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A Summer Holiday	By : TwistOfLime Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 12021 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Four: Train Rides

Back at his house, Draco walked downstairs to the kitchens. He was hungry, having not really eaten anything at breakfast and one of the house elves would be able to tell him where his mother was. As soon as he entered the kitchen a couple of house elves immediately rushed up to Draco, bowing deeply.

“Is there anything we can be getting you Sir?” they said in unison.

“I’ll just have a sandwich and a glass of pumpkin juice,” Draco said and immediately they began to rush about the kitchen.

“Would Sir like to take his meal in one of the dinning rooms?” one of the elves asked, handing Draco a turkey sandwich and flask of pumpkin juice.

“No thank you. Would either of you happen to know where my mother is?”

“She is in the garden Sir.”

“Thanks,” Draco called to the house elves as he went outside through a door on the side of the kitchen.

Outside, Draco made his way to a table on the terrace to eat his lunch. His mother wasn’t there, enjoying the early afternoon sunshine and Draco assumed she would be near the back of the grounds, where her rose bushes surrounded a small pond. It was her favorite place in the garden and she often went there in the afternoon to paint when the light was good.

When he was younger, he used to paint with her. He was never very good, but he liked spending time with his mother away from the stiff formality and suffocating expectations of familial duty and responsibility. However, once he had entered Hogwarts his father had decided that he should be spending his time more constructively, by studying and creating ties with people who would be useful in the future. That had been the end of his painting.

While eating, he thought about the best way to approach the subject of the beach holiday with his mother. If he could come up with some sort of reason to stay behind it would be easier, but he could think of none. Not wanting to wasn’t much of an excuse.

Sighing as he finished the last sip of pumpkin juice, he decided that the best way was to just tell the truth. Just explain that he and Hermione did not get along, and him being there would only make everybody miserable. She was a compassionate woman, she would understand.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“You’re both adults. You should be able to put aside your differences for three weeks and make the best of the situation,” Draco’s mother said, mixing shades of green paint on her palate. So far, the conversation was not going as Draco had hoped for.

“Mother, when I said we didn’t get along, it was an understatement. We hate each other,” Draco said.

“Why do I have the feeling that most of the blame lies on you in this situation?” Narcissa replied, raising an eyebrow at her son.

Draco sighed. She was right, if he hadn’t constantly called her mudblood and done his best to make her and the rest of the Golden Trio’s lives hell, perhaps their relationship would be a little different. Although she was one of the few who knew the truth about Dumbledore’s death, Draco’s involvement didn’t exactly improve his standing with her much either

“I’m right aren’t I?”

“Yes, but – “

“But nothing,” Narcissa said interrupting her son.

“No,” he said harshly. “Not nothing. She is Harry Potter’s best friend. Father has actively tried to kill her and her friends. I am a Death Eater and murdered Albus Dumbledore less than two months ago. I – ”

“Draco!” his mother gasped.

He felt a twinge of guilt for bringing up the topic he knew caused his mother such pain and regret, but he had to make her see reason. “This is not a foolish grudge held between school children!”

“Stop this! If she’s Harry Potter’s best friend, than she knows the truth. You are not a Death Eater, nor a murderer. You are not your father. You and Hermione may have had… differences when you were younger, but she cannot possibly hold you responsible for what happened. I know she doesn’t. When I met her, in Diagon Alley, she – if she blamed you, she would blame me too and she truly doesn’t. She seems a very mature and reasonable young woman. I’m sure you’ll be able to get past the childish name calling and bullying.”

She spoke with such earnestness, that Draco didn’t know quite what to say. How could she be so idealistic and naïve after everything?

“You’ll be coming with me to Embleton and that’s final. Look at this as a chance to make things right and maybe make a new friend,” she finished in a tone that ended the discussion.

“Fine,” Draco said, throwing his hands up in exasperation and pouting as much as the Malfoy code of conduct would allow.

