Nicest Thing

A/N: I’m wondering if any one is interested in reading this story from Draco’s POV after I finished writing it. As this story is currently focused solely on Hermione’s POV some of Draco’s actions are seen differently. So, if you want to read this from a different POV [with different scenes and what not] then please review and mention it.

Song:
Great Lake Swimmers - Pulling On A Line
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-0HgSHYu2Y

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Hermione spent her weekend sitting on her couch reading a large tome about the history of house-elves while Crookshanks cuddled beside her. A large spoon jutted out from her lips while a pint of super duper chocolate chip ice cream was saddled between her breast and arm. She flipped the page and pulled the spoon from her mouth with a thick pop. Scooping a large dollop, Hermione plopped it into her mouth letting some squeak past the corners of her lips, which she licked clean after removing the spoon.

Her fire crackled lightly, the small waves of heat filling her normally cold room. She had forgone going out to dinner with Harry, Ginny, Luna and Ron because it would have made her feel incredibly awkward. While it wouldn’t have bothered her during her school days, now that everyone she knew was settling down – save Charlie Weasley, who was too consumed with dragons then girls – she felt like an outsider. Not that she minded. Her solitude was not for wanting, but it was good enough to let her think without having so many voices in her head.

The fire crackled an unusual color, causing her to look up from her book as a large floating head appeared. It was Ginny’s. She looked around and spotted Hermione before smiling.

“There you are!” Ginny’s head said, flipping her hair from her view. “I tried your office but they said you went home early. I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

Hermione closed her book and showed Ginny the title. The red head groaned and rolled her eyes, “Of course I’m not.”

“Do you need something?” Hermione asked, instantly becoming aware that something might be wrong, “Is James alright?”

She had fallen in love with her godson and wanted to be the godmum who would spoil him silly. Ron spoiled the little tike silly as it was – but she had a feeling Luna confused the infant with her ramblings – but Hermione had been a little occupied with work to spend proper evenings with him. Ginny shook her head and laughed.

“No. He’s fine. Mum and Dad are watching him. Are you sure you don’t want to come out with us tonight?” Ginny asked, her fiery eyes flickering with a pleading tone.

“I just want to stay in.” Hermione answered, pulling her large throw over her shoulder, “I haven’t spent so much time just relaxing that I almost miss it.”

“Oh, come on ‘Mione. We’re heading to a Muggle pub!”

“Do you think you should be going out so soon? You just had a baby not five days ago,” Hermione said with a mild shock at Ginny’s ability to recover quickly – it must have been her fiery temper and will that made her heal like no one’s business.

Not to mention, Mrs. Weasley had plenty of children and Weasley children were known for their spry nature.

“I’m not going to get smashed. I’m the SA,” Ginny said with a slight shrug, “Ron is already pissed, but he’s eager to go to one…”

Ah, Safe Apparator. Go figure. Hermione still shook her head. She was never one for the party scene and drinking was not her forte.

“It’s ok Gin, thanks for inviting me,” Hermione said sounding as if she were eager to continue sitting around eating pints of ice cream in her living room.

“Are you sure?” Ginny asked, receiving a nod from Hermione, “Ok, well we’ll get together for lunch soon. Love you!”

Before Hermione could say bye, Ginny was gone and the fire had returned to its usual flickering flame. She leaned back against her couch and sighed, closing her eyes for a second. Double thinking, Hermione rose from the couch and tip toed to the kitchen to put her pint away. She pulled her blanket around her and shuffled into her bedroom where she plopped onto her bed and groaned into the sheets and mattress.

She wanted to sleep but none came. Her Muggle clock blinked one a.m. and as much as she wanted to crawl into bed and just lie there her body was telling her to get some exercise. So exercise she did. She stripped from her over sized t-shirt and pulled on jogging capris and a tank top. Tying her hair into a tight pony tail, Hermione checked her pulse counting to three Snapes jumping over a cauldron before leaving.

“I’ll be back later, Crooks,” Hermione said to her snoozing cat – not caring that she was talking to her animal. Crooks was just like another person, he was intelligent and capable of understanding her words.

The beach stretched to just right out her front door, beyond a small strip of grass. Hermione went running, running as fast as she could. The cold air pushed past her face, burning her cheeks pink. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled the cool sea breeze and stared in front of her. Sand glittered under her feet and lit a path straight to the moon. Even the water glittered and it looked serene and peaceful.

