Second Chances ~ Part V

[gfeather]

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.”

***

Go on to Part VI