Chapter Text
Hermione sat across from Harry in 12 Grimmauld Place, reminiscing about their early school years. In a few days she would be taking up her teaching position at Hogwarts and her busy mind was making her more nervous than she ought to be. She couldn’t quite bring herself to admit the real reason she was so on edge but Harry had opened a bottle of wine and was trying to get her to relax.
“Did I ever tell you the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin?” Harry said laughing at the silly fear he had of that dusty old hat being placed on his head.
“No!” Hermione screeched. “How come you never said?”
“Are you serious Hermione? I was mortified, just imagine Harry Potter the boy who lived being put in Voldemort’s own house,” he shook his head but chuckled. “I was so bloody nervous, all could think about was that I had to be in Gryffindor.”
Hermione smiled at him fondly. “Well, I’m glad you were otherwise I doubt we’d have been friends.” They were both quiet for a moment imagining how differently things would be without each other.
“This just proves my point though,” Hermione said. “The rivalry between the Hogwarts houses goes beyond healthy competition. If you’d had been placed in Slytherin we would never have been friends, we’d have barely spoke to each other unless it was trading insults. Even as a muggle born who knew nothing the house rivalry is obvious. You’d never have even dated Ginny I bet, imagine life without your lovely wife at your side.”
Harry grinned wickedly, “Oh I think I’d have ended up with Ginny whatever, she’s hard to miss.”
“You can tell yourself that Harry but there is no way a Gryffindor would have gone out with a Slytherin when we were at school. That’s what has been so great about teaching at Beauxbatons, no houses. When the students are fighting we know it isn’t to do with some crazy house prejudice,” Hermione was working up into a passionate rant now. “You know that was the cause of so many problems at Hog...”
“I know Hermione,” Harry put up his hands. “You don’t need to convince me, I get it. Things are changing there though, I think you’ll be surprised. The Professors have worked hard to stop the rivalries getting out of hand...even Malfoy. He’s almost tolerable now and it’s bloody annoying when he’s somewhat pleasant to talk to.”
“I haven’t seen him since that night after the trails,” Hermione said softly. Thinking back to that time felt surreal now. Everyone had been so focused on winning the war that she hadn’t given much thought to what would happen afterwards. Looking back now all Hermione could remember was the chaos and grief; there was little room to feel the relief of destroying Voldemort. It took months to reorganise the Ministry and Kingsley Shacklebolt was appointed Minister for Magic just days before the trails of the Death Eaters began. Many former Hogwarts students were hauled in front of the full Wizengamot and Harry, Ron and Hermione found themselves in the unusual position of holding sway with the Ministry officials.
Hermione, always one for a cause, felt very strongly that the only way to ever stop this kind of hatred building up again was to let it go. She knew that many of the Slytherin students weren’t wholly evil – not even partly in some cases. Just because they’d called her names at school didn’t mean they deserved eternal condemnation. All of them had been children when they were thrown into this war, on separate sides before they even had the chance to know any better. She remembered Malfoy’s swagger as he stood outside the Great Hall waiting to be sorted, his cronies already at his side. They came into Hogwarts believing they were the very best there was, all thanks to some twisted pureblood upbringing. Their arrogance was already there but being sorted into Slytherin just isolated them even further.
The trails had lasted for weeks, every few days The Golden Trio, as they’d been dubbed, were called up to speak. The very last family to be tried were the Malfoys and Hermione would never forget how she’d felt that day. Lucius had laid most of the ground work by taking responsibility for all of their actions, it seemed to be his last redeeming act as he finally looked around and realised how much he’d damaged his legacy. Malfoy looked exhausted and all she could think was that this was her former classmate, a boy she had known for years and seen grow up, someone who for reasons she still couldn’t fathom had always caught her interest and now he was facing a sentence that could see him placed in Azkaban. The thought turned her blood cold.
Harry, Hermione and Ron stood up for Draco and his Mother, shocking a fair few at the trail. They all knew that Draco had recognised Harry that day in Malfoy Manor and Narcissa certainly played her part right at the end. There didn’t seem to be much sorrow in the eyes of his son as Lucius was sent to Azkaban. Draco and Narcissa were released with a few precautions in place but mostly free to do as they wished. She would never be sure how much difference they had made by being at the Wizengamot but it didn’t matter when such relief coursed through her veins as Malfoy walked free.
The memories through the trails were a little fuzzy now but she still remembered one thing vividly. That evening after the Malfoy hearing had finished Hermione had taken herself away from everyone and hidden herself in the corner of her favourite Muggle coffee shop close to the Ministry. Nursing a giant cup of tea she let herself become lost in her thoughts. She was already thinking it was time for change of scene and was secretly planning her move to France. The thought of being out of the country for any length of time was just too tempting for her. She had no idea how long she’d been there when a shadow fell across her table.
“Mind if I sit down for a moment?” Malfoy was stood at her table, speaking with a curious quiet.
She looked up startled at the interruption from the man she least expected to see in front of her. “Of course not,” she said, caught off guard and surprising herself with how much she meant it she pulled out the chair next to her.
