Never Finished Fic: Draco/Hermione

[rsadelle]

"Well, well," Draco said. "If it isn't the little Mudblood. And it looks like she's been abandoned by her goody-goody Gryffindor friends." Crabbe and Goyle obligingly chuckled. Draco held up a finger to quiet them. "Oh, that's right. Her boyfriend's dead."

***

"What do you think you're doing, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall asked him. "You have been taunting Miss Granger nonstop. Her actions were quite provoked, and frankly I'm surprised she hasn't done it before now."

"Better for her to throw things at me than slit her wrists," Draco said, and had the pleasure of watching McGonagall turn white.

"Do you really think Miss Granger would do that?" she asked in a voice that shook.

"My mother did."

McGonagall glared at him. "Miss Granger's situation is not the same as your mother's."

Draco smiled faintly at her. "My mother's friends deserted her after my father was killed. It was a spectacular disgrace, and they wanted nothing to do with it. I assure you, Granger loved Weasley at least as much as my mother loved my father."

"Well." McGonagall looked discomfited. She exchanged glances with Snape and Dumbledore. "We will keep an eye on Miss Granger." She glared down at Draco. "I suggest you leave her be."

Not bloody likely, he thought, but he put on his best innocent look for the professors.

"You're dismissed, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, and from his tone of voice Draco could tell that Snape knew what he was thinking.

***

Even knowing what had happened, Draco was nearly shocked by how pale Hermione was. He stilled his face into calm and sat down beside her bed.

"Now look what happens when I leave you alone," he drawled.

Hermione turned her head to look blankly at him. Then a spark of recognition flared into a full-fledged glare. "You told them," she accused. "They put a watch-spell on me." Tears muted her glare.

Draco snorted. "And you still haven't learned to carry a handkerchief." He handed her a neatly folded square of cotton.

She glared at him, but used the handkerchief to wipe her eyes. "Here to taunt me about my failure to even do myself in properly?" she asked as snidely as she could with tears still glittering in her eyes.

"I'm sure Madame Pomfrey would throw me out for that." He leaned back in the chair and crossed one ankle over the other. "Shouldn't you be more worried about what this will do to your marks?"

She sniffled into the handkerchief. "It won't matter if my parents pull me out of the school."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "That would be a first."

"They think the school failed to properly care for me. They think the staff should have done more to 'counsel' me 'through this trying time.'"

"They sound quite sensible to me," he said. "For Muggles," he added.

"The staff knew enough to put a watch-spell on me."

"Only because I told them you might try to do yourself in," Draco reminded her.

"Yes, and thank you so much," she sneered.

"You're quite welcome," he answered calmly. He smiled at her when she scowled at him.

She seemed to deflate then, and she turned her head away from him. "Just leave me alone," she said.

"Ah, yes," he said. "There's the sullen and depressed Granger I loathe." He didn't miss the movement of her arm as she brought his handkerchief to her eyes again. He touched his fingers to her hair lightly. "I'll visit again," he promised.

***

Granger was sitting up with a book on her lap when he went to the hospital wing the next day.

"Don't you have any friends?" she sneered at him.

"None who are so constant in their affections as you," he answered. He sat in the same chair he'd used the day before. "Is that a Potions text?"

"Yes," she said defensively.

"How dull," he sniffed. "Shouldn't you use this opportunity to read something fun?"

She shook her head. "The teachers are letting me make up some of the work I've neglected." She looked down. "I won't be the head of the class, but I'll do okay if I can catch up and study for my N.E.W.T.s."

"You should be fine with Potions," he told her. "I think Snape's cooking something up to really prepare all of us." He saw her recognize the pun for what it was, but she didn't laugh. Her lips didn't even curve into the slightest smile.

"You're really no fun these days," Draco sighed. He was prepared to duck, but Hermione, instead of throwing the book at him, again drew into herself.

Draco watched her try to ignore him for a moment and then asked, "Are you getting any counseling?"

