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Forgiven	By : Tassanaburrfoot Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 18105 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned Harry Potter or the books or contents. This work is purely for my own pleasure, no profit to be made.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Draco stopped in the hallway and quickly stepped to the right of the office, out of view. The volume of the voices coming from said office was loud enough for anyone passing by to hear and he had to suppress a smile when he realized what the conversation was.
“Who brought you the flowers, Hermione?!” Weasley shouted angrily.
Draco could hear Granger give an irritated huff. “If I knew that, Ronald, don’t you think I would have said something?”
“Are you sleeping with him?!” the ginger demanded and Draco could only think of how much he wished that were true.
“What?! No! You know the answer to that question,” Granger snapped back.
“Really? How would I? It’s not like you’re warming my bed!” Weasley ground out and Draco found that he was having a really hard time stifling a laugh.
So, Weasel breath wasn’t getting any from the Gryffindor Princess? For Draco, this was a really good sign, though he was curious as to why. “You know I’m saving myself!” was the screeched answer and Draco’s eyes widened in surprise.
Granger was a virgin? Well, his day was now starting to get better and better. He leaned against the wall, out of sight of anyone who may pass by. Glancing down at Maisey, Draco threw the house elf a satisfied smirk which she returned rather shyly.
“Yeah right!” Weasel yelled and Draco frowned. “You’re just not giving it up to me because you’re giving it to him! Who is he?!”
“How dare you!”
“Hermione, who gave you the flowers?”
“I don’t know!”
Draco heard a defeated growl coming from the pauper and he silently rejoiced. Well, he hadn’t expected this turn of events. Something as simple as a bouquet of flowers had ruined the Gryffindor love match? He held his breath, not believing his luck.
“Ron, where are you going?!” Granger cried as the door was flung open. Draco stepped even further into his hiding spot, not wanting to be caught spying.
He watched as the ginger stormed out of the office and glared at Granger. “You refuse to tell me who sent you those flowers,” he argued. “And I know who ever it is, you’ve been sleeping with him. NO MAN sends flowers to a woman just because he thinks the flowers are pretty. You’ve been lying to me and now that I caught you, you act like it’s nothing!”
“It is nothing, Ronald! I don’t know who sent me those flowers and I’m not sleeping with anyone!” the bushy brunette cried as she followed him out of the office. She reached out to grab his arm. “Ron, where are you going?”
He snatched his arm out of her grasp and sneered at her. “Away from you! Hope this guy is worth it, Hermione, because we are through!” he snarled as he stormed away.
Draco watched the ginger a moment longer before he turned his attention back to Granger. She had fallen to her knees and was openly sobbing right there in the middle of the hallway. That wasn’t something he had wanted. He remembered all the times when he knew he had made her cry and he felt his heart crack. It was his fault that she sat on the floor now, crying. Looking at Maisey, he straightened his clothes and slipped out of his hiding spot.
He approached the Gryffindor gently and knelt down to her, placing a light hand on her back. “Is everything alright, Granger?” he whispered, acting as though he had not just witnessed the fight of the century.
Her fury at him had not been expected as she violently pushed him away and stood up. Those years as a Seeker came in handy at that moment as he was able to maintain his balance, though he followed her in standing. “Get away from me, Malfoy!” she spat at him. “What the hell are you doing here?!”
“I was just passing through, on my way to the Minister’s office, when I saw you on the floor crying,” he admitted, though it wasn’t really the truth. “Forgive me if I show a bit of concern.”
She scowled. “Why would you be concerned about a Mudblood?” she asked, stepping further away from him.
His frown deepened. “I thought we were past all of that?” he commented. “I hadn’t thought of you in those terms for years now.”
She threw her arm out at him, showing him the scarred word written on her forearm and pointed at it. “See?! Mudblood! That’s what I am! Your bloody aunt made sure that everyone would know of it!”
“Last I checked, that woman was dead,” he said as he looked up into her swollen red eyes. “She was an evil sadistic bitch and she deserved the fate she earned for herself. I cannot be faulted…”
“Who was the first person to ever call me that name, Malfoy?!” she shouted.
He did not even know how the argument between Granger and Weasley had changed to this. It honestly had nothing to do with those flowers and he stared at her. He could see the hurt in her eyes and his anger began to deflate some. “What happened?” he asked, his voice lowered to a calm manner.
