Hermione didn’t think she’d ever been so unsure before. She’d never had a point in her life where something had finished and she had nothing new to move on to, nothing else waiting for her attention. She was on the precipice of something brand new, and it scared her as much as it excited her. She felt adrift without plans, but luckily for her, she had twenty hours to sit and think of some.
Her time in Australia had been draining. Whilst she’d managed to restore the memories she’d taken from her parents, she hadn’t managed to restore their trust in her. It had taken a while to come to terms with, but over the years she’d had with them, she’d come to learn that she couldn’t really blame them for that. They’d always been wary of her magic, that completely unknown power that they couldn’t begin to understand, and to learn that not only could she do extreme harm with it, but that she would turn her wand on them was something that was difficult to accept. They’d promised that they just needed time, and that was what she intended to give them.
She found her seat on the plane fairly quickly, and set about staring out of the window, watching the ground crew scurrying about, preparing for take off. She much preferred flying the muggle way to travelling via portkey. The jetlag was nowhere near as bad as portkey sickness, and she quite enjoyed the time to herself. Sat amongst muggles that didn’t know who she was, she was just another face in the crowd. It was peaceful.
“You’ve got to be joking.” A deep voice said. She turned towards the sound, and frowned up at Draco Malfoy.
“What are you doing here?” She asked as he shoved his bag into the overhead locker.
“What do you think I’m doing here? It’s a fairly short list of possibilities.” He replied snarkily, still looming over her as he stood in the aisle.
She huffed and waved a vague hand at the empty seat next to her. “Sit down then. You’re holding people up.” She snapped, kissing her quiet flight home goodbye. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be one for muggle transport.” She said as he arranged his long legs in the small amount of room available.
“I don’t have any choice.” He replied, somewhat bitterly, and she frowned again. He glanced at her and scoffed. “Those bearing the mark aren’t allowed to travel via portkey.” He said flatly.
“Seriously?”
“No, this is all a big joke and I’m riding inside this tin can for fun.” He sneered slightly. “It’s a rule they made up for me. Everyone else with the mark is easier to keep track of.”
“Why?” She asked, and he sighed heavily.
“Because they’re all in Azkaban, Granger.”
“Oh.” She replied. “Sorry.”
“Gods, don’t apologise to me. Just…don’t do that.” He trailed off, and they sat in silence, watching the other passengers board the plane. She suddenly felt quite a lot of responsibility for some reason, and that pushed her to start talking again.
“So the women with the scarves, the stewardesses, show us what to do if there’s an emergency, and then the plane takes off, and it’s going to be louder than it is now and a bit bumpy but that part is over fairly quickly. Once we’re in the air, it gets a lot smoother and-”
She cut herself off. Malfoy was watching her with a vaguely amused smile on his face, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, don’t stop. Please explain to the stupid man what a plane does.”
“You’ve flown before?” She asked, and he nodded. She huffed, turning to look out of the window, resolving to ignore him completely.
“Don’t be like that, Granger. I…appreciate you being willing to help me. The first time I was on a plane, I was alone with no idea of what to expect. It was one of the most stressful things I’ve ever done.” He said, and she turned back, vaguely surprised he’d share something vulnerable with her. It was at that moment that she took him in properly, now over the shock of him being there in the first place, and realised he was in grey joggers and a hoodie.
“Malfoy, are you in a tracksuit?” She asked.
He glanced down at himself before looking back at her. “I believe so, yes.”
“I didn’t know you were capable of such a thing. Will it not bring you out in a rash?”
“I’m wearing joggers on a twenty hour flight because I’m a real life person, and not a caricature of an 18th century lord.” He shot back.
“Could have fooled me. Is your top hat at the dry cleaners?” She smirked, and could see he was fighting a smile as the safety announcements started to ring out through the cabin. They both dutifully paid attention, old swotty habits dying hard, and sat in silence once again as the plane moved to the runway. Hermione watched as Malfoy gripped the armrests, his knuckles white, and nudged him gently.
“It’ll be fine.” She said. He nodded, not looking at her, staring intently at the headrest of the chair in front of him. Cursing herself for being a bleeding heart, she held out her right hand, giving him the choice. Still not looking at her, he took it and squeezed until the turbulence subsided and the plane levelled out. He then dropped her hand, and she decided not to say anything else. They didn’t need to talk about it.
