Summersmut Mod (summersmutmod) wrote in hp_summersmut, @ 2007-09-10 10:21:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | draco malfoy, draco/hermione, hermione granger |
[FIC] Second Chances, Part Two: Draco/Hermione
Originally posted here on 5 September 2007
Title: Second Chances
Requestor: drcjsnider
Author/Artist:
Rating: R
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Summary: When a mysterious letter arrives with a plea for help, Hermione finds herself taking chances for the last person she would have ever expected.
Warnings (if any): Excessive plot
Author's Notes: I hope this meets my recipient's expectations and sincerest appologies for the very unbalanced plot:smut ratio. Personally, I blame the rabid plot bunny that held me hostage. Much thanks to my supurb beta, who held my hand through this short story turned novella. I would have given up long ago without her. Any mistakes are mine alone.
Word Count: 27, 000
Part One
Part Three
Hermione spent the next two days crafting an identity for Draco. She had spent hours at the local library, trying to decide where he should go and what on earth he could do when she got him there. London had been thrown out. Though there was anonymity to be had in a city as large as London, there were too many Wizarding locations there. Happenstance could easily cause him to bump into someone on the street who would recognize him and it would be game over. Even with some of the cosmetic changes she planned to effect, Malfoys were too high profile to slip away unnoticed in an accidental meeting.
However, there were as many, if not more, problems to be had placing him in a small community. While she could ensure a place with no magical families, the very nature of a small village would put him under great scrutiny by the locals. Even if he happened to be a quick study, there was no way she could teach him enough about Muggle culture to avoid suspicion in a small place.
Which left her wondering about places where eccentrics were, but wizards weren't. She decided upon a university town. Plenty of people came in every year, many of them 'finding themselves' as it were, and his age and quirks would be less noticeable.
In the end, she settled on Cambridge. She hoped the history and dignity of such a revered seat of learning might appeal to him, not to mention that the prestige of such a University drew in the upper echelons of society. Muggle or not, she figured Draco would feel more comfortable surrounded by people of privilege. His own aristocratic features and mannerisms would help him blend in, if he could curb his habit of boastfulness. While considering the logistics of potential hiding places, she considered how Draco's personality traits, both positive and negative, would effect his ability to remain inconspicuous.
Once the location was decided, she spent a day-and-a- half frantically searching the city for a furnished flat in a suitable area. Fortunately, it was summer and fewer students made for more available housing, but finding someplace appropriate wasn't easy. She had a new appreciation for those students who did this every year. Sorting through some of the horrid crawlspaces and mouldy cellars that passed for student housing was an enormous job. Granted her budget had more flexibility than some, but she didn't want to commit too much of it to rent before knowing if she could find the prat a job.
Coming up with a reasonable source of employment was a problem unto itself. With virtually no knowledge of the Muggle world, he also had no particular skills or experience to offer an employer. His best options were likely in food service or customer service, but even then he had much to learn about how things worked in the modern Muggle world. That, of course, was counting on him accepting the fact that he would have to work to pay his way. She didn't know just how much money he had hoarded away in a Gringotts vault, but they couldn't make too many transactions like George had helped her to do. Exchanging that much money into Pounds was bound to catch the attention of someone, and even as large a sum as it was, Draco couldn't live forever without any income.
By the afternoon of the 16th, Hermione had successfully secured a flat that might, just might, pass muster with the snooty blond. It was small, but well-kept and adequately equipped with simple, but comfortable, furnishings. The rent was a bit higher than she had aimed for, but there were two exits to the building, and it would be relatively easy to enter and exit without being seen. In addition, it was located down the street from a thriving commercial area with several small restaurants, grocers, chemists and assorted other businesses which could provide not only the daily necessities, but also a potential source of basic employment.
There were still several other matters she couldn't attend to without him, but for now she was pleased with all she had managed to accomplish in such a short time. Leaving the landlady with a firm handshake and the keys to the flat, she ducked into the small space between to buildings and left for London.
