Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Draco straightened his tie and ran a hand through his hair as he walked up to the office door. Blessedly, he didn’t hear any angry voices on the other side. Bringing his hand up to the door, he hesitated for a moment before rapping his knuckles against the wood.
“Come in!” shouted the voice on the other side.
Plastering a smirk on his face, Draco grabbed the knob, turned it, and stepping inside. What he saw made both of his eyebrows raise in surprise. Granger sat, cross-legged on the floor, with papers spread out around her. Her bushy hair was pulled back in a loose bun and she wore a light blue V neck blouse with matching tights and a short skirt. How short the skirt was, Draco couldn’t tell, however it wasn’t the tight skirts he typically saw in the Ministry, but he could assume it was rather short the way it was hiked up her legs. The tights hid the creamy flesh he was certain was underneath, to his chagrin. Just the sight of her alone sent a jolt straight to his crotch. “Granger,” he greeted, startling her.
She looked up and dropped the parchment she had been holding. “Malfoy! What are you doing here?” she asked.
The parchment had effectively hidden her most intimate part, but he paid it no mind. “I was in the neighborhood,” he started to explain, earning him a disbelieving snort from her. His smirk grew. “Alright. Let me rephrase.”
“Good idea.”
He watched as she stood up, careful to keep herself covered, but she had bent down in a most delicious way. He imagined reaching out to see if her arse was really as tight as it looked. He closed his eyes and stamped his hormones down. There would be time for all that after they were married. He didn’t need to press it so soon. She had her honor to uphold, after all, and for once, he wanted to maintain it too.
“Actually, I was reading this book in my library and became confused by something. Since my mother knows as much about Muggles as Snape knew about hair care, I figured I’d come ask you.”
She laughed and he reveled in hearing it. “So, you mean,” she panted through her laughs, “that Gryffindors weren’t the only ones to notice that?”
He allowed her to have her laugh and even joined her in it. “Of course not,” he said. “We were just smart enough not to ever mention it. He was our Head of House, if you recall.”
She nodded, taking a deep breath, she looked at him curiously. “So, why are you reading about Muggles?” she asked.
He shrugged. “What else am I supposed to do with my time?” he responded as he leaned against the doorframe.
“Oh, I don’t know. Volunteer at a soup kitchen?” she suggested with a teasing smile.
He frowned. “What’s a soup kitchen?” All those books he read, not a single one had mentioned such a thing.
Her smile broadened even more. “It’s a Muggle thing,” she explained. “Volunteers cook up this huge meal and serve it to the poor and homeless.”
His mind raced as he thought about it. There was no way he would ever serve food like a common house elf. He quickly searched his mind for a change of subject. The sound of Granger’s stomach rumbling couldn’t have been more perfect if he had planned it. He smirked as his eyes lit up. “So, Granger,” he offered teasingly, moving off the door frame, “I was thinking of getting some food. Fancy joining me?”
For a moment, he thought she was going to deny him and had already started thinking of arguments as to why she shouldn’t refuse. He watched her as she sighed at the papers in defeat. “I suppose refueling will help me focus more,” she said idly.
He frowned. “Refueling? Merlin, Granger, you make it sound like you’re some sort if machine.”
He hadn’t meant to say that, but the startled look she gave him made it worth it. She shook her head, seeming to snap herself out of her daze. “Yes, well, some of us have to actually work for a living, Malfoy,” she said as she placed the papers on her desk and grabbed a small beaded purse. She stepped up next to him and for a moment, he was able to look into her honey colored eyes. “Shall we go to the cafeteria?”
He scoffed. “You’re joking, right?” Holding his hand out for hers, he gave a short smile when she took it. “I’ve a much better idea.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her down to the Floo.
He didn’t know how long they sat in that little café, chatting about complete nonsense. She had indeed been surprised that he knew anything at all about Muggles. Those books he had read came in real handy.
“The wizards get a lot of things wrong, you know,” she was telling him as she took a bite of her noodles.
He shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “So do Muggles.”
She gave him a soft smile and nodded in agreement. “I guess its human nature? No one ever wants to take responsibility for their own actions. Instead, they would rather blame someone else.”
