[FIC] Second Chances, Part Three: 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
Hermione lay back on her bed and stared at the ceiling above her.
She had done it.
She had helped Draco Malfoy, wanted fugitive, become Michael Tanner, first year Literature major at Cambridge. She must have truly taken leave of her senses.
It had been an endless day of instruction, explanation and verbal jibes. Every little thing from traffic lights to refrigerators had to be explained. She had instructed him on how to use money, opened a bank account and went shopping with him. It had been very tiresome, but he now had most of the essentials she hadn't been able to acquire for him in advance. He had complained much less about the clothing he tried on in the stores they visited and had managed to contain himself to a few basic items, a foreign concept to him initially, but one he was quickly coming around to.
She had also gone to the grocers with him. He was completely unable to cook for himself, so she had instructed him on how to make a few simple things, but it had been more exasperating than she could have imagined. How someone could know so much about brewing complicated potions, and yet be completely unable to make soup or fry an egg, was beyond her. It was sad, really, how little Draco knew how to do for himself.
When she had left, Hermione was reasonably certain Draco wouldn't leave the gas on and blow up the flat, or be institutionalized for making a public nuisance of himself in her absence. She also hoped she had drilled the absolute necessity of not using his wand into his head. That was likely the biggest hurdle for him to overcome in this whole plan. To someone who was so accustomed to using magic all the time, being unable to would likely seem very restrictive. The griping about having to walk everywhere had been more of a token resistance, centred more around his long journey earlier that morning, than any real objection to the idea.
Actually, in general, she had been surprised by his willingness to follow her guidance. There were plenty of complaints and snide comments, but they carried none of the viciousness they had in the past. Irritability was to be expected from someone in his situation, and she had made a point of ignoring the whingeing as much as possible.
Tomorrow, she was due to arrive at the Burrow, but she would still need to check up on him again before Bill and Fleur's wedding. It was a lot of information to take in, and she wouldn't just abandon him to figure it out on his own. She hoped the 85th birthday of her great-uncle Reginald which she had 'forgotten about completely' would be enough to satisfy Harry and Ron and allow her to disappear for a day. This was a big secret to keep, but they wouldn't understand if she told them.
Tonks was a different story. She had been shocked to learn who they were helping, but also satisfied by Malfoy's explanations once she had looked into them. She was smart and reasonable and above all else, willing to let Hermione take this on. Hermione had a great deal of respect for the talented, yet fun-loving, Auror and was glad to have her support. She didn't have many friends, particularly female ones, and it was nice to know she had someone she could talk to. At least for a little while. All bets were off when she disappeared with Ron and Harry on their Horcrux hunt.
Completely spent, Hermione closed her eyes and tried to slow her racing thoughts. Tomorrow, and all its problems, would come soon enough.
***
Part Five
The last week of July went by with dizzying speed. Bill and Fleur's wedding passed in a blur of enchanted confetti and wedding guests. Getting away from the Burrow to check in with Draco had been surprisingly easy with the increased chaos level in the already hectic household. Two days after the wedding, Hermione had snuck out of the Burrow with Harry and Ron to begin the search for Horcruxes. Since then, the three had been moving around quite a bit, living out of a tent.
The first month of their search had been good. A general mood of satisfaction hung between them from the knowledge they were actually doing something instead of reacting to what was thrown their way. However, as August drifted into September with limited success, the good feelings between them dissipated. Harry grew more irritable and Ron more easily flustered. Hermione was happy to work away at the research needed to find where the Hufflepuff cup had vanished to, but the boys were not content with less than tangible results.
However, the air of restlessness became one of tension halfway through September. After years of dancing around, Ron finally asked her to be his girlfriend. That, in itself, wasn't much of a problem, but her response had been.
She said no.
And Ron couldn't understand why.
He hadn't looked her in the eye since. Hermione had tried to explain that it was a bad time and being a couple around Harry would put him in an awkward position. He had nodded and made a token agreement to leave things as they were, but despite her wishes, things had changed. She wasn't sure if Harry noticed that Ron had taken to ignoring her completely though it would be difficult not to. When they weren't doing something directly Horcrux related, it was as if she didn't exist. Harry seemed happier in some ways, at least he talked and laughed more, but Hermione was becoming very lonely.
It was nearly Hallowe'en when they finally recovered the Hufflepuff cup, almost killing themselves in the process. They hadn't expected it to be easy, but the spells protecting the cup were unlike anything the three had ever seen before. Not to mention the fire they used to force back the Inferi had scorched off most of Ron's hair. When they returned to their tent, singed and exhausted, they decided as a group they needed some time to recover before going after another. Ron wanted to go back to the Burrow to lick his wounds and hopefully receive more sympathy than scolding, and where Ron went, Harry would follow.
Feeling like a fifth wheel, Hermione wasn't so sure she wanted to go to the Burrow. With things still so uncomfortable between her and Ron, she needed to get away from it. She told the boys she wanted to return home, though in truth she wasn't sure where she was going to go. Her parents had no idea that she wasn't in school, and it wasn't something she was ready to admit. Considering her options, she decided to check in on Draco. She hadn't so much as written a letter to him, despite her best intentions to keep in touch. She hoped that while visiting him, Draco might be persuaded to give her a place on the couch for a few days. Even if he got snippy with her, it was bound to be a better choice than listening to Mrs Weasley castigate her for not being sensible enough to drag the boys home.
After agreeing to meet up with them in three days, Hermione made her way to Cambridge by train. Apparating would have been more efficient, but she still felt it was important to avoid using magic in the area, and had to admit she missed the pleasure of watching the countryside roll past her as she travelled. There was nothing scenic about magical transport, save the Hogwarts Express, and it was still somewhat jarring to arrive in an instant, someplace she knew would take hours to reach by Muggle means.
It was cold and windy when she left the station in Cambridge. The heavy grey of the sky had given way to a fine drizzle that stung her face as it was whipped around by the gusty wind. Hermione hunched into the collar of her jacket and ignored the wet chill seeping into her body. By the time she arrived at Draco's flat, her hair was a tangled mess, blown around then plastered to her skull by the icy rain. Knocking on the door, she wondered what Draco would think of her turning up here in such a state. She didn't have long to consider as the door creaked open a few inches and a bespectacled face appeared.
