Found | Dramione

1 2 - Laughs and Letters

They see demon,

I see angel, angel, angel

Without a halo, wingless angel

-in my head, Ariana Grande

Two weeks passed quickly, filled with long hours at the office and Seamus's funeral. The day of the service had been bright and sunny, a reminder to try and stay cheerful even in the face of such a tragedy. It seemed as if all of their year at Hogwarts had shown up, packing the rows of seats with tearstained, solemn faces. Even a few ex-Slytherins were sprinkled in the crowd, murmuring in hushed tones about how Seamus had always made them laugh with his tendency to explode anything in sight. Hermione thought she had been done crying the day she heard the horrible news, but after she burst into hysterics in the middle of Dean Thomas's eulogy for his best friend, she discovered that there seemed to be a never-ending supply of tears in her body. Harry, Ginny, and Ron had surrounded each other protectively, offering hugs and words of comfort. Ron had embraced her in such an uncomfortable, Ron-like fashion that nearly sent her over the edge of more sobs. Even as he awkwardly patted Hermione on the back, she could only think of Draco's lean body against hers as he had held her so tenderly in their office. She had reprimanded herself mentally; Seamus's funeral was no place to be longing for the touch of someone who probably didn't consider her a friend.

Before Hermione had Apparated home, she thought she saw a flash of white-blonde out of the corner of her eye. When she had turned around, the only person in sight was Dean, shoulders shaking as he cried silently. Hermione had contemplated going to comfort him, but she knew that some pain was meant to be dealt with alone.

✧ ✧ ✧

Tuesday, December 19th, 2000

Hermione glanced up at the sound of the door swinging open followed by the familiar sound of Italian dress shoes tapping on the floor as Draco entered the office. She gave him a wide grin before remembering herself and squashing it into what she hoped was a demure curve of her lips. She nearly fell out of her chair when Draco gave her a small smile in return. It shouldn't have come as a surprise—after Hermione had soaked his shirt with tears, there had been a change in their unsteady relationship. A puzzle piece of her life snapping into place, something Hermione didn't know she needed so desperately. A friendship with Draco Malfoy. He hadn't acknowledged the moment they had shared so she steered away from it as well in an effort to remain on good terms with him. But he hadn't avoided her, either. Instead, they had fallen into a routine of sorts. They still bickered endlessly, but there was no venom to the meaningless insults the pair exchanged daily. Hermione was starting to think that Draco enjoyed getting her riled up with his teasing, so she retaliated with a few taunts of her own. The verbal sparring was an unexpected release for her and she suspected that he looked forward to dishing out a few insults of his own.

"Granger," Draco greeted her with a nod as he began organizing the papers on his desk as if they weren't already meticulously sorted. She was starting to think that he got a little too much satisfaction out of arranging the contents of his desk, but she wasn't one to talk; Hermione's desk was as messy as Harry's hair on a good day.

"Malfoy," Hermione responded, stifling another smile. She found it humorous that they kept up such a formal front with each other, but she also admired the level of professionalism Draco operated at.

He seemed to sense her amusement, and Hermione cursed herself for not practicing her poker face in the mirror like she had planned.

"Something funny about me?" Draco asked, smirking. Hermione felt heat crawling steadily up her neck at being called out, but she merely replied in a lofty tone,