He looked at her curiously. “Are you speaking about yourself or another?” he questioned.
She sighed. “You don’t really care about idle prattle from a Muggle born,” she jested, though he didn’t hear any true humor in her voice.
He lifted an eyebrow. “How do you know what I care about?” he replied as his eyebrows wrinkled.
They stared at one another for a few seconds. He really wished he knew what she was thinking, but he prayed whatever it was, it was something good. Taking a deep breath, she looked away from him. “Ronald sent me an owl this morning,” she confessed and Draco had to stop himself from throwing a nasty comment. “He apologized for what happened. Told me that he realized that I would never do what he had accused me of and that he wanted to get back together.”
Draco licked his lips. “Will you take him up on the offer?” he asked.
Granger sighed as she leaned back in her chair. “I honestly don’t know. I mean, isn’t it expected of me? Aren’t we supposed to end up together?”
“Are you?” he countered. “Where is it written that you should settle for someone like him?”
She frowned at him. “Someone like him? And what exactly is he?”
There were a million things Draco wanted to say at that moment. Telling her about the Weasel’s cheating would work perfectly. “Someone who doesn’t know how to appreciate someone as intelligent and beautiful as you,” is what he actually said.
“What did you just say?” she asked, staring at him in awe.
He suddenly found that he couldn’t look her in the eye. Memories of their fourth year flashed in his mind. The remembered feel of her soft lips caused him to crave for them again, but he suppressed it. He stared at his plate, silently wishing it could provide him an answer. Something. “The belle of the ball has only grown more beautiful with time,” he murmured. He chanced a glance at her and he could feel his cheeks become heated upon seeing her eyes burn into him.
“Why?” she questioned.
Blinking, he met her eyes. “Why what?”
“All these years, Malfoy. Why? Why now?” she demanded as she sat up straight. “You spent… years tormenting me!”
“Actually, I didn’t,” he argued. “After fourth year…”
“No, you’re right! After fourth year, things just became worse,” she growled. “And when you did have the chance, you couldn’t even pluck up the courage to stand up for what was right.”
He could feel his anger rising. “I didn’t have a choice, Granger,” he snapped.
“Yes you did!” she retorted. “You could have fought. You could have helped us. You could have…”
“Lost my parents,” he interrupted, his cheeks red in his anger. “Did you really think it so easy, Granger? My father was wandless and still recovering from being in that hellish prison. My mother, also wandless, was at the mercy of her crazy sister who, in case you didn’t take notice, had no problem killing her own fucking blood. The only one keeping my family from being destroyed was me. I…” He shook his head and looked away again. “I’m not strong like you, Granger. I couldn’t let that psycho destroy my family. My mum, my dad? They’re all I have in this world.”
She calmed down at his words and her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He gave her a soft, sad smile. This really wasn’t how he had hoped this lunch would go. His mind went through all he had planned. To him, it was still too early to approach her with anything resembling the idea of a relationship. He clenched his teeth and decided to go for it and gazed up at her.
“Look, Granger. I don’t expect you to understand what life was like for me back then, but we were children. I…” he stopped. What was he saying? What did he want? Well, he knew what he wanted, but he also knew it wouldn’t be that easy. The waitress came by with the check and he handed her some money to pay for the meal. “I’m not bound to tradition anymore, Granger,” he said.
“Bound to tradition?” she repeated, confused.
He shrugged. “I don’t know how much you know about old Pureblood families,” he commented apologetically. “Marry a Pureblood witch that’s been chosen for you to build an alliance between your families and add more money to your already heavily impregnated vault. I must learn the family business so I can earn even more money, even though we have enough money that even with all the donations I make, technically, I’ll never really have to work.”
“Must be torture,” she snarked and he scowled.
“I’m trying to apologize to you,” he said petulantly.
Granger gave a small snort. “You’re doing a bang up job, then,” she said sarcastically.
He sighed. “I’m not good at this, Granger.”
“Obviously.”
“And you’re not going to go easy on me, are you?”
“Of course not.”
He grimaced. “Fine,” he said, exasperated. “I apologize, alright? All those things I did when we were younger was just…” What he wanted to say was “was because I liked you”, but he stopped. He shook his head. “I’m a Malfoy,” he tried to explain. “I’m also heir to my family’s fortune. Because of who I am, there’s a lot expected of me.”
