, he was relentless at Hogwarts, and he was a Death Eater-”
“HARRY, I KNOW! He showed me...” She was trembling by now, and took a deep breath in order not to snap just yet. “It reminds him every single day of his mistakes. He can't escape it, just as much as I can't escape this.” She rolled up her sleeve. “That is my daily reminder of the things I had to go through, of the things I had to do in order to survive. Do you know what he said when he saw this? Do you?” Taking a small step towards Harry, she held up her arm with the scars from the torture at Bellatrix' hands, daring him to say something. She had noticed that the others at the table had fallen silent by now, watching the argument with rising concern. “He fucking apologised! He told me that he should have stopped his aunt.”
“I didn't mean it li-”
“No, Harry, you did mean it! Who are we to judge others for their mistakes in such situations? You haven't been at his hearing, you don't know the whole story, yet you dare to judge him...”
“I've seen Snape's memories!”
“Then you should really know better than to judge Malfoy for what he had to do. We are no better than they are if we just put the blame on the losers of the war and ostracise them-we're just lucky enough to have ended up on the winning side. So yes, I'm willing to give Malfoy a chance to do better, and forgive him for his deeds in the War. ”
“How can you forgive him that he tried to kill Dumbledore?” Harry stood up as well to get to the same level. “I was there-”
“I know! But he had no choice, he was forced, or he would have had to watch Voldemort kill his parents.” His short wince at the mention of Voldemort gave her a short moment of satisfaction. “And he didn't kill Dumbledore, Snape did, remember? And if I remember correctly, Snape bullied you just as much, and was a Death Eater, too, yet you seem to be able to forgive him? How fair is that view, huh?”
“Snape is a different story-”
“NO, it isn't.” She let out a disappointed sigh, and rubbed her face. “He was in the hospital for support, actually willing to put up with your behaviour towards him because he wanted to make sure I'm okay.”
Now Ginny stood too. “Why would he want to make sure that you're okay? Is there something going on that we should know about?”
“Oh no, Ginny, don't even start with that. Right now, you have absolutely no right to ask me that, this is something between Malfoy and me, I think-”
“Hermione, please-”
“No. I have come here to spend an afternoon with friends-”
“You know you're family-”
“-WITH FRIENDS, and instead I get interrogated about things that are private.” Hermione looked at them once more, and then had to suppress a sob, wiping her eyes. “I have had enough. I don't need to justify anything,” she said quietly, and left the table, running out of the room.
“Hermione, dear, wait.” Molly followed her, and caught up with her in front of the fireplace, where she got ready to leave. The older woman took her hand and just pulled her into an embrace. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I know you're having a rough time at the moment.”
Hermione just nodded, her face buried in Molly's shoulder. It felt nice that at least someone seemed to understand. “I hate it when they are like that, not listening to what I say,” she whispered after a few more seconds, taking a deep breath.
“Don't listen to them, my dear. You've understood something they haven't yet-that we need to forgive so that we can move forward and grow together as a society.”
“We really do only talk.” Hermione lifted her head again. “They don't understand that I still feel lost, but he does. And he really wants to do better...”
“It's okay.” Molly rubbed her back once more, then let go. “It really is. As long as he treats you with the respect you deserve...”
Hermione nodded and tried to smile. “He does. Thanks, Molly. I'm sorry for ruining your lunch.”
“Don't be. It wasn't your fault,” Molly dismissed softly. “Just be careful, but I don't have to tell you that-”
“No. I am careful, I promise.”
“Good.” Molly smiled warmly. “You can come by any other time just for some tea and cake if you want. I can even throw them out for an hour or two...”
Hermione chuckled at that, and wiped her eyes once more. “Thanks. I better go now. I don't think I'll be joining you on Sundays again, as long as this isn't resolved in some way.”
“I understand. Don't worry about it; I'll make them see your side, my dear. Now go. I recommend that new ice cream parlour in Diagon Alley in your case-a double portion of dark chocolate."
