An Ideal Death-Eater

Author's Notes: There is a bit of fanart for this chapter. Just click on the link when you get to it.

Several hours after they had sent an owl to the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione, sans Ron, were dusting themselves off in front of the fireplace at the Burrow. Crookshanks' tail was a bottlebrush of nerves and the cat raced upstairs immediately to lick his wounded pride while his mistress and her friend took off their shoes and cloaks.

Harry set Hermione's trunk upstairs before stumbling into the kitchen, dragging her with him. Mrs Weasley would most likely have left them something to eat if she wasn't still up and about herself. In the letter, it had been clear that they thought Ron was still with them and Harry was wracking his brain for an excuse as to why he wasn't. Hermione pulled up short behind him with a gasp and refused to go further. It wasn't until he glanced up that he noticed Draco Malfoy was sitting in the kitchen with Ginny.

Both of them looked up when they saw Harry's approach and Ginny smiled, patting a seat beside her. "Hullo, you two. Care for a biscuit?"

"Ginny, what is he doing here?" Hermione whispered, pointing at Draco. Harry groaned when he realised that he hadn't told her about Malfoy yet.

"Sorry, Hermione. I forgot to tell you about that. It seems that— uh, Malfoy is staying at the Burrow for a while."

Her eyebrows shot up somewhere very close to her hairline at this announcement and she took a step back, tugging her arm out of Harry‘s hand.

"What's going on around here? Is this a trick? Who are you all? What happened to the Weasleys?"

Harry sighed and turned to her while the others looked on curiously. "Hermione, it isn't a trick. I'm Harry and that really is Ginny, I assume. Malfoy— Well, I'll let him explain if he wants to as it's none of my business and I'm not quite sure why he's here myself."

Draco sniffed and looked down his nose. "It isn't any of her business either and I owe no explanations."

"Well," she grit out. "At least I know that it's still Malfoy, even if the rest of you have gone round the bend."

"Hermione, it'll be all right," Ginny soothed, jumping from her chair to fling her arms about the girl. "Malfoy isn't that bad. Well," she amended. "He is bad, just not completely intolerable."

"Thank you so much," Draco spat acidly.

Ginny glanced up and threw him a bright smile. "You're welcome," she chirruped, sarcasm making her eyes dance.

Harry raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything as he took Hermione by the arm and led her to the table. "Come on, Hermione. Let's get something to eat and go to bed. It's been a long day."

She sighed, allowing Harry to lead her. "You're right about that."

"Where's Ron?" Ginny asked as she sat down again.

"Ron had an argument with Hermione and took off. We were actually hoping that he was here," Harry answered as he pulled out a couple of plates and foraged in the cold cupboard for food.

Ginny's eyes widened. "You don't know where he is?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. He left me at the Leaky Cauldron and we haven't seen him since."

"What happened?" Ginny pressed.

"I don't want to talk about it," Hermione sighed.

"Oh," was all the other girl said, picking at a biscuit before giving up and throwing it in the dustbin. "I'm just glad that Mum is asleep now. Dad had to convince her to go to bed because she was going to stay up until you all came back. She asked me to be here instead, just to make sure you came home safely."

"Maybe he'll be here in the morning," Harry supplied, placing a plate of cold meats and some bread in front of Hermione before sitting down with his own meal.

"I hope so," Ginny fretted, brushing crumbs from the biscuit into her hand before throwing the lot away. "I'm going to bed though, it's very late and we've a lot to do tomorrow for Christmas."

Malfoy had remained silent throughout the entire exchange, but at this he started, eyes glazed with exhaustion. "I agree, it's time to go to sleep."

Ginny and Draco left the kitchen. Hermione stared after them until the last footstep was heard on the stairs and then turned back to Harry, questions in her eyes.

"Why on earth is Malfoy here at the Burrow?" she hissed eventually.

Harry shrugged, taking a bite of his makeshift sandwich. "I told you I don't know everything. But if you really want to know . . ."

"Yes, I really want to know. But let's go sit in front of the hearth and talk. It's cold in here and my ribs ache."