Malfoy closed his eyes, and was breathing evenly after a few minutes. It surprised Hermione slightly that he felt comfortable enough with her to do that. She’d half expected him to sit with his wand trained on her for the entire flight, but he’d been almost friendly. She wondered if he’d taken her offered hand as an olive branch, as a sign that they could spend these next few hours in a state of detente. She decided to trust in that, and settled down to sleep herself. If it turned out to be a mistake, then so be it. He was limited in what he could do to her on a plane full of muggles, but she got the impression he had no intentions of doing anything anyway. It made her wonder what it was that had affected the change in Malfoy, at what point had he grown up? She folded her arms across her chest and leant away from him, just as the seatbelt signs blinked off.
She was shaken awake a few hours later.
“They’re bringing food round soon.” Malfoy muttered, and she immediately sat up straight, realising she’d been leaning on his shoulder for Godric knows how long. “It’s fine.” He added, presumably seeing her red face.
“I’m sor-”
“It’s fine, Granger.” He interrupted her, and she nodded before raising her arms above her head and stretching. “Where are you going?” He asked suddenly.
“England?” She replied, and he huffed.
“You know what I mean. Are you going home? Are you going on a trip? Where are you going?”
“Home, I suppose. I’ve been in Australia for a few years now, but I’m in the process of moving back. This is a short trip, though, for Ginny’s wedding.” She replied, before a thought occurred to her. “A wedding that you’re also invited to…?” She glanced at him, but he looked bewildered.
“I was never that close to Weasley?” He said.
“No, you prat, she’s marrying Blaise Zabini. I thought you were friends.”
He blinked. “Is she? Seriously?”
“How do you not know that? Are you and Zabini not close anymore?” She tilted her head.
“No, we are, or we were, at least. I’ve been researching potions ingredients, and some of the more remote locations are hard for owls to reach, so I don’t hear from anyone for months on end. I haven’t spoken to Blaise at all this year.”
“Well there you go then. They’d only been together for four months when he proposed. I bet you’ve got a thousand owls at home about it.”
Malfoy smiled. “He’s always been impulsive.”
“You should get a mobile phone. People could text you wherever you are that way.” She suggested.
“You mean the muggle block things they talk into?” He asked, and she nodded.
“Each one has its own number. You swap numbers with other people, and when you type their number into the phone, you can talk to them. Either by ringing them and speaking, or texting, where you just type in a message and it sends like an owl would.” She explained.
He frowned. “Why don’t we have those already? That sounds so much easier.”
She smiled. “You wouldn’t believe how antiquated the wizarding world is. Once you see how the rest of the world lives, none of it makes any sense at all.”
“But you’ve always known that. You’ve always been between both.” He said, and she nodded.
“I just pick and choose the best parts of each. Like flying, for example. Yes, it takes a lot longer, but it doesn’t feel like being squeezed out of a tube of toothpaste, and is, for the most part, cheaper than buying a portkey.”
“Registered ones, at least.” Malfoy pointed out, and she raised an eyebrow.
“Know a lot about unregistered portkeys, do you?”
He smirked. “At the very start of my ban, I tried a few. They never worked properly. I was splinched, sent to the wrong place, separated from the people I travelled with. It’s not worth the risk to save the galleons.”
“Badly splinched?” She asked, but he shook his head.
“Was a small cut on my leg that I could heal myself. If that was the only problem, I’d probably still use them.” He replied. “The self-destructive tendencies are something I’m working on with my mind healer.” He added, and she smiled.
“I was wondering why you seem so well-adjusted.” He scoffed, before standing and fishing through his bag in the overhead locker. He sat back down with a notebook and a ballpoint pen and Hermione snorted. He raised an eyebrow, until she fished a matching book from her bag under the seat. “Did we get set the same homework?”
He chuckled lightly. “It’s a small world. I probably shouldn’t be surprised, there aren’t many mind healers that are capable of working with those that experienced as much of the war as we did.”
“We could do the questions if you want.” Hermione assumed that Malfoy’s healer set similar tasks for him, in meeting new people and asking them inane things to make her life feel less heavy. Doing them with Draco Malfoy, the subject of several of her sessions, probably wasn’t what her healer had in mind, but she figured it would at least be a way to pass the time. “Imagine how pleased with us they’ll be.” She smirked, and he huffed.
“I’d sort of assumed people became less swotty as they aged. You’ve only gotten worse.”
She flipped open the book and ignored him. “When is your birthday?” She read. “That’s not an interesting one. I know that already, it’s June 5th.”