She stared at him. "What?"

"Have either your sensible Muggle parents or the heads-in-the-sand staff of our wonderful school found you a therapist?"

"No," she said uncertainly. She fingered the edge of a page. "I'm fine."

Draco leaned toward her. "You slit your wrists," he said deliberately, emphasizing each word.

She shrank back. "I'm fine now," she said. "I was only a little unhappy."

"People cry when they're a little unhappy," he told her patiently. "They don't try to kill themselves."

"Get out," she said, and now she really did look like she might throw something at him. "Go away and leave me alone."

He watched her for another long moment and then nodded. "Good day, Miss Granger," he said with exaggerated politeness.

***

"For the remainder of the term, you will work in pairs. However," Snape warned as they all looked around at their friends, "I will assign the pairs." "Granger and Malfoy" were in the middle of his list. "I'm sure that even as dull as you lot are you've noticed that I've put you in mixed house pairs." Snape glared at them. "Can someone tell me why I've done this?"

There was no answer.

"Mr. Malfoy." Snape picked out Draco. "Why have I done this?"

Draco glanced around at the pairings Snape had put together. "To unnerve us," he guessed.

Snape almost smiled. "Very good, Mr. Malfoy. And why would I want to unnerve you?"

"To make sure we can work under pressure."

"Right again, Mr. Malfoy." He turned to face the rest of the rest of the class, "This term, in preparation for the N.E.W.T.s, you will be forced to work outside the conditions you've become accustomed to."

Snape paced to the front of the classroom and faced them from behind his desk. "Today, you will be making an advanced sleeping draught. You will find it on page three hundred forty-seven of your textbook."

***

"Granger, look at this." Draco held up *something* that some ancestor must have thought useful.

"What is that?" Hermione came to him for a closer look.

"I don't know." Draco pushed a knob and what might have been the thing's mouth snapped, startling a laugh out of Hermione. "Something useful, no doubt." He thrust the thing toward her and pushed the knob again.

Hermione retreated. She snatched a conveniently placed wooden sword off the wall and used it to defend herself.

"A sword is no match for this." Draco swung the thing at her and attempted to get its jaws to close around the sword.

"You don't even know what it is," Hermione managed around her laughter.

"I don't have to know what it is to defeat you with it," he pointed out with a jab that nearly got past her guard.

They didn't notice the house-elf enter the room.

"Harry Potter, sir, ma'am," the house-elf announced. Their laughter cut off as if someone had flipped a switch. Hermione put the sword down on a chair, and Draco put the thing, whatever it was meant to be, down with it.

"Harry," Hermione greeted.

Draco could see her hands trembling. Potter, of course, didn't notice. It would take something rather more dramatic to get his attention.

"I heard you were living with him," Harry said, his mouth twisting in disgust.

"I haven't heard anything about you," Hermione answered coolly. She reached out and grabbed Draco's arm as he started to leave. "Stay."

"He's Malfoy!" Harry protested.

"Yes," Hermione answered. "I do know who he is."

"What are you doing with him?" Harry demanded.

Hermione pushed her sleeves up and held out her wrists to show Harry the scars she hadn't let Madame Pomfrey smooth away. "I slit my wrists," she told him.

Harry's face registered the appropriate amount of shock. "You--"

"I tried to kill myself," she said. "Draco knew I was suicidal. He told the professors and they had a watch-spell on me." She took a step toward Harry. "He saved my life," she said fiercely. "You disappeared, and he was there for me."

"What about Ron?" Harry challenged.

"Ron's dead," she said flatly.

"So you're just going to move on to Malfoy?"

"I haven't 'just' done anything," she told him, her voice rising into a yell. "I went through hell, and he was the only one who cared about me!"

"You're a traitor," Harry accused. He slammed the heavy door behind him as he left the room.

