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Tuition Money	By : cpetnm Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 53031 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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A.N. Woohoo, over 1,100 hits on the first chapter! You guys rock!

@ ilariasantaniello: Grazie per la recensione!

@trashyreader: Here it is! Thank you for the review. :)
@Anon: Dating Luna? I like it.
@sherlocked17: Thank you for your review, my friend.
@ Trelweny: Draco’s an opportunist, but there are some other emotions underlying his proposal. Thank you for reading and reviewing.

Happy to ditch Malfoy at the classroom door, Hermione found a seat at the front of the classroom and took a few deep breaths before class started. He’d always unnerved her with his attention. She was the kind of woman who didn’t exactly draw attention from other people. Generally, if anything, they resented her intelligence and excluded her. She knew her level of intelligence was an anomaly and accepted a somewhat isolated life. While she didn’t think Malfoy wanted to harm her, his intentions were never nice.

Draco knew Hermione wouldn’t accept his proposition until she was feeling desperate, so he planned to bide his time. He needed to study her: find out where she was living, what her class schedule was, and most importantly how much she owed to the school for the semester.

They’d both attended Hogwarts the previous year and he’d noticed how withdrawn she’d been. He’d regularly seen her speaking to the professors, for her book, he now assumed, but otherwise she hung with Looney Lovegood, Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley. Potty and the Weasel had gone on to Auror training.

He was almost positive she didn’t have a boyfriend. That could be an obstacle, but not a difficult one. He knew Hermione found him attractive. Her body signals- blushing, quickened breathing and general awkwardness gave her interest away. She might not want to admit it to herself, but she fancied him and Draco planned to capitalize on the friction between them.

All week, Draco would get to the café bright and early, order coffee and some sweet breakfast treat and watch Hermione. He noticed her hands were rough, as if she did manual labor. Odd. Her clothes were relatively clean, but he saw her wearing the same things throughout the week. Maybe she was more hard up than he had previously thought.

He found out she owed almost 2,000 Galleons to the school. At the very most she was earning 100 Galleons a month with this job and the proceeds from her book. He’d read her book three times and it was quite brilliant. It was a pity she wasn’t making what she should off of it.

He didn’t follow her to class now, since he’d obtained her schedule off a ditzy, young witch in the Records Office. Her address on the documents gave an owl post office box. He knew she studied at the library every night until the building closed at midnight. Maybe she Apparated to a home in the Muggle world? Draco didn’t know, but he vowed to find out.

Getting out of bed had been difficult this cold October morning, but his large flat had fireplaces in every room and he had a fire roaring with a flick of his wand. After a hot shower and dressing in his fine cashmere sweater and wool trousers, he made his way to watch Granger serve coffee to students and staff.

There was a line this chilly morning and when he got to the front to order his drink, he noticed something odd about Hermione. She was pale and…shivering? Why was she shivering?

“You shouldn’t serve food to others if you’re sick,” he drawled as he watched her get a scone for another patron.

She shot him a glare. “I’m not sick, I just couldn’t get warm last night.”

“Why didn’t you use a warming charm?”

“I did. They wear off after an hour or so. What would you like, Malfoy?”

“Coffee and a piece of quiche, please.” As she put down his plate, he quickly grabbed her hand. It felt icy. She stared at him in shock before yanking it back.

“Dawn, will you take care of this customer? I need to check something in the back.”

The other witch ended up helping Draco, eyeing him suspiciously the entire time. He supposed his perusal of Granger throughout the week hadn’t been particularly secret. Oh, well. What did he care if some old bint didn’t like him?

He found himself a table and ate the quiche, waiting for Granger to reappear behind the counter. When she did, he could tell she had applied a glamour. It was well done, but he hadn’t known her to use the daily tool of most witches. The glamour made her skin appear smooth and her cheeks rosy. She was still shivering, but it appeared she was warming up. It wasn’t even that cold last night, so why did she look like she’d slept outside?

Bloody hell. He knew the year the Golden Trio was on the run they had camped in remote areas of England. Gods, when she had been brought into the manor by the Snatchers, she looked painfully thin and dirty. Well, she didn’t look that rough, but she didn’t look as hearty as she had at sixteen. Was she trying to save money by staying in a tent at night? He hated to think of her alone, braving the elements. She’d obviously take precautions for her safety, but after all she’d been through, it was just wrong for her to have to do this. And the weather only promised to get colder and wetter as the months went on.