It was odd seeing Draco in glasses, even if she knew the lenses were nothing but plain glass. He seemed confused for a moment as he looked at her then startled. "Granger?! What in the name of Merlin happened to you?"
"Nice to see you too. Are you going to let me in?" she asked dryly.
Opening the door further, he gestured her inside and secured the door again. Without any further questions, he hung up her jacket and brought a towel from the bathroom for her hair. When they were settled in the living room, he asked again, "What happened? Has something gone wrong?"
Hermione shook her head, small droplets of water spraying around her as she did. "Everything is fine, as far as I know. I just walked here from the station and got a little wetter than I anticipated. That's all."
He seemed to sag into his chair in relief. "This isn't exactly the sort of night unexpected good news to comes knocking on your door. Unexpected bad news on the other hand, seems far more appropriate. So if nothing is wrong, why are you here?"
"Didn't I say I would check in on you once in a while to make sure you were alright?"
"You did, and then I didn't hear from you for nearly three months. For all I know, the Dark Lord could have taken control of the Ministry. It isn't exactly like I get much news here," he observed.
She rolled her eyes at him. "Have you considered reading the Muggle papers? If Voldemort had seized control of the Ministry of Magic, the rest of the country would have noticed something by now. Random gas explosions and serial killers can only explain so much mayhem."
"Well pardon me, Miss Know-It-All, but I wasn't aware the Muggle community reported Wizarding news," he stated in a slightly teasing tone.
"Oh, get over yourself, Malfoy. Read a newspaper once in a while, and you'll know right away if there is a story that doesn't fit. Especially ones where the Obliviators are called in. The explanations they give during memory modification are always far to neat, tidy and above all repetitive. I challenge you to read tomorrow's paper and find me an article that is in fact reporting a magical incident," she stated confidently.
He raised an eyebrow at her words. "You'll be back tomorrow?"
Her confident grin faded and was replaced by an uncertain expression. "Actually, I was hoping I could borrow your couch for a couple days."
"Can I ask why?" he inquired.
"The boys have gone back to the Burrow for a bit, and I need some time away from them. My parents think I'm at Hogwarts, so it isn't as if I can just go turning up on their doorstep. Not without a far longer explanation than I care to give," she explained.
Draco smirked. "Trouble in paradise?"
"Draco," she sighed, "can't you just give it a rest, already? Is it at all possible for us to move beyond this childish taunting? I'm truly sick and tired of it."
His teasing smirk disappeared. "You mean, become friends?"
"Or at least civil acquaintances. I'd like to think I helped someone who wasn't a complete immature prat." She shrugged and fidgeted with the towel in her hands.
It was quiet for a long time. Hermione didn't look at Draco, and Draco kept his eyes fixed on the rain pelting against the windows. The clock on the wall seemed to tick inordinately loud, a steady rhythm to the erratic syncopation of the rain.
When Draco spoke again, his voice had lost its sharp edge. "Bickering with you is about the only normal thing I've got."
She looked up at him and a startlingly vulnerable expression on his face. After a moment's consideration she asked, "How are you holding up here? Are you having any problems?"
He shrugged and admitted, "Not so much with everyday stuff. All the notes and instructions you left for me have been helpful, and I did get around to looking for that job you feel it is so important I have. One of the shops a few streets over told me they will be taking on more staff in a few weeks, for the holiday rush, so it looks like I might be working before Christmas. Still, I have to admit, I'm bored to tears most days."
She smiled softly at him. "I hate to say, I told you so."
"No you don't, Granger. You love to say, I told you so," he said with a small chuckle.
"Do you think by now we might be on a first name basis?" she asked wryly.
He shrugged. "Perhaps. It's a difficult habit to break ... Hermione."
"Most are, Draco."
Draco managed a small smile at the use of his given name. "So if we are to be friends, can I ask how your big project is coming along? I know better than to ask what it is. My life is already worth less than a broken quill as it is, without knowing what the 'Golden Trio' is up to."
"You're right that I won't tell you what we are doing, though don't feel too badly about that. We haven't trusted anybody with that knowledge. I don't even like knowing as much as I know, which is a bit of a change. As for our success, it's been moderate at best. We have had a bit of a breakthrough, but there is still an awful lot more to be done and I'm not even certain where to begin. I'm not particularly thrilled about getting back to it, but it must be done, I suppose," she answered in a disheartened tone.
He shook his head slightly in confusion and leaned forward in his chair in interest. "I've never known you to give up on a challenge. You're stubborn as a dragon. What makes you so down about this?"
"I just need a break. I don't know which aspect to pursue next and I'm sick of being stuck living with two people who don't even want to talk to me anymore," Hermione muttered and felt the burning edge of tears in her eyes. She turned away to keep him from seeing how close she was to crying.
"What happened? Why aren't they talking to you?" Draco asked with genuine concern.
"Ron is a complete prat and asked me to be his girlfriend," she stated darkly.
Draco was confused. "But isn't that something you wanted? The whole of Hogwarts thought you were interested in him."
"You and the rest of the world, and I am, but I had to say no."
"Because?"
"Picture this for a moment, Draco. You are living in a magically expanded, yet still rather small, tent with your two best mates. These two mates then pair up and spend their free time snogging, and wrapped up in each other in general. Where does this leave you?" she demanded fiercely.
"Odd man out," he answered simply.
"Exactly," she said with an exaggerated sweep of her arm. "Pairing up would leave Harry as the odd one out and make him feel uncomfortable. He already tries to shut himself off from us and that would only make things worse. But Ron doesn't get that. He's all offended because I 'rejected' him. All he heard was no, and none of the other things I said."
Draco raised a speculative eyebrow. "So now you've become the odd one out."
Hermione nodded sadly, feeling her lower lip tremble. "He's been ignoring me completely, unless it's something about our project, and all he and Harry talk about besides that is Quidditch. I've never lived in closer quarters with someone and at the same time I've never been so alone."
