Nasty Takeaway Pizza
“What do you want to do when we graduate, Granger?” Blaise asked as she crushed the berries and collected the juice in a beaker.
“I don’t know, actually. Kingsley already has all of my ideas for the muggleborn fund, so they don’t need any more of my input for that. Not that I want to work in the Ministry anymore anyway.” She replied.
“You don’t want to be trotted out like their prized pony? The golden girl restoring our faith in government?” He smirked, taking the juice and adding it to their cauldron slowly. Across the classroom, Malfoy clapped Theo across the back of the head, purple smoke billowing from their cauldron. Hermione snorted as Slughorn contained the mess and reset their brew.
“My thoughts exactly.” She said, turning her attention back to Blaise. “I won’t be propaganda for them after the war. I think I’ve earnt the right to be a little selfish, to pursue something just because it makes me happy.”
“I think you’ve more than earned it. Fuck everyone else, you should go after what you want.”
“What about you? What do you want to do?” She asked, chopping up the next ingredient as he stirred the liquid with his wand.
“This, actually. Potions was always my best subject, the only one I ever really enjoyed. I’ve been looking into opening an apothecary. There’s this unit on Diagon.”
“Oh! That’s so exciting! Just on your own, or with someone else?” She asked.
He shrugged. “I’ve never told anyone before. It’s sort of a pipe dream, I suppose. I just liked the idea of being able to do some good, after all this time.”
“Maybe I’ll join you. Zabini-Granger Brews.” She grinned, and he chuckled.
“Granger-Zabini. Age before beauty.” He shot back. “I kind of pictured the boys with me. Doing something worthwhile with all the money we’ve inherited, you know?”
“Granger-Zabini-Malfoy-Nott is quite a mouthful.” She pointed out sarcastically. “Will Malfoy insist on being first? That feels like something he’d care about.”
“You’ve understood him so completely in such a short time.” Blaise smiled, dropping the strips she cut into their cauldron. “Malfoy-Granger-Zabini-Nott Brews. Rolls off the tongue.”
“We’ll take Diagon by storm.” She replied, picturing the future surprisingly easily. Perhaps the idea could be more than a pipe dream after all.
***
Hermione had been banned from the apothecary whilst Malfoy did his photos. Pansy had threatened to hex her bald if she tried to snoop, and Hermione was inclined to believe the witch. Since she’d gone official with Neville, her already short fuse had grown even shorter because of Luna’s apparent lack of boundaries with a taken man. It was all in her head, of course, as the friendship was resolutely platonic, as it always had been, but Pansy was still getting snippy. That combined with Ginny and Padma’s interrogation had left Hermione a bundle of nerves.
She was taking her anxiety out on her neglected vegetable patch. Her hands were covered in dirt, weeds ripped out by the roots, but she barely noticed. She didn’t want to think about the shoot. Didn’t want to picture Malfoy smirking at the camera, so self-assured. Didn’t want to know if he’d gone shirtless, or if Pansy had made him pose like Theo had, or-
Her phone rang, and she almost dropped the thing in her haste. The only people with her number were her parents and the muggle takeaways she ordered from occasionally, so she answered quickly.
“Hello?” She stood up, brushing her hands on her jeans.
“Mia, love, it’s Dad. Your mother and I are in A&E, a slight accident with the press.” Her dad said. Hermione sighed. Her parents had recently taken up cider making, and the amount of injuries they’d both sustained from not knowing how to use the equipment properly was a little too high for her liking.
“Is she alright? I’ll be there soon.” She headed inside as her dad explained it was just a few minor breaks to the bones in her mother’s hand, and potentially her wrist too. She hung up and apparated as close as she could get to the hospital. Whilst she was still hidden, she sent her patronus to Harry, letting him and the others know where she was and what had happened. She then rounded the corner and rushed inside.
“I can heal that now if you want me to.” She said to her mother as they arrived home. She had broken her wrist, a few bones in her hand, and dislocated a finger, but was in good spirits all the same.
“Nonsense, I can heal the good old fashioned way. It’s served me well so far.” Her mother replied. Her response wasn’t a surprise to Hermione. They didn’t like her doing magic around them anymore, much less casting any sort of spell on them. She supposed she couldn’t really blame them for that. “How is your calendar going? You haven’t forgotten I want one when it’s finished.” She smiled, and Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Yes, Mother, I hadn’t forgotten that you want to ogle my friends. They should have gotten up to September today. Ron posed for July the other week.”
“Lovely boy, that one. Anyway, you should be getting back, my darling, it’s late.” She was practically shooed towards the floo, and she shared a smile with her dad, both of them knowing what her mum was like.