“Bye, Molly.” With that, Hermione took some Floo Powder from the pot, and stepped into the fireplace; with a faint smile for goodbye, she called out her destination and disappeared into the green flames.
***
“Gods, Hermione!” Draco let out in relief when he finally found her that evening. She sat slumped at the bar, hanging onto her glass tightly that only had a few sips left, her eyes glazing, and all red from crying, he guessed. He sat down next to her. “Hey, what happened?”
“You're the guy she brought home last time, right?” the barkeeper asked.
Draco nodded, his gaze fixed on Hermione. “How much did she have?”
“More than she should have.”
“N-Not enough,” she protested with a heavy tongue.
“Hermione, you definitely had enough. I'm bringing you home now.”
“They think I'm wasting my time on you... T-that you bewitched me or-or something...”
“It's okay,” Draco replied, and signed to the barkeeper that he'd pay her tab. He was indeed surprised that she was still able to somewhat form coherent sentences after he heard the barkeeper list what she'd consumed so far. Whether she was still able to stand or walk was a different story, Apparating even more so.
“You need a taxi or something?”
Draco shook his head. “No, thanks. Can you walk?” he then asked Hermione, who was now leaning on him.
“I d-don't know. Maybe.” She propped herself up again, and tried to climb off the bar stool, but was only stopped from falling to the ground ungraciously when Draco grabbed her shoulders.
“We're going home,” he said, and lifted her on his shoulder, hoping she wouldn't throw up until they were at her place.
“Home? What's home?”
Draco noticed the sad tone in her voice. The state she was in, apparently, her Sunday afternoon had been less than grand, probably rather catastrophic. He didn't know whether she would tell him about what had happened, but that was not the most important thing right now-it probably was a fight about her befriending him, anyway- more important was that she didn't feel alone. “Can you hold on tight and close your eyes for a moment?” he asked when they reached the empty side street he halfway remembered from his own alcohol drowning; he knew that Apparating in this state could easily upset any stomach, but it would be even worse with the eyes open. He gently put her down on her feet. “Gods, not like that,” he added with a grin and pulled her hands up from his arse to the safer region of his waist.
“Feels nice, though.”
“I wouldn't know that,” he replied, trying to hide the fact that if it hadn't been for her inebriated state, he wouldn't have minded to let her hands remain where they'd just been. “Okay, close your eyes,” he repeated, and then focused on her doorsteps.
“Urgh. Shit!” Hermione immediately let go of him when they arrived, and turned around to throw up into the corner; Draco just made sure to keep her hair out of it until she was finished, having expected it.
“Better?” he asked when he heard her or inhale deeply. He shortly looked around when she managed to get up again, and then quietly Vanished the vomit.
“Just nothing left,” she replied, taking another deep breath, then started fumbling through her pockets. “I can't find my keys...”
“It's okay, here, let me do it.” He grabbed her hand to stop her frantic search through everything. And with a well-placed, non-verbal Alohomora, he opened her door and pulled her inside. There, he brought her straight to her bedroom, and lay her on her bed after pulling off her shoes. Then, he kneeled down next to her, noticing that she was watching him with her big brown eyes, a bit like a child. “What happened? I mean you're not the type to drown yourself in alcohol like that... That's my style, you know?”
Her eyes, still glazed, searched him for a moment. “George said that he saw you in Diagon Alley, checking out the window of his shop a few days ago, a-and then Harry wanted to know whether we were still talking. He doesn't want to believe me, and it hurts.”
“I know.”
“I just feel like I've broken up with my friends, you know? I'm not even asking them to become best friends with you-”
“Gods no! I'd rather have you tell everyone about me suddenly knowing about empathy than willingly befriend Golden Boy. Now that would be a new low...” he interjected, and smiled when he could hear her chuckle shortly.
“I just want them to be more understanding, a bit more open-minded.” She took his hand that was placed on the edge of her bed. “Is it a mistake that I can forgive you? A weakness?”
