Irredeemable (Harry Potter fanfiction)

3 - Christmas Kiss

Draco stood on the doorstep, hoping he was at the right house. The door opened, casting a wide shaft of light across the darkened garden.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, "You're right on time! Come in!" she stepped back and ushered him in.

He looked around with interest; his first time in a muggle house. It was pleasant. Warm, the walls were painted in a light cream and adorned with paintings and photographs.

"Come through to the kitchen," she said, walking ahead of him down the hallway. "I will just make a start on the risotto."

Draco followed her slowly, not really knowing what to say to her. She looked good, he couldn't help but acknowledge. She was wearing jeans that hung low on her hips and a simple striped V-neck jumper, not revealing in any way, but they showed her curves, and she looked relaxed and comfortable.

"Do you want a glass of wine?" she asked, as he reached the kitchen. She was busying herself with pouring rice into a pan, a glass of white wine sitting on the counter next to her.

He realised he hadn't actually said anything to her yet, not even hello. "Yes, please." He replied. Maybe he would feel a little less awkward with a glass or two inside him.

"Glasses in the cupboard to your left," she said, fetching a bottle from the fridge. She poured him a generous measure, then raised her own glass;

"A toast," she declared. "To your new found interest in Muggle Studies! Now pay attention, there's a test at the end of the night!"

He looked at her, thoroughly bemused. How much wine had she drunk?

"I'm joking Malfoy." She said with a smile at his expression.

"That's what's worrying me," he said, "you are joking."

He said it before he could stop himself, the snide part of his personality coming out to cover his nerves.

"And there's the old Draco Malfoy!" she said "I was wondering if he was still around"

Feeling rather small and mean, he apologised, trying to make it into a joke, "Sorry Granger, old habits die hard!"

She chuckled and said speculatively, "You really have changed, haven't you?"

He took a gulp of his wine. "So have you Granger, believe me."

They were silent for a moment, it seemed neither one knew how to follow that exchange.

"The risotto!" she squeaked and turned back to the stove. He watched her whilst she stirred and added stock to the bubbling pan. He realised he had seen her do this before; a fussy attentiveness to the task in question. He saw it every potions class.

"Muggle cooking," he stated, "is the same concept as potion making?"

"Yes!" she said, looking up in surprise. "Exactly like potion making! You add the ingredients at the right times in the right order, and you produce the desired food!"

"It's that simple?" he asked. Maybe muggle life wasn't that difficult or mysterious after all!

"It really is." She said, with a cheeky grin. "How did you get on with the music?"

"Ok. I liked some of it. I find it hard to believe that some of those songs were written by people who knew nothing of the war, they sum up the struggle against the dark arts so well."

"There is darkness in all of us Malfoy, not just wizards. Muggles struggle against the lure of power and wealth at the compromise of their morals too."

"A bit more darkness in some than others, though." He commented, smiling ruefully.

"That's true," she concurred, "but I don't think that means that they are irredeemable"

The conversation had turned serious very quickly, and it made Draco acutely uncomfortable. He took another gulp of his wine and wondered how to steer the conversation towards lighter topics. He was saved the trouble by Hermione announcing that dinner was ready.

She handed him a plate and ushered him through to the lounge. It was a comfortable, pleasant room, Draco noted, and followed suit when Hermione folded herself into the large curved sofa. She turned on some music on the stereo, then turned it down so it was just background noise.

Draco took a forkful of the risotto; it was good. Better than what his mother conjured anyway!

"There has been something I have been meaning to say." Began Hermione, eyes firmly on her food. "Thank you for not telling anyone about what happened in the charms classroom that night. I don't want you to think…"

Draco really didn't want to go there! "Honestly Granger, you shouldn't do anything that you don't feel right about. I know I would sleep a lot better if I had followed that advice." He thought for a second, "of course, I would be dead, but still…"

Hermione raised her face with a small chuckle.

"And, also, who would I tell?" continued Draco. "You may have noticed I'm hardly the most popular person of late!"

"Well, anyway," she said, a soft blush painting her cheeks, "thank you."

"Likewise!" said Draco. "Thank you for not telling anyone about what you discovered in the charms classroom that night! Although I don't know why you didn't, I'm sure Potter and Weasley would have gotten a good chuckle from it!"