"Oh, right," Harry said, clearly not remembering that she was still not healed all the way. He grabbed their plates and followed her out of the room to a stretch of floor in front of the larger fireplace in the family room before resuming the conversation.

"A few nights ago— " Harry didn't know exactly where to begin, so he started with the main action. "Malfoy fell through the roof."

Hermione sat up straighter at this. "He did what?"

"Fell through the roof."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I think he was trying to get away from something though because he'd been riding a broom and we found some things of his on the roof. Not only that, but . . . well, he was all messed up."

"Messed up?"

"Yeah, like he'd been beaten or whipped or something. I've never seen wounds like that before in my life."

"Oh my," Hermione gasped, putting a hand to her lips. "What happened then?"

"Uh," Harry scratched his head. "Mrs Weasley took care of him, cleaned him up and what not. Since then, he's been here and she acts like he's a long-lost Weasley or something."

Hermione frowned for a moment, twirling her hair thoughtfully. The skin of her face was naturally pale, but the fire seemed to overlay it with a soft glow of gold and red tones. Straight, dark eyebrows drew together over squinted eyes and her lower lip was busy being worried by her pearly teeth. Harry realised that he was staring and quickly looked away.

"I suppose it makes sense for Mrs Weasley to take care of him," Hermione said after a moment of contemplation. "I mean, she and Ginny are always taking in strays. If Malfoy was in as bad a condition as you say, then it would bring out her nurturing instincts."

"Yeah," Harry chuckled, still not looking at Hermione. "You should have seen her this afternoon. Caught sight of Malfoy having a quick fag out in the garden and threatened to whack him upside the head with her spoon."

"Malfoy smokes?" she asked, eyebrows raised as she took a bite from the bread on her plate.

Harry only nodded. "Apparently so. I suppose that it fits his image."

"I wouldn't think so. He's terribly vain, you can tell."

"Who cares if Malfoy smokes?"

Hermione shook her head in impatience. "But it's an insight into someone's character, don't you see?"

"I suppose so. They aren't like Muggle cigarettes, these ones have calming charms on them."

"Exactly!" Hermione said, getting excited about the new riddle and sitting up on her knees. "So the question is: what does Malfoy have to be nervous about?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, it isn't as if he's worried about Voldemort rising again. The Malfoys are all Death Eaters or good as from what I'm told."

Hermione shuddered. "Ugh, yet another reason that I don't want him to be here. He's going to ruin the holiday and we'll all be lucky to escape with our lives after some stupid adventure or another."

"Probably," Harry grinned teasingly, feeling comfortable again. "But don't worry about it. I don't think he's going to murder us in our beds or anything."

"I certainly hope not." Hermione puffed, crossing her arms before uttering a soft cry. "Great," she muttered. "Now I'm never going to be able to sleep!"

"You'll sleep fine tonight, Hermione. Trust me."

"I'm afraid to go to sleep now. What if the Death Eaters come looking for Malfoy while we're asleep?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I doubt they'll show up here. Dumbledore asked the Weasleys to put a charm on the property so no one can Apparate inside the hedgerows."

"Malfoy got in," she pointed out.

"I don't think he Apparated, and stop worrying, Hermione."

Her lips twisted in a smirk. "Aren't I the one who usually tells you to stop worrying about Voldemort?"

He grinned. "Yeah, but I thought I might trade you for the night."

"You're impossible," Hermione said jokingly, slapping him on the arm with a smile. But the light in her eyes faded after a moment and she frowned.

"We really should wait up for Ron. Mrs Weasley will be awfully cross when she finds out that he isn't with us and we didn't even stay up to wait for him."

Harry sighed and looked into the fire. "You're right. And if he comes back tonight, it'll probably be by Floo."

"We'd better stay here then," Hermione said, getting up to sit on the sofa and be more comfortable. "Why don't you get your quilt, Harry? Oh, and my dressing gown please."

"All right," he answered.

Harry tiptoed up the stairs to the room he shared with Ron while at the Burrow. A quick look at the other bed confirmed that Ron wasn't there so he grabbed the quilt and went down to Hermione's room for her dressing gown before going back downstairs. Hermione gave him a questioning glance as he sat down next to her feet on the floor.