“Let me know if you change your mind about your hand, ok?” She said, and her mum nodded, even if they both knew she wouldn’t. “I’m glad you’re both ok.”
“It was lovely seeing you, Mi.” Her dad said, and she smiled, waving as she disappeared in green flames.
As polite as they were, it always hurt that they weren’t comfortable being around her for long anymore. She wiped away her tears with rough hands as she landed in her living room. Glancing up, she jumped as she realised someone was on her sofa.
“What on earth are you doing here?” She asked. Malfoy put the book he’d been reading down on the coffee table and stood, bundling her into a hug.
“Potter told me about your mum. I wanted to make sure you were alright.” He replied, and her heart melted a bit.
“She’s fine. A few minor breaks to her hand which she wouldn’t let me fix, but nothing serious.” She said. He smiled sadly.
“I’m sorry things are still difficult.”
She shrugged. “I can hardly blame them for being wary.”
“I can.” His voice was sharper than she expected. She turned to him, but he wasn’t looking at her. His jaw was tight. “They shouldn’t need time to love you. They should just… do it.” Something in his voice made her chest ache. She wanted to say something, but the look in his eyes made her think of cold halls and a father who never spoke his love for his son out loud.
She swallowed thickly. “They were uneasy about me being a witch before, but now they know I’m willing to use my magic on them in the way I did? Now they’re scared.”
“You likely saved their lives, Granger.” He replied. They’d talked about that before, how Voldemort sent people to find her mum and dad. She nodded.
“I know. They know, too. But that doesn’t bring the trust back.” She wiped her face again, before noticing the smell. She sniffed. “Did you get pizza?” She asked.
He nodded. “It felt like a pizza occasion.”
“You are far too nice to me sometimes.” She shook her head incredulously.
He snorted, gently guiding her onto the sofa with hands on her upper arms. “You sit. I’ll hand deliver it to you and everything.”
“Blaise would shit a kidney if he knew about this.” She grinned as he disappeared into the kitchen, returning with the box he’d placed under a stasis charm.
“Which is why he can never find out.” Malfoy replied. “I got pineapple for you, as well, you freak.” He added, opening the box to show her pineapple covered half.
“It’s hardly my fault you have a stilted palate.”
“You can say whatever you want, I’ll never agree that it belongs there.” He smirked. She smiled back, feeling incredibly grateful for him. “Potter was in the apothecary all day today, you know. Just loitering in Theo’s office. Does the man not have a job?” He asked, and she laughed.
“Harry kind of does what he likes.”
He hummed thoughtfully, before turning to look at her properly. “When are Goldstein and McLaggen in?”
“Friday. Dean Thomas too. His condition for taking part was that he got to be Father Christmas. There are a lot of muggle traditions that you purebloods just have no idea about.” She smiled at his confusion. “He’s kind of this mythical character from legend. He travels around the world all in one night in a magical sleigh pulled by reindeer, delivering presents to children. Magical in the pretend muggle sense, rather than what we know it as. He’s got a big white beard and wears a red suit. He’s really quite central to Christmas for muggles.”
“Utterly bizarre, but fascinating all the same. How does he get around the world in one night if he isn’t a wizard?”
She smiled again. “You’re not supposed to ask. You just have to accept it as a mysterious thing he can do, something you’ll never understand. As I say, it’s more for children than adults. People go to quite a lot of effort to maintain their belief in him.”
“Oh. So he isn’t real?” He frowned, and she laughed.
“No. The presents come from mums and dads sneaking around in the night, but it just adds some magic to the season. Again, muggle magic rather than proper magic.”
“Muggles are so interesting. There’s so much I don’t know. It’s kind of embarrassing that I have no idea about half the things most of the world believes in.” He replied, looking slightly sheepish.
“I didn’t know anything about wizarding culture before I started at Hogwarts, it’s the same thing. Hey, what about this year, I’ll throw a proper muggle Christmas for everyone? Harry and I can show you what you’ve been missing out on.” She nudged him, and he laughed.
“There aren’t any weird traditions I need to know about, are there? Do you sacrifice someone to appease this Father Christmas figure?”
“No sacrifices, I promise. Well, I suppose the bloodletting ritual might be akin to a sacrifice, but it’s nothing serious.” His eyes went wide, and she maintained a serious expression before bursting out laughing. He scowled, shoving her gently so she flopped over onto the other sofa cushion. She sat up again, wiping away tears. “It’s mostly about food, in all honesty. Turkey and sprouts and a Christmas pudding. Oh, we do a Yule Log too, but it’s cake.”
