Have and Have Not

Draco knocked on her front door again. They had agreed on 10am, the earliest anyone was likely to see young Mr Malfoy dressed for company. He had suffered at school with the early starts and had reverted to more reasonable hours as soon as he had been released from his education. 10 am for brunch at a fashionable cafe where they would be seen. They had done the same last weekend and the weekend before. It was almost a date.

He had seen Granger write it down on that muggle gadget with initials. CBD? PDQ? Something like that. She was not the sort to forget or to stand someone up. Draco pushed down his annoyance. There could be something wrong. He glared at the door, covertly running his wand across the lock. The jolt up his arm confirmed the house was heavily warded.

It abutted two others, squished together like dovecotes, so he could not duck around the side to try another door. Draco cast a concealment charm on himself and pulled off his left cufflink. It was shaped like a broomstick, which it rapidly became once he removed the transfiguration on it. He slung a leg over and floated up to look into the upper storey windows feeling like a Peeping Tom but unwilling to walk away.

The second window was Granger’s bedroom. The curtains were open so he could see her lying on her bed. She had her face buried in the pillow. Her hair curled like Medusa’s serpents over her bare shoulders, which were quivering. She wasn’t sleeping. He knocked on the window thinking she was doing one of two things. When she lifted her head and he saw the tears he knew she was crying. She gave him no greeting, just collapsing back onto her pillow.

Bugger. Draco felt awkward intruding. He was tempted just to leave her to get over it and if she had not looked up perhaps he would simply have left his card and departed. Hermione was not a weepy woman or high-strung like some of the pure-blood girls could be. Damn it, he had to do something. He could not get into the house past the wards.

Potter could, though. Golden Boy the Auror probably had a spare pass-ward. Draco spat a curse. He had no idea where Potter and the Weasley wench lived. That lack had never previously impeded him. He thought quickly. The Grangers would know, and he knew how to get to their house. Before he had a chance to second guess himself, Draco landed his broom and Apparated.

Suburbia was not improved by the bustle of the Sabbath Day. Draco found a discrete niche amongst some dustbins to return his broomstick to cufflink form and dismissed the concealment charm. He ran a hand through his hair then strode up the Granger’s driveway. Their vehicle was there suggesting they were in though he noticed several of the houses had two of the horseless carriages. How many people lived in these tiny houses if they needed two of the noisy automata?

He knocked on the door, heard a distant voice say ‘round the back’ and diverted down the side passage into the tiny yard. It was barely enough for a kitchen garden but again that seemed normal for Surrey. Mr and Mrs Granger were doing horticultural things. Martin stopped pushing the bladed contraption that looked like an accessory from the Inquisition and Louise got up from weeding a flowerbed.

“It may be nothing serious.” Draco opened the conversation without the usual civilities because of the identical expression of worry on their faces. Hermione was an only child, after all. He explained quickly, glossing over the peering in through her bedroom window. Mrs Granger pulled off her gloves and straw hat.

“I’ll get my address book.” She hurried into the house. Martin, still in two minds about the young man, debated asking why he had gone to his daughter’s house. It was not his business. Hermione would tell him if she thought it was important but his little girl had ‘not told’ them quite a lot.

“Harry does not like you.” Martin remarked. “I cannot say what I have heard on the rumour mill impresses me either.” There, he had said it. The young man’s face went all high class and snooty of nose though he tried to hide it. “Hermione thinks you are worth a second chance. I would treasure that because from what I’ve read she’s about the only one who does.”

Draco kept his peace until he got Potter’s address then made a cool farewell. He Apparated to Ottery St Catchpole as he knew where it was then tried for Exeter. He had been there only once before, coincidentally then also looking for Potter. Fortunately he was better success this time. Mrs Potter opened the door accompanied by one of her young so he had to explain twice.

But once Potter got the message, they were back to Surrey to pick up the Grangers then Apparating in tandem to Hermione’s home. Draco was seriously wondering whether it would have been easier to risk the wards and smash a window. He admitted reluctantly to himself that he would not have done this rigmarole if he did not think Hermione truly needed help.

Doing good deeds did not exactly shower one with praise. No wonder people avoided them. Potter opened the wards, Mrs Granger opened the door and they hustled inside leaving him to make tea. Draco had never felt more superfluous. When Potter and Mr Granger trooped downstairs with the news of why Hermione was upset there was nothing he could say.

Crucio could not have got him to confess his first thought had been ‘she should be so lucky’ when he heard she had felt the babies kick. Narcissa had miscarried twice before he was born and three times afterwards, and she was considered fortunate. Draco added brandy from a hipflask to the tea. No one protested.

No one asked him to leave either so he didn’t but was unsure why not.