Shades of Grey

Chapter 8

Hermione,

No cell service. Oliver Jones has been found and suspected to have died from dehydration. He was found in a butterfly conservatory and parents confirm his fear of butterflies. Will check in once we have more information. Rita Skeeter was nearby so be ready for whatever the hag decides to write.

Harry

Hermione hugged a pillow to her chest where she sat in her living room, Harry's letter staring back at her on the coffee table.

The letter came hours ago while at work, and she had its contents memorized. Somehow, she never thought the child would be next.

Don't the heroes in films always get there just in time?

Logically, none of this was her fault nor the Auror Departments. It was the murderer. And yet, this guilt and grief for a child she has never met felt heavy in her chest.

A knock roused her from her frozen stupor, and not thinking - of anything really - she opened the door.

She blinked a few time in realizing Malfoy was in her entryway, and frankly, he looked like shit.

Purple shadows under his eyes stood out against his pale skin and his white-blonde hair appeared wilder than Harry's.

His eyes though held a brief glimpse into painful emotions before they disappeared back into the silver.

Without a word passed by either, she opened the door wider to allow him in.

"Are you here as a client, an Auror, or an acquaintance?" she murmured eventually, retrieving more tea and making it how he liked it.

"I'm not sure," he said quietly, taking a seat on the couch next to where she usually sat.

Hermione hesitated at this break in their fragile routine, but sat next to him cautiously with two cups of tea.

There was barely any space between them but, when he turned ever so slightly to take his cup, the side of their thighs were now touching.

It was distracting considering they never touch, but she moved it to the back of her mind.

"Potter told you," he said flatly, looking at the open letter on the table.

"Yes."

Malfoy's eyes were hard and they sat there for a minute in silence.

"He was going to try out for Quidditch this school year," said Malfoy quietly, his eyes never leaving the letter. "He had a knack for potions and enjoyed his mum's pies."

"An only child," he continued, a faint tremble in his hands holding the tea. "But had friends both Muggle and not.  He liked... biking and bassetball."

"Basketball," she corrected quietly.

They sat there for another minute.

"Are you looking for Mind Healer Granger or just Granger?" she finally asked, setting down her tea.

He finally looked over to her, and the intensity in his eyes caused her cheeks to warm.

"Just Granger."

She chewed her bottom lip and held her knees to her chest, looking down at her fuzzy purple socks. "I'm surprised you're not with Scorpius."

Tension rolled off him in waves but she patiently waited for his reply. She heard the clink from his cup being set down

"I can't. He's too -"

Hermione glanced at him and saw he was roughly running his hands through his hair. She wondered if this was a habit picked up from time spent with Harry.