He shook his head, knowing what she was thinking. "He wasn't there, Hermione."

She sighed and leaned her head over the back of the couch, letting it support her for a moment. "I suppose there's no help for it then," Hermione stated while gazing at the ceiling. Harry handed her the blanket and her dressing gown and sat on the floor, resting against the sofa with his feet tucked underneath him while she put it on. A moment later he felt a hand on his head, gently rubbing fingers through his hair. Harry sighed and unconsciously pressed his face against her quilt-covered knee.

"I'm so comfortable right now, I may just fall asleep anyway," he mumbled.

Hermione laughed and removed her hand. Harry glanced up. "Why'd you stop?"

"Sorry, I'll go on if you like."

He closed his eyes again as she continued. "Yes, please. My head hurts something dreadful and I promised you earlier that I wouldn‘t drink anymore, so I don‘t have that to make me feel better."

"Poor Harry," Hermione leaned down to whisper in his ear teasingly, her hot breath causing all the hair on his arms to stand at attention. "All that racing around, being heroic. Must be terribly hard on you."

"You have no idea," he muttered, self-consciously pulling his jumper down over his lap. It really wasn't right to react like this, he told himself. But Hermione kept running her soft fingers through his hair, gently working out the knots and smoothing it all flat. It was just the friendly thing to do.

But her bare toes, peeking out from under the covers, became obsessively difficult to ignore. Especially when they wriggled so pinkly near his fingers. Harry raised a hand to grasp one of them, rolling it softly between thumb and forefinger. Hermione squealed quietly, if it was possible to do so, and moved her foot out of the way. He smirked and grabbed it again, scraping a fingernail over the silken arch.

The expected reaction was for her to draw it back and giggle like mad. Instead, she curled the toes under. Harry raised his eyebrows and did it again, the foot in his grip coiling wildly before Hermione reached down a hand.

"Harry, stop it."

"You're supposed to be laughing right now."

"I'm just not ticklish, that's all."

"Yes, you are."

"All right, I am. But not there."

Harry grinned and fell to his knees. "I know where."

"No, don't!"

"I'm going to do it." He flipped the covers back to expose her legs.

"No, not my kneeeees!" she laughed out while trying frantically to push his hands away. "Harry, it isn't fair when you're not ticklish at all," Hermione managed between breaths.

"I know, very evil of me wouldn't you say?" His lips twisted wryly and he looked up with his fingers still wrapped around the backs of her legs, the skin there hot and sweaty. She snorted indelicately and leaned back on the couch.

"I'll just call you Malfoy from now on, shall I?"

"Don't you dare! I'm much better looking than he is," Harry said as his chest puffed out and he affected a pose that he knew was quite ridiculous and meant to be dashing in a mocking way.

Hermione laughed. "Who told you that you're better looking?"

"Well, you did. Said that I'm rich and easy on the eyes. Then there are all the girls at school, and the magazines . . ."

She rolled her eyes and reached down into the couch. "Harry Potter, I think you've gotten a big head. Let me just get my wand and I'll deflate it for you."

Harry reached out one hand to grab hers, the other still draped over her knee. "You can't use magic outside of school remember?"

"Honestly, Harry! I wasn't about to hex you, I only wanted to pull the quilt up."

"Oh," he said simply, releasing her hand.

She shook her head and snuggled further under the blankets. "You know, it's been a while since we really laughed."

Harry nodded and put his head in her lap, turning to face the fire. His eyes closed against the warmth and his hands found the back of her knees again, squeezing them in comfort. "I know, far too long. It's a terrible thing to grow up."

"We all do it eventually."

He sat back on his heels and looked up at her face, which was pensively absorbed in the quilt. "I don't want to get older. I want to be like this forever."

She twisted her head to gaze at him softly, reaching up a hand to play with his messy hair. "We have to, there's no turning back." Hermione leaned forward until her flushed face was only a few inches from his own. Her words seemed to carry a double meaning that made Harry‘s pulse flicker with sudden yearning. "Ginny told me we should all make the best of the time we have. And we can't be children forever, Harry."