Apparating to her usual spot, she moved quickly towards Headquarters to see Tonks. Her meeting with Draco tonight would be late, and she hoped she could manage a nap before then. It was a Monday night, so the house would be quiet in the evening. Her mother would be at photography class and her father had a football game. Both had said they wouldn't be home until late, which suited her plans for a nap, if not those for her clandestine conversation.
Number Twelve popped up on the street before her, and Hermione hurried up the steps, hoping Tonks would be there. She needed to learn what had been discovered about Spinners' End. While busily working to find a place to hide Draco over the past few days, she had frequently wondered if she was being had. It had been a lot of effort for her to go through if this whole mess just ended up being a trap. Her deep, visceral feeling was that he was sincere, but she was hopeful, not stupid.
The door creaked softly, and she winced at the noise. Fortunately, Mrs. Black stayed silent and she was able to clear the front entrance without her screeching. Making her way down to the kitchen, she knocked on the wall at the top of the stairs and called out, "Hello? Are you here Tonks?"
A voice drifted up the stairwell. "Wotcher! Is that you Hermione?"
Hurrying down the stairs, Hermione poked her head into the kitchen to see Tonks sitting alone with a cup of tea and a copy of the Daily Prophet opened to the Sports and Entertainment section. "Hi, Tonks. I'm glad I found you here. I don't have an owl and I wasn't sure how I was going to contact you if you weren't here."
"I was wondering the same thing this morning at the office. I managed to look into your information, then had no idea how to get in touch with you. I wouldn't put much trust in owls these days. They're smart birds, but simple enough to intercept. Even the Floo isn't particularly secure, not that your parents have a connection, I expect," the purple-haired witch observed.
Hermione shook her head. "No. I think I need to make some more of the Galleons we used for the DA, or perhaps something slightly different. We really need a better way to communicate with Order members."
"The Order is so disordered at the moment, I wouldn't know who to bring the idea to. It's not a bad idea, though," Tonks said with a shrug.
"So, did this place on Spinner's End check out?" the younger witch inquired with great interest.
Tonks nodded. "It would seem your informant knows where old snarky-pants goes when he needs a place to hole up. I found the place, in Manchester as you expected it to be, and it's definitely Snape's. It's quite the squalid, little hovel, but then the whole neighbourhood was that way. One of the neighbours gave me a pretty accurate description of him. The reconnaissance I did doesn't show regular occupation, though there were signs the place has been used within the past month. From what I was able to observe, there are several wards and spells in place to trap unwelcome visitors. If you were wanting to get inside, it's going to take a while."
"Getting in there isn't urgent, for now at least, but some time in the future I might need to. At the moment, I'm just pleased you found it where it was supposed to be."
"So you're going to help this informant of yours then?" Tonks asked, giving her curious look.
Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes. Actually, I've done most of the legwork for it already. I just wanted to know what you had found before I arrange to meet him."
"Arrange to meet him," the older witch said sharply. "You haven't met him already?"
"No, I've met him before, but not face-to-face recently," she explained.
Tonks gave her the most serious look she had ever seen from the normally happy-go-lucky woman. It was a pointed reminder to Hermione that Tonks was an Auror, and a good one at that. For a long moment, they held the gaze before Tonks shook her head. "Whoever this is, don't let your guard down. I can tell, as much as you want to, you don't completely trust him. Anyway, what kind of help is it?"
"I'm helping him go into hiding by disguising himself as a Muggle."
"Hiding as a Muggle? I don't know too many wizards who could manage that."
"Well, he is intelligent enough and I'll give him a crash course in Muggle living. Besides, I've set him up with a flat close to a university. There will be plenty of quirky people around."
"So long as he isn't too quirky. Will you be alright meeting this person on your own?"
"I hope so. I plan to arrange our meeting at a coffee shop on Brick Lane in Whitechapel. It's a bit bohemian there, so even if his clothes are a bit off, he won't be too out of place. I also plan to be there well ahead of our appointed meeting time. I should be alright."
