And She Was Golden

and a dinner (tongue in cheek)

Granger looks at him disbelieving, but Draco doesn't have any answers. Her guess is as good as his own.

Granger has just been summoned to dinner.

He blinks, once then twice. He almost laughs. This can't bode anything but disaster.

She casts a quick tempus charm to reveal the time.

"Good Godric, I hadn't realised how late it is!"

She starts gathering up the journals and books spread around her, carefully maneuvering them into piles. Draco slowly gets up to do the same.

"Really, I ought to get going. It's not—"

"You heard the elf, Granger. Your presence is requested at the family dinner." His voice is clipped. Something uneasy settles in the pit of his stomach.

Breathe in.

Draco is entirely convinced that nothing good could ever come out of placing Hermione Granger in the same room as Lucius Malfoy.

Breathe out.

After all, Draco imagines his father wants to reacquaint himself with Granger as much as she does—which is to say not at all. He isn't naive enough to believe his father has had a sudden change of heart—he never has bothered to hide his contempt for her. Snide remarks and curled lips and thinly veiled insults.

Draco's hands clench into fists at his sides, a thousand questions racing through his head.

There is a room filled with shelves that touch the skies.

He casts a furtive glance at her.

He has accepted the acquaintance with his mother. He can even understand it to some extent. It's a consequence of their circumstances, with his aunt always present to oversee the affair.

The same could not be said of his father. Even he thought left a sour taste in his mouth. Draco can trust his father, even now, but he could never manage to trust his father's intentions.

He shakes his head, trying to dispel the gnawing feeling in his stomach. There must be a reason for extending the invitation; perhaps it might even be genuine.

They'll be horribly displeased with him if she refuses to show, not that Draco would blame her if she did.

It still amazes him how she can stand to be here in the first place. Here in a place which probably only serves as a reminder of times best forgotten. Times that stalk him and follow him everywhere he goes.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Granger lets out a whoosh of air, blowing curls out of her face. Slowly, she straightens up and stretches her hands over her head.

"First of all, Malfoy, that elf probably has a name. Use it." Typical Granger. Draco fights a smile.

"Next, you said it yourself—it's a family dinner. I wouldn't want to impose."

"I don't think you'd be imposing. Besides, do you think it's a good idea to go against my mother's wishes?"

But if anyone could, it would probably be her.

Granger bites her lower lip and wrings her hands.

"If so—" Draco shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "You're certainly braver than most." Some part of him wants her to reject the offer, make her excuses.

She grimaces. "I'm hardly dressed for it." He rolls his eyes at the weak excuse before allowing his eyes the luxury of sliding down her figure.

She looks a bit rumpled, a few ink stains on her hands. The gold ribbon seems to have given up, the braid starting to fall apart.