It was there, in her eyes. She felt it too and he didn't wait for her to hesitate. Harry wrapped his fingers around the back of her head and balanced his mouth on hers, pressing in deeply. Her eyelashes fluttered for a moment against his cheek as she sighed out warm breath into his lungs. The kiss was profoundly satisfying on some primal level, like they had been dancing around it for hours, days, and years.

In a gentle way, she slipped her mouth open and urged it back down over his with quiet enthusiasm. His hands, which had been resting under her knees, bunched reflexively and gathered the skin into small folds. Harry moaned softly as she extended the kiss, her tongue grazing his teeth. His fingers grew bold by the action and moved higher, up her thigh to make small circles on the smooth and sensitive inner flesh.

Hermione's hands crept down to pull him closer to her. Harry was still on his knees, the coldness of stone seeping through his trousers until he lifted her up and pushed her against the couch, not breaking contact with her mouth. The kiss remained hungry and they struggled to feed it and breathe all at once, roaming their hands and fingers into new territory.

Harry eventually dragged his mouth from hers, marking a path to the flushed skin of her neck, his breath coming out hot and rapid against her ear.

"Hermione," he gasped as her hand found a new place to settle. "What are we doing?"

She sighed in frustration and snatched her hand away. "I don't know, Harry. Snogging?"

"We should stop, if Ron comes in . . ." Harry swallowed, trying to keep his thoughts in order while Hermione's hard nipples were pressed against his chest. It was very difficult to remember his name at that point, but something told him to stop. She was ignoring him anyway and looking into the fire. Harry forced himself to sit up, covering his lap with the quilt. "Hermione, look at me."

Her gaze eventually drifted over to settle on him, but he almost wished that it hadn't since her eyes flickered with anger and some discontented emotion. "I've been wanting to kiss you for ages, Harry. Ever since third task, I think. It wouldn't even have entered my mind until long after if it wasn't for that Skeeter woman. And now you're telling me to stop, because of Ron?"

Harry coloured and attempted to smooth down his clothes. "I-I didn't know that, Hermione. Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Because Ron has been filling my head with all sorts of nonsense about you and that tart of the week business ever since fifth year. Plus you were still so depressed over Cedric and I thought for a while that you and Cho were . . ." Hermione trailed off and stared at him, tears filling her eyes.

"Cho and I were never— well, we never actually had a relationship. We kissed once and that‘s about it. I haven‘t really had a— with any other girls." A flash of pale leg and firm breasts pressed up against him flared in his mind, but Harry ignored it.

"Ron told me different. Had you two snogging in cupboards and everything, after that it was worse. It's because of Ron that I never told you anything and you want me to just stop everything in its tracks because of his feelings? You really don't care for me at all, do you?"

"No, I do care for you, Hermione. I care so much sometimes that I— but I've never realised before how much until you told me about him lying to you. And tonight it just felt so right to kiss you. But we still have to remember Ron. He would have reason to be upset if we really did make him the third wheel, and he's our friend even if we are angry with him."

"Angry? That's all? I'm absolutely livid! He's done this for almost two years now. His actions were petty and vengeful. There may be something we don't know about that's making him act this way, but how can we ever trust him again long enough to find out?"

"I thought I knew him," Harry muttered, running his thumb over his swollen lips. "But I suppose that I don't. We still have to try and make things right, though."

"Harry," Hermione sat up and cupped one of his cheeks in her cold little hand, gazing at him pleadingly. "Forget about Ron for a moment. What are you going to do about us?"

He blushed. "We could— well, I assumed that— "

Hermione lifted her eyebrows in inquiry and Harry swallowed hard. "Do you want to maybe, give it a go?"

"Give it a go?" She was ruffled now and her hand was quickly drawn away. Hermione turned her head back towards the fire and snorted. It was getting delicate and she probably mistook what he had meant. Good God, what had he meant? Snogs, walks in the snow, meaningful conversations? Sure, that sounded about right; it was what all the other couples did. It was what was expected. Right?