"Hermione, I know you came to me because I wouldn't ask too many questions, but will you tell me who this is or let me come with you?"
"I don't want to put you in an awkward position, Tonks. Checking up on his information didn't put you in conflict with your employer. Helping me do this would."
Tonks laughed humourlessly. "Like being part of a quasi-vigilante group doesn't?"
Hermione snorted. "I suppose you have a point. I was going to go ahead with a meeting tomorrow morning at ten."
"I'm back on evenings for the next week. I can be there."
Hermione furrowed her brow in consideration, then nodded. "Alright. I'll meet you here tomorrow morning at eight. We can grab some breakfast and do a thorough search of the area before he shows up."
"Sounds good," Tonks agreed.
Hermione turned to climb the stairs out of the kitchen, glad she would be able manage a few hours of sleep before her correspondence. Considering the early start she planned for her busy day tomorrow, it would be invaluable. As she crested the stairs, she heard Tonks call out, "Wait a moment! You didn't tell me who we're meeting tomorrow."
Glancing back with a slight grimace, she said, "Draco Malfoy."
She heard and exclamation of shock from the room below, but didn't stop to offer any further explanations. If she did, she would most likely be here all night. Besides, it would give them plenty to discuss over breakfast in the morning.
***
Hermione arrived home to an empty house and managed to sleep for several hours. When she woke, she received a disgruntled look from Crookshanks, who was dozing at her feet, but ignored him while preparing for her conversation with Draco. She checked over the list of things he would need to live as a Muggle and reviewed what she had arranged to date. She was reasonably satisfied with the background story she had created for him and the flat she had found would do fine. The biggest hurdles left in creating a new identity for Draco Malfoy were altering his physical appearance and creating the appropriate documents needed for his day-to-day life.
When the appointed hour arrived, Hermione enchanted her quill and directed it to the blank space at the bottom of her letter.
July 17th, 2:00 am.
Almost immediately, Draco's handwriting appeared on the page.
What was the supplemental reading Professor Vector assigned for the lessons on Greek Arithmancy?
Precocious Pythagorus by Aris Kampus. It was a journal article from the 1994 edition Arithmancy Annual.
Good enough. You slapped me a few years ago when I was teasing you about one of Hagrid's creatures. The only person at Hogwarts who ever dared, though probably not the only person who wanted to.
The corners of Hermione's lips twitched at the memory. Slapping him had felt very satisfying at the time. She couldn't help landing a small jibe.
Hexing someone isn't quite the same, even if it is more enduring.
I wouldn't necessarily say that. My face was still smarted the next morning.
I think I'll take that as a compliment then. Anyway, did you have any trouble these past few days?
I've changed locations twice since Friday. It may not have been essential, but I'm trying not to be in one place too long.
How are you travelling?
Apparating. What did you think?
Hermione shook her head at the parchment as she wrote her response.
Perhaps, not using your wand might have been a better plan. If you are concerned about being traced, using magic is more likely to alert someone to your whereabouts. How far are you from London?
I'm somewhere on the South East side. I don't even know what street I'm closest to.
South East where? Deptford? Greenwich? Blackheath? Woolwich?
I think I'm close to the river here. There's a fair bit of green space with some odd buildings in it nearby.
Probably Greenwich then. How well do you know London?
Beyond generalities, I would think it rather obvious that I don't. The only places in London I have had reason to visit are Diagon Alley, the Ministry, and on the rare occasion, St. Mungo's. The Floo was always sufficient for my travel needs before.
For a moment, she glared at the paper. It was odd how simple words on a page could sound so stuck up.
Well, I suggest you open your eyes and have a good look around. You're going to need to start travelling as a Muggle now.
And just how, pray tell, am I to do that? I may not know much about Muggles, but I do presume that they expect pay in return for use of their transportation systems.
Seems to me, you are going to have a long walk ahead of you.