She said nothing for a few seconds before the tears began pouring out of her eyes once more. He was quick on the uptake, folding his arms around her and holding her as she sobbed. He could feel his heart genuinely breaking for this woman and he was almost tempted to tell her who had sent the flowers, but now was not the time. He led her back into her office and glanced at Maisey, mouthing the word “refreshments” to the elf as he guided the woman to her chair.
He knelt down in front of her, not caring about the mess she was making on his expensive suit. He saw Maisey bring a tray of tea and biscuits as well as a box of tissue. The Pureblood winked at the little house elf before gently prying the Muggle born off his shoulder. Instead of reaching for a tissue, he pulled out his own handkerchief and handed it to her. He focused all of his attention on her, knowing these were crucial moments.
“Granger?” he whispered tentatively.
She took the handkerchief from him and blew her nose before dabbing at her eyes. For a while, they sat there in silence as she calmed down her sobs, hiccupping in the process. He watched her fiddle with the piece of cloth as she folded it gently. A sad smile curved up her lips as she showed him the green engraved initials. “DLM? What does the ‘L’ stand for?” she asked as she hiccupped again.
“Lucius,” he answered. He turned in his spot, though he did not stand, and picked up the teapot to pour some tea in a small cup. Placing the teapot back onto the tray, he picked up the teacup and handed it to her.
She accepted the cup. “Not very imaginative,” she commented. “How did your parents come up with a name like ‘Draco’ if they gave you your father’s name for a middle name?”
He shrugged. “My father always had been a bit conceited,” he commented, earning a very unladylike snort from the witch. He smiled as he added, “My given name came from my mother, though. Her family had always been fascinated by the constellations and after four attempts, she knew that I would be a fighter and wanted to give me the strongest name she could think of.”
“Four attempts?” she asked curiously, taking a sip of tea.
“I wasn’t the only child my parents had been pregnant with,” he told her. “I was just the only one to make it out alive.”
He could see the emotions swirling in the Gryffindor’s eyes at his words and he debated whether he should sooth her obvious pain or retort for her sympathy. He decided upon a different route as he moved to a seat next to hers and poured his own cup of tea. “You shouldn’t be surprised, Granger,” he said as he put a lump of sugar in his tea and stirred. “Most Pureblood families have a hard time conceiving. Families like the Bullstrodes and Parkinsons are a rarity in the Wizarding World.”
He almost said the name Weasley, but had opted for the safer “Parkinson” instead. There was truth in his statement, but he didn’t want to drag up the Weasley name when it was an obvious distress for her.
“Wait. Millicent and Pansy aren’t only children?” she asked, her eyes wide with shock.
He chuckled. “Unfortunately, not,” he told her honestly. “Bullstrode has three brothers and Parkinson has a sister. Daisy should be in her third year coming up. That’s Parkinson’s sister,” he said. “And Bullstrode’s brothers all went to Durmstrang. With Millicent being the youngest and only girl, her parents thought it prudent to give her a gentler education.”
Granger nodded and took another sip of her tea and a companionable silence fell over them. Placing her cup back on the tray, Granger stood up and walked towards the bouquet of white roses sitting on her desk.
“Those are beautiful flowers,” Draco commented, making sure not to smile as she delicately touched a pristine white petal.
A single tear fell from Granger’s eyes and the Pureblood almost feared she would start crying again. Perhaps white roses wasn’t the best way to go.
“I wish I knew who had sent them,” she responded after a few seconds. Her eyes hardened. “I can’t believe that prat actually thought…”
She gave an annoyed growl and walked away from the flowers. Draco frowned. “What do you mean?” he asked, curious. “Aren’t they from Weaselbee?”
Her head snapped to him and she glared. “No,” she retorted. “I don’t know who they were from and like the jealous arse he is, Ronald immediately accused me of having another bloke on the side. As if I would stoop so low! I have my hands full as it is with him!”
Draco’s lips pinched as he scrunched his eyebrows. “He’s an idiot,” he said. “We may not have hung out at school, but anyone who knew anything about you, knew you were loyal above anything. There were assumptions that you had the hots for either Potter or Weasley, of course, but only an idiot would think you’d betray one of them.”
There was a lot of truth in his statement and he knew it. In the back of his mind, the thought made him a bit leery. If she were to marry him, would she think she was betraying Pothead? The thought was tucked away for later perusal as he saw her begin to lighten up.
