Wink
Hermione’s tears fall soft and warm onto her cheeks. Luna, of course, noticed first. “It’s alright, Hermione,” she said.
There was a moment of quiet. Hermione sniffed. Then, unexpectedly, Ernie began to speak again. “Actually, Hermione,” he began, sinking down onto the sofa next to Draco and, Luna mused, creating a tableau that unintentionally imitated two concerned members of a boy band, “I think we might owe you an apology.”
“Why?” Hermione was genuinely baffled. She knew well enough that she wasn’t herself, that instead she was being mean and fractious and… perhaps this was her new self but she hoped not.
“Well…” Ernie began, “I was thinking about it the other day. Things are different for all of us: the war is over but friends are missing, the world is different, we’ve all changed too. But us three,” at this Ernie gestured to indicate Luna and Draco, “we’re all from wizarding families, Hermione. We’ve all got relatives who lived the whole thing alongside us, who saw the darkness creep in. But you… your parents don’t have any context for everything you’ve been through. Even if they believe your stories and can empathize… it’s not the same. You must feel alone with it all sometimes.”
Hermione looked down at Crookshanks who sat stoically in her lap, his eyes closed.
“Sometimes. I suppose it is different.”
“I’m sorry everything is so… difficult.” Luna said, reaching out to squeeze Hermione’s knee and eliciting a grumpy look from Crookshanks.
“Thanks,” Hermione replied, looking at Luna with no small amount of embarrassment. “I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t be erupting like this.”
“It’s my fault,” Draco said. His eyes slowly shifted focus from his hands to Hermione’s face. “I’ve made you feel bad.”
Hermione sighed, brushing a stray tear away with the back of her hand. “Yes. But to be honest, Malfoy, I’ve been feeling bad for months.” She watched as his brow furrowed, his face falling into a look of what appeared to be genuine sorrow.
“It seems to be taking me longer than everyone else to recover from the war.” Hermione said, resuming her ministrations to Crookshanks. “I mean I do want to move on, of course I do, I just… maybe I don’t know how.”
“Have you spoken to Ron and Harry about it?” Ernie asked. “I thought we’d see them more often now that you’re our roommate, to be honest.”
Hermione shook her head. “No, I don’t want to bother them. Ron has his work at the ministry and… he’s already having a hard time moving on and leaving the past… well, in the past. I don’t want to open a fresh wound. And Harry…” Hermione closed her eyes and tilted her head back, willing herself not to cry again. “For the first time since I’ve known him, Harry seems genuinely happy. He can be… himself. Without fear of bringing death down on those closest to him. I can’t be the person to drag him down again. I won’t. I love him.”
Hermione opened her eyes and found Luna’s. She smiled as she gave Hermione a nod of understanding.
“I know what it is to love someone enough to want to spare them the pain of your own suffering,” Luna said.
“Me too.” Draco watched as three pairs of eyes snapped to him. “Believe it or not.”
“Right you two.” Luna was all seriousness as she looked from Hermione to Draco. “I know we’re all still recovering but the war is over. For all our sakes, but especially yours, this animosity has to stop. It’s not doing any of us any good.”
Ernie nodded in agreement.
“Least of all my poor tree.” Luna continued.
Ernie stopped nodding, but glancing at the wilted sapling he had to admit, it did look like it was not long for this world.
“We’re four of the brightest minds at Hogwarts, we’ve just survived the worst wizarding war in living memory, surely we can find a way to make this work?” Luna looked to Ernie and raised her eyebrows in silent appeal.
“Luna’s right. I know it’s not easy but… none of us need the stress.”
Draco gave a stiff nod.
“So.” Ernie said. “What do you like about each other?”
“What?” Draco asked.
“What do you like about Hermione?” Ernie repeated.
He watched as Draco inhaled and wrestled against his instinct to fire a quick, potentially ill-considered reply. Better he takes his time and overrides whatever internal battle he’s waging, Ernie thought, or it will all unravel again. On the sofa opposite, Luna and Hermione sat and listened with cautious curiosity.
“I like Granger,” Draco replied. For a moment Ernie thought Draco had misheard the question, then he continued, “I like her ability to dedicate herself to tasks and causes, however… lost or whimsical; I like her unwavering sense of loyalty; I like her determination to learn and improve; I admire her courage.” Draco looked up and caught Hermione’s eye. “I like that she gives me as good as she gets. Often more.” Hermione raised an eyebrow.
“Your turn, Hermione,” Ernie said.
“Ok.” Hermione looked down at Crookshanks. “I like Malfoy’s…” She paused and swallowed. Draco propped his elbow up on the arm of the sofa and rested his head on his hand, looking at the carpet. Oh Gods, Luna thought, she won’t think of anything, this is going to be awful. To her relief, Hermione cleared her throat and continued, “I like Malfoy’s attention to detail. In potions he always… he had a way of observing whatever was unfolding.” Luna watched as Draco slowly raised his head, intrigued but wary. He hadn’t expected her to think of anything either. “I like, well, I understand his commitment to his family and the… heavy weight of expectations. I like…” Hermione looked up and her eyes locked with Draco’s. She swallowed but held his gaze. “I like his hair.” Hermione raised an eyebrow as if to dare Draco to laugh, but mocking her was currently the last thing on his mind. He held her gaze and noticed a blush starting to spread across her cheeks.
Unbidden, he recalled the blush of his mother’s pale skin whenever his father did something gallant. Or wicked. His eyes stumbled to Hermione’s lips. They were the colour of the dahlias his mother would cut and leave in his bathroom, their blushing reds luminous against the grey green tiles. They were the colour of the apples that fell in his orchard, the ones Lena would turn into crumble if he gathered them and brought them, tumbling from his hands and pockets, into the kitchens. He wondered if her lips would taste as sweet. His gaze returned to her eyes.