Keeping her eyes fixed on the faded, blue pile of the carpet, Hermione tried to compose herself. That last thing she needed was to break down sobbing in front of her school nemesis. Their civil interaction was still new and fragile, and she had already given him a lifetime's worth of fodder to taunt her with, if he chose to. What she didn't expect was the shifting of the cushions beside her and a strong arm draping itself across her shoulders. She tilted her head slightly to look at him out of the corner of her eye. The expression on Draco's face was concern. It was enough to break her already weakened control.
The dam burst, and the tears she had been holding in for weeks slid down her cheeks in tiny rivulets. Her breathing shuddered slightly, though she did manage not to sob. The arm around her pulled her down against his warm shoulder, and she tucked her head into it on instinct. The sick, uncomfortable knot in her stomach began to unravel as her tears released weeks of pent up emotion. It felt good when a second arm wrapped around her and held her in a firm embrace.
Hermione cried softly but steadily until her tears were spent. It was remarkably cathartic. She took a deep breath and released it shakily, then pulled away from Draco's comforting embrace. She was embarrassed and tried to shift away, but his hand remained at her shoulders gently stroking her hair.
While she was still searching for something to say, Draco asked, "Feeling better?"
All she could do was nod mutely.
"You know, I always wondered something about you and Potter and Weasley," he said thoughtfully.
"What?"
"How on earth did you ever end up as friends with those two? I mean, it seems completely illogical."
"Logic doesn't necessarily apply when confronted by a mountain troll in the girls' loo," she said dryly.
Hermione caught his incredulous look out of the corner of her eye. "Is that what happened? I've wondered about it for some time now."
She nodded. "Our first Hallowe'en at Hogwarts. It happened when Quirrell let that troll loose in the school. I was in the girls loo crying because Ron had said something nasty about me -without bothering to make sure I was out of earshot- and I guess the boys felt guilty. Well, I know Harry did anyway. After that, it was just one of those things. We started doing our homework together and searching for a way to prove Snape was out to kill Harry and the rest is history."
"Um ... I think there is more to this story than I have any idea about. Quirrell let the troll loose? I thought he was pretty much terrified of everything."
"No. Trolls were the one thing Quirrell actually did know how to handle. He let it out as a diversion so he could try going after the Philosopher's stone," she explained matter of factly.
Draco goggled again. "Philosopher's stone!?! We had one at Hogwarts? Why? Is it still there?"
Hermione smiled weakly and shook her head. "No. It was destroyed later that year. Voldemort came too close to getting it. Dumbledore convinced the Flamels it was better to let it go than allow it to fall into the wrong hands."
"But that was before the Dark Lord came back! How could he have gone after the stone?" he asked in disbelief.
"This is part of why I liked being friends with Harry," she revealed. "So much goes on at Hogwarts that most students never hear about. As his friend, I learned about far more of what was going on than I ever would have without him. It didn't make me popular, but I was always more 'in the know' than anyone else. Not that the three of use knew everything, but we certainly tried our best."
"But when there isn't a crisis of some sort immediately at hand, you don't have much in common with them, do you," he commented shrewdly.
Hermione shook her head. "Not really. I thought we might have enough, but now, I'm not so sure. If what we were doing wasn't so important, I'd have gone back to Hogwarts by now. Still I never leave a job unfinished. I hope a few days away from them will help."
"I hope so too," Draco offered, standing from his spot on the couch. He gestured around the room. "You can stay as long as you want, but I'm afraid I don't even have an extra blanket to offer you."
"That's alright. I have my sleeping bag and all of our gear with me anyway. We figured it might be better if I kept it, just in case Mrs Weasley tried to stop them from leaving by expropriating our equipment," she informed him.
Draco nodded. "Alright then. I was going to see about something for supper. If you want a shower, go ahead. It was rude of me not to offer sooner. You must be chilled."
"I think I'll take you up on that. Thanks."
"I hope you don't expect anything fancier than spaghetti."
"Spaghetti would be great."
***
In the morning, Hermione ducked out early to pick up a newspaper. It was still cool and damp, but the rain had passed and the sun sparkled on the last of the fall leaves that stubbornly clung to their branches. It was turning out to be a beautiful day.
When she returned, Draco was already moving about the small kitchen to make tea. Accepting the cup he offered, she inhaled deeply, savouring the aroma. It was a rich blend you could nearly taste before you even took a sip.
Curious she asked him, "What blend is this? It smells wonderful."
He looked over his shoulder and smiled as he brought the pot over to the table. Sitting down with his own cup he imitated her savouring sniff of its contents, then took a small sip. Resting the cup on the table with his fingers curled around the warm ceramic he replied, "It's a Turkish import. I found a shop on the other side of the university that specializes in Middle Eastern imports. It isn't for the timid tastebud, though."
She took her own sip, and rolled the tea over her tongue before swallowing. She nodded. "It is quite strong, but I prefer my tea that way. Have you done much exploring in the city?"
"Yes. I've been through most of the campus, which is enormous, and down into different areas of town from there. It isn't exactly like I have anything urgent to do, so I've wandered around a fair bit. The weather has been cold and wet for the last week, though, and I haven't been out as much," he informed her.
"Is there anything worth seeing?"
"Do you have any notion how many libraries there are here? There are more books than you could read in a lifetime in any one of the college libraries. I still haven't come up with a proper excuse to get my hands on some of the old and rare books. You need to have special dispensation from a professor unfortunately," Draco told her sadly.
She grinned. "I can imagine. There must be some documents dating from before Magical and Muggle society's split. It would be fascinating to look at them. I've missed having access to a good library. I love the smell of a room full of books."
"The true sign of a chronic bibliophile. I'm happy enough to have borrowing privileges from the main library buildings. I felt like a fool when I went to the desk to inquire, but the lady there didn't find it an odd question. I'm never entirely certain which questions are normal, and which questions make me appear rather dim. It's still quite an overwhelming amount of information to process. Is that what coming to Hogwarts was like for you?" he asked with sincerity.