He shook his head. “It's not. I think it takes an incredible strength to be able to forgive. You have no idea how much it means to me.”
“I know. That's why you came to the hospital.”
“Yes.” He brushed over the back of her hand with his thumb, trying to calm her.
“Can you stay tonight? Here? With me?” she pleaded in a whisper. “I don't want to be alone...”
Draco hesitated with his answer-he knew that he couldn't really leave her alone like that-so, instead, he just continued to brush her hand for a long moment. She was all upset because of him, because she felt the need to defend him against her friends. Him, of all people. And on top of that, she had started to pull him in with her care and her trust. Smiling softly, he realised that he didn't want to miss her in his life, that she was the one good thing in his life that he would hold on to. “I'll stay,” he whispered, knowing that it was going to be the most comfortable night in a long while, next to her-possibly even cuddling, but that was her decision to make.
Continue to Part 5
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The next morning, it was Draco who woke up first, with a stiff neck and feeling completely disoriented as to where he was and what happened the night before. At least, he was still dressed, and his head wasn't throbbing too much. When he opened his eyes, he realised that he was lying on a sofa, with Hermione nestled up in front of him; she was still fast asleep, and looked peaceful. Seeing her next to him, he remembered what had happened-he had had a fight with his father, and when he couldn't find her, got himself completely plastered until she had found him and brought him here. He let his tongue run over his slightly parched lips, and then further remembered that they had ended up kissing again. Gods! It had been an awkward moment already after the last time, as he really didn't know how to react to it afterwards. He had never guessed that she would be so audacious to say yes to his request that had been meant as a joke. And now she had done it again! What the hell was he supposed to do now? He had come to her place because he had hoped he wouldn't be chased away, and now she was pulling him in. He sighed. This time, they hadn't stopped after a few minutes-he couldn't stop after a few minutes because her lips had felt so damn good. This wasn't supposed to happen when he had first showed up at her doorstep...
He tried to shift his weight as gently as possible to keep her from waking, and then propped himself up; to his chagrin, she was blocking his way off the sofa with her body. Ignoring his throbbing head, he then started to climb over her. “Shit,” he murmured when he hit her hip with his knee, which caused her to stir.
“Morning,” she croaked, a soft, still sleepy smile on her lips, and opened her eyes. "You want to leave already?”
He froze mid-climbing, smiling embarrassed because she had caught him trying to get away silently. “Sorry,” he said, and tried to clear his throat. “I don't know, really.”
Still smiling, she waited for him to finish climbing over her, and then turned around to sit up. “Why not stay for breakfast?”
“Don't you have to go to work or something?” He seriously hoped he could avoid having to talk about the night before, but to his chagrin she shook her head.
“Dad decided to close the practice for a couple of weeks, only listed as an emergency contact. He doesn't want to work as long as Mum is in hospital.”
He nodded. “Okay, then.”
****
God, how much of an idiot had she been to kiss him again last night? Hermione used the few minutes in her bathroom to sort her thoughts before facing Draco again. She hadn't even been drunk this time! And they hadn't stopped after a few minutes! Her scalp tingled when she remembered how he had kept raking his fingers through her cascade of hair. If only it hadn't been so damn good both times, full of everything she had been missing whenever she had kissed Ron during their relationship. No, Ron's kisses had never given her goose bumps, nor had they ever really let her feel as excited as those she had shared with Draco. God, this wasn't supposed to happen when they had started their doorstep talks, yet... Yet now, there was some part in her that didn't want it any other way.
“I can still just leave if you'd rather be alone today. I mean I... I don't want to overstay the invitation,” Draco said when she came back to the living room.
“Please, don't worry about that,” she replied, passing through to the kitchen. “Besides, sneaking off after spending the night together would be rather rude, wouldn't it?” she added teasingly, and then started working on their coffee, while Draco sat down at the small kitchen table. She knew she had hit the nail on the head with her remark, she could see that he was thinking about something-probably the same thing that still circled through her mind as well. Their first kiss could have been excused with both of them being drunk and feeling lonely, but a second?
