Chapter 14
Hermione woke early the morning of the ordeal with her stomach in knots. The last two days had been a blur of red hair and noise. Just months ago she would have felt guilty about how much she had been sinking into any silence and solitude she could find, but now she knew about her sensory issues, she gave herself a little more grace. She knew now that the borderline dread she felt in anticipation of Weasley dinners wasn’t because she didn’t love the people who hosted them. It wasn’t about them at all.
Her intolerance for loud noises and bright lights and ten people trying to talk to her at once was just something about herself she had to grow to accept. It was slow going, and sometimes the shame would grab at her unexpectedly, twisting itself into her gut. You should be able to handle this. Everyone else can handle this.
But for once there was something stronger than the shame. Relief. She finally had a why. A how. The facts were neatly laid out in front of her at last, and who was she to dispute them? It was so freeing not to be constantly trying to fix herself.
As she pulled on her coat and gloves and finished up her explanatory (and very dishonest) note to Harry and Ron, she realised with a jolt that she was smiling. She wiped the expression off her face immediately, trying to push down the bubbling feeling that was making her chest light and her hands fidgety. She was not looking forward to spending a day with Malfoy.
But, try as she might to deny it, she’d found herself missing him over the past five days. Since her extractions had begun nearly two months ago they hadn’t spent more than a day apart. She hadn’t realised how at home she’d begun to feel with him sitting next to her in their room, puzzling over some passage or another. Or how she’d become so accustomed to the sharpness of him – his face, his eyes, his words – that the rest of the world seemed somehow blunted in comparison.
To her shame, she’d caught herself thinking of him often.
What was he doing right now?
Did he like Christmas cake?
Who had he bought gifts for?
Had he gotten anything for her?
No, of course not. She shouldn’t be silly, she thought as she shoved an umbrella into her magically extended bag. It’s not like she’d gotten anything for him either. They weren’t exactly on gift-giving terms. She ignored the sudden heaviness in her stomach at the thought and walked out into the frigid morning air.
As per the itinerary she found herself standing on the corner of Park and Whittleby street at eight in the morning. The sun was rising slowly, painting the sky with a gentle pink.
“Morning.”
Hermione jumped. “Morning,” she managed to force out, turning on her heel to face Malfoy. It was like the first sip of coffee after a terrible night’s sleep, the way he sped up her pulse, widened her bleary eyes.
Malfoy had done quite well in imitating muggle fashion. So well, in fact, that she couldn’t help but laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I just never thought I’d see you wearing a north face jacket. Are we going hiking?”
He frowned. “Is this not appropriate museum attire? Blaise swore to me this whole outfit was properly muggle.”
“No, no it’s fine. It’s just odd seeing you looking so…” she gestured vaguely at his black jeans and sneakers, “normal.”
Malfoy raised an eyebrow.
“Regular, then.”
“Common, do you mean?”
“Oh, don’t start spouting your posh nonsense now, your highness. You’ll never fit in with the peasantry that way,” Hermione said, eyes wide in mock concern and struggling to keep a smile off her face.
Malfoy rewarded her with not quite a laugh, but at least an exhale, before asserting that they needed to get started.
Hermione should really have been more concerned about her behaviour – made it less obvious that she was happy to see him – but somehow couldn’t bring herself to lie. She was finding it harder and harder to be inauthentic around him.
Hermione led the way down Whittleby street and into Oakley station, which was thankfully not too crowded.
“Last time you did this, you did buy a ticket right?”
Malfoy stared at her blankly. “You need a ticket?”
They bought their tickets as Hermione explained fare evasion to a lightly blushing Malfoy, with Hermione counting through the money in a slow, exaggerated way he couldn’t miss. After a short ride on the tube they ended up at Holborn station. Malfoy made a show of looking nonchalant about the escalator, but Hermione could see the almost imperceptible darting of his eyes and furrow of his brow as he stepped onto it. She couldn’t help but laugh at him again. He looked like he was in some sort of terrible spy movie.
Mentioning this to Malfoy got her a disgruntled look and a huff, which only served to amuse her further. Maybe today wouldn’t be terrible. Today, Malfoy was a guest in her world. Today he’d learn how it felt to always be the one slightly out of step. Maybe it was sadistic of her to rub it in, but honestly, who was more deserving of it than him?
Soon, the science museum came into view, and they walked through the massive open doors into some type of entrance hall. The smell – old parchment and hand sanitiser – instantly calmed her. There were remarkably few people visiting today, and their footsteps echoed in the almost empty hall.
Hermione picked up a guidebook and opened it all the way up in front of Malfoy, revealing all the exhibitions.
“So, where are we going?”
“How should I know?”
“You’re the one who wanted to come.”
“Yes, to get used to the process of visiting a museum, which I’ve never done before.” He says it like it’s obvious.
“You’ve never been to a museum before?”
“Why would I have? I have my fair share of centuries old priceless heirlooms at home.”
Hermione scoffed, and walked off in the direction of the dinosaur exhibit, deciding to make her way through the place clockwise.
When they arrived, Malfoy actually let out a whistle at the life-sized apatosaurus skeleton.
