Recompense and Redress

Hermione stared at herself in the mirror. Why she had dressed up to go to Draco Malfoy's house, she didn't really know. She'd put on a metallic gold pleated skirt and a tight black top with short sleeves. She'd put on black pumps - and she never wore heels - and had brought her hair up into an elegant chignon. She'd dared to put on red lipstick, to dab on a little perfume, and she blinked as she stared into the mirror.

She really, genuinely should not dress up for Draco Malfoy, she thought.

She picked up the letter that had been waiting for her when she'd gotten home from work. Her mother had said that an owl had come, but the letter was still sealed. Hermione finally garnered the courage to break the seal and peel open the letter, and at once she recognised Ron's scribbly handwriting.

Hermione,

I'm happy to hear you got the job you wanted. Really, I'm happy for you. Harry says we ought to at least hear you out about reconciling with former Death Eaters. Well, I'll be honest with you. I told Harry to stuff it. Ginny's cross with him over it, too. We don't think there's any worth in making nice with the likes of Draco Malfoy.

I wish you were lying about all this, Hermione. I wish you had turned right around when you saw it was him in that private space of the Leaky Cauldron. But to know that you went to his house, that you forgave him… after everything. After everything he's done.

I can't be with you on this, Hermione. I'll always love you. I'll always be your best friend. And I look forward to talking to you again when you come to your senses about Draco Malfoy.

Ron

Hermione scowled deeply and reached for her wand. She set the letter down on her table and whispered, "Evanesco," and the letter Vanished into nonbeing. Hermione shut her eyes and whispered,

"Ronald, you bloody stubborn fool."

Then she Disapparated, coming to outside Draco's house in Kensington. She walked up to the door and knocked, immediately realising she'd come without a gift. She rushed to Conjure a bouquet of daisies and lavender and other simple flowers, which she clutched in her hand. When the door opened and Draco stood there, Hermione thrust the flowers out and said breathlessly,

"Hello. Thanks for having me."

Draco hesitated and then took the flowers, staring at them confusedly. Hermione huffed as she stepped inside with him, and she said,

"I forgot to bring drinks this time. Sorry."

"Erm… that's… fine." Draco stepped into his kitchen and filled a crystal vase from the tap, putting the flowers into the vase and laying them on the counter. He came back into the foyer and said,

"I ordered the pizza, but it won't be here for another half hour."

"Oh. That's all right." Hermione noticed the way he was staring her up and down, the way his blue eyes flashed at her high heels and her bare legs, at her short golden skirt and her tight black top. His eyes settled on her face, and his cheekbones went very pink. Hermione shifted where she stood and shrugged. "Fun to play dress-up every now and then."

"Yes. Pizza is a particularly special occasion," Draco agreed, and then they both broke into a little bit of laughter. Draco led Hermione into the sitting room, the grey room where she'd first forgiven him. She sat down opposite him just like she'd done then, carefully crossing her legs as she realised just how short her skirt was. She yanked on it a little as Draco asked,

"How was your first day?"

Hermione pinched her lips. "It wasn't what I expected. You were right, quite frustratingly."

Draco's eyebrows went up. "Not as much advocacy as you'd hoped?"

Hermione shook her head. "No… today I spent five hours making files for House-Elves newly acquired by wizarding families. Registering the House-Elf in the Ministry's system - age, gender, name, et cetera - and then sending off a letter to the family reminding them to be polite and humane to their… servant."

Draco gave her a knowing little nod. "And the Squibs?"

Hermione sighed deeply. "I didn't know there was a formal Squib registry. I definitely did not know that they were prohibited from employment in the Ministry."

Draco dragged his teeth over his bottom lip and said, "I've had members of my family blown out of our genealogy for being Squibs. I'm afraid you'd have to found quite an organisation to do anything real for them. Squib People Also Need Kindness?"

Hermione smirked as she put the anagram together. "SPANK."

Draco shrugged. "Why not? I'm sure you'd do marvelous things."

"You're still a right git, you know that?" Hermione laughed and then turned her face to the painting on the wall, the one of the woman begging. She rose and walked toward it. It moved, though it did not seem as sentient as most Magical paintings. Older magic, perhaps. Less advanced. She stood before the painting and studied it, the way the woman reached out with a claw-like hand at the hem of the snarling rich man.

"Where did you get this?" Hermione asked, and suddenly Draco was beside her.

"Archibald's Art, in Hogsmeade," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm told it belonged to a wizard who bought up Muggle art and enchanted it to be animated."