She felt a bit guilty for the smirk which graced her face as she wrote that. She was trying to help him, but Malfoy was still being a stuck up prat. However, it was easy to imagine just how overwhelmed he might feel in the large city, not knowing how to get around. Hermione spread out her map of London on the bed beside her and skimmed along the river to see if she could readily spot a location that met his description.
Fine. I'll walk. Can you at least tell me where I'm going?
Brick Lane near Whitechapel. It's in East London. From what I can tell, you are in Greenwich, near the park. You could follow the A200 up to Tower Bridge, but I think that will take you too close to areas where there might be Wizards. Besides, that would involve some backtracking. I suggest you follow the park north to the river and cross using the underground tunnel. When you get to the other side, follow Westferry Road north until you reach India Dock Road. Got that?
Hold on Brains. I'm trying to copy this down.
Hermione waited a few minutes for Draco to copy down the directions. She wasn't certain how advisable it was for him to be travelling this route in the early morning hours, but if he was to arrive at her preferred rendezvous point on time, there was very little choice left in the matter.
Alright. Follow the park north and there is supposed to be a tunnel I can use to cross the river. Travel along Westferry until I get to India Dock. Where do I go from there?
Turn left and follow India Dock Road east. It merges with another part of the road and a ways down becomes Commercial Road. Keep following. You should reach a major intersection with several roads, Braham, Whitechapel, Leman and another part of Commercial. You want to turn right onto Whitechapel Road. Just a short way up, Osborn meets Whitechapel on the north side. Follow Osborn. It turns into Brick Lane after about a block.
There was a long pause before Draco wrote back.
Just how far is this place?
About five miles, give or take.
FIVE MILES?!
Do you want my help or not? I've decided on a place for us to meet. You can be there or not.
She wondered if she was pushing him too hard. She didn't want to force him to walk such a long distance, but, for both their sakes, it would be safer. Not having the ability to use the tube would make his journey more difficult. There was no getting around that. In a way, this could almost be seen as a test of his sincerity. If he actually walked the whole way, she could be reasonably sure he wasn't bringing a group of Death Eaters with him. She was startled from her thoughts when a new message appeared on the parchment.
Alright, I'll get there, even if it gives my feet blisters. Where exactly do you want to meet, and what time? Not too early I hope.
There's a coffee shop called The Black Bean at the corner of Brick Lane and Buxton. Be there by 10 tomorrow morning and I'll have breakfast waiting.
That makes it a rather early morning to get there by ten.
Is where you're staying really the sort of place you want to have a lie-in?
Point taken.
Be careful, keep your wand hidden, and for heavens sake if you get lost, ask for directions!
Yes, Miss Prefect. I will see you tomorrow if my feet don't drop off before I arrive.
Stiff upper lip, Princess. I expect you to be punctual. Goodnight.
Goodnight Brains.
***
Part Four
Hermione sat at a corner booth in The Black Bean intently watching the doorway. Her cup of tea, which she had ordered to keep her hands busy, was sitting forgotten at her elbow and the newspaper she was holding hung limply from her fingers, not really concealing her gaze.
It was almost ten.
She and Tonks had taken the tube from Grimmauld Place and split up along Brick Lane. She had started at the north end of the street, and Tonks, disguised as a backpacker, had gotten off at a station further down the line to work her way up. That had been over an hour-and-a-half ago, and as the time slowly ticked forward, Hermione had become more fidgety and restless. Both young women had searched the street for suspicious people, but come up completely empty. As best they could tell, it was a normal Tuesday morning on the street. No sign of dark wizards wrecking havoc anywhere. In fact, keeping an observant eye on the people in the street, there was no sign of any kind of wizard, dark or otherwise, to be found. Which was what she had expected, though there was no satisfaction or easing of tension to be right. Not when that state of affairs could change in the blink of an eye.