“What’s that thing?”
“Apatosaurus louisae. Lived between 161.2 and 145 million years ago. These gentle giants thrived on a diet of plants, with the small rocks they inevitably ingested aiding their digestion,” Hermione read off the plaque in front of the skeleton.
Malfoy spluttered. “They lived how long ago?”
“161.2 to 145 million years,” Hermione replied primly. “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of dinosaurs.”
His silence and astounded stare told her he had not.
“You’re joking.” It was her turn to be shocked. Did wizards not know about dinosaurs? Everyone knew about dinosaurs.
“How on earth do you have the bones of something that existed millions of years ago? We didn’t even have wands millions of years ago.”
“We didn’t even have people millions of years ago, Malfoy.”
“… what?”
“Are you joking?” She was becoming more and more incredulous. Was he pulling her leg? Did he know anything about… oh. No, of course he wouldn’t know anything about human evolution, it hadn’t been mentioned once in any of their Hogwarts classes. She’d just assumed it was common knowledge.
“Oh my god…” It was one thing to be a bit shaky on how electricity worked, but to not know about dinosaurs, about how people came to be…was this seriously what the wizarding education system was doing to purebloods?
“How the bloody hell did people get the bones of that thing if they didn’t exist?”
Hermione almost had to sit down. “Ok, tell me everything you know about history from the Big Bang onwards.”
“The what onwards?”
“Ok… tell me how you think the Earth formed.”
“Well… it’s always been here hasn’t it?”
“Since… time immemorial?”
“I imagine so, yes,” he said confidently. But something in her expression seemed to make him shrink a little, shifting his weight and looking away. “Maybe…”
And so began their history lesson. He clearly hadn’t given any thought to any of it before. The formation of the universe, of Earth, pre-history, evolution. The latter even had him arguing resolutely with her that no they did not come from apes and she must have misunderstood whatever books she’d read about it. That was until they reached the exhibit on early humans, where he spent a full five minutes staring at the neanderthal skeleton, circling it with a horrified expression. She almost felt sorry for him, having all this information dumped onto him in the span of half an hour.
She vividly remembered being told about magic for the first time. She’d been shocked, yes, but she’d been young. Young enough to still believe in things like fairies and dragons and miracles deep down. It had been relatively easy to take in the news that there was a whole world out there that she’d never known existed. Malfoy, however, looked a bit pale.
Out of kindness, she walked right past the industrial revolution section and lead him into the planetarium, hoping it would create some sense of familiarity.
It worked. She could practically feel the tension leave his shoulders as he walked into the room and titled his gaze to the starry ceiling.
Somehow, they were alone. This, combined with the light of artificial stars illuminating Malfoy’s face caused a hum of electricity under her skin. His hair somehow managed to look like starlight itself, the bastard.
She turned away, sitting down in one of the many empty chairs as he said, “It reminds me of the common room.”
She hummed in agreement.
He surprised her by taking the seat next to her. She didn’t know why she hadn’t expected it. They’d sat at the same desk so many times before, sometimes even accidently bumping elbows, brushing hands in search of a quill. Always, when it happened, they would jerk away quickly, make an unspoken promise not to acknowledge it. A shared, silent dialogue.
I hate you.
I hate you too.
Don’t touch me.
Do you think I wanted to?
I can’t stand you.
I can’t you either.
The sentiments were more habit than truth at this point. But they held onto them anyway. Or at least, she did. Malfoy seemed to have forgotten the rules as he leaned back, cruelly hogging the armrest between them.
“I found Draco,” he said, pointing to one of the slowly circling constellations.
She’d identified its serpentine shape almost immediately.
“You know, Hermes was one of the gods of astronomy,” he said.
“I thought he was the messenger god?”
“He was the god of lots of things. Messages, roads and trade, thievery and cunning, astronomy.”
“What does that have to do with Draco?”
“It doesn’t,” he turned to look her in the eye. “That’s where your name comes from. Hermes, Hermione. Did you not know?”
She tried not to show on her face how surprised she was. Not about the name. She’d learnt the meaning from her mother after getting frustrated when learning to spell it. She’d told her she’d chosen it because it was unique and special just like her. No, she was surprised that when looking up at his own name written in the stars, he’d thought of hers too.
She was reading too much into it. “I knew.”
They sat in silence for a while, Malfoy’s eyes still searching the projected sky.
“My mother was the only Black for generations to avoid being named after a star. She got a flower instead.”
She couldn’t help asking, now that he’d brought it up.
“What did you get her for Christmas?”
“Jewellery. Same as every year. I’m a bit rubbish at gifts.”
“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you admit you’re rubbish at something.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he attempted a sneer, but it was ruined by the small smile he didn’t manage to hold back, “There aren’t many things I’m rubbish at.”
“I would say science is one of them.”
“Sod off Granger, I’m not rubbish. You’ve just had a head start.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his petulance.
They made their way through the rest of the museum in much the same way. Hermione having the very clear upper hand and Malfoy pretending he didn’t mind. Hours later, they emerged into the wintery air, Malfoy clutching the tiny model of an apatosaurus he’d bought from the giftshop. His cheeks were still pink from when he’d somehow managed to botch the payment and had to be rescued before he accidently stole the dinosaur.
