Points of View

SB's Notes: Your Christmas wish is my command! To everyone who mentioned this as a story they'd like to see updated, I'm quite flattered, so thanks for the kind words... and thanks even more for the kick in the pants. I needed it.

Thanks go to SW69 for her beta skillz.

Chapter 11: Points of View

Hermione and her parents came into the kitchen a few minutes later, breaking Draco out of his bitter reflection.

"Well, Draco Malfoy, I don't think I've properly introduced myself. John Granger," he said, startling Draco as he thrust his hand forward again.

Draco shook it warily and said, "It's a pleasure."

"Not at all, not at all. Draco, while you're in my home, if there is anything you want or need, you have only to ask."

"Thank you, sir."

"You saved my daughter's life...I owe you so much. If there's anything I can do for you..."

"That's really not necessary..." Draco mumbled, looking anywhere but the Grangers.

"Of course it's necessary!" said Jane. "What you did let us keep our Hermione. If it weren't for... You just have no idea...well, I suppose that's not true. Goodness! You've known her for years! Of course you know how special she..."

"Mum," Hermione interrupted firmly, "we were hoping that maybe you'd be able to help us." She glanced at Draco before continuing. "We could certainly use any advice you have."

Since she was speaking, it was natural to look at her, so Draco did. It wasn't long before he was staring at her, and her voice began to sound far away until Draco told himself to focus. Her father began to speak, and Draco was grateful for the distraction as he tore his eyes from Hermione."

"Yes," he was saying, "I know. Your mother and I have been talking about it, and there is much to discuss, but there's something else that needs to be taken care of first."

"What?" said Hermione blankly.

"Did you think we'd forget what tomorrow is?"

Silence met the question.

"It's your birthday! I know you haven't forgotten."

"Oh, right..." Hermione gave a feeble smile. "That's nice, Mum, but I think this is a bit more impor..."

"Nonsense! We do realize that a lot has happened, but it can wait until we've all eaten. In fact, a good meal would do us good. And since it's your birthday tomorrow, we thought we'd go somewhere nice. Especially since you haven't been home for your birthday in so long. Remember how much we all used to forward to it every year? Who knows how long it'll be before we have an opportunity again? Nothing too fancy, just a nice dinner."

"What? Mum, no! Be serious. We don't have time to... I just want to get this over with."

Draco was feeling the same way.

"Hermione," John said, "we are being serious. We're not saying that we won't help you; we just want to celebrate your safety first, spend a bit of time with you. It can't hurt to delay the conversation a few hours."

"Please... There's nothing to celebrate, and we can spend time here. I..."

"Nonsense," Jane said, taking her daughter's hand. "This is a very special day. We want to remember it."

"Mum, it's not that big of a deal..." Hermione pleaded, looking horribly uncomfortable and darting nervous glances at Draco. "I'm fine. I'm safe. We really don't know what would have happened if Malfoy hadn't... I mean, well. I could have been fine. It's..."

Draco narrowed his eyes. It wasn't that he wanted any more thanks than he'd already received, but Draco could say conclusively what would have happened. He noticed Hermione's father glance at him, and he knew that the man agreed.

"We want to do this for you, Hermione. For both of you," he added, giving Draco another warm smile.

Draco stared hard at his hands.

Hermione seemed at a loss for words...something that Draco normally would have rejoiced at...but now he wished she'd open her mouth and tell her parents to get a hold of themselves. Draco agreed with Granger for once; the faster this whole thing was over with, the better. He didn't really fancy the idea of any sort of 'celebration.'

"Please, I..." Hermione muttered desperately, looking to Draco as if he would be able to rescue her.

"We'd like to leave in half an hour," her father said, and there was a decisive tone to his voice that told Draco the battle was lost.

"I have nothing to wear!" Hermione pleaded in one final attempt at dissuasion.

"What about that dress you wore to Jema's wedding?"

