FicWad

A Dramione this time! They’re one of my favorite couples, and I just had to write a story about them. This is going to be rather short, I don’t know exactly how many chapters but most likely not exceeding ten. Reviews are greatly appreciated. :) enjoy!



Chapter One



Hermione Granger sat at her desk in her room busily writing on a piece of spare parchment. It was the summer after the war had ended, and she had gone to Australia and took the memory charm off of her parents, so that they could return home safely. Luckily, in the craziness of the war, Hermione hadn’t had the time to sell their house, so they could easily move back in.

Her parents had been surprisingly understanding of why she had to place them under the memory charm, and hadn’t gotten too mad. Of course they were upset that their daughter hadn’t simply confided in them, instead of modifying their memories so that they would forget her, but they were unable to stay mad at Hermione.

It was about a month into the summer, and Hermione had finally gotten a letter from Harry and Ron, who were staying at the burrow for the summer. Hermione would have gone with them, but she wanted to stay with her parents. Although she was invited to go for the last month of the summer, she was still contemplating her response, because she didn’t want to leave her parents alone when she had just gotten them back.

At the moment, she was writing a reply back to Harry, who had congratulated her on her success on finding her parents, and had asked her if she was planning on returning to Hogwarts for her “Eighth Year”. She had already gotten a letter that said if she wanted to return to take her N.E.W.T.s, then she could. Since she, Harry, and Ron had been hunting for Horcruxes for the entirety of their seventh year, they could return with some other students to complete their education. However, Hermione was still worried as to whether or not Hogwarts had been successfully rebuilt, and if it would be by the time the school year started. Of course, the damages could be repaired easily with magic, but there had been so much damage, that it was possible that it would still take a very long time to complete the necessary repairs.

Of course, either way, she wouldn’t miss the chance of being able to go back to school to take her N.E.W.T.s. She was looking into becoming a Healer, and to do that, she needed to have the necessary N.E.W.T.s.

“Hermione!” her mother called from downstairs. “Dinner’s ready!”

“Coming, mum!” Hermione replied as she scribbled down the last couple sentences of her letter. She quickly tied it to Hedwig’s leg (A/N I know that Hedwig is supposed to be dead but I’m too attached to her. Hope no one minds.) And hurried down the stairs.

Her dad was sitting at the table re-reading the newspaper from the morning, and her mum was bustling around in the kitchen to get dinner—steak and mashed potatoes with corn—on the table.

“Hermione, can you please set the table?” Her mother asked as she moved some steak around in a pan on the stove. “This is almost done and I have to serve it.”

Hermione nodded and grabbed three plates, three cups, and three sets of silverware from the kitchen drawers and cupboards and set them out on the table. She hadn’t been talking that much since the war ended. Of course, she still said a few words when she was asked a question or her mother called her downstairs, but that was about it. The most “talking” she did these days was just writing to Harry, Ron, and Ginny. She and Ginny had been getting closer too. They had started really writing each other over the summer and now they were practically best friends. Of course, she wasn’t as close to her as Harry or Ron, but it was nice to finally have a friend who was a girl. She loved Harry and Ron, of course, but a girl could only take too much Quidditch talk until she was bored out of her mind. Even Ginny, who played Quidditch, got sick of talking about it after a while. The boys however just looked at them like they were crazy when they asked to talk about something besides Quidditch for once.

Her mother was now putting all the food on the plates and Hermione sat down.

“So, Hermione, have Harry and Ron written yet?” Her dad asked. She looked up, and nodded.

“Hermione, are you okay?” Jane Granger asked as she sat down in the seat across from Hermione. “You haven’t talked much at all since we’ve been here. Are you sick?”

Hermione shook her head, “No. I’m fine.”

Wow, Hermione, a small voice in the back of her head said. They’ll never believe that and you know it.

Oh shut up, Hermione snapped. Then she quickly shook her head. I’m going insane.

Her dad, catching her movements, raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Hermione said nodding. This was actually the longest conversation she’d had with her parents in a long time, and they’d only talked for about two minutes. She didn’t really feel sorry about it though. She knew that her parents were only looking out for her, and were worried for her, but really, she didn’t need anyone worrying. She looked down at her full plate and suddenly felt nauseous, and pushed it away from her.

“I’m not very hungry,” she said. “I’m going to go to bed if you don’t mind.”

Once again, her dad raised an eyebrow at her, “At six-thirty?”

Hermione nodded, “I’m tired.”

“Okay,” her mother said. “If you’re sure. We’ll see you in the morning?”