He knew where she’d make camp. There was a heavily wooded area thirty kilometers or so from the WUofGB. He’d comfirm that she was living in a tent and make his case to her. How could she refuse?

Two nights later, Hermione Apparated back to her campsite when the library closed at midnight. Sleet fell from the sky, leaving small chunks of slush in her hair and on her coat. Her hands and feet were freezing, but she needed to put up her tent and get some sleep. She pulled the tent out of her extendable bag and used her wand to assemble the tent and create protection wards around the campsite.

Draco had Apparated to the forest a few minutes before midnight and wandered around, trying to figure out where she might be staying. He heard the telltale pop of Apparition and quietly made his way in the direction of what he was sure was Hermione’s campsite. He found her using her wand to assemble an old, canvas tent. Her face was exhausted as she got it set up and put wards around the site.

With his confirmation of her situation, Draco walked a fair distance from her tent in order to Apparate back to his luxurious flat.

Draco continued to watch Granger, noticing the dark circles that had developed under her eyes as the combination of cold and stress wore her down. He rarely saw her interact with other students, except in the most perfunctory situations. Though he’d never cared for her friends, he knew they gave her a measure of support. For whatever reason, she didn’t have that anymore and she needed it.

He was fairly isolated as well, but after being surrounded by psychotic murderers for the past few years, the peace was welcome. His parents, who cared for him in their own way, were licking their wounds during their house arrest at Malfoy Manor. He had absolutely no desire to step foot into that house again. He enjoyed a bit of female companionship over the past few months, but that was more for relief than anything else.

Draco made his way to Hermione’s library table and sat across from her. She looked up, nodded at him in acknowledgement and went back to her book. She always gave him enough attention to ease his interest for a short time, but not enough to truly satiate him. He hoped tonight that might change.

“Granger, have you had dinner?” he whispered.

She looked at him in confusion. “Why?”

“You intrigue me. Always have.”

Hermione looked at his face, seeing the honesty in his response. She knew he was fascinated by her, but Malfoys always had ulterior motives. What did he want from her?

“I know I do, but I think I’m forbidden fruit to you, nothing more.”

“Maybe. But at least you’ll get a decent meal tonight.”

If she were his friend, she’d speak to him with more kindness, but since they were barely on speaking terms, her bluntness was better than an outright rejection. He knew she wouldn’t trust him if he didn’t at least tell her part of the truth.

She started to pack up her bag. Draco expected her to tell him to bugger off, but he underestimated her need for food, warmth and even the tiniest bit of familiarity.

“Alright, I’ll have dinner with you. I could use a break from studying.”

Draco’s flat was posh, modern and surprisingly warm. She could see he spent time here.

“How long have you lived here?” she asked.

“I bought it after the Wizengamot cleared me, so just over two years. I came here when we had breaks last school year.”

Draco led her to the gorgeous chef’s kitchen. Glass fronted cabinets reached to the high ceiling, marble countertops gleamed and a breakfast bar called to Hermione to make herself at home. She sat on a tall metal stool and watched Malfoy collect food from the ice box.

“You can cook?”

“If you’d taken Muggle Studies last year, you’d have learned Muggle survival skills such as cooking, using the telephone and driving an automobile.”

Hermione began laughing. “Those are actually useful things to know, Malfoy. I don’t know how to drive.”

“Really? It’s great fun. Your friend Longbottom is an atrocious driver, by the way.”

“No doubt. It never occurred to me to take Muggle Studies. I do know how to cook, though, if you need help.”

“Thank you, but tonight I’m going to heat up soup I made yesterday. It’ll be better today, since the flavors had a chance to meld.”

Draco got out crackers, a soft cheese and wine. He placed the plate near her and poured her a generous glass of wine. Hermione sipped the dry vintage while snacking from the plate. She watched him heat the soup on the Viking stove.

When the soup’s aroma began to fill the air, Draco ladled it into deep bowls. He handed Hermione two spoons and walked her to the dining room. He placed the chicken, rice and vegetable soup in front of her after she sat down.

She waited for him to sit down and take a spoonful, then began to eat her own food. She ate regularly, but her food consisted of canned goods, fruit, and peanut butter sandwiches. This was about ten times better than anything she’d had in weeks.

After watching Hermione Granger for several years, Draco knew a few things about her. She thirsted for knowledge, in both academic and experiential ways. She yearned for praise. While she could function alone, she needed a few close relationships to be content. She liked to have people to fuss over—she had a strong protective instinct. What he’d realized was that Hermione was missing several of these aspects in her daily life.