"Well," she replied. "I didn't think it would be prudent to tell Ron that our conversation had been overheard, and I think you would be surprised about how little enmity Harry holds for you."

This was his chance to broach the subject of what happened at the manor. "I'm surprised already. After everything that happened, you three, the golden trio, have more reason to hate me than anyone else, except here I am, sitting in your house, eating your food, where as everyone at school despises me for things that didn't directly affect them. I just want you to know, about what happened at the manor, that I'm sorry. For not doing anything." There. He had said it. Admitted that he should have done more.

"Draco," she began, "you may think you didn't do anything, but you did. You refused to identify us when you knew who we were. You didn't try to stop us escaping. What else could you have done? You would have put your family at risk if you had actively tried to help us, no one could expect you to do that. Ultimately, you were a product of your upbringing. You had been groomed for that destiny since you were a child, how could you have fought that?"

"You seem to have thought about this a lot." Commented Draco.

"I have. " she replied "I found it helped to think about it, to talk about it."

"But still, my aunt. When she had you in the ballroom, and I just stood there watching…"

"She was insane Draco, what could you have done? She would have just cursed you out of the way and continued." She regarded him speculatively. "Why do I get the feeling that you haven't spoken to anyone about this? Please say you haven't just sat and brooded on this?"

He regarded her steadily; how to admit that he didn't have anyone to talk to? Even if he had wanted to.

"Please don't blame yourself for everything." She said earnestly, "You tried your best to put things right in the end. You need to find a way to absolve yourself."

"Alright Granger" he said quietly, dropping his gaze. She didn't know the depths of his depravity, the loathsome things he had done during those months under Voldemort.

She stopped her attempt to counsel him, and they finished their meal.

"Do you want dessert?" she asked collecting their plates. They had gone back to being a little awkward and formal again.

"That would be great, thanks" he replied, watching her leave, before getting up to look around the room. He was browsing the books on the shelves, when the door swung open seemingly of its own accord. Draco had his wand in hand before he had really processed what was happening, then felt like a fool as Hermione's ugly orange cat appeared around the arm of the sofa. It walked stiff-legged towards him, flat face tilted as it considered him carefully.

"Stupid cat," he muttered, replacing his wand and turning back to the shelves. He jumped again as he felt something brush his ankle. Looking down he realised the cat was rubbing itself on him, leaving a blanket of orange fur behind it. "Go away," he hissed at it, but it just flopped onto its side and looked up at him.

"Here we are!" said Hermione brightly, coming back into the room. "Chocolate fudge yule log with double cream!"

She handed him a bowl, and he sat himself back down. She had brought the wine bottle through with her and topped up his glass without asking him if he wanted any more. Checking her watch, she said, "it's still fairly early, do you want to see what's on TV?"

He nodded; he was interested in this muggle entertainment despite himself. She turned on the set and flicked through the channels;

"This is nice," she said with a smile, "A Christmas Carol! It is a very famous muggle Christmas story." She elaborated, upon seeing his blank look.

"Crookshanks!" she exclaimed in delight, when the cat climbed up into her lap and began kneading her thighs, turning itself around several times before finally settling down.

The dessert was good too, the gooey sweetness reminded Draco of the type of puddings that they had at school. The television was a good distraction, he concluded after a few minutes, but more and more he found himself watching Granger.

They had finished their food, and Hermione was becoming engrossed in the story being played out on the screen. Draco watched the light reflecting in her eyes, then found his gaze straying to the curve of her throat, her delicate collarbones, and to the hint of cleavage displayed by the demure sweater she wore. He watched her hands absent-mindedly stroking the cat in her lap, eliciting from it a deep rumbling purr.

Draco couldn't recall ever observing someone like this before, he had always been scheming or recently, anticipating something, rather than just having the leisure to look at them. He drank some of his wine, relishing the burn in his stomach and the slight swimming in his head. Maybe he was slightly drunk, but he realised that he had opened up more to Granger in one night, than he had ever opened up to anyone in his life.

He watched her flick a curl away from her face and then stretch her back, revealing a slice of flat stomach and slight jut of her hipbone. No wonder Weasley is desperate to get in her pants, he mused. She has always been so self-contained, it would be interesting to see her abandoned and unrestrained. He had never seen her so relaxed before, and if this evening was anything to go by then she certainly wasn't as stuck up as he had previously assumed.