“How's your mother doing?” he finally asked, changing the subject to what felt like a safer territory for both of them. "She's still in hospital, right?”
Hermione opened the fridge to fish all the things out she would need for a breakfast-and today, she was in the mood for a couple of pancakes, amongst other things. “Yes, she is. The doctors are still a bit worried about her spleen, and the fractured ribs seem to be rather painful.”
“Why not give her one of the potions that help regrowing bones?”
Hermione turned around. “Honestly, I thought about that. But I shouldn't meddle with that-at least not as long as she is hospital-or I'll be in severe need of a good explanation. She's still a Muggle, so I'm a bit hesitant to just give her something like that.”
“Muggles must be patient people to go through something like that.”
She chuckled. “Gods know they aren't. And they would absolutely want to use those potions if they knew they existed. We're all just humans, after all. However, I might give her something to help with healing when she is back home-of course, only if she wants it.”
He nodded, tilting his head from side to side while staring outside; Hermione thought that he was even frowning a little.
“Are you going back home later? I mean the Manor,” Hermione asked, wincing as soon as she realised how stupid that question probably was; she could hear him groan in response.
“Yes. I only hope I'll be able to sneak in; I'm definitely not in the mood for another pointless argument with my father about you and... and what we have.”
“It's complicated enough, isn't it?” she asked, more to herself than him.
He just nodded, grimacing. “Even before, I didn't want to marry someone I don't love. I mean, all those pure-blood girls are nice to look at, but...” He let his hand run through his hair, and the rubbed his neck.
“I think I get it,” she replied, and finished preparing the dough for the pancakes. “After all, you're supposed to share your life with them, so there should be at least some affection...”
“Affection, yes,” he murmured rather absent-mindedly. “It's not as if it matters any longer, anyway, as the other families are very reluctant to let me even date one of their daughters. No one wants to be intimately connected to my family...”
“And very reluctant is putting it nicely, right?” she replied, mixing everything together for the pancakes
“Oh yes.” Draco didn't even bother trying to hide his bitterness about that.
If she had thought that occupying herself with making pancakes for breakfast would distract her from her thoughts, then she was failing miserably. All she could think of, while stirring everything together, was them-how lonely he must be, and whether it was some sort of affection they now had for each other. There just had to be something between them!
***
The following Sunday, Hermione was invited to join the Weasley Sunday lunch. And despite how their last shared dinner had ended, Ginny had still been adamant that she should join them again, as her last visit was so long ago; and Ginny added once more that as part of the family she was expected to be there, despite everything, and that they would really love to see her again. Hermione had been very reluctant to accept the invitation, partially because her last visit had ended with her abrupt departure, almost fleeing the scene after starting to feel overwhelmed with the noise; and partially because Draco was now added to the mix as well. She was sure that someone would bring him up at one point, and she didn't want to go through another interrogation-turned-argument about her motives and intentions with Draco. Yet, since Ginny had insisted, she did show up that day.
“There you are!” Ginny came running outside when Hermione Apparated in front of the Burrow, with the intention to hug her. “Mum wouldn't believe when I told her you would come, too...”
“I can imagine,” Hermione replied, trying to sound friendly but taking a small step back because she just didn't want to be hugged right now-at least, not from Ginny.
“How's everything? And how's your mother doing? She is still in the hospital, right?” Ginny asked her warmly, accepting Hermione's dismissal with a short-lived frown. “Come, let's go inside, it's cold enough.”
“Mum's doing fine, yes, she is still in hospital,” Hermione confirmed, grateful for the subject because it meant she could avoid the other looming thing for the moment. “The doctors said that she could be released soon.”
“That's great!” Ginny exclaimed in a relieved tone, and was about to open the door.