“I read your book,” Draco said.

“You did?” Luna had read it, but to her knowledge none of her other friends had.

“Fucking brilliant, Granger. I heard those tales over and over growing up, but I never would have connected the stories to the Dark Lord’s plan.”

Hermione was taken aback by him compliment. “Thanks, Malfoy.” She gave him a truly genuine smile.

“Would you care for dessert? I have a box of chocolates I picked up at the new chocolatier in Diagon Alley.”

All day Hermione had felt depressed over her situation. She was disappointed she couldn’t raise the money she needed to pay for school, let alone a small flat or dorm room. She hadn’t made any friends at the university. Even after her heroic acts during the war, people still treated her with aloofness. She had sacrificed so much to assure herself a place in this world, but it didn’t seem to matter to most. Hermione had considered asking Harry to loan her the Galleons, but the demands on him were so great that she was reluctant to add to his burden. No, she needed to figure out the situation herself.

“I’ll make us tea, yeah?” Draco asked as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Okay, Malfoy.”

She sat in his lovely dining room in contemplation of her situation. Draco came in a couple of minutes later with a silver tray laden with tea and chocolates.

“Let’s sit in front of the fire in the sitting room. It’s been so cold the past week, I’ve enjoyed reading in front of the fire in the evening, sipping a hot drink.” He wanted her to contrast her situation with his. It may have been cruel, but when he made his proposition, Draco wanted Hermione to feel the full force of her desperation.

A down-filled couch was across from the roaring fire. Hermione sat and felt the velvety fabric of the couch embrace her. Gods, this was bloody luxurious! Draco placed the tray on the table in front of them and served her tea.

“Cream and sugar?” he asked.

“Neither.” He handed her a delicate white and grey teacup. She inhaled the comforting smell of Earl Grey.

“Have you found another job?” Draco asked.

“No,” Hermione said, taking a chocolate from the tray. She bit into it to taste a refreshing raspberry burst of liquid. Delicious. “I plan on finishing the semester, but I don’t think I’ll be able to continue after that.”

Draco looked at her sharply and frowned. “Giving up so easily, Granger? Doesn’t seem like you.”

“I have to be reasonable. I’ve exhausted my options for paying my tuition and I can continue my studies on my own. Minister Shacklebolt offered me a job working directly with him when the semester ends.” She shrugged and took a sip of her tea.

“You know, I don’t hate you.” He gently moved his hand to the exposed back of her neck, very lightly stroking the skin there. As if he was petting a wild animal, he watched her every breath for signs of distress. He added minute pressure and felt her breathing quickening.

“Why are you touching me?” she whispered.

“I’ve always wanted to,” he murmured.

She shifted away from him and stood. “I have to go. Thank you for dinner,” she mumbled.

Draco didn’t push her, but she’d been receptive to his touch. He followed her to the door.

“May I escort you home?”

“No, but thank you for the offer. Goodnight.” She finally made eye contact with him. She thought he looked sad. “I had a tough day today, but this was…nice.” She gave him a small smile and walked toward the stairs.

Hermione Apparated back to her campsite. The night was clear, cold, and windy. She put up her tent and protection wards and got into her cot. She applied a strong warming charm, but she could feel the wind cutting through the canvas tent.

When she’d been in hiding with Harry and Ron, she’d never been this uncomfortable. The boys had been opposed to sharing a bed with each other, but neither had a problem with spooning with Hermione for warmth. Ron had timidly touched her belly and clasped her hands, but it had been mostly for comfort. He’d reconciled with Lavender at the end of sixth year and she often found him looking at pictures of the vivacious girl on their hunt for Voldemort’s horcruxes.

Harry had been a different story. When Ron had left them, he’d climb into Hermione’s bed and stroke her breasts and finger her folds until she’d give in to his desires. She’d never thought of Harry sexually, but he’d been desperate to feel anything but the crushing weight of expectation of the people depending on him. Letting him use her body had been the least of her worries. Eventually, she’d reciprocated with him and they’d learned each other’s bodies. It was a situation born from need and when Harry had destroyed Voldemort, he explained that he wanted to be with Ginny. It had been a relief to Hermione.