Hermione nodded. "Yes Draco, that's precisely what it was like. Well, with the exception that people around me were expecting me to ask lots of silly questions about everyday things. I detest looking foolish, so I did everything I could to remember it all. Not that it particularly helped me fit in."
Draco set down his teacup and looked at her very seriously. "I think it's long past time I apologised for making your life so difficult. I never appreciated how daunting it was for you to figure everything out."
"It's alright, Draco," she said and reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "I would never have agreed to help you if I hadn't let most of it go already. It hurt at the time, but I had also set myself up to be disappointed. I was so certain that going to Hogwarts was going to fix my problems. I was as big a social outsider at my old school as I was at Hogwarts, for pretty much the same reason. I didn't belong at the Muggle school I went to because I was a witch pretending to be a Muggle, even if I didn't know it, and I didn't fit in at Hogwarts because I felt like a Muggle pretending to be a witch."
He grasped her hand firmly in return as he countered, "Even if you had been the most charismatic person in the school, I would have done my best to make you miserable. I've come to feel rather ashamed of myself."
"And you did. I know I wasn't the only one you taunted. It actually made me feel better about the whole situation at the time. I knew I was a favourite for you to pick on, but at least I wasn't the only one," she said emphatically.
"There's no excuse-"
"-But there is. Eleven year olds don't generate bigotry and hatred out of nowhere. It's learned. We all learn values from our parents, both good and bad. Right or wrong, it isn't your fault what your family taught you to believe."
"I should have been thinking for myself," Draco said with regret filling his voice.
She told him softly, "That's what children go to school to learn. It seems like you've done a lot of thinking for yourself lately. That's what counts."
He muttered, "A little too little a little too late."
"We are sitting in your kitchen, a Muggle flat in Cambridge no less, where you have been living for the last three months, where we have been drinking tea and making polite conversation. I'd say it's more than enough, just in time."
His eyes still held sadness as he looked at her. "I still feel the need to apologize."
"Then considered your apology accepted. Now, what are you making for breakfast?" she asked to lighten the mood.
He picked up his cookbook from the counter and flipped through a few pages. It was a children's cookbook, but the recipes were simple and the instructions broken down and simplified enough for an absolute beginner. He shrugged as he leafed through it. "Well, I think I've worked my way through 'beginner potions' as it were. Perhaps you could show me to make something more complicated than fried eggs or porridge."
"My mother has the most excellent recipe for scones," she offered.
"Perfect," he agreed.
***
It surprised Hermione just how well she and Draco got on over the next few days. She had expected it to be uncomfortable and tense, much like it had been with Harry and Ron the past few weeks, but it was quite the opposite. She found his company to be rather enjoyable.
She was pleased to see Draco taking an interest in activities he never would have considered before, like cooking. Granted this was a skill for self preservation, but there was no need to go beyond the basics if he didn't want too. With all manner of pre-made foods available, he needn't know more than how to boil water or set something in the oven to heat. After acquiring a new, more advanced, cookbook, Hermione set about showing him what was meant by certain instructions so he could try new things on his own. Always a proficient student, he caught on to most things quickly.
With the rain gone, and the fall air fresh and invigorating, they spent most of their days exploring the town. She hadn't had time to properly investigate Cambridge before, but she found it a fascinating place. There were dozens of museums to visit and buildings to explore. It wasn't possible to do more than scratch the surface in the few days she had before getting back to business with Harry and Ron, so she resolved to enjoy every minute of it.
When the time came to leave, Hermione found herself more than a little reluctant. She felt relaxed and at ease when wandering around the Muggle world. Here she was anonymous. No one knew who she was, or cared who her parents were. It didn't matter who she was or wasn't friends with, or which side of the war she was on. And no one here would think her odd for enjoying Draco Malfoy's company. No one here would tell her it was wrong to be having such a good time.
Preparing to leave made this new friendship feel like it was a dirty little secret. Even if she were inclined to tell them, Ron and Harry would never understand. She and Draco were really quite similar in personality, and always had plenty to talk about. She didn't have to drag him kicking and screaming into a museum or bookshop and he didn't feel the need to try impressing her by regaling her with tales of his Quidditch prowess. And to think she had been missing out on what could become a wonderful friendship because of ignorance and prejudice. It was that thought which strengthened her resolve to get back to looking for Horcruxes. She was fighting against someone whose whole modus operandi was based upon feeding prejudices based on ignorance.
Gathering up her things, Hermione put on her coat and checked her wallet to make sure she had the fare for the train. Once again, she would travel back to London then meet up with Harry and Ron elsewhere. It saddened her to leave, casting away the comfortable coat of Muggle life for the more dangerous -though not unpleasant- cloak of her magical one.
Draco leaned against the wall by the door, watching her prepare herself. "Will you be back again? I mean in the near future."
She shrugged. "Probably not soon. We have an awful lot to get done and the longer it takes us to do it, the more people get hurt."
"Take care of yourself, Hermione. Whatever it is you three are doing, I'm certain it isn't safe," he said with utter seriousness and sincerity.
Adjusting her rucksack over her shoulders, she nodded in agreement. "It isn't, but I'll do my best to keep us all out of trouble. That's my job after all. I'm the brains of the operation."
He pushed off the wall and moved to stand so close their chests were nearly touching. She looked up and saw worry in his face. He rested a hand on her shoulder and held her gaze for a long moment. "I'd hate to lose a friend I just found. You're the only one I've got now."
"I'll be careful, but don't you forget yourself. You're the fugitive here. I'd hate to lose my criminal museum companion," she teased lightly.
Draco gave her a half-hearted smile for her efforts. "Me, too. I guess I'll see you when I see you."
Hermione nodded and reached up to pull him into a friendly hug. "If nothing else, I'll do my best to see you don't spend the whole of Christmas alone."
They held each other tightly for a little longer than was strictly considered friendly, but Hermione wasn't particularly bothered about propriety between friends at the moment. She could tell Draco didn't want to be left alone again. He had to be lonely here on his own.
Pulling away from the embrace, she opened the door to leave. As she was walking down the path to the sidewalk, she whispered quietly to herself, "I promise I'll come back."