Fifteen minutes ago, Tonks had contacted her through her own, newly created, Protean charmed coin to let her know that she had seen someone who looked like Draco walking in her direction from Whitechapel Road. Her stomach twisted in knots with anticipation, not unlike it had before her first late night correspondence with an unknown wizard, only this time it was a dozen times worse.
The bell over the front door of the coffee shop chimed, and a bedraggled looking figure with mussed blond hair entered. He stood at the entrance, looking around the shop in obvious bewilderment, not seeing her tucked away in the corner. Stepping out of the doorway, he continued to glance around nervously.
Hermione took a minute to observe him before approaching. This was a far cry from the Draco she was used to seeing. He was dressed Muggle enough, in a pair of black trousers and a white button-down shirt, but his clothes were decidedly rumpled and grubby. The immaculately pressed and groomed Malfoy heir was gone. In his place was a haunted looking fugitive. Draco Malfoy might go a long way to sucker her in, but she couldn't believe he would go as far as this for a ruse. He looked like he had been living in the street for a month, which, she supposed, he had.
Sliding carefully out of her booth, Hermione skirted around several tables and came up behind the unsettled man in the entrance. People were giving him a wide berth, put off by his appearance and anxious expression, making it easy for her to get closer. Hiding her wand with the folds of her skirt, she gripped the handle firmly and placed herself directly behind him.
"You look like hell, Malfoy," she said loud enough to startle him.
Draco whirled around, his hand reaching into his trouser pocket, then freezing as he recognized her. "Bloody hell, Granger!"
She couldn't resist the small smile tugging at her lips. "Twitchy little ferret, aren't you?"
He scowled at her, but made an obvious effort to control himself with a deep breath. "Yes, well I imagine you are accustomed to finding yourself out of place and stared at like someone with a communicable disease."
Refusing to snipe back, Hermione held his eyes for a long moment and waited for him to back down. He did look terrible, and most certainly uncomfortable about it. Still, after years of antagonism and cruel barbs it was difficult to restrain herself from doing the same when the shoe was on the other foot. Eventually, Draco seemed to deflate somewhat and glanced away.
"Are you hungry? I did promise you breakfast," she offered, taking pity on his discomfort.
He nodded. "Yeah, I haven't had much of anything in a few days."
She gestured to the line at the counter and they moved towards it. While Draco surveyed the assortment of pastries and baked goods in the glass fronted shelves, Hermione carefully tucked her wand back up her sleeve. It didn't look like things would come to hexes now, and she really didn't need any of the patrons here seeing it.
As they neared the front of the line, she watched a customer ahead of them carry away a tray with a large glass of orange juice and a thought suddenly occurred to her. Leaning forward she whispered urgently in his ear, "Don't order pumpkin juice. Muggles don't drink it."
He turned and gave her a very confused look. "What else would they drink at breakfast?"
"Orange juice, apple juice, tea or coffee, but no pumpkin juice," she told him softly.
Draco's expression became blank, but he nodded and surveyed the menu board carefully before stepping up to the counter to place his order. The woman at the till gave him a scathing look, but smiled insincerely as Hermione handed over the money needed to cover the meal. Returning to the booth in the corner, Hermione watched Draco fall upon his sandwich with fewer table manners than she usually saw from Ron. She was slightly startled and tried not to stare.
After he finished, she asked politely, "Would you like me to get you another?"
He glanced up and gave her a look of mild disdain she at once found more familiar. "Perhaps I am being presumptuous, but I sincerely hope my dining options in the near future will improve beyond a two-day-old ham and cheese sandwich."
"Well pardon me for asking. I was only under the impression that you would be hungry. Now that I look, however, it's obvious you only ate to humour me. After all, most people who are just trying to be polite attack their food like a starving dog," she said frostily.
His eyes narrowed at her and he nearly growled. "Don't ever compare me to him. Not ever."
Hermione shifted back in her chair, startled. "Who?"
Draco continued to glare. "That mad dog of Potter's. Don't you dare compare me to him."
"Mad dog? What are you ... oh. You mean Sirius?"