She looked at him and he found himself wishing he could know what she was thinking. “I suppose a Mudblood besting you in every class really curdled your gut, huh?”
“Don’t call yourself that,” he said, frowning at her.
“Why not? That’s what I am,” she told him, leaning back in her chair. “At the end of the day, I was still born from a pair of Muggles. My family has absolutely no history of magic within it. Never has. My parents, my grandparents, my aunts, and uncles. Not a single one has a drop of magic within them. I do think I have a cousin twice removed on my father’s side who’s good at sleight of hand, but that’s not really magic, is it?”
He nodded. “You still shouldn’t call yourself that name. I never should have spoken it to you, and for that, I am sorry.” He took a sip of his drink. Why was his mouth so dry?
“Did that hurt?” she asked, tilting her head a bit to the right.
Baffled, he looked at her. “What?”
She shrugged as she picked up her own drink and took a sip from it. “Well, I can imagine such a confession isn’t something any Malfoy is used to, so it must have really hurt. Must have taken a lot from you.”
He stared at her blankly for a moment, trying to figure out what her game was. Certainly she wasn’t making fun of him. His expression hardened. “It is not a common occurrence,” he said darkly.
She giggled, waving her hand. “I’m just teasing, Malfoy. You really do need to learn to lighten up a bit,” she said and he allowed his shoulders to relax.
A smirk played on his lips. “Yes, well, maybe you’d like to help me with that?” he queried. At her curious look, he continued, “I’ll be celebrating my twentieth birthday on Monday.” He hesitated, “As you can guess, this will be the second year my father hasn’t been here to celebrate. My mother has been so distraught over it, while I’m sure she’ll try to put on a face for my sake, I’m not really interested in anything so fake.”
She frowned. “What exactly are you wanting, Malfoy?”
He shrugged, looking down at his forgotten plate. At some point he had finished his meal, but he didn’t remember when. What had he eaten again? Did it matter? “I don’t want to spend my birthday alone,” he said softly, not looking at her. “And I don’t want to spend it inside Malfoy Manor consoling my mother.” He didn’t raise his head, but he did look up at her. “Twenty years, and I haven’t a clue what to do.”
She looked troubled as she pinched her lips. “What of your friends? Surely they’d have something planned,” she suggested.
He scoffed, shrugging his shoulders. “I doubt it. We don’t speak much anymore, honestly.”
“And whose fault is that?” she demanded without heat. “It’s not like any of them moved. Blaise works at the Ministry and Theo spends more time at Flourish and Blotts than could possibly be healthy for him. And I believe Goyle has been doing charity work with Mr. Weasley.”
Draco shuddered at the mention of Goyle. “I don’t… Goyle and I don’t speak anymore,” he admitted.
He closed his eyes and bowed his head as he thought of Crabbe, That blubbering idiot, he inwardly sneered. Draco wished he could reach out and strangle his old friend. How did it happen? Why did it happen? He shook his head, feeling even worse than he had before.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Draco said as he looked up and met Granger’s eyes. He silently thanked Merlin that he did not see pity in her eyes. “It was just a thought, that’s all, but it’s fine. Just… Forget I ever said anything.”
He stood up and she followed him. “Malfoy,” she said, but he ignored her. He turned around and began to walk away when he heard, “Draco,” and felt her hand on his shoulder. Surprised, he stopped and slowly turned around, catching her honey eyes with his.
“Thank you for the meal,” she whispered as she took a step closer to him. “If you’d like, you can meet me at the Leaky Cauldron Monday night. I’m going to be stuck in board rooms all day, so I won’t see you then, but Monday night… around 7? Perhaps we can, I don’t know, have cake or something.”
He gave her a small smirk. “Cake sounds good,” he commented, his smile slowly widening. “Alright… Hermione. Monday night at seven.”
She returned his smile and raised a single eyebrow. “Now, don’t get any ideas, alright? This isn’t a date. It’s a celebration as we launch you into your second decade.”
“Launch?” he questioned looking aghast. “You make it sound like I’m some sort of rocket.”