She smiled and kept running, tucking her elbows close to her body. Her head turned as a car passed, its bright lights flashed at her and she had a feeling that car was a neighbor, but she didn’t pay it any attention. Jumping over an abandoned tree branch, Hermione turned to look at it and in her distraction she fell into a pit.

Her foot fell into a pit. She flopped over onto her stomach and gasped as pain shot up her ankle straight to her leg.

“Bugger,” Hermione groaned, rolling onto her butt as she pried her foot from the hole and looked at it.

She forgot her wand at home, but she knew exactly where it was. Being used as a bookmark in her latest literary conquest. Bugger. Hermione tried to move but her ankle shot pain up her thigh causing her to let out a bellow.

“Oi!” A voice from the distance called out, apparently running down the slope and toward her.

Just great, some random guy coming to her rescue like she was just some damsel in distress. She wondered what he’d think if he knew she was a great war hero, or so that’s what the Prophet printed. It sounded better than a bookworm know-it-all who didn’t know how to keep her nose from poking into the wrong places and situations. That’d be a really long title for her, but that was neither here nor there.

“Are you alright?” it was a male voice and Hermione looked up to match the voice with a face.

She nearly fainted, or groaned with disgust – one or the other. Cormac McLaggen. She hadn’t seen him since that faithful night she left him stranded under the mistletoe during Slughorn’s Christmas party and now here he was. Still looking attractive as ever – but that only meant he was probably still as arrogant as ever. His features looked the same, despite being a year older than her.

Tight wiry blond locks cut short, tall slightly muscular build and a face that even Narcissa Malfoy would find attractive. He wore Muggle clothing, which confused her as she had thought that he was Pureblood – but even now a days Muggle fashion was popular in wizarding culture. Perhaps he was just trying to keep up with fashion. It wouldn’t have surprised her.

“I said, are you alright?” He asked again, breaking her from her probably dopey gawking at him.

Hermione cleared her throat and looked down at her ankle. Should she say she is fine and pretend to hobble away? She doubted she could get too far on her already bloating ankle, but she would rather eat dirt then accept help from him. Especially him.

“I think my ankle is sprained,” Hermione replied, finally but she did not look at him.

“Here let me help you,” he said uncharacteristically kind, maybe he had changed – so many changed after the war.

Hermione felt him pull her arm over his shoulder and lifted her gingerly, making sure not to cause too much movement to her ankle. She groaned when he rolled her to his chest, causing her other foot to hit her ankle. Cormac apologized swiftly and looked down at her, his golden eyes looked into her own mocha brown ones and recognition set in

“Hermione?” He asked as he started back the direction she had come, “Hermione Granger?”

She was glad that it was dark or else her face would have been extremely red, but she nodded.

“Yes. I remember you too, Cormac.” Hermione replied, hissing slightly as he stepped over that damned branch that caused her to trip in the first place.

“Blimey, I didn’t think I’d ever run into you again,” he replied with half a laugh, walking as if she weighed nothing, “How have you been? Outside of falling into sink holes…”

“I’m good,” Hermione answered, wondering if he had ever read the Prophet, because if he had surely he would know that she wasn’t fine – her ‘former’ relationship with Draco was headline news for weeks. “And you?”

“I’m good. Living over in Brentwood – was visiting a cousin. You might know him, Angus Fletcher?” Hermione shook her head; she didn’t bother getting to know her neighbors and was surprised that other witches or wizards lived here.

“Oh, well he’s on the Hogwarts school board. We were discussing potential changes to the curriculum,” Cormac explained, climbing the slope as he headed back to Hermione’s cottage. “I’m a governor on the school board now and I hear you’ve become the assistant director at the Ministry.”

“Good for you,” Hermione found herself saying, not sure what to say at all, “Yes, I’ve been there for the past…”

“Five years,” Cormac interrupted, his tone not at all as self-absorbed as it once was, “My cousin likes to talk about the Ministry, especially when it is about you, Potter or Weasley. The Golden Trio and all.”

“Oh, right.” Hermione nodded again, feeling like a parrot at that point – or at least a Muggle bobble head doll. “I live up there on the corner.”

“The one with the orange cat?”

“Yes.”