They sat watching the film for the next hour or so, finishing the wine between them. The end credits began to roll, and Draco took that as his cue to leave. He was shrugging on his jacket, when the weight in his pocket reminded him;

"Oh, Granger, here," he said, fishing out the MP3 player and handing it back. She took it with a smile; her earlier loquaciousness seemed to have left her.

She followed him to the door, tailed by a disgruntled Crookshanks. On the doorstep he felt like he should say something,

"Thanks for tonight Granger," he said. "Inviting me to your home and making dinner. It's really nice of you."

"That's ok Draco, I actually enjoyed it" She replied with an impish grin.

Draco moved, seemingly unintentionally, and pulled her against him.

"What are you do…"she began, expression shocked, before he captured her mouth in a kiss. For a second she was rigid against him, before softening in his arms. Her curves pressed tightly against him, and he felt lust sweep through his body. This was crazy! What was he doing?

He pulled away, chest heaving and met her bewildered brown eyes. She was breathing hectically, and bright patches of colour had formed high on her cheekbones.

She was the first to speak; "What was that?!"

Draco hardly knew himself. "I'm sorry Granger. I think I must have had too much to drink." He lied. "I'm sorry" he said again, backing out of the door. He had gotten down the first couple of steps when she called him back,

"Draco!" He turned back to see her silhouette framed in the doorway. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Granger"

The door closed, and he was left in darkness on the muggle street. Knowing it was foolish, he walked to the end of the street then apparated, materialising a short way from the tube station nearest his home.

Arriving home, he unlocked the front door, trying to be as quiet as possible but needn't have bothered as his mother was still awake.

"So, how did it go?" She asked, almost as soon as he had gotten through the door.

"Alright." He replied, then amended "I don't know."

"Well, did you have a nice time?" she asked leadingly.

Draco thought for a moment, "yes." He really had enjoyed the evening; Granger was easy company, all the good/evil stuff aside.

"Then what was the problem?" Narcissa pressed.

"Oh mother," he said with a sigh. "I don't know. It wasn't really a date, and I don't know what it meant. It is entirely possible she only invited me because she was being nice, and didn't have anything better to do!"

"What do you mean?" she asked, gesturing for him to sit.

Deciding that he may as well confide in his mother, well partly anyway, he took a seat.

"It's complicated." He began. "We have never liked each other; in fact, we pretty much hated each other. Then the war happened, and we just ignored each other. Then there was an incident, in which we helped each other out. Then I saw her the other day in town, and she invited me over. Then tonight, she was pleasant and funny, but there was no flirting or anything. Then, as I was leaving I kissed her, she was shocked, and I came home. So that's that really."

His mother looked rather perplexed. "I think it comes down to a couple of things," she said. "One, do you find her attractive, and want a relationship with her? Two, does she find you attractive and want a relationship with you? If the answer is yes to both then you know what to do. So, question one?"

Draco had to think. "Yes, I find her attractive, but as for a relationship, I really don't know if we would be compatible, we are very different. And I really have no idea if she finds me attractive, but she is in a relationship with someone else, he is an i***t, but I don't think she would want one with me. "

Well, you know what you need to find out." Said his mother. "Do you want to pursue her, and if so, then how you will go about it."

"Thanks mother." He said, thinking that she hadn't really helped at all! "I'm going to go to bed."

He made his way towards the stairs, "Good night."

"Good night sweetheart."

Lying alone in his bed, he couldn't get his mind off how Hermione's body had fitted so nicely against his own; fantasizing about her. How he would undress her, explore her body, give her pleasure. He was certain she would be nothing like the women he had known before; Pansy knew what she wanted and liked, and the two other death eater women he had been with were quick, rather clinical affairs. Both parties were intoxicated and had been about release and nothing more. He didn't often think of those two encounters, they tended to leave him feeling rather empty, but he had managed to satisfy them both, leaving him fairly confident of his skills as a lover.

But Granger would be different; she was innocent and wouldn't know what she liked. The idea that Weasley might be responsible for her first experience was unthinkable; he would rush it, possibly hurt her.

Draco was unsure when he had become infatuated with Hermione Granger, but he had to acknowledge it to himself now. The question was, as his mother had said, what did he do about it?