Hermione had to smile at Ginny's enthusiastic response. “How's everybody?” she then asked, and braced herself for the chaos and the noise of the Weasley family. She would definitely have preferred to go back home and just nestle up on her sofa with a book and a nice cup of tea, but she had promised to come-so here she was, being dragged inside by her friend. After a deep breath, she put on a smile, hoping it looked warm and friendly enough.
“Oh, Ron has some news; at least he looks disgustingly happy and annoys everybody else with his good mood-”
“HERMIONE!” the others shouted in unison when she entered the kitchen where they all sat around the big table; Harry as well as Ron got up to welcome her with a short hug. Hermione tried to keep them at a distance, just like Ginny moments before, but she wasn't fast enough to avoid a short, cordial hug from Harry. With their disagreement over Draco's visits still between them, this felt a bit too close for her; however, swallowing hard, followed by a quick, false smile towards Harry, she tried to contain her uneasiness for the sake of the day.
“How is your mother?” Harry asked when he let go of her again with a friendly smile.
“She will be released in a few days. Dad has closed the practice until she is at least back home, probably even longer,” she replied, trying to clear her throat. “Thanks for asking.”
“You look good,” Ron commented; Hermione was grateful that he only patted her on the shoulder, and she gave him a more genuine smile in response.
“I feel a tiny bit better. But I heard you have some news?”
His grin grew broader. “Yes, I have. But let's eat first, I'm hungry.”
“You're always hungry,” she teased him, and followed her friends to the table, where everyone wanted to know what she had been doing since her last visit.
“No way, you didn't,” Hermione exclaimed in amused surprise when Harry told her about his newest case after lunch where he had to dress like an old woman for doing observations. Ginny was in stitches, and Hermione laughed out loud at the picture, like everybody else at the table.
“Well, after all, sore muscles and strained joints do let you walk like an old woman,” Harry added, himself chuckling.
“You're still not allowed to play?” Hermione asked, wiping her eyes, chuckling repeatedly.
“I believe he's rather happy to be put out of commission, my sister really is relentless and unforgiving when she plays,” Ron commented, in between resurfacing giggles. “We're glad she doesn't want to practise on Sundays...”
“Yeah, I can imagine.” Hermione smiled warmly, and finished her last bites before Molly let the empty plates float over to the sink for the washing up later. “So, what is your news then? You were grinning broadly when I arrived--”
“Yes, brother, do tell us!” George added teasingly. “You only ever smile because of two things: when Mum calls for dinner, and a new girl. And since we just had lunch, it can only mean the other...”
Molly came back to the table. “You've met someone?” she asked, a tone of happy surprise in her voice.
Ron nodded eagerly. “Yes. At work.”
Hermione joined in the happy smiles all around the table. This meant that he was no longer pining after her, happy to move on and let her go. And then she remembered Draco's cynical comment that Ron hadn't come along with Harry to their dinner because he didn't want to brag about having found someone else in front of her-she knew that Draco had meant it as a joke, but it didn't surprise that he unknowingly hit the truth. Oh yes, his ability to notice the small things about others and then wrap it with sarcasm was a refreshing contrast to her straight-forward, more oblivious friends. “Do we know her?” she then asked, feeling genuinely happy for Ron, who was beaming proudly, yet slightly embarrassed.
“No, I don't think so. She was in Ravenclaw a year above us. Tilly is her name.”
“What is she like?” Molly asked sitting down again. "And what does she look like?”
Hermione exchanged a brief look with Harry, who looked like he had known earlier than the others; he probably told Ron to move on, and take the chance to date that girl. She felt a bit disappointed that Ron hadn't told her earlier as well, but she could live with it.
“She's nice... She was the best in her year in Charms, if I remember right. And she can cook! You should taste her pies, seriously.” And Ron continued into a list of things she had cooked for him already, it sounded as if their relationship had already progressed to something more solid, which surprised then all.
“You should bring her next time,” Molly exclaimed happily to Ron's embarrassment.
