It's Not A Thing
It’s Not A Thing
After breakfast, with Pansy off in search of Neville, Hermione was sitting with Malfoy beside the Black Lake, as they did yesterday. She knew they needed to talk about some stuff, regardless of what Pansy thought, and she wanted to get it over with, so they could get back to moving forward with this.
“Did you have a particular event you wanted to start with?” Malfoy asked, leaning against the same tree as yesterday.
“I don’t know. There’s just so much of it, you know? It’s like we’ve got this huge, all-encompassing history, and I don’t know how to work through something that has so much weight.”
“I know what you mean. It sort of feels like we aren’t those people, like I’ve got someone else’s memories in my head. There’s the Draco Malfoy that hated Hermione Granger, and then there’s us, sitting out here now, like we’re separate from them.” He gestured vaguely with his arms, and she looked up at him.
“You don’t hate me then?”
“I don’t. It’s got me wondering if I ever did, actually. I’d like to be able to tell you that I was just parroting my father, not really understanding what I was saying, but I knew exactly what I was doing because I was convinced it was the right thing to do. I think it was because I was always taught that I was superior because I was a pureblood and a Malfoy, and then you came along, beating me in everything with very little effort, and it forced me to reconsider things I thought were facts of life. I idolised my father, and to be shown so conclusively that he might be wrong scared me so much that I just doubled down, rather than facing any of it.”
“I get that. We come from different worlds, Malfoy. My parents were not at all supportive of my magic, they wanted me to take over the family business. They’re dentists, er, like healers just for teeth, I guess. It’s a lucrative muggle business, but once I knew I was a witch, I would never have been happy doing something like that. They were always a bit scared of me, or I suppose of the unknown, of something they could never hope to understand. Then I obliviated them during the war, when I knew Voldemort was looking for them, and now they live new lives in Australia, no recollection of me whatsoever. Your parents have always been completely involved in your life, guiding you in every aspect. Mine couldn’t have been more distant.”
“He wanted them dead. Your parents. He sent out squads of death eaters more than once to try and find them, and he never did. So your sacrifice wasn’t for nothing, I hope you know that.” Malfoy said quietly. She’d never known if it had been worth it, so she was glad to hear that it had been.
“I didn’t know for sure, so I appreciate you telling me that, Malfoy.”
“There’s no way to undo it? Now that they’d be safe?”
“There isn’t. I cast it whilst I was upset and didn’t really know what I was doing. To erase such a huge aspect of their lives isn’t something that can be put back without potential damage. I won’t risk it. Besides, they’re happy in Australia, they set up a new practice and they’ve got a great life over there.”
“You know they’ll always feel like something is missing though. You know how obliviation works.”
“I do. But I can’t risk harming them any further.” Tears threatened to fall, but she wiped them away with a rough hand.
“Everything I did, I did to keep my mother safe. I was on board with all of my father’s ideals for a long time, but then he allowed the Dark Lord into our house, our home, and I saw my peers tortured in our dungeons, you in our drawing room, and it’s hard to continue to believe you’re doing the right thing at that point. I can’t pinpoint exactly when I changed my mind, but at some point I was just doing what I had to so that she’d be safe. He was entirely unpredictable, and if the Blacks weren’t so naturally proficient at occlumency, I don’t know what would have happened, honestly.”
“Your mother is a legilimens as well, right?” Hermione asked, remembering what she’d heard of Narcissa Malfoy’s prowess. Malfoy’s mother was a very impressive witch.
“She is. She tried to teach me, and I can sort of do it, but not well enough to know I wouldn’t hurt someone if I tried.”
“It’s a fascinating discipline. To be able to do both well is incredibly rare.”
“Also meant I got away with precisely nothing growing up. She doesn’t look into people’s minds without permission, but she can always tell when somebody is lying to her. I don’t think anyone else would have been able to lie to the Dark Lord, actually.”
“You lied. When the snatchers brought us in.” She looked at him again, and he was staring off into the middle distance, as if he could see the memories of that day in front of him.
“I did. It was obvious who you were, but by that point, I knew that Potter was the only hope for defeating the Dark Lord, and if I’d identified you, all three of you would have been killed and that would have been it. I’m sorry my aunt recognised you, I should have done more.” He shook his head slightly.
