Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Life settled into an easy pattern over the next few days. With no progress made on the curse, Hermione had to learn to live with Draco for a while at least.
They usually ate breakfast together, a rather silent affair as neither was really a morning person. Then Hermione would run any errands she had. Sometimes Draco would come along, but usually he opted to stay home with Crookshanks. The cat had warmed up to Draco uncannily, seeming at times to prefer Draco's lap over Hermione, which had left her disgruntled for an evening or two. After errands, Hermione would come home and read, or pretend to clean.
Draco enjoyed watching her clean. He would sit on the couch and watch as she rearranged books. She'd start by going through a random stack, trying to find places on her already over-stuffed bookshelves for them. Then she'd get side-tracked, reading some notes that she had, or going over the last few pages she'd read. Following that, she'd need to find another book to cross-reference, and she'd be off. After a while, she'd figure out that she was supposed to be cleaning, and she'd smile a little sheepishly at Draco as she picked up the books she'd taken down to check for references.
Unhooking Crookshanks claw from his new sweater, Draco surveyed the room. Earlier, Hermione had managed to move two piles over to the other side of the living room, and now the coffee table was mostly clear, except for his little stack of books that he kept on the end. After each of his questions, he would receive a book or two from Hermione as an answer. It seemed that she lived in books, at times, and Draco was curious as to how she kept her realities separate with all those words in her head.
Hermione had gone out earlier and fetched some of his clothing, and Draco had the feeling she had been intimidated by the trip. She'd given his clothing to him with a glare, and sulked off to her room to read for a few hours before emerging in a mostly civil mood. Honestly, he'd been content with the clothing the Order had brought him the day after his accident. It fit him, was warm, and worked for his purposes.
The clothing Hermione had gotten from his house was expensive, tailored, and Crookshanks absolutely adored his silk shirts. And other silk items that he really preferred the cat not to lay all over. His hair was everywhere, it seemed.
The Order had had a meeting, and Draco was anxious for Hermione to get home. He craved socialization like crazy. Not to mention, he'd actually made dinner. For some reason, Hermione had laughed at him when he'd proposed it. But after three nights of burnt food because Hermione got distracted while cooking, Draco had naturally offered to make something.
He'd found a decent chicken recipe while pawing through her cookbook, and Hermione had explained the basics to him. Measurements, how to use the stove, and other such things. It had been an adventure, to say the least, but him and Crookshanks had enjoyed the portion that they'd had earlier, and he was anxious to have Hermione try it. He wasn't really a good judge of food, anyhow.
Hermione was late. Not just a little, because it wasn't uncommon for her to come back a little later than he expected. But she was almost an hour later. Petting Crookshanks as he tried to remain mostly calm, he nearly jumped out of his seat when she finally came in the floo.
She was tired. That much was obvious. "Still no luck on reversing your situation," she mumbled as she took off her jacket and scarf. It was a little chilly outside. Hermione paused to look him over once while she folded her jacket and scarf. Draco was wearing the dark blue sweater she'd picked up for him when he hadn't had clothes, and jeans. His eyes were bright, and focused on her. Worried, too. She frowned. Her traitorous cat was on his lap, one eye cracked at her as she glared at him. Dumb animal, she thought to herself as she turned to the kitchen. "Did you make that chicken dish?"
"Yes. It's in the fridge." Draco placed Crookshanks carefully on the couch as he stood, moving to stand in the doorway as he watched Hermione heat up some of the food.
"Smells divine." She was glad she got to come home to a flat that wasn't burned to the ground by Draco's cooking adventures. She'd been a little worried about it at first, but then she decided the worst he could do was burn the actual food, as she'd placed enough anti-fire charms to last a lifetime.
Draco smiled at her, his eyes crinkling a bit as he nodded. "Doesn't taste too bad, either."
Hermione shot him a comfortable smile as she sat at the table. "Good, I'm starved." She barely uttered anything after that as she seemed to inhale the food. Draco leaned against the doorway frame with that same small smile on his lips as he watched her.