“I-I don't know if she wants to come,” Ron stammered, his face red like his hair, much to the delight of the others.
“You know Mum won't stop badgering you until you bring her along, you knew the risk when you told us,” George countered.
“Oh yes!” Ginny added, grinning at her brother's on-going embarrassment.
Amidst the on-going discussion about why Tilly wouldn't want to come to a Weasley Sunday lunch, George suddenly looked at Hermione as if he was remembering something; he was sitting directly opposite her. “You know, I saw something peculiar this week,” he then started with a grin.
“What?” Hermione asked, tensing up; she had an idea where this was going, and she wasn't quite sure how to take it.
“I saw Malfoy check out our window. He didn't come in, he just seemed curious about what we have,” he replied, with a short shrug. “He seemed different...”
“Malfoy?” Harry chimed in at the name of his old rival. Hermione didn't even bother hiding her bitter smile, and slowly shook her head. It had been great to hear that Draco finally went out on his own, trying to mingle with others who seem to leave him in peace on the streets, but Harry just had an impeccable timing in destroying the moment.
“Yes, Malfoy,” George repeated; his short look at Hermione made clear that he had noticed her reaction. “He didn't do anything, just checked out our window.”
“What's going on?” Molly asked, as the conversation was now clearly taking a more serious turn.
“Malfoy,” Harry started to explain. “He was in the Muggle hospital, too, where Hermione's mum is treated.”
Of course, Hermione noticed the disappointment in the glare he shot her; it made her heave a sigh. “Yes, he was there, for the same reason you were. You make it sound like a problem, Harry.”
“I told you that you can't trust him, Herm-”
“I heard you the first time,” she interrupted him, in a clear dislike of his tone. This was what she had expected-only one more or less friendly mention of Draco was needed, and they were at it again.
“Are you still just talking?” Harry asked her.
“I ask again, what's going on here?” Molly asked, her voice clearly indicating that she didn't like the tone the conversation was now taking.
“Mum, Malfoy visits her every night for talking,” Ginny explained, forming quotation marks with her hands.
That was the last straw for Hermione. She snapped at her friend, only barely restraining from slamming her clenched fist on the table “There's no need to put it like that, Ginny. I seriously hate it. Why are doing this? I thought the fact that you were so adamant about me coming to the lunch was a sign that you were willing to put it aside. I see that I was wrong to believe that.” Hermione stood up, anger rising inside her, making her fingers twitch with the urge to hit Harry-she was sure that the sound of his breaking glasses would be a satisfying one.
“Herm-”
Hermione shot Harry a glare to shut him up; she wasn't finished. “It is the truth when I say we only talk about things. You have no idea what he's going through, Harry,” she continued, curling her lips, and crossing her arms. “You don't want to see past your prejudices because it's easier. But I did. And unlike you, he's left alone to deal with his situation in this damn aftermath. He has had a lot of time to think about things, and we talk about those things, forgiveness for exam-”
“Malfoy and forgiveness,” Harry sneered. “Hermione, he was relentless at Hogwarts, and he was a Death Eater-”
“HARRY, I KNOW! He showed me...” She was trembling by now, and took a deep breath in order not to snap just yet. “It reminds him every single day of his mistakes. He can't escape it, just as much as I can't escape this.” She rolled up her sleeve. “That is my daily reminder of the things I had to go through, of the things I had to do in order to survive. Do you know what he said when he saw this? Do you?” Taking a small step towards Harry, she held up her arm with the scars from the torture at Bellatrix' hands, daring him to say something. She had noticed that the others at the table had fallen silent by now, watching the argument with rising concern. “He fucking apologised! He told me that he should have stopped his aunt.”
“I didn't mean it li-”
“No, Harry, you did mean it! Who are we to judge others for their mistakes in such situations? You haven't been at his hearing, you don't know the whole story, yet you dare to judge him...”
“I've seen Snape's memories!”