"I am nothing like him!"
"Calm down, I wasn't implying you were. I was just saying you consumed that sandwich like it would disappear if you took too long," she said gently, surprised at his sudden outburst of temper.
He glanced down at his plate and winced. He muttered, "I am not accustomed to going hungry."
"I don't think anyone should be. Now, would you like something more or not?" she inquired gently.
"No. I'll be fine," he answered shaking his head.
Hermione drained the last of her cold tea from her cup and stood up. There was no point in staying here pretending to make polite conversation any longer. It was unlikely she would be able to extract more information from him without causing a scene and she was now convinced that Death Eaters weren't going to jump out at her from behind the nearest rubbish bin.
"Good," she said and gestured towards the exit. "We had best be on our way."
"Where are we going?" he asked, rising with her and walking towards the door.
"A hairstylist," she informed him, then sped up her steps, cutting off any comments or objections from her companion.
Draco hurried out the door behind her, and chased her down the street. She was nearly half a block away by the time he caught up to her, spinning her around by the shoulder.
"Just what will we be doing at a hairstylist's?"
"Creating Micheal Tanner, Malfoy. What did you think we'd be doing?"
"I don't know, finding a flat somewhere. That was the plan we had discussed."
"Go ahead, Malfoy. Walk fifty paces down the street and what do you think I'll see. Your hair is like a sign above your head flashing your name in bright lights to anyone looking for you. Do you want to make a real effort at going into hiding, or are you just wasting my time?"
"Wasting your time!?! I was the one walking the streets of London at five thirty this morning trying to find this blasted shop you decided on. I'm the one who's been sleeping in abandoned buildings in dodgy neighbourhoods for the past month. Is that what you really think? You think I'm wasting your time?" he shouted, pushing past her and storming several paces further down the street.
Hermione followed more sedately and stood behind him. She was quiet for a moment, though she knew he was aware of her presence. When he appeared to have calmed down, she said, "No. I don't think that. What I do think is that you need to get over whatever hang-up it is you have in asking for my help and accept what's on offer. Truthfully, I want to help you do this right. You know well enough that I'm a perfectionist. Isn't that more or less what you are counting on?"
"Yes," he muttered through clenched teeth, then slumped his shoulders, as if in defeat. "Yes. I'm bloody well counting on you to be your usual perfectionist self. And since we're being so brutally honest just now, I'll tell you that it grates on my nerves. It's like one enormous slap in the face to ask a Mud ... a Mug ... Merlin it was easier to write this than say it. I don't like needing help, and I like it even less that the help I need is coming from a Muggle-born. There, I said it. Are you happy?"
Very precisely, she stepped around Draco and faced him properly. Looking him directly in the eye she said, "Prejudice doesn't start overnight, and I don't expect it to end overnight. All I'm hoping for is some civility and perhaps a little trust."
Draco mumbled something unintelligible and looked away, shifting uncomfortably.
"Pardon?"
He sighed dramatically. "I said, I wouldn't be here if I didn't trust you."
Her hard expression softened. "That means a lot."
"Right. Let's just go and do this," he said reluctantly, fingering his hair unconsciously.
She nodded. "There's a place just down the next side street. Don't worry. I'm not going to make you look like an utter knob. That isn't who Michael Tanner is."
***
By the time they got on a train to Cambridge, it was only one o'clock, and Hermione was exhausted. Tonks had discreetly followed them into the market from a distance and kept a watch on the area while Hermione dragged Draco through his transformation. The haircut in and of itself had been a trial, but he reluctantly submitted to the changes she had chosen. Shopping for clothes had been an exercise in patience and the persistent whinging was wearing her down. Still, she thought she had been reasonably successful. The person sitting across from her didn't look much like the Draco she had known in school.
