Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Harry Potter universe. They are property of JK Rowling and Warner Bros. Studios. I make no money from the writing of this story.
WARNING: DH spoilers
Authors Note: Thank you Cher, my beta, for your patience.
She Drives, He Walks – Chapter 03
They keep silent in the car. Hermione looks straight ahead at the street, and Draco looks at her, puzzled. It is an awkward situation, to say the least. She bites her lower lip and glances at him. He narrows his eyes. She takes a deep breath. “Want me to take you to your house?” she asks after a moment.
Malfoy tilts his head and moves his eyes to his knees. Does he want to go to his house? “Hell, no...”
He doesn't realise until a second later that he had actually said that out loud, when he hears a soft “Okay…” coming from his side. He moves his eyes to Granger. She looks uncertain.
He can't help himself; he smirks. “Gee, Granger, I'm not going to eat you alive... Only if you asked me to, and paid in advance, of course.”
She grins at him and responds between her teeth. “Fine. To my place then, before we both get a cold.”
He chuckles with sarcasm. She groans, angry. Silence falls upon them again. She continues driving for about ten more minutes until they reach her home. She parks her car in the gravel turnaround cutting into her front yard as always. Draco takes a look at the house. Granger is already out of the car and running to the door. The rain hasn't stopped yet, but it is softer. Draco gets out of the car and moves close to her. After a few seconds, the door is open. They rush inside and she closes the door.
As soon as they enter, she reaches for the little table beside the door, opens its drawer and takes her wand out of there. Malfoy looks at her questioningly. Hermione sees his stare out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t wander around with my wand. There is no need to do so.” She casts a drying charm on her and then on him, and then on the floor. She starts walking towards what seems to be her room while ordering a kettle to boil water, summoning some towels, and starting a fire in the fireplace with graceful flicks of her wand hand. Draco gets a hand on a towel and starts to dry himself better. He stands there, glancing around Hermione’s living room.
It is... kinda nice. A bookshelf over on one wall, the fireplace with picture frames on top of it, a simple television by its side, a coffee table between the fireplace and a big red couch stuffed with cushions. To the right there is the kitchen, which opens into the living room, and three blue doors against creamy walls. Malfoy feels okay in here. Seems peaceful. He can hear Hermione making noises over in her room, but he doesn't mind. He keeps gazing around and drying his hair.
A few minutes later, Granger walks out of her room and hands him some white cotton sleepwear. She points at the door next to her room. “There, take a shower. I'm fixing dinner.” And flees to the kitchen. “I hope you like pasta, because it’s the only edible thing I can make.” She doesn't look back at him as she states that. She hears only the sound of steps and the click of the bathroom door. She feels relieved at being alone and tries not to think of the person that is in her house right now.
...
Draco stares at himself in the round mirror hanging on the wall. He is still slightly wet from the rain. He closes his eyes, and his past comes to him in a flash. He sees his Aunt Bellatrix with a crazy smile on her face, her wand pointing at a girl. And he remembers himself in a corner of that room, feeling disgusted with his relative, and hearing the girl’s screams of agony and pain... And he couldn't do anything. He was a coward. He is the lowest worm on the entire earth...
Draco snaps from his past with a shiver. He feels dizzy and has to grab onto the sink to stand. He looks at himself in the mirror. This is a chance for redemption. Then, he snaps his head. He doesn't deserve it. But he could treat her with respect and protect her, silently. Yeah, he could do just that. But he would never admit it to her. Never.
With that resolution, he lays the pyjamas on the counter, starts to undress quickly, and heads to the shower. Five minutes later, he is out of the bathroom, using the white clothing, unsure of what to do.
Hermione emerges from the kitchen. “Oh, you're done? Great.” And she grabs his clothes and sends them through the air to... somewhere he doesn't know. “I will take a shower myself. Go and have some tea, okay?” And she paces by him and closes herself in her bathroom. Draco blinks. He scratches his head, and walks to the kitchen. He sits there and pours himself tea, and starts sipping it slowly.
...
Hermione tries to ignore the smell of him that has taken over her bathroom. She thinks it seems like some exotic odour of blackberries, tobacco flower and woods, mixed with her soap and shampoo. She waves her hand in front of her face, trying to calm herself. Quickly, she undresses herself and takes a shower. She opens one of the drawers of the bathroom counter and takes out panties, a plain bra, and masculine pyjamas.
She slides the shirt over her head and pulls up the shorts over her legs. She looks at her reflection in the mirror. She likes using male sleepwear. It is loose, simple, and comfortable, and she wouldn't change that because of Malfoy. She feels that he couldn't find the sight of her in that oversized outfit as an invitation to ANYTHING, so she feels safe.
She walks out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. He is there, looking outside the window, with a cup of tea in his hand. Such long fingers... Her head snaps, and she walks to the stove. She takes the spaghetti that she left on there to keep warm and places it on the table. Hermione had cooked it while he was in the bathroom. Malfoy turns his face to her. He looks at her for a while until she stares back at him.
They stand like that for a full minute, until she asks, softly: “What happened to you?”
Draco keeps his eyes on hers. He almost feels like telling her everything. Instead, he replies, his voice low and calm: “I could ask you the same.”
The grey eyes don't leave the brown ones for what seems like ages. She fights against the impulse to tell him everything. Finally, Hermione says: “No questions about the past. Deal?”
Draco nods slightly. “Deal.”
They sit and eat, quietly.
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