***
Part Six
Hermione loved travelling by train. Ever since she was a little girl, she loved the constant rocking as the train surged forward along the tracks and jumping over the jerky connections between the cars. The way the countryside passed by her window in a blur had always made her smile, and she loved the sound of the whistle when crossing intersections. Seven years ago when she had first ridden the Hogwarts Express, her nervous heart had beat rapidly throughout the entire journey, though she had done her best to conceal it.
Now the anticipation she felt riding the train was of a different nature. It was Christmas Eve, and she was going to visit Draco. She wasn't certain why, but she was far more excited about her visit than could be accounted for by simple holiday cheer. Granted it was a relief to take some time away from the difficulties and dangers of searching for Horcruxes with Harry and Ron. The atmosphere between them had improved marginally, but it was still tense. All the leads they had looked into in the past six weeks had come up completely empty and they were beginning to run out of places to look.
Harry had been utterly convinced something had been left at Riddle's orphanage, and had become sulkier than usual when they found nothing. Ron was trying to track down Mundungus Fletcher to find out what had become of all the things he had nicked from Grimmauld Place, but the sneaky crook had crawled into some hiding hole and was nowhere to be found. She had been sneaking into Hogwarts for library books to continue her research into what else, if anything, was left of the possessions of the Founders, and was constantly running into walls. All the sources she found were sketchy and incomplete. The details she needed just weren't there. She shouldn't have been particularly surprised; Dumbledore had spent years living at Hogwarts, and not found evidence of any object belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw.
The steady rocking of the train as it rumbled through the wet and dreary landscape was relaxing enough to take the edge off her anticipation, and Hermione let her mind wander. Woolgathering wasn't something she had much opportunity to do lately, but the train was the perfect place for it. She allowed herself to wonder about the future beyond defeating Voldemort. Her career consultation with Professor McGonagall over a year ago hadn't been particularly useful with regards to helping her find focus. She was intrigued by too many things, and there were so many different avenues to explore. It was nice to indulge in pondering the 'what ifs' of a world without Voldemort.
When the train began to slow for the Cambridge station, she was startled out of her thoughts, shaking her head to refocus on the here and now. She had a week to not worry incessantly about finding fragments of an evil wizard's soul, and she intended to savour every moment. As the train lurched to a stop, Hermione shouldered her rucksack. Frantic holiday travellers pressed forward in their quest to get wherever they were going as quickly as possible, but she didn't feel so compelled. The throng of people in the aisle dissipated quickly enough and she made her way onto the platform and into Cambridge.
The weather was damp and cold, but not nearly as wild as the last time she had been there. Houses and businesses along her route were cheerfully decorated with fairy lights in the windows and holiday wreaths on the doors. Something about Christmas decorations always made her smile. Taking her time and enjoying the displays, Hermione found herself in high spirits as she made her way to Draco's flat.
She was somewhat surprised, but undeniably pleased to see a gaily festooned tree through Draco's window, twinkling in the twilight. It really shouldn't have surprised her, but somehow she hadn't been able to picture him decorating his flat for the holidays. It spoke too much of considering a place home, though the thought of it warmed her heart.
Knocking on the door, she waited only a moment before the door opened to reveal Draco in a bright red jumper smiling warmly at her. "Hermione! I didn't know if you would make it or not. Come in."
She grinned as she entered, shrugging off her coat. "It's good to be here. I see you've decorated for the season."
"I wouldn't be doing a good job of 'blending in' if I didn't," he commented as she shut the door behind her. "Besides, what is Christmas without a tree?"
"Depressing. Trust me. How have things been since Hallowe'en?" she asked.
Draco guided her through to the living room and sat down beside her on the couch. "Pretty good. I've found myself a job."
"You did? Where?"
"Well, I worked for about six weeks at that bookshop a few streets over. It was just for the holiday shopping season, but they said they would keep me in their files if a more permanent position comes available. That isn't the job I'm excited about, though. I'll be working a few days a week in the Queen's College library starting after New Year's," he told her excitedly.
Hermione's face split in a wide smile. "In the library?! I think, I'm jealous. How did you manage that?"
"I'm a little surprised by it myself," he said with a shrug. "I was still trying to come up with a way to get into get a closer look at the rare books collection. I figured most reasonable people wouldn't turn away someone who wanted to work for free, so I offered to volunteer with the grunt work. You know, help shelve books like the prefects did for Madam Pince. Anyway, the person I spoke to agreed and I came in a few times to help with all the end of term returns. The day before the library closed for the holidays the head librarian called me into his office and asked if I was a student. When I told him I wasn't, he offered me a job."
"That's wonderful. You have to promise to let me join you in the rare books room if you ever manage to get in there," she said, and nudged him with her shoulder.
Draco nodded. "You will be the first to know. How about you? Have you had much luck with your big project?"
She shook her head sadly. "Dead ends in every direction. It's very frustrating, but I've promised myself not to think about it until after New Year's. I just want to relax and enjoy myself."
"So you came here," he teased.
"It's far more relaxing here with two than it would be with all the Weasleys packed under one roof," she countered. "I'm not saying it isn't enjoyable, but it is certainly chaotic. I did promise Harry and Ron I would join them for New Year's Eve."
"That gives you a week of relaxation. What would you like to do first?" he inquired.
She considered his question for a moment, then answered, "Have a nice long soak in a bathtub filled with bubbles."
Draco smiled warmly at her. "I think that can be arranged. One bubble bath coming up."
"Excellent."
***
It was wonderful to soak in a bathtub without someone pounding on the door to the bathroom after less than ten minutes. Hermione luxuriated in the foamy water for nearly an hour before conceding that it was time to get out. She emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed. Her skin was glowing pink, and her fingers and toes were as wrinkled as raisins. She had changed into her most comfortable worn denims and a pale green t-shirt, the most festive thing she had with her.
Draco had supper waiting on the table, and they chatted companionably as they ate. She enjoyed discussing matters completely unrelated to the war. It was pleasant to have something normal to talk about for once. For the most part, their conversation was dominated by talk about life in Cambridge and Draco's experiences in the Muggle world, since Hermione couldn't talk much about what she was doing with the boys.