"I didn't mean that . . . Cor, Hermione! You know I have feelings for you and everything. I just said it. Is there anything I can say to make this right with you?"

She gave him an arch glance out of the corner of her eye, softening just a little. "You can tell me that you're madly in love with me and we should run off to Bora Bora to start a colony for abused House Elves."

Harry blinked at the unexpected humour and shook his head, a grin tugging his lips. All thoughts of Ron fled his mind and it was like a light shone down on him when she was happy again. "I'm madly in love with you. But let's not run off to Bora Bora; I don't want to share you with a bunch of House Elves."

Her eyes lit up with wonder. "Do you really mean it or are you just trying to make me shut up?"

"I really mean it."

"Really?" she said in a very un-Hermione like squeak.

Harry grinned. "Really, really, really mean it."

"I suppose that'll do for now. Give us a kiss to seal the treaty?"

Hermione was smiling widely, her face in shadows due to the fire being at her back now. Harry reached up both hands and placed one on either side of her face, pulling it closer to his own. He brushed his lips over hers for a moment before sucking gently at her mouth.

"Consider it sealed."

Hermione put a hand to her lips as he leaned back. "Brilliant," she chuckled.

Harry sighed as he traced over the arc of her jaw with his fingertips. "I suppose Ron will adjust to it all eventually. We'll just break him in slowly and make sure that we include him in everything. Well," Harry amended. "Not everything."

"Slow is good. Never is better though."

"You want to hide this forever?" Harry asked, letting his hand drop to her arm. She moved her fingers to give him a squeeze.

"Of course not. It's just that this is very odd for us and we should wait before telling anyone, just in case."

"In case?"

Hermione scowled. "Oh all right. I just don't want to tell him, that's all. He's been positively horrid and I'm still angry."

"Things will work out, you'll see."

"Don't be so sure," Hermione sighed, staring down at their intertwined hands and noticing that her blouse was missing a few buttons.

"See what you've done!" she exclaimed, pointing at the mangled white oxford. "I look like someone's had their way with me."

"Someone did have their way with you. Sort of." Harry patted her leg while he tried hard not to laugh out right.

Hermione huffed and stood up, smoothing down her skirt. "I'm going upstairs to change into my nightclothes. If anyone saw me now . . ."

"Sorry," Harry smiled, not feeling very apologetic at all. "Come down to the kitchen after you're done and we can have a nibble. There are still loads of mince pies in the cupboard from earlier."

"Oh good, I'm still hungry." She dipped down to give him a quick peck on the cheek and tiptoed upstairs to change.

Harry sighed and bent over to collect their plates from earlier before getting up and wandering into the kitchen. The dishes almost fell though when he noticed that Draco Malfoy was sitting in the same place he had been earlier, nursing a fag as if it were life support.

"How— what are you doing in here?" Harry hissed, depositing the plates in the sink with a clunk. "Don't you ever sleep?"

Draco smirked and took another puff from his cigarette, tapping the ashes into a cup. "I should be asking you that, Potter."

"How long ago did you come in here?"

"Long enough." Draco's lip twitched slightly before he took another puff and pinched the end of his cigarette, causing it to disappear into thin air. "Have fun, did we?"

Harry gritted his teeth and sat down opposite of Draco. The frustration and unfulfilled desire from earlier was making him peevish. "If you tell the Weasleys that I— that we— well, I'll kill you if you say a word to anyone."

Draco lifted an eyebrow, lingering smoke circling above his head. "Awfully testy, Potter. Hit a wall?"

Almost growling at the other boy, Harry clenched his fists tightly under the table while Draco continued.

"Look, I don't really care what you and Granger do. But it will be terribly interesting when the other member of your trio finds out."

Flinching, Harry looked down at the bright, floral-patterned chintz that covered the rough kitchen table. "What have I done?" he whispered.

The question was rhetorical, but Draco didn't hesitate in answering. "You've just screwed yourself out of a friend, is what."

Harry allowed his head to hit the table and moaned, covering it in both arms. If Harry had looked up then, he would have seen the calculating look that Draco was aiming at his head as the boy soaked this in with apparent delight.

"Cigarette, Potter?"