“She would have killed you too, you know that. It all worked out in the end, anyway. We both have scars, but we’re both alive regardless.” She subconsciously rubbed her fingers over the word carved into her arm.
“You know my worst scars, other than the dark mark, are from Potter’s sectumsempra. In the prefect’s bathroom.” Malfoy said, in a slightly lighter tone.
“I was so angry with him for that. He didn’t know what the spell did, he’d just seen it written in the potion’s book he had that belonged to the Half Blood Prince. Or Snape, as it turned out.”
“I started to shout crucio, so I don’t blame him for defending himself. The truth is though my spell wouldn’t have worked. I wouldn’t have meant it enough. I’d been crucio’d a few times at that point, and I don’t need to explain to you what it feels like.” He looked down at her, and she met his gaze. She shook her head sadly.
“No, you don’t. You know, my worst scar isn’t the one from Bellatrix. Dolohov hit me with a nasty curse in the Department of Mysteries, that one is worse.”
“My father was there that day, wasn’t he?” He said, guilt written across his face.
“He was. Don’t apologise. You aren’t his mistakes.” She shot him down immediately. She wouldn’t have Malfoy drag around the actions of his father as if they were his own, he deserved better.
“How are you so ok with this? I know we joke around when other people ask, and the percentage is high or whatever, but you should have hexed me on sight. You still should.” He said suddenly.
“Malfoy, I am everything you have been raised to despise, yet not once have you complained about being matched with me. You’ve always had something personal against me specifically, we both know that. Yet your very first instinct was to get me out, not yourself, and that made me wonder if I’d been wrong about you. I’m starting to believe that I was. I think that, now you’re making your own decisions and forming your own opinions, this could work one day. We keep having moments where it suddenly hits us that you’re you and I’m me and we’re getting on when we shouldn’t be, and maybe that won’t ever go away, but this has always felt oddly simple to me. It should be complicated, but it just isn’t. I don’t know why, and I fully intend to find out what they used to calculate our percentage, but for now? This is good.” She liked that she felt she could be honest with him. She wasn’t lying, it did feel incredibly natural with Malfoy. If she stopped to think about it, she might get caught up in the way she should be feeling because of everything that had gone on between them, but she was starting not to care. It didn’t matter what people thought they should be doing, only what they were doing.
“It does feel simple, doesn’t it? It’s like if I just don’t think about it, talking to you is so easy to do.” He agreed, fiddling with the grass next to him.
“Are we friends, Malfoy?”
“Yeah, I think we are. How did we do that?”
“Overachievers?” She said in a teasing voice.
“100%” He replied, echoing her response from breakfast.
“That cannot become a thing, everyone will hate us.”
“Think it’s gonna happen anyway, to be honest, Granger. They’ll all be wildly jealous of how good at this we are.” He smirked at her.
“You can’t win at being in a relationship, Malfoy.”
“And yet here we are, doing just that.”
“You think everyone will be up by now?”
“We didn’t talk about that yet. We’re both morning people.” He waved a finger between them.
“Bodes well, I suppose.”
“We are the mum and dad friends, aren’t we?”
“I’m worried we might be.” She cringed, thinking of the way everyone had been coming to her and Malfoy for advice.
“Didn’t think I’d have kids this soon. And so many, as well.” He said sarcastically.
“We’re both only children, it usually goes that way.” She shrugged.
“It just occurred to me that everyone is going to have to reproduce. There will be a Weasley-Zabini spawn in the world one day.”
“You think they will be good at quidditch?” She teased, and he rolled his eyes.
“Are you under the impression that there is nothing more to Ginevra or Blaise than quidditch?”
“Until I see proof to the contrary.”
“Our kids are going to be so annoying, have you realised that?”
“Oh, Merlin, so annoying. Imagine the sense of self-righteousness in a combination of us two, the world isn’t ready.”
“Might have to send McGonagall a fruit basket or something, just apologise now in advance.”
“I’m just picturing the innate chaos caused by a Nott-Potter child. The energy levels.” She shuddered, thinking about the way Harry on liquid luck reminded her of Theo’s general state of being.
“Their kids aren’t being friends with ours. I forbid it.”
“Might not have a choice, seeing as they’re our best friends.”
“It’s not happening, I refuse.”
“Why is none of this as scary as it should be, Malfoy?”
“I think you were right. Maybe we’re still in shock.”
