Slow Grenade

Chapter Eight

Between spending time with Harry and Ron, seeing Draco, researching the Philosopher's Stone, and staying ahead with homework, Hermione was exhausted. For the first time in her life she was looking forward to having some time off over the Christmas period.

There was only one day left of lessons and, whilst elsewhere in the castle warm fires were raging, down in Professor Snape's dungeon Hermione's breath rose in a mist before her. She shivered and moved closer to her cauldron in an attempt to garner some heat.

Carefully chopping up her ingredients into neat cubes, she overheard Draco talking in a loud voice behind her. Hermione rolled her eyes, wondering what was coming.

"I do feel so sorry," he drawled, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was engrossed in trying not to slice his fingers open, ignored them. Hermione sighed with relief. She glanced over her shoulder and gave Draco the best glare she could muster. Considering his smirk, she imagined it wasn't particularly threatening.

In the library later that evening, Hermione and Draco sat working together in silence. It was to be the last time they saw each other before heading home for the holidays and Draco knew they ought to discuss whatever had made her so prickly towards him.

He gave a dramatic sigh. "What have I done now?"

Hermione looked over at him reproachfully. "You mean you don't know?"

He shrugged endearingly. The graceful way in which Draco always seemed to move only served to irritate her further.

She smirked and said in a high-pitched version of his own voice, "I doooo feel so sorry for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas."

He blinked and let out a sudden bark of laughter. Hermione giggled in surprise and suddenly realised she couldn't stop. The two attempted to cover their mouths and stifle the noise, which only made them laugh harder until tears began to leak from their eyes.

"You shouldn't taunt him about that, you know," Hermione said when she could breathe again. "Imagine if that was you and Harry'd said those things."

Draco glanced at her. "Yeah it was a low blow, I guess. I just really hate him, and Weasley too. They're always saying underhand things and getting away with it, unless Professor Snape's there to step in."

She hadn't thought about it like that and, for once, didn't argue with him. "Well, you're all prats sometimes."

Smiling, Draco replied, "And you're a know-it-all. Great pair we make."

"The Prat and The Know-It-All," Hermione choked out. "The greatest of all the Marvel superheroes!"

"Pardon?"

Waving her hand she said, "Oh nothing, a Muggle reference."

Draco tilted his head and considered her. "Maybe you could tell me more about it?"

"You want to know?" she asked. "We never did talk about your family, by the way."

"No, we didn't. It's not the most enlightening tale."

"Please?"

Draco hesitated before giving a small nod. He began by telling Hermione about the First Wizarding War, which she had read about, and his families' involvement. He explained that his father and aunt were both trusted members of Lord Voldemort's inner circle.

"Once it was all over, father testified to being under the Imperius Curse and – " Draco paused, he had never voiced these fears to anyone before. "I've never been sure whether to believe him."

Hermione's eyes were wide as she listened attentively. "You think he really did all those things he was accused of?"

"I hope not, but, well, I can imagine it."

"What about your mother?"

Draco's demeanour softened slightly as he thought carefully about his answer. "She - she would do anything for the two people she loves most; and that includes my father."

"They'd want me dead, wouldn't they? You used to think I deserved that too," Hermione mused.

"You're different, you're... you."

She smiled at him sadly, bumping her shoulder against his. "I'm so pleased you've been questioning the way you think and what you've been taught, Draco; but it's not just about me. Muggle-borns in general deserve to be treated the same as everyone else."

He supposed he knew that, but admitted it was difficult to challenge the beliefs he'd been fed since birth. Draco had always strived to be the perfect son and emulate his father in every way. When he met Hermione, it was as though the rug had been pulled out from under his feet, and he wasn't sure where that left him.

Lost in his thoughts, Draco hadn't noticed Hermione reach into her satchel and pull out a well-read book. She held it out to him, the title read: 'Why We Can't Wait' by Martin Luther King.

"Would you read this for me, over Christmas?" she asked. "I'd like to hear your thoughts."

Draco nodded. "Can we talk about something else now, please?"

Shifting slightly in her seat, Hermione quickly began lamenting over the assigned Defence Against the Dark Arts essay which, yet again, encouraged them to refer to the properties of garlic. It wasn't quite what Draco had in mind, however he found he could listen to her voice and gaze peacefully into the distance, letting his eyes rest on the flickering orange glow of the lights.

Maintaining just enough self-awareness to realise Draco was almost asleep, Hermione smiled softly and gave him a gentle nudge. "Come on, let's head out."

He grumbled something but packed up his belongings and they made their way through the empty library together. At the doors the two looked at each other slightly awkwardly. Bouncing anxiously on the balls of her feet, Hermione stepped quickly towards Draco and gave him a brief hug.

Her cheeks burned red as she squeaked, "Bye then! Um... Merry Christmas!"

Draco touched his cheek with the palm of his hand, precisely where her hair had brushed just moments previously. She smelled like vanilla.

"Bye," he whispered to her rapidly retreating form.