The echoes were still fading away when Draco pushed a folded square of linen into Hermione's hand. She unfolded the handkerchief with its familiar monogram and used it to wipe her eyes.

***

"This is very popular this year," the seamstress told them.

Hermione made a face. "No."

"No," Draco agreed, looking at the book of designs over her shoulder. He flipped through a few more pages. "None of these will work. You'll either have to find something else or design something new for her."

He stepped back and walked around Hermione. "Something simple," he said. "Clean lines. High neck, long sleeves. Blue," he suggested. "Dark blue velvet. No lace."

"Hmm. I think--" The seamstress made a quick sketch on a blank page. "Something like that?" she asked.

"Yes." Draco looked from the sketch to Hermione. "Yes, something like that. Closer to the body, though."

The seamstress drew a second sketch. "Better?"

"Oh, yes," Draco said with a gleam in his eyes. "Much better."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Hermione asked.

Draco showed her the sketch. "Don't you like it?"

"Yes," she admitted after a moment. "You have good taste."

"Of course I do. I'm a Malfoy."

The seamstress let her measuring tape loose on Hermione and asked, "Would you like me to show the pattern around?"

Draco pursed his lips and thought for a moment. "Yes," he decided. "Do that." He smirked. "I'd like to see who copies that and who goes for the ruffles and lace."

"Why would anyone copy that?" Hermione asked.

The seamstress looked up at her. "The mistress of the Malfoy household is traditionally a fashion trendsetter."

"Oh." Hermione said. "Am I," she asked Draco uncertainly, "the mistress of the household?"

Draco turned the question around on her. "Aren't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I am." Hermione gave a vague smile to the curious seamstress.

***

Hermione flushed under Draco's admiring regard as she came down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, he took her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles before tucking her hand into his arm.

"You look lovely," he said.

Her flush deepened. "Thank you." Her fingers went to the pendant hanging from her neck and the tiara crowning her head. "And thank you for the jewelry."

"It suits you." He brushed his fingers over hers. "You look like the mistress of the Malfoy house."

"If I'm to play the part," she said with a shrug.

He brushed his lips over her fingers again. "You'll do fine," he assured her.

And she did, at least as far as he was concerned. Half the guests did their best to ignore her, but that was only to be expected.

At eleven forty-five, Draco called a stop to the music and took his place, with Hermione at his side, two steps up the stairs.

"Good evening," he said, his voice amplified by a simple spell. "I trust you're all enjoying yourselves." He smiled at the crowd of people who clearly were enjoying themselves. "It brings me great pleasure to see so many friends, old and new, here tonight. As you can see," with a gesture at the grandfather clock behind them, "the New Year approaches. The hour has come for the traditional toasts." He raised his glass and watched the rest of the room do the same. The sneers on some faces told him what they expected him to say.

"To continued peace in our world," he said simply, and drank. He took careful note of who joined in his toast and who did not.

"To our host, Draco Malfoy." Crabbe may not have entirely approved of the whole proceeding, but he did know how to follow directions.

"And to our hostess, Hermione Granger," Draco added. There was some uneasy grumbling in the audience, but with Hermione on the step beside him, no one dared speak up.

Draco waved at the clock. "Only a few seconds now. Please, join me in the countdown."

As one voice, they counted down to midnight, and then there was a flurry of clinking glass as they toasted the New Year. Draco put one hand on Hermione's cheek and drew her close for a kiss.

He turned his head and said, "Happy New Year," against her cheek.

"Happy New Year," she answered him. They turned together to face the room and joined in the singing of "Auld Lang Syne."

It wasn't much later that the party started to break up, and Draco and Hermione finally waved off the last party of guests.

Hermione's smile dropped as soon as the door was closed behind them. "I'm so tired," she said. She carefully took the tiara out of her hair and started pulling out the spelled pins holding it up.

"You were wonderful," Draco told her. He put his hands on her shoulders. "It was quite a success."

