Fourteen Thousand Galleons

The Patron Saint of Unicorns and Rainbows

Tea. Biscuits. Pyjamas. It's Hermione's trifecta of a long sit-in. Usually, though, it's complete with old muggle movies and perhaps a good book. Tonight, however, she's sitting across her small table from her very best friend, and she wants to wring his neck.

"So, you thought because I looked sad because my ex-husband is a dickhead, that you'd just upend fifteen years of friendship and snog me a little!"

Her shrill voice would have woken the children had she not been clever enough to throw up a silencing spell over her kitchen. Granted, it's not just her voice that can wake the dead; she's been flinging plates around as she cleans them and Harry has to thank his quick seeker reflexes that he manages to catch a fork as it flies towards his face. Her hair is growing by the second, as if her curls are frizzier the angrier she becomes. And Harry takes it all, sitting at the table with his hands folded in his lap and his big, green eyes filled with unspoken apologies.

Unspoken, because she'd yet to allow him a word in through her ranting.

"I just don't understand." She throws a sopping wet rag onto the table because she's disgusted that she's held it in her hand for so long. "Why did you kiss me?"

Harry looks terrified to answer the question. Almost as if he knows whatever he says will be the wrong thing. He opens his mouth, thinks better of whatever is about to spill out, and then snaps it shut. He picks at a thread on his jeans, a place where the material is so worn it's starting to fray, and he halfheartedly shrugs his shoulder.

"I was caught up in the moment," he says as he raises his eyes to hers. She's glaring, he's trying not to smile crookedly at her and failing. "You're pretty. You're sad. I wanted to make you feel better. And-"

"Do you realize," the words leave her slowly, cutting him off by just the sharp tone, "what I've gone through in the past week?"

Harry nods and his eyes dip to the biscuits on the table. "I have some idea, yeah."

"Some," she emphasizes. "Not all, Harry. I'm losing my fucking mind here! I'm divorced. Me , divorced. I'm a damn paper pusher. I'm raising two children, I'm fourteen thousand galleons in debt at least . And now I've agreed to nanny for Draco bloody Malfoy."

"I thought you'd said he wasn't so bad?"

Her brain stops. It just empties. All of that, her entire rant, and this is how he chooses to respond. Merlin, she's going to actually murder him. She grinds her teeth together and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Harry." Hermione takes a deep breath and counts to five in her head as she expels it. "It doesn't matter if Draco Malfoy becomes the patron saint of unicorns and rainbows, I'm not entirely thrilled to be working for a man who once made fun of me for having buck teeth."

As if instinct guides her, Hermione runs her tongue over the groove over front teeth. Some things never leave you, and the way Draco Malfoy once treated her stings. No matter how much he's changed. He's kind enough now, he's humble, but she's still struggling to separate the boy from the man.

"Hermione, we were twelve and everything was so... intense." Harry scoots his chair around the table so that he's perched next to her. "I know, I know , that doesn't make up for it. But maybe working with-"

"For," she emphasizes.

"- for him won't be as bad as you'd think." He tries a tentative smile and it earns him less of a frown from her. "He's really not so bad, actually helps quite a bit at the DMLE as a consultant."

"Professionally, of course he's brilliant." She sighs and uncrosses her arms and starts picking at the end of her sleeve. "Work ethic aside, Harry, it's just hard, okay? And that's on top of everything else."