“Yours is September 19th.” He replied, and she blinked.
“How do you know that?”
“How do you know when mine is?” He countered, and she rolled her eyes.
“You think nobody noticed the absolute fuss your friends made over you every year? All the bloody owls you received as well, you’d sit there looking like a king or something. It sticks in the memory.” She tapped her head and he laughed softly.
“We always made a big deal of our birthdays whilst we were at school. I was the only one who had parents that ever remembered, so I started doing more for Pans and Theo in particular. They just reciprocated when it got round to mine. I guess the difference was they did more stuff for me in the Great Hall, whereas I’d stick to their dorms or the common room.”
“Their parents didn’t celebrate them?” She asked. He smiled sadly.
“Never. Theo, especially. His father just thought of him as a burden. In those later years, he essentially moved into the Manor with me. I’m not sure his father even noticed that he was gone.”
“How is he…the way he is? Having grown up like that?” Hermione imagined the loud, gregarious slytherin that she’d met a few times since Ginny had been dating Zabini. It didn’t really make sense to her.
“He’s as big a mystery to me as he is you, and I’ve known him my entire life.” Malfoy replied. “I’m glad he didn’t let it change him, though.”
“I can’t really imagine you putting up with him. He doesn’t strike me as the obedient henchman type.” She smirked, and he shot her a withering look.
“He annoys the fuck out of me, but he’s the closest thing I have to a brother. I can’t let him get away now, he knows too much.”
She chuckled. “So why do you know when mine is? It can’t have been the owls, I never got any.”
“You were in the library with the Weasel once and he asked you when your birthday was. You hit him with something and asked why he didn’t know already. I was on the other side of the stack. I don’t know why, but it’s always stayed with me. I always looked over on that day in the hall and was surprised nobody ever did much for you. As you say, there were never any owls.” He explained.
“My parents would give me presents to take with me when I left, seeing as it was so close to the start of term. McGonagall showed them how to use an owl to send things, and we had one in the house, but they never tried it. They’ve always been…wary, I suppose. Even of the most mundane magical things. Ron would usually forget, you’re right. Harry and the others would leave presents on my bed most of the time.”
“Are your parents still like that?” He asked. She nodded.
“Very much so. It’s where I’m coming from, spending time with them. I didn’t see them often when they lived in England, but it’s even less now that they're in Australia.” She didn’t tell him about the obliviation. As pleasant as their conversation was, this was still Draco Malfoy. She wouldn’t give him the chance to hit her where it hurt most, not whilst the wound was still so fresh.
“I’m sorry. You deserve to have people be proud of everything you’ve achieved, Granger.”
She blinked, willing herself not to cry. “Thank you.” She settled on, turning to look out of the window.
“What’s the best date you’ve ever been on?” Malfoy asked after a moment. She turned to him and frowned.
“What?”
He gestured to his book. “That's the next question, what’s the best date you’ve ever been on.” He repeated, and she barked out a sudden laugh.
“You first.” She said.
“Padma Patil. We went to that sports bar in Diagon.” He replied easily.
“How the fuck did you get Padma to go on a date with you?” Hermione frowned. He slapped a hand to his chest and feigned offence. She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. She’s stunning. And intelligent. Are you still together? If you let her get away, I’m sorry, but Malfoy, you’re an idiot.”
He snorted. “It wasn’t ever more than that date. She’s still a friend, but there just wasn’t anything there. You’re not wrong, though, she is beautiful.” He smiled. “Your turn.” Hermione thought about it, and began to cringe as she realised she didn’t really have an answer. She’d never been on a date that was really memorable. They’d all been pretty average. “The longer it takes you to answer, the more depressed on your behalf I’m becoming.” Malfoy said, and she huffed.
“Nothing is springing to mind immediately, alright? I’m tired, I’m on a plane. It’s not my fault.”
“You mean nobody’s ever taken you to a library? Or a book shop and told you to get whatever you want? No, I know. Picnic in Hyde Park and then tour the muggle museums in London.” He rattled off, and she frowned at him, wondering if she was that easy to read. “Yes, you are that easy to read.” He smiled.
“Are you using legilimency right now?” She snapped, and he snorted, holding up his hands.
“I promise I’m not. I just think you’d be a straightforward person to plan a date for. You’ve got well-known, long established interests.”
“Hi guys, I’ve got a veggie meal and a standard one here.” The stewardess appeared, interrupting as she smiled down at the both of them.