"Oh." Hermione nodded. That explained the simplistic, repetitive movement that was more like a photograph than a portrait. She watched as the painted baby sobbed with hunger, as the rich man moved away up a stone step. She turned her face to Draco and asked him, "Do you keep it in this room to remind you?"

His throat bobbed and he shrugged. "I keep it… It feels necessary, that's all."

Hermione nodded. She was very close to him, she thought. Closer than she'd been to Draco Malfoy since she'd punched him in the face their third year. Suddenly she told him,

"I could have walked away from you, but I struck you instead."

He gave her a crooked little smile and said in a mocking sort of voice, "I forgive you."

"I don't know how sorry I am," Hermione admitted. "You got Buckbeak killed."

"Well, you saved him again," Draco said tightly. "There were loads of times where I did something stupid and you cleaned up the mess."

"Not just me," Hermione reminded him. "Harry and Ron, too."

"Well, Weasley and Potter don't seem anxious to come to my house for pizza dressed looking like a metallic fever dream," Draco said, his fists tightening at his sides. Hermione snorted and tipped her head.

"A metallic fever dream."

"What else would you call that skirt?" Draco barked, and Hermione glanced down.

"I'd call it a skirt, probably."

They just stared at one another then, for what felt like an interminable moment. She could still see irritation in his eyes, the sort of contempt that he'd flashed at her for years. She could still read bitterness, a lingering impatient sort of haughtiness. But as the moments passed, his face softened a little. His bottom lip fell just a bit, and his blond eyelashes fluttered open and shut a few times, and he whispered at last,

"I didn't mean to insult you, Granger."

"Hermione," she corrected him. She took a half step closer, unsure of why that felt like the right thing to do. She raised a hand up, feeling compelled to hold his face the way she'd done the night before. His breath audibly quickened in his nostrils, and then suddenly the doorbell rang.

Draco staggered back a few steps and looked like he'd been jared awake from a deep sleep.

"Pizza's here," Hermione whispered, and Draco rifled in his pockets as he mumbled,

"Damn it; I forgot to trade out for more Muggle money at Gringotts… I can Confound him into just handing it over, or -"

"No. No, you won't do that." Hermione rolled her eyes and stormed over to the front door. She opened it and grinned at the pimple-faced teenaged Muggle who stood with a cardboard box in his hands.

"Hullo," he said. "It'll be twelve pounds even."

"Twelve pounds." Hermione pulled out a twenty pound note from the wallet she extracted from her handbag. She passed the money over to the delivery boy and said rather sharply, "Keep the difference."

The boy scowled; he probably never received gratuity at all, much less eight pounds' worth. But then a wide smile broke over his face, and he said cheerfully,

"Have a great day, Miss."

"You, too." Hermione took the pizza and brought it inside, kicking Draco's door shut with her heeled foot. She marched into the dining room and set the pizza down, opening the box and breathing in the smell of it. Draco came walking in with plates, and she scoffed.

"Pizza on china? Haven't you got paper plates or something?"

"I'm not a Muggle," he reminded her rather grimly. Hermione doled out a few slices of pizza onto the overdressed china plates, and she sat opposite Draco as they sipped water from crystal glasses. After two slices, she was more than full, so she Scoured her plate and reached in her handbag again.

"Would you like some chewing gum? Sorry; it's not Drooble's. It's the Muggle kind."

"All right." Draco reached across the table and accepted the little foil-wrapped stick. He put it into his mouth and started chewing, and Hermione was impressed when he used nonverbal magic to Vanish the wrapper. She stared at him as he Banished their plates to the kitchen, as he sent the half-empty box of pizza to the refrigerator. Then she sipped her water, letting it mingle with the flavour of mint in her mouth, and she realised she'd been attracted to him - to Draco Malfoy - in the sitting room.

She found herself rather attracted to him now, too, if she was honest. He actually cared about her work, even if he was snarky about it. He was alone, but he didn't want to be alone. She could tell. She rose from her chair, and Draco slowly stood as she walked around the dining room table to stand before him.

"What did you hear today?" she asked, "in the whispers?"

Draco took a long, trembling breath and said quietly, "Tell them it was Cecilia. She did this to me. Cecilia did this to me."

Hermione blinked. "Who's Cecilia?"

"No idea," Draco shrugged. "And I've no idea who the voice was, either. But I recorded it anyway, and I filed it away. Someone named Cecilia committed murder. Apparently. I heard a little boy, too. He was very young."

"Draco." Hermione shut her eyes and shook her head, and Draco snapped,

"You asked." He paused then and finally mumbled, "Tell Mummy and Daddy I'm safe. Someone please tell my Mummy that I'm not afraid."

