What he wants

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Hermione sat in her room silently fuming and staring at the window expecting to see an Eagle owl fly into her window. Her parents had to have known by now, hell her uncle had told her mom whenever she got takeout delivered more than twice a week; he had to be bursting to tell her about this. She heard a sigh from outside her door and saw the shadows of Draco’s feet under the small opening. She should yell at him then hex him, but that wouldn’t really solve anything and the only thing she’d gain would be a sore throat.

“Can you let me in please?” he asked after a light tapping at the door.

“No, do you not remember what happened the last time?” she answered with a roll of her eyes.

“I promise to keep my hands to myself,” he offered.

“Why should I trust you now?”

“If you let me in I’ll tell you.”

Hermione fought with herself over her decision. She did want to know why he was here, but she didn’t want him in her bedroom again. One thing would lead to another, as she found out earlier in the day, and the only thing that path would lead to would be disaster.

“Hold on,” she called moodily as she stood and pulled out some of her dresser drawers to find something to wear.

She pulled out a plain white cotton bra and panty set before she found a short sleeve ‘I Support my Local Library’ t-shirt stuffed into the middle drawer. She wore mainly skirts with a nice blouse at work and didn’t really find the need to take special care of things she would wear maybe once a week. After an ironing spell was issued she pulled out a pair of faded, well-worn jeans that were often more comfortable than her pj’s, although she hadn’t been able to wear them for a few weeks, or months, because of the hectic work load she was given. She slid the jeans on and then slipped the shirt over her head. The shirt barely met the top of her jeans but because she didn’t plan on stretching or making any sudden moves she figured her stomach was safe from Draco. She stalked over to the door, the effect, of course, lost on Draco, and flung it open. He had an arm on the door frame and was leaning on said arm but quickly stood up when she opened the door.

“Alright…” he said as he tried to walk past her and into her room. He was stopped with a hand on his chest. “What?”

“Living room,” she ordered as she walked passed him to sit onto her couch.

“Why on earth are we sitting in the living room?” he asked with a confused look even as he complied with her wishes.

“I don’t want to be alone with you in my room,” she explained as she placed a pillow on her side to prevent him from sitting too close to her.

“You do realize that’s pointless, right?” he asked with an amused smile.

“It is not pointless,” she defended instantly, upset that he had called anything she said pointless.

“We’re alone out here as well,” he pointed out in a slow tone, as if he were afraid that she would hex him if he said the wrong thing….which she would seriously take into consideration at this point.

“I am aware of that but as you touched on just minutes ago…”

Hermione was interrupted by knocking on her door. She listened for a voice, which usually singled it was Harry or Ron, and turned a suspicious eye on Draco as she stood up and stalked towards the door. The peep hole in the door was pointless if you wanted to determine who was on the other side of the door without investing a few minutes of time to stand on tip toes to see them, along with finding the balance to be able to stand on tip toes to be able to collect the full image in the small convex piece of glass. She glanced over her shoulder to see Draco looking back at her and then squared her shoulders and opened the door, a smile on her face.

“Hello, luv. Your uncle Harold rang us up yesterday and told us that som….” Hermione’s father trailed off as he drew his daughter into a hug and looked over her shoulder.

“Well don’t just stand there, John, move to let me in,” Her mother demanded from behind her now unmoving father.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” John asked Draco, who sat looking like a deer in headlights as he stared at Hermione’s mother and father.

“I…I am…uh,” Hermione would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been less than ideal.

“His name is Draco Malfoy, daddy,” Hermione answered for him when the blond turned a shade of red she was sure would rival Ron.

“Draco Malfoy?” Her father asked quietly, as if he were talking to himself. She knew the moment recognition hit him. “Drac...What the bloody hell are you doing in my daughters flat you overgrown ferret?” Her father demanded, making Hermione cringe.

She’d told her parents most of what happened at Hogwarts as it happened and she hadn’t expected her father to remember what had happened during their fourth year. She looked back at Draco and saw his face redden further before he cleared his throat and stood up.

“I can see that my reputation precedes me,” he said with a slight grimace.

“Move, John.” Hermione’s mother demanded as Hermione saw her mums head peek over her fathers shoulders.

“What just a second, Helen,” He said putting his arm behind him to catch her mum as she tried to around his arm.