Hermione face turned bright red, and she mumbled something about it being too fancy.

Draco raised an eyebrow, trying not to smile. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all; he was imagining Hermione in a big, pink, frilly dress that would make her look about five years old, and he knew that he couldn't pass up the opportunity to tease her about it. He leaned back a little and folded his arms, smirking.

"It's not too fancy, Hermione, especially not for the place we're going."

"But you said you didn't want anything fancy!" Hermione cried. "Those were your words, Mum! 'Nothing fancy'!"

"Well," her father said. "It never hurts to look one's best, does it?"

Hermione looked close to tears as she looked back and forth between her parents.

"Go get dressed, love," her mother whispered, giving her a gentle shove. Hermione left the room completely defeated, and Draco couldn't stop himself from chuckling.

"She can be impossible, can't she?" said Mr. Granger in a stage whisper.

You have no idea.

* * *

Great. Just great.

She just wanted to get all this over with, and most of all, she wanted to be as far from Draco Malfoy as she could be. Then she wouldn't have to look at him and feel whatever it was that was strangling her. Instead, she now had to put on a stupid dress and spend the evening rubbing elbows with her parents and Draco, pretending like everything was all right.

She stomped up the stairs to her room and closed the door a little too hard behind her. Fine. She'd go. She'd smile. She'd even get herself prettied up like her parents wanted. Anything to get this over and done with. Then they could focus on what was important.

She turned her stereo on nearly full blast and walked into her closet. It wasn't hard to locate the dress she'd worn to her cousin's wedding two months earlier, as it was the only one she owned.

Hermione groaned as she held it out in front of her. Her nose wrinkled as her gaze swept over it; she supposed it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been considering it was a bridesmaid's dress, but still, it was definitely more fancy than she was comfortable with. She rolled her eyes, sighed, and pulled off her clothes before she slipped the dress on. A glance in the mirror made her scowl; she'd forgotten that should couldn't wear a bra with the damned thing, and oh, how she hated the fact that she owned a dress she couldn't wear a bra with.

Several minutes later, she had removed all unnecessary articles and, after struggling with the zipper, had resorted to magic to get the thing closed. The stool in front of her vanity was uncomfortable as she sat down and pulled an old tube of mascara, eyeliner, and a few other items she didn't remember having ever used. She rarely bothered with makeup, feeling that if she had ten minutes of unused time, she certainly wasn't going to waste in on something so frivolous, not when there was always something important to be done.

Of course, a small part of Hermione enjoyed getting dressed up... every now and then... a very small part. But it just wasn't worth it. It took a lot of work to make her hair suitable for the kind of dress she was wearing. Or at least it had three years ago for the Yule Ball. And well... actually, someone else had done it for her at the wedding during the summer, and she'd read a book the entire time, so she couldn't say exactly how long it had taken then. But that wasn't the point! It was the very principle of wasting time on silly vanities that bothered her. Hermione was at least glad that her hair wasn't quite the bushy disaster it had been in her fourth year; it was more curls than frizz now, most days anyway. Letting it loose from its tie, she watched it fall over her shoulders, smoothing the rogue curls as best she could. She threaded her fingers through it and piled it on top of her head a few times, reluctantly liking the way the wispy curls that fell framed her face.

Arranging the mess in a way that she thought could pass as stylized, she pulled her wand out of her dresser drawer and pointed it at her head, muttering a simple holding charm to make it stay still...as much as was possible. It would have to do; she certainly wasn't going to dig through her things for that mostly empty tube of Sleekeazy's. She smiled smugly to herself, silently daring her mother to make an issue of it.

Slipping on the shoes that matched her dress, she turned the stereo off and left her room. She knew she didn't look great, but she hoped her efforts would at least appease her parents.

A final, resigned sigh was released as she held to the banister and carefully stepped down the stairs. How she hated high heels...