Gone were the slicked back platinum locks, and traditional Wizarding attire. His hair had been cut much shorter and dyed a medium ash brown. Without copious amounts of styling product, it looked softer and touchable. It made him look less pinched and more approachable. After much griping, he had agreed to the denims and t-shirt she had found for him in the street market. With a pair of square rimmed glasses and a rucksack, he looked the picture of a university student.
Through the train window, Hermione nodded at her friend standing on the platform and received a small nod of acknowledgement in return. Her pocket warmed and the message Good Luck appeared on her charmed coin. From here on, she was on her own with him.
Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Are you certain these trousers aren't too tight? They don't seem to fit properly."
"They fit just fine. Denim jeans are supposed to be a bit snug. You'll get used to them," she told him for the tenth time.
"They aren't very comfortable," he observed.
She shook her head and sighed. "They will be after you wear them a few times."
"And are the glasses completely necessary? I look like a poor imitation of Potter now," he groused, glancing at his reflection in the window glass.
She shook her head disparagingly. "Just like the hair, the glasses are another way of making you noticeably different from a distance. No one is looking for a brown-haired Draco Malfoy with glasses. Trust me, you don't look like Harry, poor imitation or otherwise. You look like a thousand other young men off at University. The hair cut and colour turned out better than I had pictured and the clothes and glasses match who you are and what you are doing. You look just fine."
"If you say so. Anyway, what is this place we're going to like?" Draco inquired.
"Cambridge is home to one of the oldest and most prestigious universities in the country. Plenty of students come through every year, so you shouldn't stand out there. I've found you a flat in a nice residential area not too far from some restaurants and shops. Your landlady seems like a very nice woman, though she is adamant that there be no wild parties. I told her you wouldn't have a problem with that. There is plenty of green space in the area and some places you might be able to find work close by," she explained.
Draco furrowed his brow and wrinkled his nose. "What sort of work do you expect me to do?"
She shrugged. "Well, you aren't really qualified for much, but you could easily learn enough to get a job as a clerk or a server. All you need to know for that is how to handle money."
"I don't understand why you think I even need a job. Wasn't the money I sent enough?" he asked in confusion.
Hermione nodded. "Oh, you'll get yourself set up well and be comfortable, but you can't live forever with no income. Even if I invested it for you, it wouldn't generate enough revenue for you to live on. Having a job is also a way of fitting in, and besides, you will be bored out of your skull in short order if you don't find something to do with yourself. If you don't get a job, what would you do with your time?"
"Lay low," he said simply.
"Die of boredom. Honestly Draco, you are too intelligent to just sit around doing nothing and not be thoroughly sick of it in a couple days," she said, giving him a pointed look.
He shook his head. "I haven't proved myself particularly intelligent, now have I?"
"No, you haven't proven yourself very wise. That's a completely different thing. You and I both know that the competition for top of the class was pretty intense. You aren't an idiot, and I doubt you could even pretend to be," she observed.
"I expect we'll see when you try to show me how all this blasted Muggle stuff works," he grumbled, then turned to stare out the window, obviously ending their discussion.
The rest of the train ride passed in silence, and Hermione tried to enjoy this moment of peace before the endless explanations began again.
***
As the afternoon progressed, things between them got steadily better. It wasn't friendly, but at least their interaction was more comfortable. The flat Hermione had found met with what passed for approval with Draco, and their foray into the shops for necessities hadn't been nearly as excruciating as she had envisioned. The grocers had been a little overwhelming to Draco, who had never stocked a kitchen before, but his recent experience with hunger had given him a keen interest in the food available. It wasn't until they arrived back at the flat and put away their purchases that she uncovered a rather sizable problem.
Hermione stared at Draco in utter disbelief. "What do you mean you don't know how to cook anything?"
He waved his hand in the direction of the gas stove and said it again. "I don't know how to cook. I can manage a decent cup of tea in a pinch, but anything beyond that I have no idea."
"Yes, I got that, but how? You are seventeen for heaven's sake! How do you reach your majority without learning how to fry an egg or toast a sandwich?" she ranted.