“Then you should really know better than to judge Malfoy for what he had to do. We are no better than they are if we just put the blame on the losers of the war and ostracise them-we're just lucky enough to have ended up on the winning side. So yes, I'm willing to give Malfoy a chance to do better, and forgive him for his deeds in the War. ”
“How can you forgive him that he tried to kill Dumbledore?” Harry stood up as well to get to the same level. “I was there-”
“I know! But he had no choice, he was forced, or he would have had to watch Voldemort kill his parents.” His short wince at the mention of Voldemort gave her a short moment of satisfaction. “And he didn't kill Dumbledore, Snape did, remember? And if I remember correctly, Snape bullied you just as much, and was a Death Eater, too, yet you seem to be able to forgive him? How fair is that view, huh?”
“Snape is a different story-”
“NO, it isn't.” She let out a disappointed sigh, and rubbed her face. “He was in the hospital for support, actually willing to put up with your behaviour towards him because he wanted to make sure I'm okay.”
Now Ginny stood too. “Why would he want to make sure that you're okay? Is there something going on that we should know about?”
“Oh no, Ginny, don't even start with that. Right now, you have absolutely no right to ask me that, this is something between Malfoy and me, I think-”
“Hermione, please-”
“No. I have come here to spend an afternoon with friends-”
“You know you're family-”
“-WITH FRIENDS, and instead I get interrogated about things that are private.” Hermione looked at them once more, and then had to suppress a sob, wiping her eyes. “I have had enough. I don't need to justify anything,” she said quietly, and left the table, running out of the room.
“Hermione, dear, wait.” Molly followed her, and caught up with her in front of the fireplace, where she got ready to leave. The older woman took her hand and just pulled her into an embrace. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I know you're having a rough time at the moment.”
Hermione just nodded, her face buried in Molly's shoulder. It felt nice that at least someone seemed to understand. “I hate it when they are like that, not listening to what I say,” she whispered after a few more seconds, taking a deep breath.
“Don't listen to them, my dear. You've understood something they haven't yet-that we need to forgive so that we can move forward and grow together as a society.”
“We really do only talk.” Hermione lifted her head again. “They don't understand that I still feel lost, but he does. And he really wants to do better...”
“It's okay.” Molly rubbed her back once more, then let go. “It really is. As long as he treats you with the respect you deserve...”
Hermione nodded and tried to smile. “He does. Thanks, Molly. I'm sorry for ruining your lunch.”
“Don't be. It wasn't your fault,” Molly dismissed softly. “Just be careful, but I don't have to tell you that-”
“No. I am careful, I promise.”
“Good.” Molly smiled warmly. “You can come by any other time just for some tea and cake if you want. I can even throw them out for an hour or two...”
Hermione chuckled at that, and wiped her eyes once more. “Thanks. I better go now. I don't think I'll be joining you on Sundays again, as long as this isn't resolved in some way.”
“I understand. Don't worry about it; I'll make them see your side, my dear. Now go. I recommend that new ice cream parlour in Diagon Alley in your case-a double portion of dark chocolate."
“Bye, Molly.” With that, Hermione took some Floo Powder from the pot, and stepped into the fireplace; with a faint smile for goodbye, she called out her destination and disappeared into the green flames.
***
“Gods, Hermione!” Draco let out in relief when he finally found her that evening. She sat slumped at the bar, hanging onto her glass tightly that only had a few sips left, her eyes glazing, and all red from crying, he guessed. He sat down next to her. “Hey, what happened?”
“You're the guy she brought home last time, right?” the barkeeper asked.
Draco nodded, his gaze fixed on Hermione. “How much did she have?”
“More than she should have.”
“N-Not enough,” she protested with a heavy tongue.
“Hermione, you definitely had enough. I'm bringing you home now.”
“They think I'm wasting my time on you... T-that you bewitched me or-or something...”