She smoothed out the handkerchief some more, running a thumb over the intricate embroidery. “They were the first true friends I made in school,” she admitted as she stared at the letters. “I did speak to Neville a little as well as…” He saw something flash through her eyes that was akin to a remembered pain. “Well, obviously the other girls in my dorm. But I think most of them, especially Neville, was more intimidated by me than anything.”
He snorted. “I’m sure Longbottom could have been intimidated by a fly at that time.” Her eyes snapped to him in a glare and he held his hands up in a defensively. “Look, Longbottom came into his own in the end, I won’t deny that. He was quite formidable at the end of the war and had obviously grown a pair of gonads.”
She laughed as her cheeks turned pink and shook her head. “I really don’t want to discuss the size of Neville’s intimate parts.”
He sniffed. “Nor do I.” He gave her a horrified look at the mere thought.
She giggled as she looked back down at the handkerchief. “But I understand what you mean,” she told him. “Point is, until Harry and… well, until the night of Halloween that first year, I didn’t really have any friends. No one would speak to me, unless it was to ask a question about some subject they were having difficulty with.”
He nodded. “Perhaps I should have tried befriending you rather than Potter all those years ago,” he surmised. “God knows, we were both at the top of our class and obviously shared similar interests.”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have been your friend,” she said, looking up at him. “You were cute, but you were also arrogant, self-centered, and a bully.”
“You thought I was cute?” he asked with a satisfied smirk.
She rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Yes, of course that’s what you would take out of that statement. I wasn’t the only girl who thought so, though I do think I was one of the few who lost my rose colored glasses sometime by midyear.”
“Rose colored glasses?” he questioned, looking at her in confusion. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”
As she giggled again, he found that he was really enjoying the twinkling sound, though he had no idea what she found so funny. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “It’s a Muggle expression. ‘Rose colored glasses’ is another way of expressing being blind to a person’s faults due to their more amiable qualities. In your instance, it had been your looks and your brain. I honestly didn’t think I had ever met a boy so knowledgeable in a subject I was so fascinated with.”
“Which subject was that?” he asked curiously.
She laughed as she threw her hands up in the air in a wide gesture. “Magic!” she said, which made him chuckle as well.
She used the corner of the handkerchief to dab at the corners of her eyes. He watched her and was pleased to see she was dabbing away happy tears, rather than sad ones. She seemed to simmer down as she bowed her head again, looking at the cloth. He saw the smile fade and he frowned at the sight. She looked back up at him and, as if realizing who she was talking to, she lifted the handkerchief to him, to hand it back to him. “I’m sorry, Malfoy. I know you’re not interested in the sap story of a Mudblood.”
He shook his head and refused to take the cloth back. “Keep it,” he told her. “And don’t apologize. Honestly, I don’t mind. Any story that has me being called ‘cute’ in it is a good enough story for me,” he joked, earning a rather chaffing laugh. He reached out to touch her hand, but stopped before actually making contact. He wasn’t sure she was ready for that much. “If anyone should apologize, it should be me.”
She scowled as she stared at him. “Why?”
Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, dropping his hand into his lap. “I never should have called you that god-awful word,” he acknowledged, more to himself than to her. “I wanted so much to be like my father. I admired him and everything he stood for and wanted to imitate him. I did imitate him for a very long time.” He raised his eyes to gaze into hers. “I had never met one of ‘your kind’ before. And to see that someone like you had managed to surpass me in every subject, angered me. It wasn’t your fault, but I blamed you. When I received my final grades for my first year and learned that I wasn’t the highest ranking student, I became frustrated. Perfect grades are important for a Malfoy. My father had been a Prefect and a Head Boy when he was in school. He had been at the top of his class, and nothing less would be accepted for me. I was… jealous. And my father wouldn’t let me live it down.”
He saw sympathy in her eyes and while he loathed it, he knew it worked in his favor, so he didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry your father gave you grief,” she said. “It had never been my intention to cause strife for you at home.”
He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it,” he assured her. “He was just looking out for me. Wanted me to be the best, which is what he had been. Again, it wasn’t your fault and I apologize for taking my anger out on you.”
“You were just a boy,” she defended, waving it off. “I know what it means to want to impress your parents. Mine were the same when it came to my grades. I think that’s why I was so adamant to work so hard at it. Besides, all the subjects were so fascinating. I was astounded by the idea of turning a tea kettle into a rabbit and creating a potion that could temporarily change you into someone else.”
