Fake Butter
He almost looked like a child.
The vicious snarls she'd seen from him in days long past were gone from his face. His lips rested peacefully, parted just a little bit as his breath came slow and steady in sleep. His hand was flat on the mattress, having moved away from hers just a little. His fingers were long and thin, Hermione noted, and she remembered what his hands had felt like on her.
She'd absolutely hated him, once upon a time. She'd never been as hurt, as egregiously wounded to her core, as when he'd said the words you filthy little Mudblood.
But they'd been children then, and that had been before the war. Draco had spent summers and holidays in a home of privilege where he'd been told that he and others like him were special. It was a difficult thing, Hermione thought, to unravel that sort of mental propaganda. It certainly didn't excuse the fact that Draco had been nothing but a colossal bully during their years at Hogwarts. But what it did explain was why Draco had felt compelled and entitled to say and do the things he did. They'd still been wrong things, but…
But he was sorry.
Regulus Black had been raised in a family that thought itself above the fray. He'd been told he and his kin were sacred. He'd joined Voldemort's ranks. Then he'd found out Voldemort's secret and had paid with his life. If that wasn't redemption, what was? Severus Snape had joined the Death Eaters looking for somewhere to fit in, somewhere to feel important. He'd called Lily Evans a Mudblood, just like Draco had done to Hermione. But Severus Snape had spent the last years of his life in constant risk. He'd promised to commit the most egregious offence - to kill Albus Dumbledore - to spare Draco's soul. And, in the end, he'd paid with his life. If that wasn't redemption, what was?
Hermione stared at Draco as he slept, at the way his icy blond hair felt in little tendrils over his face, the way his porcelain skin almost glowed in the early light of morning. She thought of his pride over cooking spaghetti, the way he listened to the whispers of the dead all day, the feel of his hands on her, the way half his mouth turned up when he was amused or smug.
His eyes blinked open, the colour of a summer sky, and his voice was hoarse as he demanded,
"How long have you been watching me sleep, Granger?"
She smiled a little and said honestly, "Not very long."
Draco reached for her fingers and dragged them beneath the blanket, and she sucked in air when she felt that he was hard as a rock. They'd fallen asleep naked, and on instinct she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and watched his eyes flutter shut. She'd need a lot to get wet, even more to come, but she had a desire to ride him, and she decided she was going to do just that.
"That's not real butter," Draco mumbled as the red-aproned teenaged boy drizzled fluorescent yellow goop all over their popcorn.
"It tastes good," Hermione promised, but Draco scowled.
"He's putting far too much salt on it."
"Mmm… loads of salt and fake butter and entirely too much Coca-Cola… mmm." Hermione taunted Draco as she passed over Muggle money to the teenaged employee. Draco smirked as he pulled the tub of popcorn off the counter and popped a piece into his mouth.
"It is not terrible," he said, and Hermione laughed so hard so almost dropped the two drink cups she carried. Draco took another piece as they walked toward the theatre showing The Astronaut's Wife. It was completely deserted when they walked in, so Hermione walked up the stairs and chose some seats in the centre of the theatre.
"I mean, I heard this wasn't exactly killing at the box office, but…" She reached for some popcorn, and Draco just stared at her for a long moment. Finally Hermione swallowed her popcorn and demanded, "What?"
"Do you have siblings?" Draco asked seriously, and Hermione frowned.
"No. Only child. Just like you. Why?"
"I want to know you better," Draco said, tipping his head and taking a few pieces of popcorn. He seemed thoughtful for a moment, then he asked, "What was your favourite class at Hogwarts. All of them is not a valid reply."
Hermione laughed and sipped from her fizzy drink, wincing at the carbonation. She finally said,
"In our early years, it was Charms. I just wanted to learn spell after spell. But I quickly memorised every spellbook in the library, and then the class felt a little redundant. I liked Arithmancy. It seemed far more evidence-based than other prediction methods. And, unlike you, I actually liked when Hagrid taught Magical Creatures."
She gave him a meaningful look, and Draco rolled his eyes.
"All right. Fine. I acted like an infant when that stupid hippogriff scratched me. I am sorry."
"What was your favourite?" Hermione asked. "Potions, I'd wager."
Draco pursed his lips and said, "Don't ever tell anyone this, but I actually found myself a little too interested in Professor Binns' History of Magic lessons."
Hermione laughed aloud then. She looked around the empty theatre and wondered if anyone else was going to show up. She sipped from her drink again, and Draco said suddenly,
"I remember when you went to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum. You looked so pretty that I couldn't even think of anything horrible to say."
Hermione gave him a weak little smile and said honestly, "I had fun playing dress up."
"Maybe you could play dress up again sometime." Draco cleared his throat and stared at the popcorn. "Maybe we could go somewhere a bit more formal than a cinema sometime. Eat something a little more gourmet than popcorn. I hear the Muggles manage to pull off some quite luxurious dining experiences."