“Entirely possible. Have they got to have constellation names?”
“Yes. Non-negotiable.”
“Alright then. Maybe I’ll owl your mother, see if she’s got a list.”
“She absolutely does, and I’d hold off as long as possible or she will start sending you napkin samples for our wedding.”
“Is it going to be the sort of situation where I have to choose between two white bits of fabric that are definitely the same colour?”
“Probably. I can help though, seeing as we apparently agree on everything.”
“You won’t feel robbed if we don’t get to argue about table cloths? Is that not a pureblood rite of passage?”
“If I had married the pureblood woman of my father’s dreams, I wouldn’t have been included in the planning process in the slightest. I’d just turn up at the altar and do what I was told.”
“That’s slightly depressing.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Your parents won’t be disappointed that it’s me? Aligning our families doesn’t bring any political gain whatsoever I’m afraid.”
“Father would probably have something to say about it, but he’s in Azkaban, so it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t get an opinion when he’s in prison for life. I won’t lie, Mother will probably be a little disappointed that you aren’t pureblooded, but I can’t see that overshadowing the fact that I’m getting married in the first place. She’s been planning for years already, and if you want to be brutally candid about it, your reputation will improve mine by association, so she won’t turn away something that is advantageous in that respect. Plus she owes you for speaking at her trial. We both do.”
“I can deal with that. If he hadn’t gone to Azkaban, do you think your father would have thrown money at this problem? To try and make it go away?”
“Oh, undoubtedly. He would have tried to pay off the Ministry, get them to change the matches. He would have tried to bribe you somehow, I imagine, probably a hefty donation to a cause you care about if he’d got wind of your bleeding heart. Maybe would have set about making his own marriage contract, just forced me to marry someone else before the summer, and dealt with whatever the consequences were.”
“I refute the idea that I have a ‘bleeding heart’, but you’re not wrong. If he’d donated to something worthwhile, I would have considered it. Particularly if I hadn’t gotten to know you, and was still left with my existing impression.”
“You haven’t gotten to know me, it’s been two days.”
“You know what I mean. Now I know you don’t want me dead and can stand to be in my company.” She waved a dismissive hand and he chuckled.
“This was a productive conversation, Granger.”
“I thought so. We’re really very good at this, Malfoy.”
“You want to go see if our friends are still alive? They might need advice from mum and dad.” He said in a singsong tone, smirking at her. After he stood, he offered his hand to help her up, wiggling his fingers.
“I can’t decide if that being a thing makes me uncomfortable or not. I’m leaning towards no? But yes, we should find them.” She grabbed his hand, hauling herself up, dusting down her robes as she stood.
The breeze had picked up, blowing a few leaves about along the shoreline. It was peaceful, and she took a moment to breathe in the cool air.
“Come on then, we’ve got relationships to build.” She nodded towards the castle, and Malfoy smiled at her, once again walking with her, instead of in front of her.
A New Feeling
Draco felt content for the first time in ages. He hadn’t known genuine peace in years, but sitting out by the lake, talking to Granger, he felt an innate calmness that was entirely foreign to him.
They wandered back to the castle, not in any particular rush to be anywhere, just enjoying each other’s company.
This peace was promptly shattered when they rounded a corner and found their friends engaged in what appeared to be a duel. He met Granger’s eyes, and they immediately intervened, casting several expelliarmus’ to the point that he was holding three wands that weren’t his, with Granger hanging on to three others.
“Oh good, our parents are here to gloat.” Pansy muttered, and Draco shot an I-told-you-so look in Granger’s direction. She just glared at him, and he smirked despite himself.
“What the hell happened? Surely you’re all above actually fighting each other.” Granger said firmly, looking around at the group. There were two distinct sides, both Weasleys and Longbottom, and then Pans, Daph, and Blaise. Theo was sitting in the nearby window, kicking his legs gleefully, apparently having not been involved, but thoroughly enjoying the view nonetheless. Potter was pacing in front of him, stress radiating from the messy-haired wizard.
“We can’t trust them, Mione! They’re snakes for a reason, we can’t just let them into our lives!” The Weasel shouted, his face bright red. Draco decided to sit with Theo, and hopped up into the window to watch the fireworks.
“Not helping?” Theo mumbled in his ear, and Draco folded his arms.
