Healing Hands

The next morning, Draco was woken by a loud ringing.

"What?" He sat up sharply, and promptly cursed. "What do you want?"

"Time to get up. Breakfast will only be toast, I'm going to visit Ron's grave. I expect you to stay here."

"Yes, Granger."

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Draco ate his toast quietly, and, when Hermione left, he waved goodbye. As soon as she was gone, he took a bowl of water and muttered something over it. In an instant, he had the graveyard in view. Hermione's face looked wrenched with pain as she first sat beside the grave of her best friend, Harry Potter, and then that of her late husband. He looked on in amazement. In all his twenty-six years, he had never seen anyone with as much compassion and love in their heart as he saw in Hermione Granger's. I suppose it should be Weasley now, since she's a married woman.

Hermione moved to a third grave now. It was a small grave.

"A child... hers..." Draco whispered, almost as though he thought she could hear him.

Hermione's body was racked with sobs as she lay flowers down for her little child. It pained him to see that. He took the bowl to the sink and poured the water out.

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When Hermione returned, she found the house clean and Draco lying on the sofa, a book in his hand. The distinct smell of chicken and mushroom pie came from the kitchen.

"Back, Granger?" he called over his book. She looked weary, like she had been crying all day.

"You cleaned?" she looked around in disbelief.

"I might be a Malfoy, but I do know how to clean, Granger."

She paused.

"Okay, cleaning I understand, but cooking?"

"I do live on my own now, remember?" He rose. "Now, where do you keep the dinnerware?"

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"Why did you do all this, Draco?" Hermione said, using his name for the first time.

"Because, Hermione--" He paused. "You saved my life. I have a wizard's debt to you. I thought I should start now." He started to clear the table. "Don't go anywhere, there's dessert to come."

Hermione looked up at him. "I hope you don't mind, but I think I'll sit out of dessert."

"Why? I've gone to all this trouble!"

"I'm full," she stated bluntly. "I've got work to do." She rose from her seat and made her way into the living room.

Draco muttered a cleaning spell, and within minutes, the washing up was done.

"Granger, what is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I have work to do."

"Fine, have it your way." Draco sat on the sofa, retrieving the book he was reading before.

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The two were silent for most of evening. Draco found he was very distracted. His eyes kept flickering towards Hermione's back, as she was huddled over the desk. Her hair was up, today, but that didn't stop it from falling in beautiful brown curls. Every now and then, he made to get up and talk to her, but he decided against it.

Hermione wrote for hours in silence. She knew he kept looking at her, but she didn't give him the satisfaction of talking to him. She knew she seemed ungrateful. He had made her a wonderful dinner, and she had thrown it back in his face by not eating dessert. She couldn't help it. She still didn't trust him, even in his weakened state.

"I'm going to bed." Draco's voice broke her train of thought.

"Goodnight."

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Draco lay in the bed, unable to sleep. He glanced at the watch on his wrist. Three in the morning. He rolled over again. Suddenly, he heard footsteps come from downstairs. Probably Hermione, he thought, and closed his eyes.

After a few minutes silence, the door opened. Draco pretended to be asleep. Hermione slipped over to the empty side of the bed.

"Draco? Are you awake?"

Draco turned over.

"Yes."

"Do you mind if I slept on top of the covers? It's just that... the sofa isn't very comfortable..."

Draco was unsure of what to say. It is her house, he thought. And you know she won't try anything on, Mudblood or not.

"Sure."

Hermione climbed onto the bed, over the covers as she had said, and soon fell asleep. Draco watched her, her face peaceful. Why couldn't she have been a Pureblood? She would have made a brilliant Slytherin, he thought. Such a shame, beauty and brains are wasted on Muggle-borns most of the time. Not on her though. Draco was shocked by what had just come to mind. What in the world am I thinking?!? She's a Mudblood, for Merlin's sake. She could never fit the Malfoy status! Could she?