Hunter and Prey

They went from Shakespeare to Milton to renaissance art to France. They had both been to the Auvergne and reminisced in French. Far from having nothing to talk about, conversation took them through from antipasto to zabaglione. It seemed no time at all before Hermione sat back to watch Draco do the complex mental arithmetic to convert pounds into Galleons. She had offered to pay her share but he had refused as he had invited her out

They had quite a nice red wine, well he had a nice red and Hermione had mineral water, and a respectable meal for what he thought of as a paltry sum. He had considered continuing the evening with a show or even a plebeian movie but Draco could see she was flagging a little and did not want to push his luck. It had been enjoyable.

And no one had looked at them or whispered. An older couple at a table nearby had smiled when he had held out a chair for Hermione and they had got a quick nod from a waiter when he gestured for the bill. That was all. A lovely change from the last time he had dined out. It had been so bad he left after waiting half an hour for a waiter in a nearly empty restaurant. They ambled out into the warm night and Draco spoke.

“Do you want an apology for Hogwarts?” He studied the streetlights as he debated with himself. Clearing the air by saying sorry would advance his cause but he loathed grovelling. The only people he had ever apologised to were his parents and Severus, sincerely anyway. Every time Potter looked at him Draco got the impression he was waiting for a mea culpa. That would not happen. He regretted nothing except where his choices had got him.

“I do not.” Hermione contemplated him contemplating the landscape. He looked very Teutonic, a knight girded for battle. “I don’t need a grand gesture of reconciliation. You were hardly the only one and you’ve paid. You didn’t go back for your seventh year.”

“Here I stand ready to fall on my sword and the greatest punishment you cite is missing my last year of school.” Draco was tempted to mock her further but stopped himself. Old habits died hard. If he could not remake himself how did he expect to revive his family? “I had always thought your preoccupation with schoolwork to be a way of boasting but you honestly value education beyond all things, don’t you?”

Hermione could have snapped back with a snide comment. She had learned to meet his jibes with jibes. Ron and Harry still did. It was like flicking a switch; on came the spite. She had caught herself doing the same. It did them no compliment and bred more resentment.

“My grandparents were working class. My dad’s dad died on Sword Beach at Normandy and my mum’s dad died in a mining accident in the fifties.” Hermione did not often talk about her family to wizards or other witches. She was expected to nod and smile when they talked about their kin though. Here is your soapbox, she nudged herself. “Both my grandmothers worked hard to give their kids a better life. A good education was their way out. My parents taught me to always do my best, regardless of what other people said.”

“You are proud of them.” He said before he could edit himself. Draco realised a little too late how condescending he sounded. He had never thought about Muggles as worthy of praise. They had to exist, which was where his politics began to differ from his father’s, but they existed somewhere ‘over there’ discretely out of sight. Like servants or unreliable pets.

“Of course.” Hermione looked him in the eye and very consciously did not lecture. “They are where I come from. I am not going to hide them just because I am a witch. I will not tidy up my family tree for inspection, not talking about relatives that aren’t good enough for my social circle.” She shook her head, thinking of Molly’s second cousin the accountant. “It is a pity my parents have to lie at reunions but advanced courses at a Scottish private school is close enough.”

“I have never really thought about it.” Draco admitted. Everyone went to Hogwarts. Everyone thought as he did. If they didn’t, there was something wrong with them. He met her eyes, braced for a sermon but she just nodded. That made him frown. Not because he was insulted but because she so obviously understood something that puzzled him. If only...

She was smart and an intense witch and proud. She could hold her tongue and hold her ground. She didn’t simper or fawn. And she was fertile. Many faults in Malfoy brides had been forgiven for the sake of an heir. Her family would not crook their fingers into his wealth. Her family of dentists. He shook his head. “I’ll walk you home.”

He escorted her back to Grimmauld Place, saw her safely inside then Apparated away without another word.