Cormac shrugged Hermione to him softly, making sure not to injure her foot more as they passed Crooks. The orange fluff ball sat perched atop her mailbox with his tail swishing to and from. Hermione thought she saw the cat roll his eyes and poked her tongue out at him after making sure Cormac wasn’t looking. Crooks jumped down when Cormac pushed her white gate open and walked straight up to the door, where Crooks pushed it open with his nose.

“Intelligent creature,” Cormac complimented the half-Kneazle although Crooks merely hissed and darted off into another room.

“He’s not very fond of strangers but he is intelligent.” Hermione said quietly, feeling the warm air hit her once pink cheeks, “The couch is fine.”

Cormac nodded and brought her to the couch where he gingerly laid her on it. Standing straight, the former Gryffindor cracked his back and rubbed his neck before smiling.

“Kitchen?” he asked, watching Hermione point in the direction.

“You don’t need to help me anymore then you just did,” she insisted, propping herself up onto her elbows as she heard the ice box open and him rummaging through things before returning.

“It’s the least I can do. A Gryffindor never leaves a former school mate to fend for herself,” He said with a bright smile, sitting beside her as he removed her shoe.

Hermione hissed when she felt his cold hands touch her skin, rolling her ankle lightly. She hoped that her feet didn’t smell, but she hadn’t built up much of a sweat to begin with – so that was good.

“It’s not broken,” he replied pressing some ice against her skin, “I learned how to treat sprains when I played for Puddlemere United.”

A Quidditch player, former one, great. What was up with Hermione and Quidditch players? She hated Quidditch! First there was Ron, then bloody Draco and now she had Cormac McLaggen in her living room pressing ice against her swollen foot.

“Thank you,” Hermione breathed through her teeth as she felt her swelling disappear.

“It’s nothing,” Cormac replied, pulling it wand out he mumbled a spell and watched as her ankle turned the right shade of peach. “Fixed.”

She pulled her leg to her and felt her ankle. Nothing was wrong with it and she was glad. Hermione looked at him and tucked her legs under her.

“You could have healed it at the beach instead of carrying me back,” Hermione said with a quirked eyebrow.

“Ah, yes, I could have,” Cormac said, rising to a stand. He wagged a finger at her and smiled a perfectly white smile, “Then again I didn’t know you were Hermione Granger. Even if I did I wouldn’t have…”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t talk to you then. I’d just heal your ankle and you’d continue running,” he replied watching Hermione rise.

“I guess that’s true,” She smiled, looking away sheepishly. “Thank you though, for helping me.”

“Well, since I saved your life maybe you’d want to make it up to me?” He asked, causing Hermione to feel a bit defensive.

She sure as hell wasn’t going to sleep with him just because he lugged her body all the way back home, if that was what he was thinking. However, his calm face and bright golden eyes didn’t reek with that lusty need she saw in Draco’s eyes weeks before.

“What do you have in mind?” Hermione asked, by Merlin was she trying to flirt with him? No! Inconsolable!

“There is the Ministry gala this weekend,” he began, clearly watching her for her every reaction but she kept her face indifferent. “Would you be my date? We wouldn’t have to stay there all that much if you don’t want to…”

“Alright,” Hermione shrugged before he could finish. Her brain was asking her, in very colorful words, what in the world she was agreeing to. She had never been to a Ministry gala – let alone with Cormac bloody McLaggen.

“Really?” He sounded excited and his grin widened across his face, “That’s…wow…I was expecting you to say no after I had been such a prick in school…”

“You’re my hero,” Hermione teased, feeling her cheeks go red at her poor attempt at flirting but it didn’t seem to phase Cormac as he was grinning like a cat got the cream.

“Great!” He moved toward the door, with Hermione following, “I’ll come by and get you around…eight?”

“Sounds lovely,” she smiled at him as he leaned down.

Her eyes widened when she felt his lips press against hers only briefly and once he parted she bet she looked like a deer in headlights.

“See you then,” he replied in a huskier voice before walking briskly out into the cold where he pulled his coat to his ears and darted off into the distance.

Hermione stood there like a statue trying to take in what just happened. Her hand slowly traveled to her lips, still wet from Cormac’s kiss. Merlin. What had she just agreed to? She agreed to go on a date with Cormac bloody McLaggen - Ron was not going to be happy about this. Not at all. However, right now she didn’t care.

The pink on her cheeks remained as she closed the door and spun around, watching Crooks dart his head out to see if McLaggen left. She twirled in a circle and let out a giddy laugh – one she hadn’t heard in a long while.