"They're all wondering if we're sleeping together." Hermione dropped her head to give Draco's hands better access to the knots of tension in her neck.

"Let them wonder." Draco let his hands fall from her skin. "Come, my lady," he said, offering his arm with a sweeping gesture. "I will escort you to your chamber."

She took it with an answering flourish. "Thank you, kind sir." They dissolved into laughter that echoed around the emptiness of the entranceway.

True to his word, Draco walked her to her door. There he lifted her hand to his lips in a repeat of the gesture with which he'd welcomed her earlier in the evening. His eyes met and held hers.

"Good night, Granger. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, Malfoy," she echoed.

***

"What is it?" Draco asked when he slid into the chair across from her for a late--make that very late--breakfast.

"We're the front-page story." She turned the paper around to show him. Their photographic forms kissed, drew apart, and kissed again.

"They do go for the sensational," he said. "What are they saying about it?"

"The Malfoy New Year's Eve party," she read, "has always been a spectacle, and this year was no exception. There were no outrageous acts of entertainment, no near-violations of Ministry law, and no explosions. But it was no less a spectacle for those omissions. The Wizarding world's elite mixed, although not without reservation, with such ordinary families as the Weasleys. Even Harry Potter was in attendance, a first for any Malfoy event.

"But the real spectacle occurred only in the last few moments before midnight. In place of the traditional toast, Draco Malfoy, the current head of the Malfoy family, raised his glass, 'To continued peace in our world,' shocking no small number of his guests, and not only those who have been Malfoy allies for generations. Harry Potter was spotted gaping not unlike a codfish.

"Perhaps the explanation lies in the presence of the young woman at Mr. Malfoy's side, one Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born witch and friend--or should we say ex-friend; they barely spoke all evening--of Harry Potter. Following a clearly rehearsed toast to Mr. Malfoy as the host, Mr. Malfoy toasted Miss Granger as the hostess.

"The diamond-encrusted snowflake tiara crowning Miss Granger left no doubt in this reporter's mind that this king of the Wizarding elite has chosen his queen."

"Well," Draco said with a pleased smile. "That's the nicest thing they've said about the Malfoys in ages."

***

There was a single red rose floating outside her door when Hermione woke up on Valentine's Day. She smiled fondly and plucked it out of the air.

***

The conservatory was filled with candles that cast enough light to see by but not enough to block out the stars shining through the skylights.

"It's lovely."

Draco led Hermione to a loveseat with a perfect view of the sky. He poured the waiting champagne into two glasses. "To you," he said, clinking his glass against Hermione's.

She flushed. "I-- Thank you." She waved her hand at the room. "You didn't have to do all this."

"I wanted to do something special for you." Draco touched her cheek. "Weasley loved you, but I doubt he was the romantic type."

She laughed. "No, no." She looked up at the stars. "He once gave me Peppermint Imps for Valentine's Day. He couldn't understand why I was so angry with him."

"You deserve this." Draco leaned back and joined her in contemplating the night sky.

"Thank you," she said. "It really is lovely."

He put his hand against her cheek. "Not half as lovely as you." He could feel the heat of her blush against his hand.

"Oh, stop it."

He brushed his lips over her cheek. "I mean it."

"And you would never lie," she said dryly.

"Never is such a strong word."

***

"I don't want you thinking of him," he said, "every time you look at our child. I want you to think about me."

"You heard what I told the Weasleys," she said. "I meant every word." She stepped toward him. "I love you. You make me happy." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I will always think of you when I look at our child."

"If it's a boy, his middle name can be Ron," Draco said. "I can't--" He stopped and started again. "I can't have that be his first name."

"Okay." Hermione stepped back and opened the door wider. Draco followed her in and waited for her to close the door. She draped her dressing gown over a chair. Draco draped his next to it. Only when they had climbed into opposite sides of the bed did Draco dare reach for her. She settled into his arms with a muffled sob. They clung to each other for a very long time.