“Honestly, John, if you don’t move this minute I’ll scream bloody murder,” Her mother huffed.

“Oh come now, Helen.”

“Don’t you ‘oh come now, Helen’ me Jonathan Arwin Granger! I’ve been holding it for almost two hours because you refused to make any stops on the way here. You’ll move or you’ll be helping Harold clean up a puddle in the hallway.”

Hermione, despite herself, giggled as she heard her mother’s speech and moved back so her father could walk fully into her flat to allow her mother to enter.

“Hello, love, I’ll be out in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” Her mother said in a much sweeter tone as she passed her and headed down the hallway.

“You’re mother, I swear,” Her father muttered to her before his attention went back to the other occupant in the room and he pulled her behind him. “What is he doing here?”

“Sir, if I could explain…”

“I didn’t ask you. I said, if I remember correctly, ‘what is he doing here’,” her dad practically snarled at the fidgeting Malfoy.

Hermione looked through the hole her fathers arm made as he placed his hands on his hips and looked at Draco, who seemed to be at a loss, and smirked. Now he knew what it was like to be caught completely unaware.

“Sir, if I may explain myself,” Draco offered with a small almost non existent smile “I’ve been mending bridges over the last few years and…”

“Why?”

“It’s a personal matter between your daughter and me,” She saw him groan silently as soon as the words left his mouth and felt her fathers back stiffen.

“Go along, Hermione, and pack up your clothes. You’ll be coming back home with us,”

She gaped at her fathers back and pushed his arm out of the way so she could walk around him and face him.

“I am a grown woman, dad. You can’t just order me around like I’m a five year old!” She informed him, stamping her foot to prove her point, although she had a strong feeling she only succeeded in proving his.

“You will not talk like that to me, young woman. You might think that you’re a grown up but you’re still just a little girl.”

“This is why you needed to have another child, dad!”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you’re always worrying about me when I’m fine! Nothings wrong,” Hermione said with a sigh.

“Sir, if I may say…”

“If you say ‘sir, if I may say’ one more time I’m going to strangle you,” Hermione shot over her shoulder before she looked back at her father.

“Alright now, what’s your father gone all stiff about this time?” her mother asked as she rejoined the group. “Oh don’t look at me like that, John.”

Hermione sighed and sat down as her mother and father bickered at each other for a few minutes. Draco sat next to her and stared in fascination at her parents.

“Do they always speak this way to each other?” he asked sparing a glance at her before he fixed his eyes back to the scene before them.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the question and leaned back against into the couch and stared at the ceiling. She had a few minutes to spare before her parents remembered why they came in the first place and returned their attention back to her. A trip from her parents almost always began like this. Her mother would make a trip to the loo, her father would find a reason for her to have to move home and then her mother would return, overhear part of the conversation and an argument would break out. Hermione would go through her schedule for the next day in her head and by the time she was at two o’clock they would be done and then they would guilt her into having lunch with them. She doubted that the last part would happen today, though.

“Hermione, get away from him,” her father ordered as he grabbed her arm and hauled her up and away from the couch.

“Daddy.”

“John there is no reason to man handle your daughter,” Her mum complained before she pulled her husbands hand off of Hermione’s arm.

Hermione pulled her arm out of her mother grasp and backed away from them both. Her mother looked then stared at Draco as he sat on the couch looking as though he’d never witnessed anything like this before.

“You never said he was so dishy, Hermione.”

“Mum!”

The youngest Granger groaned at her mother’s statement and closed her eyes in embarrassment.

“Well what on earth are we all standing around like this for? You’ve dragged me two hours to talk to her and possibly maim the man who tricked your brother into letting him into your daughter’s apartment, you might as well make it worth the trip.”

“These are really your parents?” Draco asked from the couch.

“What is that supposed to mean?” her father boomed.

“Just shut up, Draco,” Hermione almost begged.

“Listen young man…”

“John you’re not scaring anyone. You’re daughter is twenty years old, she is aloud to have gentlemen callers,” her mother admonished.

“Oh mum,” Hermione sighed at her mother’s word usage.

“Helen how can you say that. This is Hermione we’re talking about, she needs to focus on work and she’s close to a promotion.”