He knew his comment would shock her and he wasn’t disappointed. He winked at her. “You didn’t think a Pureblood like me would know about rockets, did you? You’d be surprised what
I know. I was… second in my year. Would’ve been first if not for some know-it-all Muggle born.”
The most spectacular thing Draco had ever seen were the emotions flitting over Granger’s face. “I’ll see you Monday night,” he said when she didn’t say anything more.
As he left, he couldn’t help but feel satisfied by the confused, shocked state he knew he had left her. Yes. Things were going perfectly.
(II)(II)
Over the course of the next few days, Draco began spending more and more time lurking in the corridors of the Ministry. He would take Granger out to lunch each day where they would laugh and speak of old school days before the war.
“There we were, standing in the hallway naked as the day we were born!” he joked one day, earning giggles from the Gryffindor.
“I’m surprised you didn’t get caught,” she said, covering her mouth as she tried to swallow her food and laugh at the same time.
Draco shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “We’re Slytherins,” he said by way of explanation. “I think the only time I ever got caught was when I was trying to rat you lot out.”
Granger shook her head. “Yes, well, you deserved it. That’s what you get for spying on us,” she said, pointing her fork at him.
He smirked. “Well, I hated Potter. I would’ve done anything to get his arse in trouble. Him and Weaselbee.”
“Why?” she asked, genuinely curious. “What did they ever do to you? Seriously?”
Draco frowned as he thought it over. He had to be careful when choosing his words. He didn’t want to upset her. “I’d always admired my father, you know that. As a child growing up around him, I wanted to be just like him. I wanted his hair, his style, his… I wanted to be him. I would’ve done anything for him, too.”
“Thank God you aren’t your father,” she breathed.
He looked at her curiously. “Are you sure about that?” he asked. When she gave him a bewildered look, he shrugged. “I did become a Death Eater and I failed in a task the Dark Lord had given to me, just like my father before me.” When she looked as though she was about to interrupt, he held a hand up to halt her words. “I don’t regret not going through with it. The fact, however, is that the Dark Lord had given me a mission to complete, much like he had given my father. And we both failed. Father never got that prophecy and I didn’t kill Dumbledore.”
He sighed. “To answer your question, Father had wanted me to be friends with Potter. In fact, the summer before first year had started, I don’t believe a day passed where he didn’t talk about Potter and I being friends. He was so certain of what Scarhead would become and I would be his right hand.”
“What did he think Harry would become?” she asked in hushed tones.
He glanced at her, his eyes silver. “The next Dark Lord?” he said softly. Her eyes widened and he shrugged. “No one knew what had happened all those years ago. One moment, the Dark Lord was at the height of his power and the next… he was gone. In his place were two very dead people and a single babe with a lightning scar on his forehead. What were people supposed to think?”
“He must have been angry when you owled him that you and Harry weren’t friends…” she surmised.
He pinched his lips. “Not really,” he told her. “Sure he was disappointed, but he didn’t really fault me, especially after I told him who Potter was spending his time with.”
Granger frowned. “A Mudblood and a Weasley?”
He looked at her, but found he could not deny her scathing words. “I’m not going to lie to you, Hermione. We needed to know if Potter was the next Dark Lord and I knew the moment he chose Weasley over me that he wasn’t. That being said, as the years progressed, there were even more reasons for me to dislike him. The fact that he constantly beat me at Quidditch, winning the House Cup each year, being friends with you…” He let his voice trail off at that, glancing away from her.
He felt her hand touch his and his eyes zoomed to his hand in shock. He stared at their hands, turning his hand around so her fingers fell into his palm and he gently closed his fingers around hers, rubbing his thumb over them. Her hand was so tiny in comparison to his. And it was soft! So fragile as well. He suddenly realized he had never seen anything so delicate, so beautiful as her hand and he was mesmerized.
“Draco,” she said, snapping his mind back to attention. He looked up at her and silver met honey. “We can be friends now, if you like.”
His lips turned upward in a smile. “I would,” he replied and she giggled.
He chuckled along with her and as he did so, all he could think was that his plan was moving along very, very smoothly.

Author's Note: So, what do you guys think? Progress? Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think.
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Forgiven