"Draco Malfoy," Hermione whispered, "are you asking me on a date? Another date?"
Draco just stared at the popcorn, reaching for a piece and studying it. Then he asked,
"When's your birthday? September, isn't it? I remember Potter and Weasley making a great deal of your birthday every September."
Hermione's eyes burned. "The nineteenth."
"Have you heard of The Square?" Draco asked quietly. "It's a very highly acclaimed Muggle restaurant."
Hermione just nodded, struggling to speak. "My dad took my mum there for their twentieth wedding anniversary a few years ago. It's… they said it was very nice."
"I'd like to go there on your birthday," Draco mused, popping the piece of popcorn into his mouth. He chewed it and stared at Hermione as he picked up his drink and sipped. Hermione just nodded silently, realising that she was dating him, that she was actually dating Draco Malfoy. Before she could say anything, the lights went down in the theatre and the screen illuminated, showing preview after preview.
"I don't understand," Draco said, not bothering to whisper since they had the place to themselves. "Why are they showing all of this?"
"It's films that are coming to cinemas soon. They're basically just teasing you to make you want to see them," Hermione explained. Draco frowned.
"I just want to see the film we bought tickets for."
Hermione laughed a little at that. Eventually the movie started. It was bizarre, and Hermione had difficulty following the plot, mostly because she was very distracted by the presence of Draco Malfoy beside her. They ate their way through the popcorn, their fingers brushing every now and then. Once, when their hands touched, Draco didn't let go. He let his thumb drift over Hermione's and she shut her eyes as she tried desperately not to want him. The film was so dull, and all she could focus on was the feel of Draco's hand inside the popcorn tub, greasy from the fake butter, touching her fingers like she was made of precious metal.
"Scourgify," he incanted, and she looked over to see that he'd set the mostly-empty popcorn tub down and had pulled out his wand. She held her hands out to him and he Scoured them for her, and she gave him a grateful look, glad the slip of the salt and 'butter' was gone. Draco slipped his wand back into his jacket and asked,
"Are all Muggle films this awful?"
"No," Hermione laughed. "This one is really quite bad, isn't it?"
"I'm not interested in it," Draco said, his eyes locking onto Hermione's. The movie kept playing, and a whitish-blue light was cast over Draco's face, making Hermione think of the lighting in the Department of Mysteries.
She reached suddenly for his knee, stroking him a little there and watching as he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip.
"That dreadful orange cat you had at school," he said, and Hermione smiled a little.
"Crookshanks. He lives at my parents' house. He likes them better than he likes me."
"Where do your parents live?" Draco asked, and Hermione blinked.
"When I brought them back from Australia, I got them a place in Paddington. A townhouse. They're starting their dentist work back up."
"Dentistry." Draco nodded and seemed to recall, "It's using manual methods, Muggle methods, to cure things like tooth decay and cavities and such."
"Yes. Muggles haven't got spells for things like that. Medicine and dentistry and cosmetics are all handled very differently," Hermione said. "It isn't better or worse; it's different."
"Hmm." Draco seemed to be biting his tongue, and Hermione knew he wanted to say that it was certainly superior to simply be able to take a potion to repair any dental damage and to Scour one's teeth morning and night. If she was honest, she agreed with him that it was more efficient. But Muggles simply didn't have magic. She smiled a little at Draco and rubbed his knee a bit.
"I'm not asking you to turn into Arthur Weasley, fawning all over Muggle life."
"Good, because that expectation would lead to disappointment, I'm afraid," Draco said. He flicked his eyes toward the screen, watching the film for a few moments while Hermione watched him. He stared at the screen and teased her, "You're missing this spectacular work of cinematic genius."
"We can go," Hermione told him, and Draco nodded as he glanced to the floor.
"We ate almost all the popcorn, anyway, and that was the real reason for coming, wasn't it?"
He met her eyes again, and Hermione felt her breath catch as the light from the film hit his eyes just so. He covered her hand on his knee and told her very firmly,
"Even when I didn't like you, Hermione Granger, I really did admire and envy you. And when I saw you dancing with Viktor Krum at that stupid Yule Ball, I was so jealous I wanted to smash something. I wanted to dance with you."
Hermione frowned. "Even then?"
He nodded. "Even then. I would have scowled at you and mocked you while we danced, but -"
"I wouldn't have danced with you then," Hermione said crisply, and Draco nodded.
"I know." He paused, glanced to the screen again, and kept staring at the film as he asked softly, "What about now?"
"I'd dance with you now," Hermione said very confidently, and she watched Draco's throat bob, shadowed by the dancing light from the film.
"I'd like that very much," Draco whispered. "To… to dance with you… sometime."
They wound up staying through the film. Halfway through, Hermione leaned her head onto Draco's shoulder and whispered,
"This is really a terrible movie."