“It's okay,” Draco replied, and signed to the barkeeper that he'd pay her tab. He was indeed surprised that she was still able to somewhat form coherent sentences after he heard the barkeeper list what she'd consumed so far. Whether she was still able to stand or walk was a different story, Apparating even more so.
“You need a taxi or something?”
Draco shook his head. “No, thanks. Can you walk?” he then asked Hermione, who was now leaning on him.
“I d-don't know. Maybe.” She propped herself up again, and tried to climb off the bar stool, but was only stopped from falling to the ground ungraciously when Draco grabbed her shoulders.
“We're going home,” he said, and lifted her on his shoulder, hoping she wouldn't throw up until they were at her place.
“Home? What's home?”
Draco noticed the sad tone in her voice. The state she was in, apparently, her Sunday afternoon had been less than grand, probably rather catastrophic. He didn't know whether she would tell him about what had happened, but that was not the most important thing right now-it probably was a fight about her befriending him, anyway- more important was that she didn't feel alone. “Can you hold on tight and close your eyes for a moment?” he asked when they reached the empty side street he halfway remembered from his own alcohol drowning; he knew that Apparating in this state could easily upset any stomach, but it would be even worse with the eyes open. He gently put her down on her feet. “Gods, not like that,” he added with a grin and pulled her hands up from his arse to the safer region of his waist.
“Feels nice, though.”
“I wouldn't know that,” he replied, trying to hide the fact that if it hadn't been for her inebriated state, he wouldn't have minded to let her hands remain where they'd just been. “Okay, close your eyes,” he repeated, and then focused on her doorsteps.
“Urgh. Shit!” Hermione immediately let go of him when they arrived, and turned around to throw up into the corner; Draco just made sure to keep her hair out of it until she was finished, having expected it.
“Better?” he asked when he heard her or inhale deeply. He shortly looked around when she managed to get up again, and then quietly Vanished the vomit.
“Just nothing left,” she replied, taking another deep breath, then started fumbling through her pockets. “I can't find my keys...”
“It's okay, here, let me do it.” He grabbed her hand to stop her frantic search through everything. And with a well-placed, non-verbal Alohomora, he opened her door and pulled her inside. There, he brought her straight to her bedroom, and lay her on her bed after pulling off her shoes. Then, he kneeled down next to her, noticing that she was watching him with her big brown eyes, a bit like a child. “What happened? I mean you're not the type to drown yourself in alcohol like that... That's my style, you know?”
Her eyes, still glazed, searched him for a moment. “George said that he saw you in Diagon Alley, checking out the window of his shop a few days ago, a-and then Harry wanted to know whether we were still talking. He doesn't want to believe me, and it hurts.”
“I know.”
“I just feel like I've broken up with my friends, you know? I'm not even asking them to become best friends with you-”
“Gods no! I'd rather have you tell everyone about me suddenly knowing about empathy than willingly befriend Golden Boy. Now that would be a new low...” he interjected, and smiled when he could hear her chuckle shortly.
“I just want them to be more understanding, a bit more open-minded.” She took his hand that was placed on the edge of her bed. “Is it a mistake that I can forgive you? A weakness?”
He shook his head. “It's not. I think it takes an incredible strength to be able to forgive. You have no idea how much it means to me.”
“I know. That's why you came to the hospital.”
“Yes.” He brushed over the back of her hand with his thumb, trying to calm her.
“Can you stay tonight? Here? With me?” she pleaded in a whisper. “I don't want to be alone...”
Draco hesitated with his answer-he knew that he couldn't really leave her alone like that-so, instead, he just continued to brush her hand for a long moment. She was all upset because of him, because she felt the need to defend him against her friends. Him, of all people. And on top of that, she had started to pull him in with her care and her trust. Smiling softly, he realised that he didn't want to miss her in his life, that she was the one good thing in his life that he would hold on to. “I'll stay,” he whispered, knowing that it was going to be the most comfortable night in a long while, next to her-possibly even cuddling, but that was her decision to make.
Continue to Part 5
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