Their conversation continued as they adjourned to the living room to enjoy a cup of hot cocoa by the Christmas tree. Sitting companionably beside each other on the couch, Draco continued recounting his experiences at the bookstore. "For the first two weeks, I felt like a complete and utter dunce. The manager kept giving me odd looks every time I asked the simplest of questions. I knew nothing about how to work the till, or search for titles and authors on the computer filing system. It was a nightmare. I'm glad she was so patient with me. I expected to be sacked the afternoon I started."
"The Christmas rush probably wasn't the best time to be introduced to all of this for the first time," she observed.
He nodded in agreement. "They had me stocking shelves and working on the floor for a few days and only taking time on the till when the place wasn't too busy. That didn't work out the best either, because I don't know many authors or popular works, but I managed well enough. I also picked up a number of books to read myself. I don't yet have a proper handle on so many cultural references people use everyday. I did manage to figure out the computers there, though."
"Well that's something. My parents have a computer now, but I haven't two clues how to use the thing. They have one at the office to help schedule appointments, keep track of patient files and such, as well as one at home. I haven't been home enough to corner my dad into showing me how to work it." She sipped at her cocoa and turned to face him cross-legged on the couch. With an eager look she asked, "Which books did you get? Have you read any yet?"
He grinned at her enthusiasm. "I picked up a couple recent best sellers that were popular Christmas gifts, then went mostly into the classics section for the others. I bought David Copperfield, Around the World in Eighty Days, The Portrait of Dorian Grey, The Hounds of Baskerville and Macbeth."
"Have you read any yet?"
Draco nodded. "I've made it through all but David Copperfield. I've enjoyed most of the others."
Hermione's eyes glinted with amusement. "Even Macbeth?"
"I don't think I have ever laughed so hard! To think that is what Muggles think witches are. The play itself was entertaining. I wouldn't mind seeing it performed sometime," he told her.
"I'm sure I could find a stage production of it somewhere if I did a bit of searching. It's one of the more frequently performed of Shakespeare's plays."
"Provided it is in any way safe for me to go to where the play is," Draco commented with a slight edge of bitterness to his voice.
"Perhaps your next reading project should be War and Peace," Hermione quipped, and was pleased to see the hint of rancour fall from his features as he grinned again.
"I've seen that book. It looks like quite the undertaking."
"You could always give Ulysses a try," she teased.
He shook his head vigorously. "I think I'll pass. If I want to read a huge tome, it will be the history textbook I borrowed from the library."
"A history book?"
"As I will be living here for the foreseeable future, I thought it would be best if I got a handle on some Muggle history. I have an overview of the past five hundred years of British history. My hope is that if I learn enough, I can actually start to interact with people here and not sound like an uneducated simpleton."
"I'm sorry this is hard for you. It was never my intent to put you in a position that made you look foolish. I only wanted to help you."
"It's alright. You have helped me. I'll admit, I spent my first two weeks here sulking and grumbling every time I tried to do something that magic could accomplish much quicker and easier. I was a right moody bastard about it. Since then, however, I've gotten used to the idea that I'll be living like this for some time. That's why I'm trying to make the best of it."
"I know you weren't wildly thrilled about all the things I asked of you, but I'm glad you trusted me enough to go ahead with them. I think this haircut suits you better that the slicked back look you always had at Hogwarts. I'm glad you've kept it up."
Draco gave her a slightly blank look. "I haven't done a thing to it since July."
"How is that possible?" she asked, furrowing her brow.
He seemed somewhat surprised by her question. "Haven't you ever learned that hair responds more directly to the innate magic in our systems than any other body part? In many ways, it is a visible manifestation of your magic."
"I've never read about that anywhere," she said disbelievingly.
"My mother used to natter on about it with other parents," he explained. "It isn't necessarily the most accurate assessment, but parents like to use it as an indication of magical aptitude."
"How so?" she asked, eager, as always, to take in the magical lore others took for granted.
"Take my own hair, for example. Even without any styling products, it was always straight, neat and controlled. My mother claimed that it boded well for a future ability to wield spells with great accuracy and control. This may be true, perhaps, though I think it is a greater indication of my personality than anything else."
Hermione gave him a wry grin, almost afraid to ask. "And my wild and uncontrollable rat's nest means ..?"
"Your magic responds to your personality and mood, and in turn your hair does the same. You are always so active and fully immersed in whatever it is you are doing. The more frustrated and flustered you become, the less manageable it is in turn. Magically speaking, limp, lifeless hair is not a positive thing. It can be an indication of weakness or a repressive personality. You should be glad of your crazy curls." Draco told her sincerely.
"Thanks, I think," she said sceptically.
"It was never as bad as the people taunting you said. That includes me." He reached forward and twirled a curl around his index finger. Letting it spin off his finger, he smiled softly. "I like your curls. They're dynamic, just like you are."
Instead of retracting his hand, Draco took another curl in his fingers and smoothed it straight from root to end. He held it tautly for a moment, then watched it spring back into a tight spiral as he let it go. Hermione held her breath as he pulled her hair straight and released it in a small sigh as the lock was released again. She felt her cheeks heat and tried to distract herself by asking more questions. "So what does it mean that your hair hasn't grown a bit since you've been here? It doesn't really make sense."
He raised a questioning eyebrow and settled his hand on the back of the couch near her shoulder. "Think for a moment, Hermione. Has your hair ever grown longer than you wanted it to?"
She shook her head. "I haven't ever been particularly concerned about how long it gets. How short, on the other hand, is something I care about. My mother cut my hair in this horrible bob when I was eight. I hated it."
"How long did it take to grow back to something you preferred?" he prodded.
She considered this for a long moment. "Actually, not long at all. Maybe two weeks. I do remember my mother commenting on how strange it was, almost like it was growing super fast in my sleep."
"Because it was," he said matter-of-factly. "I know some parents try giving their children drastic haircuts just to see if their magic will manifest itself, like some sort of test."