When Draco had stroked her neck while they sat before the fire, she’d felt his need, too. But unlike with Harry, Hermione was attracted to Malfoy. She wasn’t fascinated with him as he was with her, but she could imagine him touching her and she wanted to touch him, too. He’d been oddly kind to her this evening, but she knew he would take advantage of her given the opportunity. Most likely, he wanted to fulfill some Mudblood fantasy he’d developed over the years. Yes, that was the obvious scenario.

But what if there’s more to him than that, Hermione? Maybe he appreciates your intelligence. He did read your book. That’s more than all your other “best” friends have done.

She’d listen to her instincts regarding Draco Malfoy. Hunkering down under wool blankets, she let the whistling wind lull her to sleep.

The next morning, Draco surreptitiously cast an additional warming charm over Hermione while she worked. She was dressed for a blizzard, wearing a thick sweater over a turtleneck sweater, a scarf and corduroy pants. He saw her relax marginally as the effect of his charm helped her body temperature to stabilize.

When she made her way out of the coffee shop to go to class, he followed her.

“Hey, Malfoy,” she said, continuing her brisk walk to class.

“Hey, Granger. What’s with all the wintery gear?”

“I haven’t been handling the cold well this year. I’ll adjust in a few weeks.”

Draco handed her a note before he went into his building. “See you soon.”

Granger,

Go to my flat when you’re done with classes today. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’ll be back about 7:30 this evening. I’ve keyed you into my wards, so you can Apparate directly into the flat.

D.M.

What was this about? Going over to his flat when he fed her dinner was one thing, but to have him ask her to go there and wait for him was another thing. Hermione didn’t know what to make of Draco Malfoy.

Out of burning curiosity, Hermione decided to comply with Malfoy’s request. But she had an ulterior motive as well: taking a long, hot bath and doing some badly needed manicuring. She’d been sneaking into the ladies’ Quidditch team showers ever few days and spelling herself clean on the days she couldn’t get into the locker room.

Once her last class had ended, Hermione Apparated into Malfoy’s entry hall. It really was a beautiful flat, with big windows overlooking the small town of Framlingham. Hermione spent a few minutes walking through the rooms, looking at Malfoy’s books and knick knacks. His hallway bathroom contained a large shower stall, but she really wanted to soak in a tub. Against her better judgment, she opened the door to his bedroom. It was a sumptuous room, with a large bed dressed in silky dark blue bedding. The wood floors were partially covered by a fluffy grey flokati rug.

Is the painting above his bed an original Gustav Klimt? Bloody Malfoy. He’s got a priceless piece of art hanging above his bed.

Just like his fastidious personal appearance, Malfoy’s home was organized and gorgeous. She felt a stab of bitterness that she’d sacrificed so much during the war, only to lose her most important relationships and now had to sleep in a tent to pay for a fraction of her classes. Where was the justice in that?

She moved through the room and entered the bathroom. It was…wow. Gleaming marble tile covered the floors and walls. A deep clawfoot tub stood under an opaque window. A large basket containing fluffy white towels had been placed next to the tub, along with another basket containing an assortment of soaps, shampoos, conditioners, bath salts and bath oils.

She took off her clothes, folding them in preparation to don them after her bath. The tub filled as she unbraided her hair and combed her fingers through her tresses. Dipping a foot into the steaming water, she climbed in and sank under, soaking her body and hair. She squeezed a dollop of shampoo into her hand and began to massage her scalp, letting the thick lather wash the metallic smell of the cold from her. The scent of the eucalyptus and lavender shampoo was perfect, sharp and slightly medicinal. It was exactly the kind of clean smell that helped her feel like she was Hermione Granger—meticulous, fair, “brightest witch of her age”. Not like she’d felt lately—uncivilized, penniless, dispirited. Hermione closed her eyes and tried to appreciate the small gift of a few hours of solitude and luxury given to her from an unexpected source.

Draco Apparated to his flat and smelled…breakfast? He followed the smell to his kitchen where he found Hermione Granger making pancakes and bacon.

“Smells good, Granger,” Draco said. She turned and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Oh, hey, Malfoy. I hope you don’t mind, well, you said I could use the kitchen.”

“I don’t mind, if you’ve made enough for me.” He could see she’d washed her hair since this morning. Her long curls hung down her back, shiny and bouncy.

“There’s enough for you. Do you have maple syrup by any chance?” Hermione had the worst craving for pancakes and bacon over the past few weeks. The last time she’d been to The Burrow, Molly had made buttermilk pancakes. The Weasleys had fallen on the food like a swarm of locusts, but she’d been able to eat two and ever since that day she’d yearned for a pancake meal. Malfoy’s kitchen was stocked with great ingredients, but as soon as she’d seen the bacon, she’d decided to satiate her breakfast desire.