“She’s got it.” He replied, shrugging slightly, and Theo snorted lightly.
“Ron, you’re being ridiculous!” She yelled, before whirling around. “Pansy, I thought you were going to talk to Neville, how did that become this?” She asked, pacing along the two battle lines.
“They’ll never trust us, Granger. We can pretend all we want, but deep down, we’re all exactly the same people we’ve always been. The Ministry is wrong, this can’t work.”
“If you have that attitude, then no, it will never work, Pansy. This has to be based on forgiveness, there’s no way around it.” She shook her head sadly, before turning to Longbottom.
“You! The rest of them I might have expected this from, but never you Neville.”
“She pulled her wand, Mione, what was I meant to do?”
“Not pull yours!” She yelled. “They are scared, can’t you see that? For the rest of our lives, they will be questioned and ridiculed for their actions. They have to give up a hell of a lot more than we do.”
“Well, they deserve it for taking Voldemort’s side.” Weasley mumbled, and Draco held back his laugh. The Weasel really shouldn’t have said that.
“Ronald! No, they don’t! Are you really that pig-headed that you can’t stop for one minute and see their situation?! The familial expectations, the coercion, the fact that none of them ever wanted to do half the things they had to! They protect their own, that’s all they ever did. How is that any different to what we were doing? I know for a fact that you, me, and Harry all cast unforgivables during the war. Where was our trial in front of the Wizengamot? Did it happen before or after they gave you your Order of Merlin? Open your bloody eyes, Ronald!”
The Weasel looked past Granger and met Draco’s eyes. Another mistake on his part.
“Don’t look at Malfoy, look at me. I can hear what you’re thinking, Ron, and if you say it out loud I will never forgive you. Do not for one second imagine that I would ever pick a side, when there are no sides. These are my opinions, my thoughts. Do you have so little respect for me that you’d imagine I could be coerced by these people you’ve decided are evil incarnate? They are just people, people all three of you have been deemed compatible with, but you’ve buried your heads in the sand. Can you not see that all six of you had the same reaction to this? Doesn’t that tell you something? Perhaps you’re more alike than you want to believe.”
“How am I meant to throw away the life I had planned for him? Yesterday I was in a happy relationship, today I’m stuck with someone that fought for Voldemort. Hermione, how many times did Zabini back up Malfoy, joining in with calling you that word?” Female Weasley was shrieking, pointing wildly at Blaise. He wondered what his friend was thinking at this moment, as he’d seemed fairly taken with Ginevra initially. As usual though, Blaise’s face was a mask of indifference.
“So what, Ginny, you’re doing this to defend my honour? To protect me from big bad Blaise Zabini who clung to me with everything he had as I flew us both out of the Room of Requirement when Goyle set it on fire during the battle? When Harry did the same for Malfoy? The same Blaise Zabini that is my potions project partner? The one I’ve been working peacefully with for weeks, not a slur in sight? We can’t afford to think like that, Gin. We fought for peace and we have it, it’s right in front of you, if you just allow yourself to take it.”
“We wouldn’t have been happy, Gin.” Potter piped up suddenly, and he felt Theo tense slightly beside him. “Ginny, I’m gay. That’s no slight on you, I swear, and I would have told you soon I think, had it not been for this forcing my hand. If the Ministry thinks that your best chance at happiness is with Zabini, then you have to find out if that’s true. You can’t cling to the memories of us, we’re in the past. In the past along with the war and the divisions that it brought.”
“You lead on my sister?!” The Weasel suddenly yelled, and Theo was in front of him in seconds, pushing past Pansy and Blaise without a second thought.
“I’d choose your next words carefully, Weasley.” He said in a threatening tone, and even Draco was surprised to see his friend like that. It was rare that Theo was pissed off, but when he was, he was not to be tested.
“Theo.” Granger said quietly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. He flinched, and looked at her, the anger in his eyes dying at her expression. She nodded, and he backed away, marching off down the hall. Potter trailed after him, and Draco let them go. This situation was precarious, he saw that now, and he wouldn’t leave Granger alone, despite knowing how capable she was.
“I’m not going to keep dragging you along with me, Ron. Or any of you, for that matter. If you want to let your prejudices continue to blind you to the opportunity you’ve been given then fine, carry on. It isn’t my job or my responsibility to make you see that you’re standing in the way of your own happiness. This isn’t what any of us wanted, but it’s what we’ve been given, and I don’t see why you wouldn’t just try and make the best of it. Especially when you might find that it’s what you’d been looking for anyway.”