Hermione nodded again. She pushed her food onto her dad’s plate, knowing that he would eat it, and after putting her dishes in the sink, she went upstairs and closed her bedroom door behind her. She sighed, realizing that she hadn’t, in fact, eaten anything that day except for an apple. She was hungry, of course, but dinner with her parents these days was getting more and more awkward, and she had to get away from it all. She would most likely just go down to the kitchen in the middle of the night and eat something then.

She looked over at her desk, which was covered in parchment, notebooks, and about ten quills, and shook her head. She was getting less and less organized too. It was almost as if she was becoming a whole different person. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed, coming to the conclusion that she would write a quick letter to Ginny, and then straighten up a little. After all, she was already eighteen years old, and could definitely use magic legally.

She sat down on her desk and grabbed a blank piece of parchment and a quill and started writing.

Dear Ginny,

I’m sorry I haven’t written to you in a while, I’ve been pretty busy. Well, actually, no I haven’t really, I’ve just been getting really tired lately. It’s becoming a burden to stay here. It’s just really uncomfortable with my parents now, because they don’t know what happened during the war. I don’t want to tell them either, there’s no way that they’d like to hear about that.

I know I was supposed to come to the burrow next week, but I think I need to get away from this house, just to see all of you again. Is the invitation for me still open? Because I was thinking, if it’s alright with your mother of course, that maybe I could come in two days instead? That reason being that I need to get some new clothes—my clothes now are starting to get dreadfully small.

Anyway, please write back with your response, and tell me what’s going on with you and Harry! Have you guys officially gotten together yet or what? If not, then you need to! You guys are absolutely perfect for each other.

Well, I’ve got to clean my room now, it’s getting quite messy, and you know how I hate that. Send regards to your family.

Hope to see you soon,

Hermione



Satisfied with her letter, she rolled it up and tied it to her tawny owl, Spirit’s leg and sent her off out the window. She had gotten Spirit shortly after the war ended, so she could keep in touch with all her friends. Her mother wasn’t very comfortable around owls, but she made an exception this time because she knew how much Hermione wrote to her friends.

She kept the window open for a minute, sticking her head out, and letting the breeze blow through her hair slightly. She had always loved the sounds of the night when she was practically leaning all the way out the window. It was one of her favorite pastimes, to sit on the window seat and either read, write, or just sit and think. Hermione sighed as memories flashed through her mind. She couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the war, and how many people had died, the people who survived, and the people who had lost their minds. A lot of people who had been captured and tortured by the Death Eaters had turned out like Neville’s parents, crazy and kept in St. Mungo’s. Even in the midst of all the pain, Hermione couldn’t help thinking about how lucky she was compared to others. Her family was all made up of muggles, so none of them were killed or injured because of the war. She still had both her parents, and had no siblings to worry about.

She was brought out of her thoughts as an owl that she recognized to be one of the school’s, swooped in through the window and landed on her desk. Hermione got up and took the letter that was tied to its leg and skimmed it. It was a letter stating that she had gotten chosen as Head Girl and her duties would be explained to her when she arrived. She smiled as she fingered the Head Girl badge that had appeared on the desk next to the letter. She could only wonder who the Head Boy was. The only thing she knew was that they’d be sharing a private dorm together. She just hoped it wasn’t some arrogant Slytherin so she wouldn’t have to deal with them.

She rushed down the stairs to tell her parents about her accomplishment, only to find that there was no one downstairs and there was a note on the kitchen table. She picked it up.

Hermione,

Your father got called into work for a minor emergency. I have gone to the store and will be back in about an hour. Sorry we couldn’t tell you before we left. We left some money on the counter in case you wanted to go to that all night bookstore around the corner. We love you.

Mum



Hermione frowned and put the letter down. She understood why her father had to leave without telling her, but why did her mother no say something if she was just going to the store? She shook her head, disappointed.

Upset as she was, she was still grateful for the money they left her. About twenty pounds. She sighed and put the money into her pocket. She went out into the front hall and put on a light denim jacket and a pair of shoes and put her hair up in a high ponytail. Getting her key out of her jeans pocket, she walked out the door, locked it, and walked down the driveway while returning the key to her pocket. She was wearing combat boots at the moment. Normally, they wouldn’t be her kind of thing, but she needed a safe place to put her wand, so it wouldn’t be noticed by muggles.

The night air was unusually cold, and she had to button her jacket over her green T-shirt as she walked to keep warm. Luckily, the walk to the local bookstore was short, and it was almost always warm. She checked her watch and was surprised at how late it was.

“Ten-fifty…” she murmured quietly.

She turned the corner quickly and sped up her pace so that she was jogging. It helped to warm her up and she walked up to the door of the bookstore and when she opened it, relished in the blast of warmer air. It was warm enough inside that she took off her jacket and draped it over her arm. She walked over to the small counter that sold coffees and ordered a cappuccino. Once she had paid for her drink, she didn’t hesitate to get lost in the many shelves of books, running her fingers over the spines and feeling more at home than she had in months.