Hermione gave Draco an incredulous look. "How do you know this stuff?"
"My mother is a social butterfly, more commonly referred to as a gossip monger, and I spent lots of time listening at doorways when I was young."
"So, your hair hasn't grown ..." she trailed off, still not quite certain her leap of reasoning was correct.
"Because I haven't wanted it to. If I had wanted to get rid of this," he gestured to his hair, "it would have been gone a long time ago."
Hermione tentatively fingered the hair at his temple. "I like it better this way. It isn't so harsh. You look more," she paused for a moment, carding her fingers through his hair while searching for the right word, "approachable like this."
She ran her fingers through his hair again, but this time as they trailed over his ear, he turned his face towards the hand and placed a soft kiss in its palm. Startled, Hermione pulled away, looking at Draco with wide eyes. The expression on his face was of unguarded longing. He reached forward to toy with another curl, leaning forward and brushing it across his cheek before letting it spring free again. He brought the hand at her shoulder up to cup her blushing cheek stroking the pad of his thumb across it. She trembled slightly as his thumb moved to trace the contours of her lips. He cupped her face in his hands and closed the distance between them.
It all seemed to happen with agonizing slowness, or perhaps it was just difficult for her mind to process what was happening. His whole body leaned forward as he tilted his head and brought his lips to hers. It was only a simple, chaste kiss, but it caused her blood to race and set her heart pounding in her chest. When Draco pulled back, Hermione brought her hand to slip through his short hair and pull him back into another kiss. With her lips slightly parted, she felt his tongue glide along her lower lip and she opened herself to a thorough tongue-tangling embrace.
He held her close as he shifted positions, and Hermione found herself stretched across the length of the couch with Draco on top of her. Hot lips trailed a scorching path along her jaw where they fastened on her earlobe. The tantalizing nips and licks stole the breath from her. Holding him close, she ran her hands across the firm planes of his back, startling herself when her fingers caught the bottom edge of his jumper and she encountered bare flesh. His skin felt warm and smooth beneath her fingers, contouring flawlessly over the hard ridges of his spine as she traced her fingertips lightly up his back, guiding the woollen material out of the way as she went.
Draco paused in his heated exploration of her neck and hummed softly against her ear in response. The vibration sent an echoing ripple of sensation through her nerve endings, tingling its way to her breasts. She squirmed against him from the delightful feeling, causing him to groan as he descended on her body with renewed fervour.
Progress, however, was impeded by her clothing. Pulling back in frustration, Draco tugged impatiently at his own jumper before turning his attention to Hermione. She wriggled out of her shirt with his assistance and he tossed the offending garment to the floor. Looking up at him, she saw a rather self-satisfied smile grace his lips. Suddenly uncomfortable, she brought her arms around herself protectively to cover her chest. Insistently he removed her shield whispering, "Don't. You're lovely. Don't hide yourself."
"This is so ... I don't know," she said, shaking her head and feeling her cheeks flood with warmth.
"Unexpected? Surprising? Uncomfortable?" he offered.
"So new," she told him after a moment's consideration. "I don't know what to think."
Draco levered himself carefully off her. "We can stop. We should stop. I got carried away. I'm sorry."
He started to move across the room to where her shirt had landed on the floor. Hermione sat up quickly, grabbing his hand. "I didn't say it was bad, just new."
"I may have done plenty of things in the past that I'm not proud of now, but I've never taken advantage of a girl and I'm not about to start. I don't want to hurt you," he said sincerely.
She stood and brought the hand she was still holding up between them, squeezing it firmly. "I know, and you won't."
"But what if-" he began, and Hermione cut him off.
"Then what if, Draco. I'm sick and tired of what ifs in my life. I'm fed up with wondering 'what if I missed something in my research,' or 'what if another one of my friends dies,' or even 'what if Voldemort wins.' You and I have almost no control over the big what ifs in our lives. Right now, I want a 'why not' to enjoy. Draco, why not?"
Hermione had startled herself by the vociferousness of her little speech, but she found the words 'why not' turning over in her head and couldn't quite find a good reason. She could die tomorrow, or next week or three years from now and so much of her life would be left unlived, so many things undone. It wasn't the most compelling reason to be intimate with someone, but she didn't really want a particular reason. So much of her life was controlled by other people and events beyond her control. This was something she could do for herself.
Looking at her curiously, as if, perhaps, seeing her for the first time, Draco shifted to stand so their bodies were pressed tightly against each other, skin-to-skin. His breathing appeared to be somewhat laboured and she could feel a firm bulge pressing against her hip where their lower bodies met. "I want you, Hermione, but sex changes everything."
Boldly she hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and pulled their hips closer together.
"I live to bring change into your life, Draco," she quipped and pushed up on her toes to catch his lips in a playful kiss.
Smirking against her lips, he said, "I think it's my turn, then."
He renewed their kiss with enthusiasm and she felt his hands slide around her back and fiddle with the clasp of her bra. She wasn't sure if she should be embarrassed by the plain cotton garment, but Draco didn't seem to pay much attention to it, beyond its removal. With her breasts released, his hands circled around her torso and palmed the soft globes. His hands were surprisingly soft, and Hermione whimpered as his thumbs brushed across her dusky nipples. When his lips returned to nibble at her earlobe while he continued to fondle her breasts, that whimper became an urgent keening.
Hermione wasn't certain how it had happened, but somehow they had ended up on the floor in a frantic tangle of caressing hands and searching lips. Draco had replaced his talented fingers with an equally talented tongue at her breast, causing her to arch and moan against him. Her own hands were desperately clutching at him, desperately trying to hold on while her senses spiralled out of control.
When he released the button of her denims, she eagerly shifted to assist in their removal before scrabbling at the closure of his own and yanking them down unceremoniously. A moment later she pulled her hands back, startled by her boldness and their sudden nudity. Draco's erect cock was deep red and weeping at the tip. It was slightly intimidating, yet oddly compelling, and she reached a tentative hand out to feel it. He groaned loudly as her fingers stroked the velvety soft skin of his shaft and brushed tantalizingly over the head. She tried a few more exploratory strokes before he grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away from his sensitive organ.
