August | Hermione Granger x OFC

Chapter 107

cw: she's in her reputation era for a second here. she's dark betty all she needs is a wig

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

"I heard Granger's run off to the Muggle world forever, never to come back."

Robyn didn't believe that for a second.

She narrowed her eyes but otherwise did not outwardly react as the boy joined her at the windowsill. "Where did you hear that, Draco?"

"Adrian and Marcus. They stayed behind at that Weasley wedding while the interrogations were happening. They just got back ten minutes ago."

"And what else did they hear?"

"That Weasley's more repulsive than ever after coming down with an awful case of Spattergroit. Did you see him there?"

She didn't believe that either, because she'd seen Ron only hours ago looking perfectly healthy and even rather dapper in his robes.

"No, I didn't," she said immediately. "It was like an international ginger festival. I couldn't tell one from the other."

"Hm. That's odd. Lloyd said he saw him, though he was embarrassed to admit Weasley was quicker than him with a charm. I just find it hard to believe."

Yes, well, Draco was right to not believe it, because it wasn't true. She was quicker than both of them with a charm.

She only shrugged. "One of the gingers put him to sleep, I don't know who."

"Right, well, he's off sulking about it either way. And Thorfinn said you kidnapped some girls to 'have fun' with and wouldn't let him join. What did you do with them?"

She looked at him appraisingly, but he was stoic, revealing nothing. "What do you think I did with them?"

"I think they were friends of yours – those Ravenclaws, maybe – and you hid them somewhere for safety."

Okay. He was sharp.

"...And if I did?"

"Then be careful. Aunt Bella is already suspicious of you."

"Aunt Bella," mocked Robyn, snickering slightly, "hasn't been seen for days. Besides, the Dark Lord knows she has a vendetta against me. He'll never take her side over mine. That is evident."

"Don't be arrogant."

She laughed fully, then. "Draco Malfoy is telling me not to be arrogant? Please. Take your own advice."

"Things are different now. You know that."

Slowly, her smile faded, because he was right. The Draco Malfoy sitting across from her at the windowsill was a far cry from the Draco Malfoy who'd tried to impress her with his knowledge of Dark Magic back in Borgin and Burkes, 1992. In fact, he was a far cry from the pompous Draco Malfoy who'd been in the Inquisitorial Squad with her only a year ago.

He was a werewolf.

She subconsciously – or maybe consciously – shifted away from him. But then she shook her head slightly at her own prejudice.

He was Draco. Porcelain skin paler than usual, grey eyes more sombre than usual, blond hair duller than usual, but still Draco.

And yet, still, she challenged, "Are you suspicious of me?"

"I'm not suspicious of you, I know you," he said, for lack of a better word, knowingly. She looked away, out the window to watch the peacocks roaming the Malfoys' gardens. Draco stared at her. "I know you don't like being a Death Eater. I know you don't like hurting people. I know you didn't want to kill Dumbledore," he whispered.