“The vegetarian is mine.” Malfoy replied, passing Hermione hers. As the stewardess moved off, Hermione opened her pasta.
“I didn’t know you were a vegetarian.” She said.
Malfoy was prodding soggy pieces of broccoli that replaced the ham in her meal. “Since the war. Living with certain people with certain proclivities puts you off meat eventually.”
She’d heard the rumours of Greyback. Apparently, he’d go out hunting and bring back livestock, not bothering to kill it before eating it. If that had happened in Malfoy’s house, then she really didn’t blame him for giving up meat. It was enough to turn anyone’s stomach.
She hummed, and flipped the page in her notebook. Stabbing the straw into her carton of orange juice, she proposed the next question. She figured whilst they were on the subject, she might as well ask. “If you could have hidden one person away from the war, who would you have chosen?”
Malfoy dragged his plastic fork around the bowl, mixing the sad vegetables together. “Theo. Everything with his father…He didn’t deserve it.” He replied after a moment. “Who would you have chosen?” He asked her. Hermione thought about it, twirling the end of the straw in her fingers.
“Will you hit me if I say you?” She said after a moment. He blinked at her.
“You’re not serious.”
“There’s the practical considerations. Everything with the cabinets, Dumbledore, all of that.” She explained, and he nodded, still looking vaguely sceptical. “But I think you were put in the most unfair situation. Everyone else got to choose whether they fought, who they fought for. You were forced to take the mark, forced to do the things you did. I think hiding you away from it all would have bigger consequences than you realise.”
He chewed slowly, digesting both the pasta and her words. Then he shook his head. “You’re being too nice to me.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. But that’s my answer, take it or leave it.”
He glanced down at his own notebook. “Do you think your younger self would be proud of who you’ve become?”
“Absolutely not, no.” Hermione said immediately. “She’d be distraught at how little I’ve achieved.”
“She doesn’t know the context, though. The healing you’ve had to do before going on to conquer the world.” Malfoy smiled as she finished her meal.
“Tiny Hermione doesn’t know what that means. She’d be wondering why I haven’t just sucked it up and got on with it.”
“Tiny Draco would hate me. I think that goes without saying.” He said. She nodded.
“I guess we’ve both grown.”
“Who would have thought?” He smirked, before scoffing at the next question. “‘Do you like surprises?’ I think we can skip that.” She nodded. Not a single person she knew liked surprises anymore, not after the war. He moved on to the next one. “Can men and women be friends?”
“Of course they can.” She said immediately.
“You mean nothing’s ever happened with you and Potter?” He asked, smiling mischievously. He obviously knew it hadn’t, but was trying to bait her. She answered anyway.
“Absolutely not, no. Not just Harry either. I have plenty of male friends where there isn’t any attraction on either side. I don’t understand people that believe that can’t be a thing. It’s kind of sad, to be honest.”
He hummed. “I think it just takes a different form. Like at the start of your relationship, you decide if it’s going to be platonic or not and go from there. That decision isn’t always a conscious one. You won’t believe me, but nothing has ever happened between me and Pansy, for example. Doesn’t mean I don’t think she’s attractive, it’s just that her friendship is of more value and I’m not willing to mess that up.”
“All that time she spent bigging up your skills in the bedroom, she was just making it up?” Hermione frowned. He chuckled.
“She was, yeah. I fancied Scarlett Lympsham at the time but she didn’t spare me a second glance. Pans offered to help.”
“Gin’s year, right? She was on the slytherin quidditch team.” She replied, trying to place Scarlett. “Was she the chaser with the black hair?”
Malfoy nodded. “I didn’t realise you paid quite so much attention to the slytherin quidditch team.” He smirked.
“Watched you lose often enough. The names stick eventually.”
“You aren’t how I imagined you’d be.” He said suddenly.
“Neither are you.” She shot back.
“Were you always this interesting? Have I seriously not been paying attention for the last ten years?”
Hermione shrugged. “Guess we had to do some growing before we could have this.”
“Guess we did.” He replied. He then glanced back down at the notebook and smiled. “Brains or looks?” He asked.
“Brains. I don’t have time for boring people.” She said.
“I think when someone can talk about something that they’re genuinely passionate about, in a way that lights up their soul, that will always make them more attractive than looks alone. A woman has to be interesting, it’s non-negotiable.”