Hermione’s were still pink from the laughter she was holding in.
“So, lunch?” said Malfoy, shoving his hands into his pockets as Hermione pulled her coat tighter around her, shivering slightly.
“Yes, you didn’t specify where in your itinerary though.”
“Well, it’s not like I’m familiar with any of the establishments. I was hoping you’d have some sort of preference.”
“… You’re letting me choose?”
“… Am I going to regret this?”
“Of course not.” She smiled sweetly.
After a few minutes’ walk she found it, the familiar sign jutting out into the street. She couldn’t resist the idea of seeing Draco Malfoy in a McDonalds. She went over his order and payment with him for a solid three minutes, counting out the money for him in advance. When they were handed their food, Hermione led them over to a small plastic table near the back.
She’d thought it would be funny, seeing his aristocratic posture in one of those tiny plastic chairs, but instead she felt something… strange as he bit into his burger across from her. It felt familiar, almost domestic even. The muggle clothing certainly helped. In fact, Malfoy didn’t really look out of place at all.
“What?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re staring. Do I have food on my face?”
Hermione shook her head, forcing her attention back to her chips.
It was over too soon. There was nothing planned after lunch, and it was approaching the time Hermione would have to actually go Christmas shopping to keep up her alibi.
“I think I saw a hot chocolate stand on the way here,” Malfoy blurted out suddenly.
“Oh… did you want some?”
“What I want is to be able to pay for something unassisted. I could have done it before, you know, if you hadn’t stuck your nose in.”
“You nearly stole that dinosaur, Malfoy, I didn’t want to take any chances.”
“I can do it! Come on.”
And with that, he was pulling her out of the McDonalds and back the way they’d come. After she’d hissed at him to let her go so she could put their rubbish in the bin, anyway. It was only a few minutes away – a small temporary stand offering hot chocolate for a quid each. But she decided to challenge him.
“I want marshmallows. And whipped cream.”
He gave her a dirty look, knowing exactly what she was doing. “Fine.”
She could see him rehearsing in his head before he walked up to the stall and ordered. And paid. Perfectly.
“Hah,” he said, returning with two hot chocolates and handing the much more lavish one to her. “Told you.”
“Good job. Has this healed your bruised ego?”
Malfoy only rolled his eyes and strode towards a bench overlooking a half-frozen river.
“Sit.”
She huffed as she did, more for show than anything else.
When she looked over at him, all traces of that domestic calm they’d shared before had been wiped away. Malfoy’s back was ramrod straight, his jaw clenched, his eyes darting anywhere but her.
Had she said something wrong?
Hermione grew steadily more tense as the silence stretched out between them. She busied herself with her drink, downing almost all of it before he spoke.
“I… want to thank you.”
Huh?
“For… all this.” He gestured vaguely. “So I erm… got you something. Merry Christmas, I guess.”
Malfoy didn’t look at her as he pulled a small, silver wrapped box out of his pocket and put it on the bench between them.
Hermione was not prepared for this situation, didn’t know how to process it.
“I… Thank you. Merry Christmas.”
Silence wrapped its fingers round her throat as she stared at the box.
“I didn’t get you anything. Sorry,” she managed.
“Why would you have?”
His response led her brain to too many wild conclusions at once, so she ignored it, as she tried to do with many of her other Malfoy-related feelings.
“Can I open it now?” She was too curious to wait.
“I can’t exactly stop you.”
She ripped into the meticulously wrapped paper, soon revealing a dark velvet box. Opening it, she found a teal leather bracelet with a small silver ring inlayed into it. It was pretty, but simple – something she’d be able to wear without anyone guessing who it came from.
“Put it on,” he said. She obliged, and after her half-frozen fingers fumbled with it for long enough Malfoy took her hand in his and did the clasp up for her.
She tried desperately to conjure an indignance at this gesture, but it was difficult when his hands were so warm, so quick, so certain. It was all she could do to contain her blush.
“Turn the ring,” Malfoy instructed. She did, and immediately the sounds around her were muffled. She hadn’t even realised how loud everything was. The whistle of the wind, the clinking of ice in the river, the god-awful honking of cars. The further she turned the ring, the quieter it got, until it was completely silent. Hermione felt her shoulders slump forward, relaxing. She hadn’t noticed how tense she was. How much all those noises had been digging into her brain.
She turned her gaze to Malfoy, who was looking at her with thinly disguised trepidation. She turned the ring back – just a little – so she could hear herself.
“I don’t think you’re rubbish at giving gifts.”
He only nodded, avoiding her eyes. “I should get back,” he said.
She echoed the sentiment, and they both stood. Malfoy retreated with a wave, presumably off to find an inconspicuous place to disapparate from.
As she watched him go, she felt a pull in her chest – almost painful – urging her to follow. Of course, she didn’t. She simply let the thoughts drift to the surface without judgement for once. Some part of her hoping they’d fly right out of her head and into his.
Stay.
Don’t leave.
Please, stay with me.