His mother didn’t understand and she wouldn’t listen. He knew that there was no way Granger didn’t hold him responsible for Dumbledore’s death, regardless of what she knew. He couldn’t fault her for it. He was responsible. He couldn’t justify what he had done and he didn’t plan on trying. However, his and Granger’s mutual hatred went beyond the conflict currently facing the wizarding world. He found her bossy and condescending and he was sure she had similar complaints about him. Even if last year had never happened a holiday with the Grangers would still be miserable.

“We leave in two days. You may want to start packing now so you’re not rushed.”

The two sat in silence and Draco watched his mother paint. She was a wonderful artist, but she never painted anything other than the garden.

“You only paint rose bushes,” he remarked. “You have a talent; you should use it. Why don’t you paint something else?”

“Why don’t you paint anymore?” she countered.

“You know why,” Draco said, avoiding his mother’s eyes.

“There’s nothing stopping you now you know.”

“Yeah… I’m going to start packing. Have you had lunch, or do you want me to send out one of the house elves with a tray?”

“No, I’ll come in to get something when I’ve finished,” she replied as Draco rose from the bench and walked upstairs to his room.

He had every intention of beginning to pack, but with the stress of the day and the comforting warmth of his room, he quickly fell asleep.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Draco awoke, pulling himself up from a hard, cold, stone floor. The only light in the room was that of the moon shining harshly through a small, barred window high on the wall. The room was empty and bare, and through the heavy wooden door he could hear screams. Inhuman screams, filled with terror and despair.

He knew that he had to get out of here. He could feel hopelessness and misery beginning to seep into him, drowning him and pushing aside any other thoughts. He couldn’t escape these feelings; the air was thick with them. It was as though the despair was built into the cell, as much a part of it as the stones that made up the walls. It would only be matter of time before Draco, like the others, was crying out in wretched agony.

Miraculously, the door was not locked, and Draco pushed it open listening to the sound of the wood scrapping on stone and hoping that no one else could hear it. He took a left out of the room and as he walked down the hallway lined with heavy, wooden doors he couldn’t shake the feeling of another presence near him. Turning around, he saw at the end of the hallway a woman sitting on a large seat carved into the wall below a barred window that looked out onto and rocky shoreline.

She was beautiful, seeming to radiate a hope that coursed through his veins as he looked at her, protecting him from the gloom. Her hair was a halo of chestnut curls and a thin, silken robe clung to her body, accentuating her curves. In the moonlight she had an ethereal glow about her and Draco found himself walking back down the hallway towards her.

She was looking out the window and didn’t notice Draco approaching; as he got closer he realized that he recognized the girl. It was Hermione. Hearing the sound of Draco’s footsteps echoing in the empty hallway, she turned and smiled at him, her warm eyes drawing him closer.

“What are you doing here?” he asked her.

“Waiting for you,” she said in a whisper. She stood up, wrapping her arms around his neck and looking into his eyes. He breathed in her scent deeply, the sweet smell of lavender mixed with a smell that was Hermione’s own.

Her stare was as intoxicating as her scent. He felt at that moment that he knew her completely: the way she thought, her intelligence, her passion, her loyalty, and he couldn’t turn away. He slowly lowered himself onto the stone seat and brought her down on top of him, so that she straddled him.

“Why?” he asked, gently resting one of his hands on the side of her face while the other held her waist.

“I didn’t want you to be alone.”

He kissed her then, desperately, passionately. She responded quickly, parting her lips and allowing his tongue to enter. He plunged into her mouth, overtaking her as their tongues battled for dominance. He could feel her pressing against him, rocking her hips as he hardened against her. They kissed until their own bodies betrayed them, forcing them to brake apart gasping for air.

Slowly, he trailed his hand from where it rested on her face down her body. At her shoulders, he slipped the robe off and bent down to gently kiss the exposed skin. His hands continued to trail down her body, coming to rest at the tie that loosely held together her robe. Easily he undid the knot.

