Slow Grenade

Chapter Thirty-One - Year Five

Fifth Year

Hermione's heart was pounding as she and Ron walked quietly towards the prefect carriage on the Hogwarts Express. She didn't know whether Draco would be in there, but considered it a likely possibility.

She had said that she would send one owl over the summer, but that hadn't happened. Every time she tried to put pen to parchment, her words would dry up. There was hardly anything she could tell him without lying, what if the letter was intercepted by someone at the Manor? And, if any of the Order knew she was writing to a Malfoy, let alone giving information about what was going on, would they think her a spy? The thought made her chest feel hollow.

It was the first time she truly allowed herself to acknowledge the gaping distance between her own ideologies and those of Draco's family. Her cause and theirs were in direct opposition to each other. The two had, of course, always known this, but it had felt somewhat academic in nature. Now, with Voldemort on the rise, the reality was inescapable.

Hermione attempted to school her features into a neutral expression as Ron slid open the compartment door. It was lucky that she had because her eyes were immediately drawn to a shock of blonde hair. Draco was sat stiffly next to Pansy Parkinson who leant against his shoulder. Hermione bit her cheeks to keep from hexing the girl and quickly pulled Ron into a seat that meant she wouldn't have to look at them.

The new Head Boy and Girl were two seventh students she had not heard of before: Mitchel Coil and Nicole Sterling. They gave their congratulations and some general advice for the upcoming year before passing around evening patrol schedules.

"Oh, fantastic," Ron muttered scathingly. "Malfoy appears next to Weasley far too regularly."

Hermione glanced at his piece of parchment and, attempting nonchalance, said, "I don't mind swapping, if you want?"

"Why would you do that?"

"Ronald, out of the two of us, who has a better check on their anger?"

He scowled and muttered something along the lines of, "You slapped Malfoy."

"Do you want me to switch with you, or not?"

"Yes, please! You're the best 'Mione."

"WHAT was that?" Hermione demanded as she stalked towards Draco in the library.

It was the day after the Sorting Hat had given its warning and she was starting to wonder if she had been wrong to tell Ron she had better control over her anger than he did.

"What was what?" Draco replied, sounding equally as annoyed.

"Oh, I don't know, PARKINSON?"

"What was I supposed to do, shove her off me?"

"YES, Draco, that's exactly what you should have done."

He glowered at her. "Like you weren't holding onto Weasley and whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears." Hermione looked at him incredulously, so he continued, "Oh 'Mione, you're the best."

She shuddered at the new nickname Ron had recently selected for her. "Don't be ridiculous, we're just friends. And I'll have you know he was saying that because I offered to swap with him to be on patrol with you."

"Well," he sputtered, "you didn't have to sit so close to him."

"At least his head wasn't resting on my shoulder!"

They glared silently at each other.

Hermione was surprised that it was Draco who broke first. He seemed subdued as he ran a hand through his hair and murmured, "Why didn't you write to me?"

"Oh," she said, looking at him sadly. "I didn't know what to say, if my letter had fallen into the wrong hands..."

He sighed. "That was probably the right decision, we shouldn't have even thought about risking it."

"I missed you every day."

Draco looked at her properly for the first time and his eyes blazed. Quickly closing the distance between them, he wrapped his arms tightly around her and captured her lips in a searing kiss.

"I missed you too Hermione, so fucking much," he whispered into her mouth as they came up for air.

She inhaled deeply, his scent binding tightly around her heart, and pulled him onto one of the comfier library chairs. "Tell me what it was like."

He reflected on the past two months and struggled to find the words to explain the sense of foreboding that had taken up permanent residence beneath his skin. "There were lots of meetings; the Dark Lord is recruiting, building up his armies. I don't think it's any coincidence that myself, Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle were summoned at various points. Just another example of my father making fabulous choices for me."

She looked at him with wide eyes. "Was... was Lord Voldemort there?"

"No, no thank Godric he wasn't," Draco shuddered. "Hermione, I – I don't think it will be long though, before he decides to put in an appearance."

They both sat quietly for a long time. Thinking about what the future might hold.

It was a few days later when Hermione, Harry, and Ron had their first Defence Against the Dark Arts class with the new professor. She was squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a pink velvet bow that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes.

After Professor Umbridge introduced herself, Hermione could already tell she was going to be a close second to worst DADA teacher. It was the first class in which she had ever confronted a teacher and she had found it surprisingly exhilarating. Draco, however, had not been impressed and kept shooting her exasperated looks.

Unfortunately, as the rest of the class joined in the discussion, Harry had eventually lost his tether. All the anger that had been bubbling up in him since the final Triwizard task exploded, and he shocked both the professor and the students with his words.

Despite the warning looks she gave him, Harry continued and eventually received a week of detentions and a conversation with Professor McGonagall. Hermione supposed it could have been worse.