“You burn a cake all night?” His face scrunched up in confusion.
“No, you just eat it. Muggles don’t tend to believe in bad spirits. Christmas is about the birth of Jesus, rather than the winter solstice, but even then, it’s kind of lost any religious meaning for a lot of people.” She clarified, and he hummed.
“That was an admirable attempt at distracting me from Goldstein and McLaggen, Granger, I commend you.” He smirked at her, and she sighed.
“It’s going to be fine, Malfoy. Anthony is doing October, Pansy’s guilt-tripped Neville into getting her some pumpkins. I think he’s trying to distract her from being quite so jealous of Luna.” She rolled her eyes.
“As if he’d throw what they have away for naked frolicking in the forbidden forest, searching for crumple-horned bullshits. Lovegood is great, but I just wish Pans could see how smitten Longbottom is.” Malfoy agreed. Hermione hummed her agreement.
“Then Cormac is doing this double denim thing that we saw in a muggle magazine. They’ll be quick like Malone’s was. It’s not like either of them are going to want to hang around, anyway.”
“I’ll be making sure they don’t.” He replied, and she looked at him flatly.
“That is entirely unnecessary.”
“Is it?
“Yes.”
He sighed. “You are the most stubborn person on the planet, you know that?”
“It’s been mentioned once or twice.” She said, but the words came out weaker than she would have liked. If she wasn’t stubborn - if she allowed herself to acknowledge the way he looked at her sometimes, the way he was so protective of her - then what? She didn’t want to think about it. Couldn’t think about it. So she didn’t. She just grabbed another slice instead.
***
Eighth Year
“You really need to start coming to my matches, Granger, you’re missing out on seeing my spectacular plays with your own eyes.” Malfoy called as he entered their dorm. She quickly wiped her eyes, hoping they weren’t too red. As he looked at her, his face softening, she knew he’d noticed. “What’s wrong?” He asked.
“Nothing, it’s fine. I’m fine.” She replied, a little too quickly. He rolled his eyes, unlacing the guards on his forearms and tossing them on the side before coming to sit with her.
“Has something happened?”
She sighed. “My parents. They’ve said they’d rather I stayed here for Christmas this year. They’ve asked for space.” She said.
“Gods, Granger, I’m so sorry. Do they not know what you did for them? And why?” He asked, brow furrowed. She nodded. Malfoy had found out fairly early on about her parents, after questioning a lack of card or present from them on her birthday. She’d spilled her sordid tale, and he’d been unexpectedly kind about the whole thing.
“They do. But it’s still hard. Being muggles, magic is just something that will always be alien to them. I’ll always be alien to them, in a way.”
“That isn’t fair.” He said. “You gave up everything to keep them safe. You shouldn’t have to isolate yourself to make them more comfortable. They’re your parents. They should be there for you.” She shrugged in response, staring into the fire. “What can I do? To help?” He asked after a moment. She smiled despite herself.
“This isn’t on you, Malfoy. It is what it is.” She said. She then glanced at the time. “Isn’t there a party tonight? To celebrate your win?”
He nodded. “There is. I’ll stay here with you if you want me to, though.” He offered.
“You should go. You’re the seeker.” She insisted.
He glanced at the clock himself, before standing. “Stay there. I’ll be back.”
She frowned, but said nothing. A few minutes later, he reappeared in grey joggers with his wizard’s chess board under his arm.
“Malfoy…” She protested, but he smiled.
“There will be a hundred parties, Granger.” He said, voice softer as if he knew she needed the space to breathe. “I’m a very talented seeker, something you’d know if you ever came to watch. Right now, though, you’re going to beat me at chess and I’m going to be a very gracious loser.” His smirk was light, teasing, but the way his fingers slowly tapped the board gave him away. He was waiting for her to say no.
She didn’t. Instead, she curled up onto the sofa, blinking away the warmth prickling at her eyes. He wasn’t even touching her, and yet, somehow, it felt like she was being held. Silent permission granted, he set up the board. She bit back a smile at his kindness. Once again, the bastard had the audacity to be thoughtful as well as looking like that. Ridiculous.
“We just need nasty takeaway pizza to make this perfect.” She mused. He frowned.
“What does that mean?”
She grinned. “It’s a muggle thing. You order a pizza from a shop and they bring it to your house in a cardboard box. My mum always used to order pizza whenever I was upset about something.” She laughed as he turned his nose up, presumably imagining the hand stretched pizzas he’d had with Blaise and Theo in Italy, some authentic recipe no doubt. “I’ll make you try one, one day.”
He snorted. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Can’t it be both?” She smiled, beginning to feel better.