The robe fell from her, pooling on the floor at his feet and exposing her body to him. His hands caressed up the sides of her body to gently cup her breasts, playing with her nipples as they hardened into pert buds underneath his fingertips. He felt her slowly moving against him, moaning softly as his hardness rubbed her through his trousers. He trailed his hands down to her waist stopping her movements and captured her mouth with his to stifle the small whimpers of protest. Gently he slid one of his hands into the warmth between her legs, caressing her.

“Draco…” she moaned as she bucked against his hand, throwing her head back. “Sir,” she moaned again. “Sir, wake up. Wake up, Sir.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Slowly waking, Draco felt a slight pressure on his chest. Groggily, he opened an eye and was greeted with the sight of a pair of large, brown eyes.

“Sir, your mother requests your presence at dinner tonight,” Maxwell said jumping off Draco’s chest to the floor. “Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes. I thought you would be wanting to be woken up.”

“Yes, thank you Maxwell. Tell Mother I’ll be down.”

“Yes, sir,” Maxwell replied and with a low bow and a pop he disappeared.

Draco lay in bed slowly waking up, trying to find the energy to go downstairs, when the memory of his dream hit him like a wave. Groaning he turned over and sat up, recognizing at once the uncomfortable stickiness in his pants. What was going on? This hadn’t happened to him since he was fourteen… and Granger? He shuddered silently, watching the remains of the sunset through his window. The dream had to have been a result of his mother’s announcement today. That, paired with seeing Granger in Diagon Alley, who he had to admit had changed for the better this past year. Sighing, Draco rose from the bed to clean himself up before dinner. At least this dream was an improvement from the nightmares.

Dinner that night was a slightly awkward event, full of forced conversation and uncomfortable pauses. Narcissa thought that it was because Draco was still upset about their holiday with the Grangers. However, with his dream still fresh in his mind, Draco found himself replaying it over and over. He couldn’t look his mother in the eye as she tried to convince him that staying in the same house with Hermione wouldn’t be that bad. Every time Hermione’s name was mentioned Draco felt his stomach flip and his heart begin to race. Despite his best efforts, he found himself excited for the trip. What was going on? He felt like a thirteen-year-old girl with a crush. A crush? Draco did not have crushes, especially on Granger.

“Mother, I don’t understand how you could have known Mrs. Granger. Our family isn’t exactly muggle friendly. How did you meet her?” Draco asked, breaking an uncomfortable silence.

She appeared deep in thought, opening her mouth as if to answer and then closing it. After a long pause she said, “Long ago, before I met your father, before V-Voldemort’s first rise to power my family was more… accepting than they are today. Not by much, but they did try to keep up appearances.

“The Ministry sensed that things were changing, that anti-muggle sentiments were growing in the wizarding world, and they implemented a kind of exchange program, hoping to dispel some of these sentiments. It was where young wizards, who had yet to attend Hogwarts, could attend a muggle school. My father was in the Ministry at the time and thought it would be good if I went on the exchange.

“I didn’t want to at first, and I had trouble making friends. We were so pressured not to let them know who we were. I was scared that I would let it slip. Emma was the only person I ever made friends with. Her and I were inseparable, and before I left I told her who I really was.

“We kept in touch for a while, then I met your father at Hogwarts and it became harder for me. I was very impressed with your father and his ideas; he can be very persuasive when he wants to be. Eventually I stopped answering her letters. I’m so happy that we met up again. I know the four of us will have a good time this summer.”

“Oh,” Draco replied, suddenly becoming very interested in his plate. He realized that this trip was important to mother. It was her way of separating herself from her husband’s position, of proving to the world that she didn’t believe in standards set by the purity of blood. Surely Draco could get along with Granger for three weeks… for his mothers sake, of course.

Draco finished dinner as quick as he could without it being noticeable and went upstairs to bed. Despite his nap this afternoon he found himself exhausted and fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

The next two days went by quickly and after a quick check to make sure that nothing was forgotten, Draco found himself outside King’s Cross, rushing to make the 12:00 train bound for Embleton.