“We get it, Granger! You’re completely enamoured with Draco, and you’re skipping about in your own perfect little paradise! It’s entirely different to the rest of us!” Daphne shouted, and Draco scoffed, causing people to turn to him.
“I’ve not changed overnight, Daph. The shit that we’ve been through hasn’t melted away just because I’ve found out that I have things in common with Granger. She’s the last person I ever imagined I’d be with, but we both went into this with open minds and we’ve found something positive. All she’s saying is that if you get out of your own way, you might find the same, but you won’t know until you try.”
“But he’s a Weasley, Draco.” She whined, and he laughed, knowing he’d gotten through to her. He hopped down from the window, and stood in front of his blonde friend, taking her hands in his.
“It’s going to be alright, Daph, I promise. You got 95%, right? You just have to trust in that, push aside the fact that he is, in fact, a Weasley.”
“You both clearly have problems with the fact that we’re Weasleys, so why should we be civil when you aren’t making the effort?” Ginevra spat out, and Granger turned to her.
“Gin, it’s not like that. They’re unlearning years of prejudice, it won’t happen overnight. The point is that they’re willing to try, and we have to meet them halfway. 96%, yes? That’s worth exploring.”
“Malfoy doesn’t deserve you.” She muttered, and Granger scoffed.
“You think I don’t know that?” Draco answered, squeezing Daphne’s hands before dropping them. “You think I’m not completely aware that Granger’s got the worst deal imaginable? I just thought that if she’s stuck with me, then the least I could do is try and be the person she deserves. I’m not there yet, maybe I’ll never be, but I’ll work at it. 100%.”
“100%.” Granger repeated, punching him lightly in the arm.
“Not a thing.” He mumbled, and she laughed.
“We need a thing.”
“We don’t need a thing.”
“Merlin’s beard, if we promise to be good can you not flirt in front of us?” Pansy snapped loudly, hands on her hips. He smirked at Granger before turning to his friend.
“Is good really in your wheelhouse, Pans?” He asked, baiting her.
She sighed, facade crumbling. “I’d like it to be.” She whispered, eyes vulnerable now that he was hiding her from the rest of the room.
“Then show them.” He replied, holding her upper arms gently. She nodded, head flopping down to look at her feet.
“Weasley?” Blaise suddenly said. “Could we talk, do you reckon? Somewhere, I don’t know. I know you’ve more or less just been dumped, and I get it, it’s all shit, but can we work this out?”
Ginevra sighed heavily, hands on her hips in a display that reminded Draco of Pansy. “I guess so, Zabini. We could go to the quidditch pitch?”
Draco’s head snapped to Granger, who was also looking at him, holding back her laughter.
“Shut up.” She whispered.
“You shut up.” He replied, and she smiled widely at him.
“Are we permitted to have our wands back now, my lord?” Blaise tapped him on the arm, waving his hand in a fake bow.
“If you behave yourself, mate.” He pulled out the wands he’d taken from his robe pocket, holding them up. “I don’t know which ones I have, so either we hold an auction or you come get them off me.” It turned out he had Blaise’s, which he did recognise in fairness, as well as the two Weasleys. The elder Weasel fixed him with a glare as he snatched his wand, and Draco valiantly held back a number of comments that crossed his mind. Granger returned Pansy, Daphne, and Longbottom’s wands, and to his surprise, the matched pairs did actually leave together, all with plans of having civil conversations. He slung a lazy arm around Granger’s shoulders, and she leant into him slightly.
“Sorted our kids out then.” He commented, and she chuckled.
“Pretty good at this, aren’t we?”
“Do they give out awards? Or will we get a grade?”
“I hope so, otherwise what’s the point?”
He successfully lured her back to the slytherin common room with the promise of a book, and they sat together reading on one of the sofas in comfortable silence, happy to ignore the sounds of the blazing row Daphne and the Weasel were having in the dorm room. They’d done enough for today, and if the pair had things to say to each other, then they were better left alone. Draco certainly wasn’t going to turn down time with Granger, and he was perfectly happy living in denial, not thinking about his reasons for wanting to be near her. He’d sort through that later. For now, he was content.