He had a sudden desire to kiss her, though he knew it wouldn’t be welcomed. His mother had been right. “You know I never truly disliked you,” he said, and then quickly added, “I mean, sure I hated that you always got top marks and that you were a Muggle-born and a Gryffindor to boot. And then in fourth year…” He let his voice trail away as he looked away from her.
He really wanted to see the look on her face. She knew what he was alluding to. She had to know, but he had to be careful. He was pressing his advantage as much as it was.
“Hermione?”
The voice startled both of them, causing Draco to stand up, touching his wand, and look to the door. Harry Potter walked into the office, looking concerned. His eyes narrowed as he saw Draco.
“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” he asked.
Draco took a deep breath. “I saw Granger sobbing on the floor and figured I would do your job,” he answered, unable to keep the snark out of his voice.
Potter glowered at the Pureblood and Granger stood, quickly walking between the two. “He was getting ready to leave actually, Harry,” she explained.
He was? He glanced at her in confusion. Their conversation had been going so well! Blasted Potter. He glared at the dark haired man. “Yes, I was,” he decided. He really was doing too much too quickly. “I just want to make sure Granger is going to be alright.”
Granger looked at him kindly and gave him a soft smile. “Thank you, Malfoy,” she said, looking at him sadly. “I’ll be ok. I just… This whole day has been a shock. Everything will be fine.”
He nodded, though was unconvinced. “Well, if you need anything, send me an owl,” he offered. “I wouldn’t be opposed to singing a few ginger hairs off that mop of his.”
Granger’s bottom lip quivered and he couldn’t tell if she was wanting to laugh or cry at his statement. “Thank you, again. And I’ll return your handkerchief after I’ve washed it,” she promised.
He gave her a gentle smile, hoping that she would forget to do just that. He truly wanted her to keep it because he knew it would remind her of him every time she saw it. To make sure she would, he sent a silent spell to the cloth that would cause her to forget about it when she wasn’t looking at it. “Good day to you, Granger,” he said. “I look forward to meeting up with you again sometime. Maybe under less…” he gave a pointed look at Potter, who looked as though he wanted to take Draco’s head off, “hostile circumstances.”
She nodded as he pushed past Potter. As he started to walk out into the hallway, he heard the black haired man ask Granger in hushed tones, “What did he want?”
Walking down the hallway, Draco couldn’t help the pleased smirk on his face. “Come on, Maisey, let’s go home.”
“What about the Minister?” she asked as she jogged to keep up with him.
He glanced down at her in momentary confusion before realizing what she was talking about. “Oh, that? I lied. If I showed up at the Minister’s office, I think he’d shite himself. No. My work here is done for now.”
Touching her head, he allowed her to Apparate them back to the Manor.
(II)(II)
Draco flopped in his chair in his private drawing room. “Maisey, bring me my brandy decanter and inform my mother that I’m home,” he said as he draped his legs over one arm of his chair and looked lazily at the soft fire.
He heard the Crack! that indicated the elf had left to do his bidding and he sighed. The day had been exhausting, but it worked out well for him in the end. Sure he could easily go to Shacklebolt and request a job, but it wouldn’t benefit him if the Minister decided to give him some random, obscure job away from Granger. Those flowers had been a nice touch for him and he was glad for it.
His plans were working smoothly. Sure he would have to work on McGonagall some more, showing her he had changed, but that should be easy if he started donating to the causes Granger was passionate about. He just needed to know what those were. House elves were a given, of course. He would have to convince her into making a few changes in her doctrine, but he felt confident after the day’s events. And, overall, he honestly agreed with her assessment over the rights of house elves. Changes needed to be made and he knew Granger would make them.
Granger and Weasley were done, from what he knew. That was a major bonus. He hadn’t expected his flowers to have that sort of reaction, but he wasn’t complaining. Now he just needed to keep them separated. More flowers and some boxes of Sugar Quills should do the trick. And he would have to start inviting her out to places. Perhaps he could invite her to lunch some time?
His thoughts were interrupted as his mother entered the room. He gave her a lazy smile.
“Hello, darling,” she greeted, coming to stand in front of him. She took a delicate seat in the arm chair across from him. “Maisey looked very happy about something, though it was difficult to determine what it was.”
He nodded. “She should be pleased,” he commented as he sat up and reached for the decanter and poured himself a finger of brandy. He took a pull from the drink and allowed the liquid to play on his tongue for a moment. He leaned back in his chair and glanced at his mother. “I’ve made progress with Granger.”