“Draco, can you see Emma or Hermione anywhere?” Narcissa asked her son, craning her neck to look above the sea of travelers boarding their trains.

“Cissa! We’re over here!” a voice called from further down the platform.

Narcissa walked briskly through the crowd over to the bench where Emma was standing. Draco followed his mother, pushing the trolley that contained their luggage. Thankfully, Hermione was nowhere in sight.

“It’s so good to see you,” Narcissa exclaimed, embracing her old friend. “Where’s Hermione?”

“She’s waiting for us on the train. I came out to meet you. Our train’s down this way, on platform three,” Emma replied, ushering Narcissa along and leaving Draco trailing behind with the trolley.

At the train, Draco left the trolley with an attendant and, grimfaced, followed his mother inside. After pushing his way past a plump women taking up most of the hallway with her girth, Draco found himself seated snuggly in a private compartment next to his mother and across from none other than Miss ‘Know-It-All’ Granger.

“It’s so good to see you again!” Narcissa gushed, embracing Hermione.

“Nice to see you too,” Hermione replied blushing slightly. Draco couldn’t help but admire her in the navy blue sundress she wore. It was low cut without being obscene, hugging her curves perfectly. That, and she looked so adorable when she was blushing.

What!? Since when did Hermione become adorable? Since when did Draco find that even the slightest bit attractive? And why was he calling her Hermione!? Granger, not Hermione, Granger did not look adorable, and Draco was not attracted to her. He squirmed a bit in his seat as his mother continued her conversation.

“Your mother was telling me that you’re at the top of your class at Hogwarts. I expect you’ll be named Head Girl this year.” Narcissa stated.

“Maybe,” Hermione replied, smiling wistfully.

“Wouldn’t that be exciting? One of my close friends was named Head Girl. You know that they get their own room with a common room to share with the Head Boy? It’s wonderful to have your own room, especially with N.E.W.T.s this year. Do you have any guesses about who the Head Boy will be?”

“I don’t know; it could be any of the prefects. Maybe Anthony Goldstein.”

“Well, we’ll just have to wait for the letters to arrive. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go and get a cup of tea in the restaurant. Would you join me Emma, give Draco and Hermione time to catch up?” Narcissa asked standing.

“Alright,” Emma replied hesitantly. Leaning in close she asked, “You are aware that the two of them don’t get along, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” she replied quietly, steering Emma out of the compartment. “I think leaving them alone will give them time to settle their differences. I want to enjoy my holiday and not have to worry about those two being at each other’s throats. They’re almost adults. It’s time they got over childish arguments.”

Draco and Hermione watched on horrified as their mothers left whispering to one another. After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Draco decided to try and make some conversation.

“So, how has your summer been?”

“Fine,” Hermione replied shortly, reaching into her bag and pulling out The Standard Book of Spells Grade 7.

“Why do you have that already? We haven’t even got our lists for next year yet,” Draco asked, a smirk on his lips.

“Some of us like to stay on top of our studies,” she said glaring at him.

“Look,” Draco said sighing and gritting his teeth. “I don’t want to fight with you. This summer holiday means a lot to my mother, so could we just pretend to get along for three weeks?”

“You want to stop being your normally arrogant self,” she said throwing the book aside and leaning across to look Draco in the eye, “that’s fine with me. But don’t expect us to just become friends. Not after what you did. You stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”

“After what I did. And what was that? Tried to save my mother, my family.” Draco replied, his voice a deadly calm.

“It’s always about self-preservation for you, isn’t it? Everyone sacrifices during a war, and whether or not you care to admit it, we are in a war. You may be able to afford neutrality with your wealth and your pureblood status, but you should know that time is running out. Soon you’ll have to make a decision, choose a side, whether you want to or not.” Hermione said, glaring at him and leaning in closer as she spoke.