Draco opened a high cupboard and reached in to grab a glass jar of the dark brown syrup. He handed it to Hermione.

“A bit hidden,” he observed.

“Thanks. I’ve had a terrible craving for pancakes with proper maple syrup.”

Draco sat at the breakfast bar and watched Hermione cook. For the first time in several weeks, he thought she looked relaxed. She served him a stack of golden pancakes topped with warm butter and maple syrup and a couple of strips of bacon. He took a bite of the bacon.

Hermione put her plate down next to his and began to eat. “Mmm. I haven’t had proper bacon in ages.”

“It’s a treat to come home to food I didn’t prepare.” He put a piece of pancake into his mouth.

“You know about my situation, don’t you?” Hermione tilted her head a looked at him.

He nodded and continued to eat. Hermione felt a wave of humiliation wash over her. She tried to continue eating, but found her appetite had fled. Dealing with Malfoy over the years had taught her two things: don’t give him a big reaction and act with impunity. She stood and began to clean up the kitchen.

Draco cleared his throat. “Do you want to continue to attend school?”

She stopped washing a pan and dried her hands. Her back was to him as she quietly answered. “You know I do.” The phrase deal with the devil kept running through her mind.

He walked behind her and put his arm around her shoulder and led her to the velvet couch. She smelled of his favorite shampoo, but something warm and feral underlied the soapy scent. Even after all the years he’d spent observing her, he’d rarely had the opportunity to be so close. It was intoxicating.

They sat on the couch facing each other. Hermione stilled her features and calmed from his touch. There was something exhilarating about giving yourself over to the enemy. She knew if their world had been different, this crafty, intelligent man might have been her friend, but as it stood, he was not. But he wasn’t evil. She’d faced true evil and knew Malfoy wasn’t even close, but his agenda would trump what was good or right.

“After the war, I was cleared but my parents have been on house arrest. The Malfoy name is now synonymous with treachery and the Dark Lord. Your name, however, is equivalent to bravery and brilliance. My family can do little to change that perception and you, for all your intelligence, don’t know how to capitalize on yourself. Your book was a good start, but it’s obvious your daily struggles prevent you from making a name for yourself.”

Draco took a curl between his fingers and felt the silkiness. Hermione let him, finding his words compelling.

“What do you propose?” she asked.

“Total access to you and in exchange you’ll live here and I’ll pay for your tuition and any other needs you have.”

“Total access?”

“Access to your mind, your body and your time. You underestimate my fascination, Granger. I want to understand what’s so special about you that I’ve never been able to ignore you.”

“And when you tire of me in a few weeks?”

“I’ll pay your tuition and living expenses for the full school year whether or not I want to continue our arrangement. But I’ll expect you to fulfill your part of the bargain to the fullest extent.”

“If I agree to this, I want an Unbreakable Vow to ensure my safety.”

“I agree to that.”

“The end of the school year will be the end of this?”

“Yes, with the option to extend it if we both agree.”

This was Hermione’s opportunity to continue her education, live in a beautiful environment, and have the company of someone who was intelligent, at the very least. She’d lived under worse conditions. A part of her was just as curious about Malfoy, although she’d never admit that to him. Her only control over the situation was his infatuation.

She wondered what Harry, Ron and her other friends would think of this turn of events. She’d had so little contact with them since she started school, she thought they might not even care.

One question niggled at her brain. Would they be physically compatible? She didn’t want the following months to be a repeat of what happened with Harry, money be damned.

Draco could practically hear the wheels turning in her head and was shocked when she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Her hand held onto his shoulder as she gently brushed her lips over his, breathing in his scent. His hand came up to cup her face and he coaxed her mouth open with his lips. Their tongues met, slowly at first then with more passion as the seconds ticked by. An unfamiliar feeling of weightlessness, of not knowing where her body ended and his began accompanied the kiss. Her arms went around his neck to hold him to her while his hands delved into her loose curls, indulging his fantasy of wrapping himself in her hair. Malfoy began to pull her into his lap, but she broke the kiss. For the first time, she let herself look into his eyes. He wanted her, with an intensity that surprised her.

“I had to make sure we’re compatible,” she murmured, pushing herself away from him.

“Are we?” he asked with a smirk.

“It appears so. When do you want me to move in?”
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