Books were always something that she had loved, even more than everyone thought they knew. She could spend hours in a bookstore or library and never want to leave. Books were her rock. If times got hard at home, or if she was just too anxious or upset, she could always open one of her favorite novels and lose herself in the story and it never failed to calm her down. Turning the corner at the end of a shelf, she received the biggest shock since Harry revealed to all of Hogwarts that he wasn’t dead. She quickly hid behind the shelf and peered through the shelf over the tops of the books.

Hermione stared at the boy that was in the corner of the store, looking at books like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be there. A boy with platinum blonde hair.

Calm down, Hermione thought. It might not be him. Wait until he turns around.

Eventually, he did turn around, and Hermione drew in a breath. She’d know that face and those eyes anywhere. Draco Malfoy was standing there. Draco Malfoy who wouldn’t be caught dead in a muggle bookstore. Draco Malfoy who she hadn’t seen since the war. Draco Malfoy who had absolutely no logical reason—that Hermione could think of anyway—to be there.

As he started to turn the corner, Hermione panicked. She didn’t know what he would do if he knew she was there. Scratch that, she knew exactly what he would do. He would start off by calling her a mudblood and accuse her of spying on him, and then do something rash like tell the authorities that she was stalking him or something. Not that he would talk to the muggle authorities even under the imperius curse, but seeing him here of all places made her question whether he had different views on that subject as well.

Thinking of no other solution as to hiding herself, she grabbed a random book off the shelf she was leaning on—not even bothering to look at the title—and put it up in front of her face so that no one could even hope to see what she looked like if they passed by. She waited with bated breath as Malfoy turned the corner, and buried her nose even farther in the book.

“Excuse me,” Malfoy muttered as he passed her, not even sparing her a second glance.

Hermione brought the book down from her face, confused as she watched him study a book at the end of the shelf. She thought that he would have pushed her out of the way rudely, regardless of whether or not he recognized her. The sight of him being polite was shocking. Returning the book to its place on the shelf, she turned to face him and waited until he looked up at her.

“Didn’t anyone tell you that staring is rude?” Malfoy demanded, looking her in the eyes.

Hermione was confused… no ‘mudblood’ no ‘Granger’ no form of acknowledgement whatsoever that he recognized her was said. Her brow furrowed. Was it possible that Malfoy didn’t recognize her? True, she did look quite different than she had during the war. She had gotten taller, reaching five-foot-six, and had grown her hair out to halfway down her back. She performed a spell on it that made it so it lost most of its frizziness, and instead fell in subtle waves. She had also lost some weight, due to lack of appetite, and had started to need glasses, though she wore contacts so there was no noticeable difference. So it was entirely possible that Malfoy didn’t recognize her, but it didn’t make sense, having known him for over seven years, and vice versa.

“Hello?” Hermione was snapped out of her thoughts as Malfoy spoke, waving a hand in front of her face.

She didn’t respond, due to her semi-mute image she had worked so hard to keep up over the summer, only fixed him with a glare and walked past him, making sure to slam her shoulder hard into his. Because even though he didn’t recognize her, it didn’t mean that she didn’t still hold a grudge against him for years of torment.

“Hey!” Malfoy said loudly as he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to glare at her. “What did I ever do to you?”

She only stared. He was wearing that old mask of coldness on his face that she recognized from those countless arguments, and was shooting her a glare that most people would have flinched away from.

“What? Can’t talk?”

“I can talk,” she hissed coldly. “I just choose not to, Malfoy.”

He blinked in shock at the sound of his name, and then a spark of recognition flitted across his face before it was replaced by that cold mask once more.

“Granger?” he asked incredulously.

Hermione glared, and that seemed to be answer enough for him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Hermione sighed and knew she would have to keep talking to him, no matter how much she didn’t want to.

“I could ask you the same question,” she returned.

“I’m doing what everyone comes to a bookstore to do,” he said, still glaring.

“A muggle bookstore, Malfoy?” she asked. “Why would you want to come to a muggle bookstore of all places?”

“That doesn’t matter,” he said, face flushing though Hermione couldn’t imagine the reason why. “Well?”

“Well what?” Hermione asked, confused.

“Why are you here?”

“This is Hermione Granger you’re talking to,” she said. “You know, the ‘Know-It-All bookworm’ that just happens to be a mudblood that you love to make fun of every chance that you get?”

“Very funny,” he said. “Why this bookstore though?”

“I happen to live around here,” Hermione answered. “Though I certainly didn’t think I’d run into Draco Malfoy, or else I wouldn’t have come.”