"That had to be a record of some sort."
"It's amazing how much taste food actually has if it isn't burnt to the core," Hermione commented idly as she rinsed her plate. She turned to face him, grinning. Draco gave a small chuckle as he started back to the living room, taking his usual seat on the couch, waiting for Hermione to take her chair. Crookshanks had relocated to the rug in front of the fire, stretched out on his side with the tip of his tail flipping lazily from side to side.
Instead, she surprised him, taking the seat next to him. Draco raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. "So what'd you read today?"
Draco gestured to the small pile of books, "A few of your favorites, I'm guessing, by how much they're worn." He pointed to a few. "Hogwarts, A History. Goblin Wars: Fact vs. Fiction. The Evolution of House Elves in the Wizarding World."
"Man after my own heart," she commented as she picked up her Hogwarts, A History. Tracing a finger down the spine of the book, she smiled at him. "This was the first book my parents bought me out of Diagon Alley. My introduction to the Wizarding world."
"It's got a lot of information in it. I imagine Hogwarts is a wonderful place."
"Oh yes. Lots of memories at that school…" her voice trailed off as she remembered who she was talking to, and exactly what the circumstances were. "Well, you'll remember them soon, anyhow."
As she handed the book back to Draco, he placed his hand over hers. "So we weren't friends," he murmured. Letting the book lay in his lap, he held her hand in his as he traced his long fingers over her palm lightly. "Were we enemies?"
Hermione watched her hand, keeping her eyes on his fingers and her hand as she shrugged, a slight flush rising on her cheeks. "I guess." She swallowed hard, feeling her pulse speeding up a little. It was hard to keep in mind that this was Malfoy; the boy in school who had taunted her incessantly, who had made fun of her in every way possible, who had changed his alliances so late in the game… But it was Draco who had discussed some of her best friends with her each night. How Oswald the Onery had taken on giants, and ended up marrying one, how Nolan the Noble had fought in the Goblin wars only to be betrayed by the man he'd loved… Draco, who greeted her with a smile, who looked forward to her company, who filled her stomach with butterflies when his gaze rested on her for too long.
"And we never dated."
"No," Hermione replied softly. His hand was pushing her sleeve up, letting his fingers trail up her wrist as his other hand cradled hers. Hermione had never thought of her hand as an erogenous zone, but with the way her breathing was stuttering, she was sure she should add it to her book.
"You dated Ron."
"Yes." And it hadn't lasted very long, she added mentally. Her and Ron had wanted different things out of life, that much had been obvious. He was successful in the ways he cared about, and she was in her own ways.
"I must've been the dumbest wizard in school to not have asked you out, then." He quirked a smile up at her, his eyes seeming to pale in contrast to his sweater.
Hermione swallowed hard. "Not dumb. Harry or Ron would've killed you for even thinking such a thing."
"What a shame," he muttered, letting her hand drop from his. His eyes were glittering in the firelight, his lips pulled into a small smile.
Hermione cleared her throat. "I think I'm going to go shower now." It sounded bad, she knew, but she had to escape. His touch had stirred feelings in her that she'd kept suppressed for a while now, and she really wanted to keep them that way.
In the shower, Hermione scrubbed and scrubbed her wrist, but she couldn't get rid of the feeling of his cool hands, his slightly rough finger tips and his smooth palm. Leaning against the shower wall, she closed her eyes. He would get his memory back soon, and he'd be gone. It'd be back to them hating each other. No more discussing their reading or opinions, or making tea and staying up late to argue over house elves or the latest law passed…
Later in bed though, after an awkward good night, she found that the name 'Draco' brought a rather silly smile to her face as she drifted off.
A/N: Chapter two, since chapter one really wasn't much... umph. Does that make sense? Hah. So here's some plot. The next chapter is fun, and about half written. You guys should get it within a week, at most. I'll try to write faster. XD I like to have a buffer chapter in reserve so if life gets complicated I still have something for you all... anyhow! Enjoy!