“Is that enough?” Hermione asked. Perhaps she was asking Ernie, but her eyes stayed on Draco.
“Yes.” Draco replied.
“Do you think you two might be able to focus on the things you like?” Luna asked.
“The things that don’t make you want to kill each other?” Ernie clarified.
Hermione turned to Luna, smiled and shrugged her shoulders in theatrical resignation. “I can try.”
“Draco?” Luna asked.
“Of course. Anything for Bird Girl,” Draco replied.
Hermione’s head whipped back to him but he smiled and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, Granger. Forgive me. Too soon.”
Then he did something so brazen, so utterly un-Malfoy and entirely unexpected, that Hermione thought she had hallucinated. He winked at her.
=======
Hermione flung herself into the lounge, tying her hair up while searching for her scarf. She was sure she had it yester— ah. There it was, on the coffee table. With her Charms notebook and… Malfoy?
“I thought you’d be gone already.” Hermione said.
Draco stood up, his jacket folded over his arm, ready to leave. “I thought we might walk together.”
“To avoid ruffians?” Hermione asked, gathering her scarf and stuffing it into her bag.
“No. To practice being courteous.”
“Doesn’t even more time together only increase the likelihood of failure?” Hermione asked. Where was her wand?! She literally just had it.
“I hope not,” Draco replied. He watched her lifting the scatter cushions from the sofa. “Looking for something?”
“Yes actually. My wand.”
“The one… you’re holding?” Draco asked. Hermione followed his gaze to her right hand and the wand in it.
“Yes. That one.” Gods, he was infuriating.
Luna and Ernie opened their doors and emerged from their respective bedrooms in tandem, like figures on a cuckoo clock.
“Off out?” Ernie asked.
“Shift.” Draco replied.
“Ah. Have a good one.” Ernie headed for the kitchen. “Fancy a snack, Luna? Shall we see what the elves have got?”
Luna nodded. “Got everything?” she asked Hermione.
“Think so,” Hermione replied, giving Luna a quick hug. “Even a companion slash bodyguard.”
Luna smiled. “Be good.”
Draco held the door while Hermione strode out to the corridor. “And keep your tempers!” Luna added.
“Yes, mother.” Draco called, as the door closed behind him.
Ernie’s head popped out of the kitchen. “Snack or dinner?”
“Snack,” Luna replied, “But let’s get dinner too before the rush. Shall we try out your film projinkter tonight?”
“You mean my film projector?”
“Yes. Didn’t you say you have to watch something this weekend for Further Muggling?”
“Advanced Muggle Studies please, Muggling sounds like a carnival act. Or a crime. And yes, but it might be boring.”
“More boring than reading An Extended Study of Roots?” Luna asked as she headed over to check on SG.
“I doubt it.”
“I’m game.”
“Ok, I’ll put in our dinner order and get some plates.” Ernie’s head disappeared again.
“Oh and Ernie?” Luna asked, bending to stroke SG’s leaves and double check tendril tension, “Earlier, when I asked you to help me out…”
“Yeah?” Ernie called.
“Did you think I wanted to have sex with you?”
=======
The Inn was quiet when Hermione and Draco arrived, the evening crowd not yet arrived, the afternoon crowd already dispersed. Madam Rosmerta stood alone at the bar, refilling the shelves of glasses and tankards.
“May I take your coat?” Draco asked as they approached the bar and Hermione began to unpack herself.
Madam Rosmerta looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Taking her coat? Am I mistaken or does a glooming peace this evening with it bring? Apologies to Shakespeare of course.”
“Something like that,” Draco replied, smiling as he gathered their outerwear and headed to the coat hooks.
“I thought I was going to have to intervene last shift,” Madam Rosmerta said, looking pointedly at Hermione. “It’s been a while since we’ve offered our patrons a free show with dinner.”
“I suppose we owe you an apology.” Hermione made a mental note to apologize properly later to Luna and Ernie. She and Malfoy must have been insufferable if Madam Rosmerta was making the point three days later. “I’m sorry, Madam Rosmerta.”
“Shall we be pardoned or punishèd?” Draco asked as he returned.
Madam Rosmerta laughed. “Very good, Draco. Let tonight be a story of less woe and I’ll pardon you both for now.”
Hermione smiled absentmindedly as she leaned against the bar, running her hands over the brass railing. “I love that play,” she said.
“I wasn’t sure anyone knew the Bard these days,” Madam Rosmerta said. “Do you study his plays at school?”
“No,” Draco replied.
“I grew up not far from Stratford,” Hermione said, her gaze still on the bar, her mind clearly elsewhere. “I used to go to the theatre with my father twice a year. It’s less than an hour’s drive from home and he loved the ceremony of the theatre, and Shakespeare of course. I haven’t been for years though.”
“And is Romeo and Juliet your favourite?” Madam Rosmerta asked, pausing to look at Hermione. Her memories seemed to be tugging her into the past; she was a little softer spoken than usual, not reluctant but perhaps a little… hesitant to remember.
“Probably. I also love Macbeth. Actually I don’t think I can choose, the first one I saw was A Midsummer Night’s Dream and… well anyway.” Hermione shook her head as if to clear the echoes of past times. “Time to get on.”
Madam Rosmerta smiled to herself. Leaving childhood and growing up was no joke, she mused, as the door of the Inn creaked open, heralding the next customer.