“Whatever, mudblood,” he spat.

Hermione chuckled dryly, “You really need to come up with better insults, Malfoy. The whole ‘mudblood’ routine is getting old.”

His fingers tightened on the book he was holding. He glanced down in surprise, as if he had forgotten that he was holding it.

“I don’t even know why I’m standing here talking to you,” he said. “I’ve gotten what I needed, so I’ll just go. See you in school, mudblood.”

And with that, before Hermione could say anything else, he walked up to the counter and quickly left after paying for his book. Hermione shook her head in both annoyance and wonder. Annoyance because he was still an arrogant prat despite everything that had happened in the war, and wonder because of the fact that they had a semi-civil conversation with each other. Deciding to forget the whole encounter, she sipped at her now cool cappuccino, and once again resumed walking among the bookshelves.

After going through the whole bookstore, she resorted to buying a book she had never read before, one that wasn’t usually her kind of thing either, and walking out of the store and in the opposite direction of her house. She wasn’t ready to return home, despite it already being twelve-thirty, and just let her feet carry her down the sidewalk. Dumping her empty cup in a trash can by the road, she walked to the local park and slumped down on one of the benches under a canopy of trees.

It was sitting there, that she thought about Ron. After they kissed during the final battle, they had tried dating for a couple of weeks. Even though they were happy together, Hermione still felt like something wasn’t right, like she couldn’t be herself anymore now that they were together. When she had voiced this fact to Ron, he had readily agreed and said that he wasn’t really feeling it either. So they had broken up, and they were still best friends, so she was grateful. He had recently started spending more and more time with Luna Lovegood, and Hermione knew that they would end up together someday. If only Ron wasn’t so shy. She chuckled lightly to herself and got up from her spot on the bench.

She started to walk aimlessly along the path, not really thinking about where she was going. She hadn’t come to the park in a while, and it brought back a lot of memories from when she was younger. As she passed the pond that was on the left of the path, she recalled the times that her father had taken her fishing or swimming. She also remembered climbing the trees that had the lower branches and she would sit up there and read.

She smiled at the memory and—having nothing better to do—walked over to a tree that she remembered from when she was really little. Surprised that it was still there, she walked around the trunk and saw that it didn’t look much different than it had all those years ago. She walked over to the lowest branch and tested her weight on it with one foot. Deciding that it was sturdy enough, she started climbing until she came across a really sturdy one higher up, and sat down on it, her back to the trunk of the tree. She couldn’t read up there, due to lack of light, but she leaned her head back against the part of the trunk by her head.

“I never assumed you would be one for climbing trees, Granger,” a very familiar voice said from below her, nearly startling her out of the three. She peered down through the branches and saw Malfoy’s face sneering up at her. She rolled her eyes.

“What do you want Malfoy?” she said as she shifted on the branch to make herself more comfortable.

“Well I wanted a nice walk through the park, but then I ran into you and…” he trailed off as Hermione jumped down from her spot in the tree and landed in front of him.

“You can always just walk away Malfoy,” she said coolly. And then she took her own advice, and walked away and didn’t look back.

Once she got back to her house, she fished her key out of her pocket and unlocked the door. After she had hung up her jacket and walked into the living room, she was surprised to see her mother sitting in a chair by the fireplace, reading a book. Hermione froze in the doorway for a moment before she walked over to the couch and sat down. Jane looked up.

“You were gone a while,” she said. “Did you have fun?”

Hermione shrugged, slipping back into her mute façade with ease. She picked up the bag from the bookstore and handed it to her mother who took the book out and looked it over.

“A biography?” she inquired. She glanced at Hermione. “Was there nothing else good?”

Hermione shrugged again. Jane sighed and handed the book back to her daughter. She gave Hermione a searching look.

“Hermione, why aren’t you talking anymore?” she asked. “I’m really worried about you.”

Hermione decided that to not worry her mother any further, she had to speak.

“I’m fine mum,” she said quietly, and relaxed when she saw her mother smile when she spoke. “Really.”

“If you say so,” Jane said. “Why don’t you get to bed, it’s getting late.”

Hermione nodded and got up. She kissed her mother on the cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into her room, where she set the book on her desk and changed into sweatpants and a white spaghetti strap tank top for bed. She walked into the bathroom and took her hair down from its ponytail and brushed her teeth. When she was finished, she walked back to her room and closed her still open window. Then she turned off her room’s main light and turned on the small lamp on her bedside table. After taking her contacts out, she climbed into bed and closed her eyes. After about another half hour of tossing and turning, she finally fell into a fitful sleep and dreamed of the war.


Another note: This is also posted on a site called Harrypotterfanfiction.com No, I'm not copying the story I'm just posting it on here as well and it is my original story.