Her face split into a wide smile. “Oh, good! What happened?”
He gently swished his drink around in his glass as he leaned his head back. “I sent her flowers,” he said simply, “but didn’t tell her I had done so. That pauper she was dating saw them and blew up in her face about it.”
“Was dating?”
He shrugged. “He accused her of cheating and broke up with her,” he said simply, as though it wasn’t important. “And I was the knight in shining armor to bring her out of her stupor, of course, I waited until he had left.” He looked at his mother. “She’s a virgin, too, by the way.”
She blinked at his last statement. “It’s good to know she still has some morals about her,” she said as she sat back in her chair. “I spoke with Everard Greengrass today. Apparently your father was working on a contract with him and hoping to combine our families.” She sighed. “They were going to have you and Astoria marry before your father was incarcerated.”
Draco scoffed and downed the rest of his drink, then poured himself another one. “I wouldn’t have consented,” he told her. “Astoria was a worse slag than her sister. Hell, even Pansy Parkinson had better sense than she did. If Father knew the number of boys I caught Astoria wrapped around…”
Narcissa shuttered. “Yes, well, I cancelled the contract,” she told him. “And I tried to meet with the Grangers, but I couldn’t really find them. It is difficult to find Muggles when they are in their world.”
“Muggles,” he snorted, taking a sip of his drink. He tilted his drink towards his mother. “How much do you want to bet they don’t believe in arranged marriages?”
“How barbaric!” she said, placing a hand on her chest as she looked affronted. She used the same hand to wave in the air as she continued, “What do they do? Just let their children marry whomever they want without looking at how such a union could benefit the family?”
He shrugged. It was something else he would have to work on with Granger, but that was too far in the future for him to worry much about it. “Well, think about it, Mum. Wasn’t Granger actually engaged to that pauper? Prestige and money must not mean much to them, though you’d never know it the way Granger went on about the wealth her parents supposedly acquired with their tooth business.”
At his mother’s confusion he shrugged again. Before she could ask, he sighed. “Hell if I know,” he said, then he thought of something. “Bloody hell.”
Narcissa tilted her head. “What is it?” she asked, curiously.
“I’m going to have to find someone who knows something about Muggles,” he admitted grudgingly.
She frowned at that, but nodded in agreement. “Yes, I suppose you will,” she whispered softly, her eyes staring off into the distance. “I almost thought of owling your aunt, maybe patch things up with her.”
Draco stared at her until she elaborated. “Not your Aunt Bella, obviously, but Andromeda. Aside from you and your father, I haven’t really any family left, and I hear she is taking care of that grandson of hers. Dromeda and I got along well enough when we were younger and she was a fine Slytherin. Made Prefect, if I remember right. If she hadn’t married that Muggle born, Tonks, she would still be a prominent part of this family, I’m sure.”
His eyes widened. He vaguely remembered the Dark Lord mentioning disowned family. Hadn’t the Dark Lord asked Draco something about dog sitting? “Why is she caring for her grandson?” he asked.
Narcissa let out a saddened sigh. “Oh, it was horrible, darling,” she told him. “Dromeda’s daughter had married a werewolf… Lupin, I believe his name was, and they bore a son. During the final battle, Bella hunted them down, hoping to rid our family of the monstrosity. She killed Lupin and, sadly, your cousin as well, but I believe the boy was safe in hiding.”
“Lupin? Is that the same man who taught my Defense Against the Dark Arts class during… third year, I think?” he questioned. “I didn’t know he was a werewolf.”
Narcissa’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment. “You know, I believe he is!” she whispered in fright. “I read about it in the paper at the end of that year, now that I think on it. Goodness gracious, that old coot of a headmaster really had some nerve, didn’t he?”
Draco wasn’t certain who was more affronted, himself or his mother. He watched her as she continued, waving a dismissive hand in the air, “Regardless, Dromeda and the little boy survived the war. I was seriously thinking of contacting her again to see if I could establish a relationship with her. She is my sister, after all, and there really isn’t anyone who can tell me not to.”
“Father won’t be pleased,” he pointed out.
“Yes, well, your father is currently serving a twenty year sentence, isn’t he?” she spat with little fire. “My point is, Draco, as time goes on, you’ll become even busier with Miss Granger and I need to find something to do. You were right when you told me I needed to liven up. If I were to visit your father right now, he would be ashamed at what I’ve become.”