“Neutrality! You can’t be serious. I made my decision two years ago. Don’t talk to me about pureblood status, Granger. I am not my father. I thought I had proven that when I lowered my wand that night. I failed. I failed to do the one thing that would have freed me and my mother, and Snape was left to finish what I started. I understand that you hate me. Your opinion of me cannot possibly be worse than my opinion of myself, but I’m not going to try and justify myself to you. There are no excuses for what I’ve done. I know you owe me nothing, but I’m asking for civility, if not for me than for my mother.”

Her gaze softened a bit, but her eyes still blazed with anger and she remained silent.

Draco continued, “I’m not going to speak any more about what happened last year, last June, but I do want to apologize for all those years of childish bullying. I’m sorry I was too cowardly to rise above the influence of my father and my peers, parroting their beliefs without understanding what they meant, without questioning. I apologize for my behavior towards you.”

Draco had unknowingly leaned forward during his speech and he could feel her hot breath on his face. Her anger had faded and she stared at him in apparent shock. He held his breath waiting for her response, his heart pounding in his chest and adrenaline surging through his veins. He didn’t know why it was so important that she forgive him, but it was. He knew she could never forgive him for Dumbledore. He didn’t expect her to, nor did he think he deserved it, but if she could forgive this, absolve him of this bit of guilt, it would almost make all the rest bearable.

“I – thank you,” she whispered, so quietly he almost couldn’t hear her over the sound of the train. “I forgive you,” she said breathlessly.

Neither moved. Draco didn’t know how long they stayed like that, leaning towards each other across the compartment. At her words, it felt like something had exploded in the pit of his stomach, sending warmth shooting through his body and creating a longing that he didn’t understand.

She sat there so close to him, her mouth parted in shock. He could smell her, she smelled like lavender. Her warm breath played across his lips and her eyes were alight with unshed tears. He wanted to kiss her, he needed to, and he did.

He leaned in, covering her mouth with his own and entwining his fingers in her silky hair. He felt her body tense, but he quickly pulled her onto his lap before she could react. As he slid his tongue along her full lips, asking for entrance to her mouth, he moved his hand from her waist up along the curve of her body to caress the outside of her breast causing her to gasp with the contact. He took this opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. Draco was intoxicated with the feeling of her under his hands, encouraged by the fact that she had yet to pull away, that she was kissing him back, when suddenly she pushed his hands away and jumped away as if burned.

“I… You... I have to go,” Hermione stammered, rushing out of the compartment.

Draco lay back, resting against the seat and closing his eyes. Why had he done that? He was supposed to try and make things better between the two of them not worse. Perhaps Blaise had been right about the fine line between lust and hate. However, the warmth that had blazed through his body with her forgiveness had felt disturbingly far from lust. Still, Draco couldn’t suppress the slight smile that played across his lips. And with his eyes closed and head back he failed to notice a very disheveled looking Hermione watching him through the compartment window as he sat there, smiling to himself.

He must have dosed off and when he awoke he found the compartment full again. Hermione was sitting across from him, immersed in The Standard Book of Spells Grade 7. However, Draco noticed that her eyes weren’t moving and she didn’t turn the pages. She appeared to be looking at the book but not seeing anything, instead deep in thought.

Three hours later, the train came to a stop at a small station. The smell of the ocean was strong in the air. Draco had decided that what had happened between him and Hermione on the train was a mistake not to be repeated. The two of them just got a little carried away. Draco would just avoid being around her the rest of the summer. How hard could that be?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Author’s Note: I spent a lot of time on the internet trying to find a location for the Grangers’ summer home, that would be where and what I needed it to be so that scenes like this little train scene could plausibly exist. I failed miserably! So anyway, Embleton is a real place. I’ve never been there and I’m pretty sure it’s location makes no geographic sense whatsoever for this story, but I was spending way too much time worrying about it. I suppose I could have made someplace up, but I’m really bad at that. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I am aware of the ridiculousness of my choice of location in case anyone does know where it is.
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A Summer Holiday