“This is exactly why we should have had another child, John; you wouldn’t have to be so anal about Hermione’s life. She’s a grown woman and while I don’t like it I have to accept it and so do you.”

“He tricked Harold into letting him into her flat, Helen,” her dad stressed, sounding bit like Ron when he thought he had a valid point.

“Well she doesn’t look to be in any trouble or like she’s in a great distress,” Helen Granger pointed out with a look at her daughter.

“This man forced himself into her flat.”

“He was let in with a key.”

“He’s done God knows what to her since he was let in,” her father said through clenched teeth.

“Yes, he has done God knows what to her,” her mum shot back, temporarily drawing her husband up short.

“So you agree with me?”

“No, I’m only saying that anything could have happened it doesn’t have to be something bad. Maybe she invited him and he said he couldn’t come because he wanted to surprise her.”

“But…it…he,” her father stopped and gave her mother a sullen look “You enjoy taking the wind out of my sails don’t you?” he asked in a tone that had Hermione looking for a pouted lip.

She loved her parents but they were two people on complete different wave lengths. She tended to take more after her father in some aspects but was thankful that she got her mothers level head. Her father tended to jump to conclusions while her mother thought of things rationally, rarely letting her emotions get the best of her. While Hermione didn’t always use that type of reaction she used it enough to have other cringing when she disagreed with them.

“Well it must be done anyways,” her mum said with a smile before she turned to Hermione and smiled. “Are you alright, love, or do you want us to stay?”

Hermione hesitated and saw her father glare at Draco before she answered.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure, sweet, I can stay,” her father offered with a startled look.

“Dad, I’m fine,” she repeated with a sigh even though she smiled at her father’s protectiveness.

“Hello, dear, I’m Helen Granger,” her mother introduced herself to Draco when her husband opened his mouth to most likely try to guilt their daughter into moving home.

“Hello, Mrs. Granger, I’m Draco Malfoy,” Draco returned her gesture and bowed slightly, which left her giggling like a school girl.

“Oh please, call me Helen,” the older woman replied as a faint blush stained her cheeks.

“Helen what on earth are you doing?” her father asked looking a bit pale.

“Oh don’t get a bee in your bonnet, luv, you know my heart belongs to you.”

Hermione saw Draco pale slightly himself at what Hermione’s mother implied and she saw him take a few steps back from her to sit on the couch again. It was time to end this odd-fest.

“Mum, dad, now that you’ve sorted out that I’m in no trouble could you please leave?” Hermione asked in the politest voice she could muster.

“Of course dear, but we would like to have lunch with you first. You’re more than welcome to come along, Draco.”

Hermione barely repressed the gasp that threatened to escape at her mothers offer. She knew her mum wanted her to settle down and get married but this was extreme. Why on earth would she invite some one she’d only known not even half an hour to lunch with them?

“I’m sure Draco has more important things to do today.” She stared at her father as he voiced what had been on the tip of her tongue.

“Do you Draco?” Her mother asked looking slightly upset at the thought of Draco not joining them.

Hermione looked at him and would have given a pleading look but knew her mother would catch it and whisk them both out of the apartment and to the café down the street in a second. She saw Draco smirk and closed her eyes in defeat.

“I’ve cleared my schedule for the next few weeks, actually, so I’m quite available,” he answered to happily.

“Just brilliant.” she heard her father mutter.

“John what is your problem with this boy?”

“Don’t you remember the stories Hermione used to come home with? All the tears she cried when she told them? Do you remember any of it?” her father asked in disbelief.

“Of course I remember dear, it’s hard to forget when you can’t help your only child out of a hurtful situation.”

Draco’s face heated and she saw he was uncomfortable but she couldn’t say that she felt completely sorry for him. He looked down at his shoes then looked back up at her with a slightly embarrassed expression.

“Then why would you want to invite him to lunch with us?” Her father asked in a voice Hermione knew meant he was trying to get someone to see how idiotic they were being.

“Because people change John,” was all her mother said before she took a hold of Draco’s arm and half walked half dragged him to the door. “You get Hermione, dear, and we’ll go to lunch and have a nice chat.”

Hermione looked at her father and pouted as her took hold of her hand and followed her mother out of the door. This was going to be the longest bloody lunch she’d ever had.

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