“As he should be,” he retorted angrily. “He never should have put you in the position you were put in. You deserve better than what he gave you.”
“He did what he thought was best,” she defended.
“For whom?” he countered.
She glared at him. “Watch your tone, Draco Lucius,” she scolded. “All your father has ever cared about was this family. He wanted to do what was best for us. He just made a mistake.”
“A mistake that nearly cost us everything,” he spat as he stood up. “A mistake that I now need to fix by marrying a girl who can barely stand me.”
His mother stared at him. “I thought you said things were going well with Miss Granger?”
He rolled his eyes and sat back down. “We had a good day,” he told her. “After her spat with the pauper, she and I had a long conversation. I was able to console her and even apologized for my past behavior. She was warming up to me nicely, before Potter interrupted us. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but I did manage to make it work in my favor. It was a good start and I’m confident I can win her over.”
Narcissa looked skeptical. “Be careful, son,” she warned. “I don’t know what her relationship with Mr. Weasley was, but you don’t want to end up being a rebound. Those never work out well.”
He shrugged. “If it comes to that, but I doubt it will. I won’t be a rebound, I’ll be the end result for her. And once we’re married, it won’t matter anyway, will it?”
She smiled at his words. “So, you’re finally amiable to marrying her?” she asked.
He frowned. “I wasn’t aware I had much of a choice,” he said, giving her a dubious look. “Besides, she’s easy enough on the eyes, and she has a brain to match. Not to mention, she’s quite witty and clever in her own right. I do agree with you that she’ll make an excellent bride. And she’s a virgin, which earns her even more credit.”
Her smile softened. “Yes, it does,” she agreed. “How did you find out that information?”
He told her of the argument Granger had had with the pauper and Narcissa looked incredulous. “That nasty little rat!” she breathed and Draco could have sworn he had seen fire breathe through her nose. “Listen to me, son. You keep her away from that pauper. Hex him, if you have to, but don’t let him talk to your wife like that ever again.”
“I don’t intend to, Mother,” he assured her. “It took everything in me not to come out from my hiding spot and hex him then and there, but I needed that argument to happen. It couldn’t have worked better for me if I had planned it myself.”
“Yes, but you need to keep working on it, son,” she told him urgently as she touched his knee. “Don’t give her time to think about it. Don’t give her a chance to make up with him. Miss Granger has been in his good graces for how long?”
He thought on it for a moment. “That, I’m not sure of.”
“Well, no matter,” she said. “What’s important is keeping her out of his good graces, or even more importantly, keeping him out of hers. He’s not right for her. You are. And you need to make sure she sees that and continues to see it.”
He nodded. “Maisey!” he called out and the elf appeared instantly. He looked at her for a moment before getting up and walking to a desk near the corner of the room. He wrote a quick note on a piece of parchment, rolled it, and handed it to the elf. “Bring this to Honeydukes and make sure they get the order right. Then I want you to go to the florist and order another bouquet of anonymous flowers to be sent to Granger in a week. Make sure it’s white roses again.”
The elf nodded happily and disappeared to do his bidding. As Draco returned to his seat, he saw the look on his mother’s face. “What?”
“What did the note say?” she asked.
He smirked. “Granger’s favorite sweet is Sugar Quills, so I asked them to deliver a box of Sugar Quills to her office with a note attached to it,” he said as he mimed writing: “Dear Granger, It still bothers me how much Weasley hurt you. I can only imagine how much it’s killing you inside. I know sweets aren’t really your ‘thing’, but I do hope these will help brighten your day. Yours Truly, Draco Malfoy.”
Narcissa squealed and clapped. “Oh how marvelous!” she praised as she patted his shoulder. “Such a charmer! You’ll have her eating out of the palm of your hand before you know it.”
His smirk widened as he nearly glowed at his mother’s approval. “Let’s not get our hopes up too soon, Mum,” he said lightly, “I want to make sure she’s favorable to the gift before I go much further.”
“Oh rubbish,” she snipped, slapping his shoulder lightly. “She would be a fool not to love it. All girls enjoy receiving sweets, especially when they are down about something.”
“Mother?” he asked suddenly. “What is a cavreetry?”

Author's Notes: Thoughts? Comments? I apologize for any and all gramatical errors, but I did enjoy writing this chapter.
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Forgiven