"He really likes you! I would stake anything on it!" Ginny Weasley blushed and whispered a solemn vow to the heavens.
"Ginny, I have told you so many times, he is only a good friend of mine! A good friend from the House next door, all right? Besides, he thinks of me as a little sister..." Hermione said, impatient, her voice low, flipping through Miranda Goshawk's The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4.
Raindrops pattered against the sitting-room window of the humble little house. Everyone was busy with their own affairs.
Harry was happily fussing over his Firebolt.
Ron was polishing his willow wand, the wand-care kit Draco had given him for his thirteenth birthday lying open beside him.
Fred and George sat in a corner, quills in hand, heads bent together over a piece of parchment, whispering to one another. Hermione guessed they were probably plotting something new for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
"But he carried you back! You have no idea how alarmed he looked... and yet so terribly gentle! He even took off your shoes, tucked a blanket round you, saw to you so quietly. Do you not think that is rather strange?"
Ginny looked at her as though she were being deliberately dim.
"Er... your brothers would do the same for you, would they not? Do they not know how to do such things?" Hermione was a little concerned, though she did her best to appear unruffled.
"Oh, please! My brothers would never sniff my hair like that, or steal a kiss on my forehead while I slept. That is far too strange!" Ginny protested.
"Perhaps you were mistaken? Was he not facing away from you?" Hermione blushed, but tried her best to argue it away all the same.
"Yes, it was only a silhouette. I did not see it properly, from the front..." Ginny seemed briefly persuaded, though still not entirely convinced. "But I do feel it cannot be quite so simple as all that. He has been far too familiar with you..."
"We are good friends, that is all, he is only helping me!" Hermione said, seriously.
"I have my doubts," Ginny said, hesitant. "People only feel the urge to touch someone they truly care for; otherwise, they keep well away. I would think that even more true of someone as proud as Malfoy. Think back, when you did not actually need his help, did he ever touch you, pat you, do anything that would count as unnecessary, between mere friends?"
"It is quite all right, he did not..."
At this, Hermione suddenly stopped talking. She found herself remembering a good many small details.
Sometimes it was a stray strand of hair he casually tucked behind her ear. Sometimes it was his fingers laced through hers, holding her hand gently in the dark.
And then, after the Dark Mark appeared, and the Ministry officials arrived, he had, quite naturally, plucked a leaf out of her hair.
These small things always felt so natural. So natural, they were rather like his breath, brushing unnoticed against her hair as they brewed potions together, quietly lowering all her guard.
"He is probably just used to looking after people," Hermione murmured. After enough of Ginny's nagging, she found herself missing the scent of cedarwood rather badly.
Ginny scoffed, unconvinced.
"Do you truly believe Malfoy is the sort who simply enjoys looking after people? You cannot believe that yourself, surely? Or has he simply dazzled you into thinking so?"
Hermione sighed, rather sadly, and did not argue any further. She looked at the raindrops thickening on the window, and felt her own inner confusion was every bit as heavy as that rain.
Hermione Granger's low spirits lifted a little, once she caught sight of Draco on the platform.
By then, she had already stowed her luggage in Harry's compartment, and returned to the platform to say her goodbyes, and thank Mrs Weasley for her generous, warm hospitality that holiday.
"Do not mention it, you must come again any time you like," Mrs Weasley said, smiling, giving her a hug.
By the time Hermione turned to head back to the train, Draco had already boarded. He leant leisurely against an empty compartment, his platinum blonde head resting on one hand, gazing dreamily out of the window.
Then, quite suddenly, he saw her. Through the glass, he gave her a lazy smile, his finely sculpted face lighting up at once. He beckoned to her, gesturing for her to come over.
Hermione's face turned bright red at once.
She had no wish to speak to him; she was meant to be heading back to her own compartment, with Harry, Ron, and Ginny.
Beckoning her over with a crook of his finger? What a shameless boy! What did he take her for? Some puppy, or kitten?
She thought, indignant.
However, her legs would not obey her, and, quite against her own will, she found herself standing at the door of his compartment regardless, her face full of indignation.
She was very angry with herself. This was hardly the behaviour of the independent young woman she was meant to be. She always let that infuriatingly handsome face cloud her better judgement, and it really would not do.
Draco was the only one in the compartment.
Goyle and Crabbe had been sent off to other compartments... to watch Blaise and Pansy carrying on all lovey-dovey, and the young couple would no doubt be furious at having their private time disturbed, Draco thought, rather pleased with himself.
Hermione sat down opposite him at once, quite determined to stand her ground, and put a stop to his taking such liberties with her, whenever he liked.
She asked, her face stern, "What do you want?"
"Listen to yourself, can I not simply seek out your company, without any particular reason?" the boy opposite said, setting down the newspaper he had been holding.
He seemed in a fine mood. He smiled at her, guileless, his grey eyes remarkably clear.
"If there is nothing else, I shall go back to Ginny," Hermione said, lifting her chin. She lowered her head, afraid to look at him properly, for fear she might not be able to help asking him whether he really had kissed her forehead.
"Wait a moment. I forgot to ask you something, when I saw you at the camp last time," Draco said, slowly. "Did you get on well enough, staying with the Weasleys this summer?"
"The Weasleys really are very funny." Hermione relaxed at once, saying this. "You should have seen Crookshanks chasing gnomes through the rose bushes; Harry laughed so hard he nearly choked on his food!"
"Nearly choked, did he?"
"On fine days, we would have dinner out in the garden, and the air was always full of the scent of grass and honeysuckle," Hermione said, with real interest.
"Afterwards, Mrs Weasley would bring out strawberry ice cream, and Ginny would always dash ahead to grab the biggest strawberry, just to give it to me. Her brothers never stood a chance against her..."
"You still love strawberry ice cream that much," Draco said, smiling. "When the trolley comes round, I shall buy you a large one, shall I?"
"I can buy it myself, thank you!" Hermione said, puffing out her cheeks.
She was not a child any more! Why did he, younger than her, always speak to her as though coaxing some little girl along?
"Of course you can buy it yourself." Draco pulled a face at her, to show he meant no harm by it.
"And Mrs Weasley?" he asked, after a pause. "Was she good to you?"
"She is a kind person, always smiling at us... except when Fred and George get themselves into trouble," Hermione said, noticing Draco's doubtful look.
"Of course, she does have her stricter side too. She does not much care for us using magic to do chores; she would rather we did them properly, by hand..."
"Even if you cast a spell at the Burrow, no one from the Ministry would come knocking. It is a wizarding household."
"I know. But she is a very disciplined mother, and she raises her children according to Hogwarts's own holiday rules."
"And raised unruly children like Fred and George along the way, all the same."
"Draco! Do not forget their elder brother Bill was Head Boy in his day, and earned twelve OWLs!"
"But what host would ever expect a guest to do chores, like some house-elf?" Draco said. "I must remind you, you are the Weasleys' guest. That strikes me as rather rude."
"The Weasleys have so many children, Mrs Weasley simply cannot manage everything alone. When a mother raises so many children, and still keeps it all running smoothly, who could not admire her for it?"
"Are her own children not enough to keep her occupied, without needing you as well?"
"I stayed there such a long time, and caused everyone no end of trouble. What is the harm in helping out a little, wherever I am able?"
"Is Harry made to do chores too, just as you were?"
"Naturally."
Draco pressed his lips together and said nothing more.
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