He folded himself down into the wooden chair, graceful as always and stared at his own takeaway cup before taking a big breath and starting to talk.
“I know this will be hard for you Granger but I’ve got something to say and I may never say it again so I don’t want to be interrupted,” his hands circled the cardboard cup and he wouldn’t look at her despite the fact she was openly staring at him. She felt like she’d been petrified in place, every part of her was waiting.
“Thank you for everything you said today,” Draco said his words rushing out. “I never expected any of you to speak up for me but least of all you.” She inhaled next to him intending to ask why on earth he thought she would want him in Azkaban but he flashed her a look. “No interrupting,” he snapped but his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly and he held her eyes as he carried on speaking. “I am sorry you know. Sorry for the way I acted when I was a bratty kid, sorry for all the stupid names I called you. I’m sorry I just stood there when she...” he glanced down now, looking uncomfortable. “Look, I can’t change the past but I can say sorry for my actions.”
Hermione was openly gaping at him now. Of all the things she expected this wasn’t it. She still wasn’t sure whether she would be interrupting him and so just stared at him, at the crease between his eyebrows and ruffled blonde hair falling across them. There were so many words bubbling up in her but she daren’t say anything yet. This may be the longest conversation they’d ever had without arguing. When he spoke again it was quieter still.
“I’ve often wished, or thought...” He stopped again and she was struck with the thought that she’d never seen him so unsure of his self. There was silence for a long time as she studied him, desperately wishing he’d carry on talking but not wanted to speak and break the spell. He looked up, his grey eyes molten with emotion and suddenly seemed quite confident again as he straightened up and said, “I think in a different time we could have been friends, I hope one day we get a chance to try that.” He stood up quickly and looked down at her, nodding his head in goodbye.
He was nearly at the door when she called out over the nearly empty cafe, she couldn’t just let him leave like that and the words left her before she could think about them. “I hope so too Draco.”
He paused but did didn’t look back before opening the door and heading out into the bustling streets of Muggle London.
She’d found out a few days later that Harry had tipped Malfoy off about where to find her, already knowing her favourite Muggle haunts. Malfoy had also spoken to Harry and even Ron that evening before he found her. From what Harry had said their encounters and been more of a gruff thank you and let’s say no more about it. For some reason she didn’t want to tell Harry exactly what had happened in that coffee shop and left him with the impression that her chat with the pale haired Slytherin had been much the same as theirs.
Hermione sighed deeply before taking a big gulp of wine. “I’m starting to wonder if I’ve done the right thing taking on this job.”
“Not because of Malfoy?” Harry replied. “Really Hermione, he’s alright. Whenever we’re at the Quidditch games he says hello, seems to manage not to call me scarhead; although that could just be because he’s surrounded by his students. He’s quite well thought of there now. Sometimes it’s almost like he’s a normal person.”
Hermione laughed at that. “I think going back to Hogwarts just feels a bit weird. I’ve never once set foot in the grounds since the battle...I can’t believe it’s been six years,” there was silence for a beat too long. She suddenly stood up to refill their glasses. “Right, enough of that or I’m going to get maudlin. Let’s talk about something else, tell me some of that wild Ministry gossip.”
Hermione let Harry talk about his work but her mind was wandering. She’d never intended to get onto the subject of Malfoy; trust Harry to inadvertently stumble across what was really bothering her. She’d often thought about that night in the cafe wondering if she should have gone after him. In fact she had always thought about him more than he deserved. At one point she’d become quite distracted by how good looking he was. Utter madness of course.
That year when Harry became convinced, quite rightly, that Malfoy had become a Death Eater she’d found herself watching him more. She’d put it down to teenage hormones getting the better of her; it was as if her brain had just switched onto boys and he, annoyingly, seemed to stand out above all others. He never had any shortage of female attention and the rumours about him and other girls were all over school but even so she was embarrassed to admit how much she found herself watching him. It definitely wasn’t for the same reasons Harry was put it that way. He’d grown tall their last year together at Hogwarts; and she’d find herself wondering whether the blonde strands he kept swept back were as soft to touch as they looked. She’d fixate on his lips and imagine what it would be like to pull them towards her own, how it would feel to be kissed by him; to see those grey eyes darken in passion instead of anger. If he caught her looking he’d sneer at her so horribly she’d be instantly reminded what a git he was.
She’d told no one as he was vile to all of them and eventually the infatuation passed, or she suppressed it so much she just forgot about it.
The night in the coffee shop brought it all back, even that short moment with him had filled her with a feeling she hadn’t quite found with any other man. She’d dated occasionally since then but something was always missing. Maybe she was expecting too much from them but she kept coming back to Malfoy. Even without touching him she had felt...something, she wasn’t sure what it was but she certainly hadn’t felt it with anyone else since then.
This was going to be it, her chance to find out exactly what she had felt between them, to see if it was still there. Tomorrow she’d be back at Hogwarts and, for better or for worse, back to sharing a castle with Draco Malfoy.