Hermione looked up at him questioningly, but any words she had died in her throat at the expression she saw on his face. His eyes were warm and dark with hunger as he moved to hover over her, drinking in the contours of her body. Moving to kneel between her legs, Draco stroked her thighs firmly, ending each caress with a teasing brush across the cinnamon curls at the apex. Wetness pooled between her folds, and each time those teasing fingers reached her centre, they came away with moisture.
Hermione held her breath as she felt a slim digit slide more firmly along her crease, gently parting her folds. Swirling around her nub, his finger caused her to buck from the sudden, intense sensation. A soft, masculine chuckle was all her mind registered before he did it again. Her eyes closed and her breathing became shallow panting while the delightful stroking continued. So close to the edge, a firm flick of his dextrous fingers was all it took to send colours swimming behind her eyes and draw a loud cry from her lips as her body twitched and convulsed with her climax.
Before she could regain her breath, Draco slid up her body and rubbed his cock against her pulsing centre. Hermione managed to summon the strength to open her eyes to watch his face as he adjusted his position and sank in deeply. For a moment she felt uncomfortably stretched, but the groan that rumbled through his chest pushed it to the back of her mind. After a brief stillness, he withdrew and thrust forward again, setting an urgent pace. The initial discomfort faded quickly to be replaced by the slow build of pleasurable tension. Sweat beaded on their skin, causing it to make a slapping sound each time their bodies came together. All too soon his body strained and shuddered with release before the strength in his arms gave way and he collapsed on top of her.
For uncounted minutes, they lay on the floor regaining their breath. Hermione felt secure and content under Draco's weight. Toying with the damp locks of his short hair she smiled at the odd way the fairy lights from the Christmas tree coloured his pale skin. When his breathing had returned to normal, Draco weakly propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her.
"Happy Christmas," she said simply, not wanting to upset the pleasant feelings between them with uncomfortable talk or excessive chatter.
He grinned lazily at her. "Happy Christmas."
***
The rest of the holidays passed in a blur of intimate embraces and warm companionship. Hermione was reluctant to return to her task with Harry and Ron, and Draco seemed just as reluctant for her to leave, but there was no help for it. Her gift of a pair of journals, enchanted like his original letter to her had been, would allow them to communicate outside of her infrequent visits, though it didn't seem like enough.
Hermione wasn't certain of just what was between them now. There was definitely passion and friendship, but neither of them were prepared to call it love. She cared deeply for him, certainly, and for now that would have to do. Parting ways once again, she took the train to London, pondering deeply on her relationship with Draco as the miles rumbled away beneath her feet.
***
Part Seven
Three weeks later, Hermione opened her journal for her nightly ritual of writing to Draco. She had been able to easily explain away the habit by mentioning it had been a gift from her parents, and the boys didn't feel the need to question her more thoroughly on the matter. It was beginning to bother her, though, just how easily it was becoming to lie to her best friends. She had so many secrets from them that she almost felt like she had the year with the Time Turner, except without the overwhelming exhaustion.
Dipping her quill in a pot of black ink, she was about to begin her short note, when Draco's hurried scrawl appeared.
I've found something you should have a look at!
Hermione's eyebrow's raised and she quickly wrote back.
What is it?
I was bringing a couple books to the repair room in the basement of the library today, and I saw an old dusty book with parchment pages and a cracked leather binding. The title on it was 'Cognatio Arithmanticorum.'
Really? That is exciting! Is it in for repairs from the Rare Books collection?
I imagine so, but it's obviously been sitting there untouched for years, and it doesn't look like there is anything wrong with it. Well, from a glance anyway, but that isn't the exciting part. Do you know who the author on the cover was?
An uncomfortable sinking feeling started to settle in her stomach. She took a shaky breath and tried to calm herself. This couldn't be it.
Who is the author?
R. Ravene.
Hermione's stomach did a flip flop. This might just be it.
You think that R. Ravene could in fact be Rowena Ravenclaw?
The book is certainly old enough and based on the title within her realm of expertise. This could be the only artifact of Ravenclaw's in existence!
Did you touch the book?
No. The man who does the restoration work for the library was there, so I couldn't really poke around. I wanted to though.
Whatever you do, DON'T TOUCH THAT BOOK!
I doubt I'll have the opportunity to for a while, but why not?
Because it might just kill you. I need to see it myself.
I promised to invite you if I ever got into the Rare Books collection, but this is in a private office. I can't just walk in there, let alone you.
Then I'll have to break in.
What!?! Why? Hermione, are you alright?
Yes. I'm fine. I can't explain everything just now, but I'm going to have to tell Harry and Ron about this.
Why is this so urgent? I know it might be a very significant and valuable book, but what does it have to do with those two?
Draco, the time may have come.
For what?
For exploring the possibility of option three.
What could this book possibly have to do with the war? Based on the dust, it's been sitting in the repair shop for decades untouched.
And that doesn't seem unusual to you?
There was a long pause before Draco's script appeared on the page.
They won't trust me. They'll try to kill me if they see me. I don't think option three could even work.
Do you trust me?
Of course.
I will arrange things. This involves Harry and Ron, and I can't leave them out. It could be very dangerous, and we will need all the help we can get.
For what?
For getting one step closer to ending the war.
This book is that important?
Yes, but it would take a lot to explain it all and I'd rather do that in person.
Then I'll do my best to help, if you do your best to keep them from killing me.
You know I will. Just promise me you won't go near that book without me and keep your wand with you when you are at work.
I always do.
Stay safe. I'll make some plans and let you know what we are going to do tomorrow.
Goodnight, Hermione. Take care of yourself.
You too. Goodnight.
The words seeped into the page and Hermione was left staring at the blank journal page. Months of finding nothing and they might have just uncovered a Horcrux in the last place she imagined. Glancing across the small space to where Ron was busy trouncing Harry at chess she shook her head. Explaining this to them would not be easy and getting the three boys to work together towards a common goal would take a miracle. Then again, desperate times called for desperate measures.
She was often surprised by what good things could happen, if you were desperate enough.