In response, she fished through her bag and pulled out the packet of biscuits she bought from the airport. She opened them, gestured for Malfoy to help himself, and began to mull over everything they’d spoken about. She absolutely was not thinking about the way he was actually quite handsome, nor the way she was tempted to throw caution to the wind and start flirting outright.
The rest of the flight was exquisite torture.
“This was…not as bad as I thought.” He said as they waited at baggage reclaim.
“We made it off the plane alive. That’s more than I expected after you sat down.” She replied, and he snorted lightly.
She was inordinately disappointed when his bag turned up. She knew it was his, it was monogrammed with his initials. The letters reminded her that he was still the pompous prat she’d always known, but there was just a lot more to him than she’d ever realised. She wanted another twenty hours with him. Hell, she wanted far longer than that.
“I’ll, um. See you around? Maybe?” He said, sounding hopeful. She nodded.
“I’d like that.” She smiled, and he mirrored the expression. “Maybe at the wedding?” She added.
“Oh, yeah, of course. I guess I’ll find out how involved I am once I’m home.”
“Well, um. Let me know?”
“Ok. Yes, I will.” He replied. “Bye, Granger.”
“Bye, Malfoy.” She waved, cursing herself for being awkward, as she watched him walk off, pulling his case behind him. Her own case promptly fell off the carousel with a loud thud behind her and she sighed, crashing back to reality.
***
She wasn’t looking for him. Yes, she was watching the door every time someone came in, but it wasn’t for a glimpse of blonde hair, it was for…another reason. Something sensible and plausible that would ring true, she was sure.
“Granger, stop slacking! You offered to do the arch, so do the bloody arch!” Pansy Parkinson hollered from the other side of the room. Hermione jumped, resuming her job of attaching white roses to the archway that would surround Ginny and Blaise in two days time.
“You’ll be doing this shit on your own if you keep barking orders like that.” Theo Nott said as he floated chairs into their correct positions with his wand. He’d initially forgotten to make an aisle in the middle, but he’d fixed it quickly, before Pansy had a chance to rain hellfire down upon him. Hermione imagined there were army sergeant majors who were less intimidating than Pansy and her clipboard. She was the self-appointed wedding planner, as that sort of thing wasn’t up Ginny’s street in the slightest, and Blaise didn’t really care what any of it looked like as long as he ended up married to his witch at some point. That only served as further proof that they were a good match for each other, Hermione thought. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t been together long. When you know, you know.
“Granger, you’ve stopped again.” Pansy appeared at her side, and Hermione blinked. “I promised I wouldn’t interfere, but if you’re fawning over Draco instead of doing your job, then I swear to Merlin…”
“Pans, you’ll scare her off.” Theo said, wandering over to them.
“I didn’t realise Malfoy said anything. I’ve not seen him, so…” She trailed off, and Pansy huffed.
“He thinks he’s not good enough to be in your company, that you wouldn’t want to see him. I told him he’s overthinking it, but then he started overthinking that too.”
“Pansy.” Theo said again. Clearly promises had been made between the slytherins that Pansy wasn’t all that interested in keeping. “Look, Granger, he’s just got in his head. He’ll stop hiding and come down to find you eventually.”
Hermione frowned. “Wait, he’s here? In the hotel?”
“Well he is the best man.” Pansy reasoned. “My schedule was quite clear.”
Theo studied Hermione’s face for a moment, before smiling. “Room 204, and you absolutely did not get that information from me.”
Hermione all but threw the rose she was holding, marching for the doorway.
“But the arch!” Pansy whined as she left.
She would be normal. She would be polite. She would not just hammer on his- Never mind, she was already hammering on his door.
“Merlin, where’s the fire? What is- Oh.” Malfoy blinked as he opened the door.
“You’ve been hiding from me.” She said.
“I wouldn’t say hiding exactly.” He replied. “Deliberately avoiding? No, that sounds worse.”
“Malfoy, why? We were alright, weren’t we? If I’ve misread anything, then fine, but I thought there was something.” He glanced up and down the corridor, before stepping aside and inviting her in. His room was bigger than hers, and she huffed. “Why is your room so much bigger than-”
She was interrupted as he kicked the door closed and hauled her to him. Then he was kissing her and her brain abandoned her for a while.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” He said, their foreheads touching, his hands on her waist. Hers were grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, and she wasn’t sorry for it. “I’m sorry I lost my nerve. You’re just so bloody beautiful and interesting and I owe you an apology for everything I’ve done because I do not deserve to-”
It was her turn to cut him off then. They’d done more than enough talking.