"It's just silly," Draco mumbled, but his fingers threaded through Hermione's, and he certainly didn't seem to mind the way she'd leaned onto him. By the time the credits rolled and the lights came up, Hermione rubbed at her eyes and admitted,
"I almost fell asleep."
Draco laughed a little and pulled his wand back out. He aimed it at their nearly-empty popcorn bucket and then their drinks and murmured,
"Evanesco."
Hermione choked a little laugh.
"There are rubbish bins outside the theatre," she said, "and people whose job it is to clean up, and… you know what, it's fine. You Vanished the popcorn. Very well done."
Draco smirked and tucked his wand away again. As he and Hermione descended the stairs from their seats, she felt his fingers brush hers, and she paused. He wanted to hold her hand whilst they walked. She turned over her shoulder, staring up a carpeted stair to where he stood. There was uncertainty in his pale eyes, and he whispered,
"You don't have to -"
"I'd like to." Hermione firmly clasped her hand around his and kept walking. As they made their way out to the lobby of the cinema, she said again to him, "I'd give that film one out of five stars. No good. But I didn't mind the popcorn."
"I'm not going to lie and say the false butter and overuse of salt hasn't left me just the slightest bit queasy," Draco said, and Hermione laughed.
"Hermione?"
She looked up, shocked at the sound of Ron Weasley's voice. She immediately released Draco's hand, reading horror and disgust on Ron's face. Beside him stood Harry Potter, who glanced from Draco to Hermione and just looked very sad.
"What… what are you two doing here?" Hermione demanded.
"Could bloody well ask the same of you!" Ron snapped. He glared at Draco Malfoy and looked him up and down, shaking his head and curling up his lip.
"Ron's never been to a Muggle cinema," Harry said, "and I saw an ad for The Sixth Sense saying it was good… thought I'd show Ron what it's like to see a Muggle film. We nearly brought his father, but we were afraid Mr Weasley would talk through the whole thing."
"I don't want to see a bloody film," Ron snapped, storming to a rubbish bin and tossing in the packaged candy he'd been holding. "Come on, Harry; we're leaving."
"We were just on our way out, so you can feel free to stay," Hermione said tersely, feeling her cheeks go hot.
"Listen," Draco said softly, "I understand that neither of you are particularly open to hearing any sort of -"
"No, you listen," Ron snapped. "You did nothing but put all our lives at risk for years. You called Hermione a Mudblood. Have you seen her arm? I'm sure you have. I'm sure you've seen more than her arm."
"Ronald!" Hermione took a step toward him and said in a shaking voice, "Your choices are your own to make. My choices are my own to make."
"Well your choices are bloody stupid!" Ron was almost shouting now, and Harry put a hand on his shoulder and muttered,
"You're making a bit of a scene, mate."
"Good. Let it be a bit bloody scene that Hermione Granger - Muggle-born heroine of the war against Voldemort - came striding out of a cinema hand-in-hand with the Death Eater who let the villains into Hogwarts and kickstarted the whole damned battle and -"
"Ron." Harry sighed and waited for Ron to look at him. "Let's just go watch the film, all right? Hermione… we'll talk soon. Good… erm… well, it was… you have a nice evening… Bye, Malfoy."
He had no idea how to talk to Draco Malfoy, Hermione could tell. Ron's eyes were welled with tears as Harry led him away, and Hermione felt silent tears streaming down her face. She could hardly breathe where she stood, and Draco said quietly from behind her,
"I'll… I'll let you make your own way home. Probably best that way."
Hermione whirled around, swiping at the tears in her eyes.
"You and I may be alone in moving on past the war, Draco, but we're going to be alone together, all right?"
He looked very surprised, but he finally nodded. "Yeah. All right."
"Lunch tomorrow? Noon? At the Atrium Café next to Ministry Munchies?" Hermione tipped her chin up, refusing to be upset anymore. Draco looked more surprised than ever.
"You want… to eat lunch with me… at the Ministry? In public?"
"Yes. Yes, I do." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and snapped, "Are you in this with me or not, Draco?"
He hesitated, but finally he said, "Lunch. Tomorrow. Noon."
Author's Note: It's easy to see Ron's point of view here, because he was so victimized (along with many others) by those who fought against him in the war. But there are Muggle/real-world precedents for the importance of moving on after a huge conflict (See: the creation of the United Nations, France and Germany becoming allies so soon after WWII, etc) and there are definitely wizarding precedents for Dark and Pureblood witches/wizards disavowing their upbringing and past deeds. So it's also easy to see why Hermione feels such an urgent need for reconciliation. But what will the reaction be when people in the Ministry see Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy eating lunch together? Hmm… Thanks so much for reading and please do leave a review if you get a chance. My updating schedule may be a little sporadic over this Christmas break due to mass chaos in real life, but I'll update whenever I can. :)