Draco rolled his eyes. "They're called house elves. No one in my family ever cooks. I'd be surprised if Mother even knows where the kitchen is at the manor."
"Oh, you poor little sheltered aristocrat. Perhaps I was worrying too much about your assimilating into Muggle culture, when you might starve to death before that's a concern. You seriously don't know how to make anything?"
"Seriously."
Hermione carefully unbuttoned the cuffs of her blouse and rolled them up to her elbows neatly. "If you can brew a NEWT level potion, you can learn to do some basic cooking. Pull out the medium pot from that cupboard under the counter in front of you. It's high time you learned to make spaghetti."
"Spaghetti? Didn't I mention earlier that I was hoping for something of a little higher quality for supper?" he griped half-heartedly and began rummaging for a pot that matched her description.
"Walk before you run, Malfoy. You can't brew something like Polyjuice Potion without learning to make a simple boil remedy first," she tutted.
His head suddenly whipped around to meet hers. "What would you know about Polyjuice?"
She grinned. "Probably more than you."
"I highly doubt it. I brewed several batches last year. All of them successful too," he said smugly.
"I know."
"What?"
"We figured out that was how you kept some strange girl, none of us knew, on guard outside the Room of Requirement," she enlightened him.
"Well, would you have had a better plan?" he asked sarcastically.
She shrugged. "Perhaps not, though it was a danger to risk a bad brewing. Still, you're a good Potions student, regardless of how much Snape favoured you. If I could manage it during my second year, surely it wouldn't be too much difficulty for you in your sixth."
His jaw dropped, and Draco looked at her like she had grown a second head ... or perhaps cat ears and a tail. "Your second year? Why? And where did you brew it? I never caught your group hanging around the seventh floor until our fifth year."
"Moaning Myrtle's toilet. It was another one of those hiding in plain sight tricks. Nobody uses that toilet, so we commandeered it for brewing. As to why, I'm not going to tell you, though I will ask if you noticed anything odd on Christmas Day that year ... Sometime after dinner?" she replied enigmatically.
He stood up with the pot and set it down on the counter in front of him. "I'll have to get back to you on that one. I don't exactly remember many precise details about Christmas from when I was twelve. Now, explain what needs to be done, since you assure me this is easier than making Polyjuice Potion."
Hermione launched into an explanation on how to measure dry pasta to provide a suitable serving size when cooked. She guided him through frying up some onions and sausage to go into a tinned tomato sauce and adding spices to suit his tastes. She found Draco an apt pupil, but had expected nothing less given his proclivity with potions.
In under an hour, he had produced a more than adequate meal and learned how to operate the gas stove properly. While explaining how to use it, she was struck by an amusing thought of trying to teach someone like Mrs Weasley how to do the same thing. Actually, it was probably better Draco had never come near a cooking stove in his life. He had no preconceived notions about how it 'should' function based on its magical equivalent. She had repeatedly told him not to leave the gas on while unlit, and made a sign stating the same, taping it to the wall behind the stove with instructions on how to turn it on and off. Draco wasn't an idiot, but sometimes wizards didn't take the dangers of the Muggle world seriously.
They sat down together at the small table that represented the entirety of his dining space and were able to chat amiably throughout the meal. It seemed that he was far less inclined to bicker on a full stomach. Setting aside any grousing about how plebeian it was to have to do his own cooking, he asked plenty of questions about how to cook other things. Hermione resolved to acquire a simple cookbook for him that explained everything step-by-step.
When the washing up was done, Hermione went back through the flat with him to answer any last questions he had before she left. Adamant about the absolute need to avoid using magic outside of an emergency, she was planning on taking the train back to London then making her way home from there. She cautioned Draco to keep his wand out of sight but accessible, and to review some of the notes she had made about who Michael Tanner was and how to blend in with the Muggle world.
With arrangements made to return in a few days, Hermione reminded him to lock the doors before going to bed, and left. It had been a long day, and she couldn't wait to get some sleep.
***
Continue to Part Three!