"Draco," Hermione said again, pleading this time. She opened her eyes and stared up at him. She opened her mouth to tell him that he ought to get another job, that this one would kill him from the inside out. But before she could speak, he informed her,

"Apsara Singh, your boss. If you sit down and talk with her about S.P.E.W., I think you'll find she'd more open to letting you advocate for your beliefs than the job would have you think. You don't just have to file new House-Elf assignments and handle Squib registries. You're better than that, Granger."

"Hermione," she whispered, and Draco squared his jaw, nodding once.

"Hermione." He tipped his head a little, and he surprised her by reaching to hold her face in two hands with shaking fingers. She let him touch her. Him, him, Draco Malfoy. She let him hold her face, and she actually liked it. She soaked in the feel of his palms on her cheeks, his long fingertips grazing her hair. His pale eyes opened and shut a few times, and he finally said,

"I was very wrong about you. I was wrong about a lot of things."

"The past is gone," Hermione told him, and her hands moved of their own accord to press to his chest. She felt his breath quicken there, and she said, "The past is dead, like so many comrades on both sides. The present is tense, fraught with ongoing and unnecessary hatred. The future could be wonderful. It could be… it could be magnificent."

"And you mean to make the future magnificent, do you?" Draco asked. Hermione felt her eyes sear, and she asked him,

"Will you help me?"

"I…" Draco wanted to tell her that he wouldn't be on the cover of the Prophet as a repentant, defeated Pureblood boy. She knew that. So she just mumbled,

"Help me change one mind at a time, Draco. I've forgiven you. There are many others - on both sides, frankly - who must ask and receive forgiveness. Help me change one mind at a time."

"I'll think about it," Draco said, and she watched him swallow his chewing gum. His hands tightened on her cheeks a little, and he informed her, "You're much prettier than I ever thought. I always thought your intelligence and your morality made you ugly, but now I see it's very much the opposite."

"Well… thanks." Hermione laughed a little, but Draco's face stayed very steady.

"I kissed Pansy Parkinson in our sixth year," he blurted, "because she wouldn't shut up about wanting me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes; you had Slytherin girls falling all over you. And?"

"And I hated that kiss, because I didn't want Pansy," Draco said. His voice was shaking hard now, and Hermione's stomach lurched as the pieces finally clicked together in her mind. She watched Draco clench his teeth together, saw his jaw tighten, and his fingers shook like leaves on her face. Finally he informed her, "I would like… if you'd allow me to…"

"Yes," Hermione nodded, and without another word, Draco bent to press his lips to hers. It was the most fleeting kiss imaginable, just a brush of lips together, as if he thought he'd kill them both by doing it. There was a brief, rather horrifying image of Ron in Hermione's mind, but then her consciousness was overwhelmed by a feeling of want. She wanted him. Draco Malfoy, of all people.

She reached up and pulled his face down again, encouraging him to let her kiss him harder. His lips shook against hers, and he growled softly,

"Granger… Hermione…"

She just kissed him, unwilling to wait any longer. She dragged her tongue along his bottom lip, having no idea whatsoever what was compelling her to do this. She dragged his lip between her teeth and then gently pushed her tongue inside, dragging a circle around the roof of his mouth. Draco's hands flew from her face to her waist then, his fingers trailing up her ribcage as he grunted a little into her mouth.

Hermione finally pulled away, flying backward a few steps as she informed Draco,

"You've got red lipstick all over you."

"Oh." He reached for his wand off the table, his hand trembling like mad as he nonverbally cleaned himself up. Hermione could hardly breathe; she could hardly think. She blinked a few times, thinking that she'd probably made the most terrible mistake in her life. Then she wanted to kiss him again - him, Draco Malfoy - and she knew she needed to leave. She walked quickly toward the front door, grabbing her handbag off the table, and she said,

"Thanks for the pizza, Draco."

"Hermione, wait." His voice was firm now, more like the Draco she'd once known. She turned from the door to see him slowly approaching, and he shook his head a little.

"I'm not sorry," he said quite confidently, and Hermione sighed as she admitted,

"Neither am I, but… I need to go."

"All right," he nodded. "Send a memo down to the ninth level if you ever… if you feel like Indian food or something."

"Right. Thanks again for… pizza and… listening to me talk about my new job and… and… I should go." Hermione opened the door and left without another word, Disapparating the moment she'd left Draco's beautiful, empty, lonely row house.

Author's Note: Oh, dear. Imagine Ron's face if he realized Hermione had not only forgiven Draco, but had *kissed* him. How will Hermione assert herself in her new job? Can she sway Harry to her political cause? When will she next see Draco? All this and more in the next few chapters. :) Thanks for reading, and fifty points to your House for any reviews. :)