* * *

Draco hurried up to the guest room to change shortly after Hermione, donning a clean pair of black trousers and using his wand to alter one of his Oxfords a bit...to make it more dressy. He looked in the mirror and smiled, knowing he looked fit for the occasion.

He quickly ran a comb through his hair and used a fragrance charm he'd picked up from his father...rest the bastard...and that was that. The music was rather loud as he passed Granger's door, and he couldn't help smirking.

He found John Granger already waiting, looking very much the part of a dignified, wealthy gentleman, and Draco had to remind himself that the man was a Muggle. He smiled at Draco and beckoned him over.

"You'll need these," John said, holding up a tie and jacket for Draco to wear.

Draco nodded, slipping an arm into the black jacket, which, to his surprise, fit him perfectly. The jacket must not have belonged to Mr. Granger if it fit Draco...he was built differently...but Draco didn't question it.

"Thank you, sir."

The man nodded and said, "Do you need help fastening the cuffs?"

"Er..."

"I'll do it!" called Jane Granger, entering the foyer with a bright smile on her face. She wore a simple, black dress with pearls around her neck, and once again, Draco had to remind himself that she was a Muggle.

She stepped close to Draco and took one wrist, then the other, in her hands. He cleared his throat and looked away uncomfortably, forcing his feet to stand still.

"Very handsome," she said when she was finished, looking him over.

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was glad at least that he was perfectly capable of tying his own tie.

"Hermione's not down yet?" she said, frowning slightly.

Her husband chuckled. "Of course not. She's up there glaring at herself in the mirror, devising last-minute excuses to get out of this."

"John... that's..."

Draco was struck with a mental image of this and laughed out loud.

"See, Draco knows I'm right." He and Draco shared a knowing smirk for a moment, which was interrupted by Jane's voice.

"Oh, Hermione, you look very lovely."

Draco's head snapped towards the stairs, and he saw her.

His first thought was that her mother's words hardly did her justice; the second was that she definitely did not look five years old. As she stepped carefully down the stairs and came closer, he wondered if this was the same girl he'd seen leave the kitchen half an hour earlier.

She was wearing a green, satin dress that hit the floor. It would have been very plain if not for the way it clung to her curves and swayed as she walked. Her hair was piled messily on top of her head, but even that suited her.

As she came even closer, he noticed that her face looked different, more defined. Her wide, dark eyes seemed even wider and darker, lined the way they were, and her lips shined, looking as if she'd just wetted them. She smiled at her mother, and Draco felt his stomach lurch. Hermione walked to her mother's side, completely ignoring Draco, and he clenched his jaw and looked down at the floor. She was only a Mudblood in a pretty dress, he reminded himself. Nothing to get excited about.

"Put this on, dear. And these."

"No, Mum," she said, a sharp warning in her tone.

"Don't be silly, Hermione. They'll go with your dress."

Draco looked up at the necklace and matching earrings Jane was holding out for her daughter. She was right; they would go with the dress. They were small and simple, and Hermione was just being difficult.

"Give them to me," Draco said firmly, holding his hand out to take the necklace from Jane.

Hermione froze.

Draco had had enough. He wasn't going to go through the whole night with her pretending he wasn't even there. He walked around behind her and felt his breath catch in his chest. A v-shaped stretch of her back was completely bare, and his eyes followed her pale skin all the way from the wide expanse between her shoulders down to the gentle indentations above the curve of her... Well, that was the last place he needed to be looking. He cleared his throat and stood up straight as he leaned in close to her to pull the necklace around her and fasten it. Her body was completely rigid, he noticed, and she smelled like raspberries.

A memory of her tackling him into his chair flashed though his mind, and he smiled to himself as he clasped the necklace. Taking her hand, which was clenched tightly, his fingers coaxed it open and placed the earrings in her palm before he moved away, backing up to stand next to her father. She met his eyes then, and he could see his own confusion mirrored there, the raw uncertainty.

"Wonderful!" John said, and Draco almost jumped as his eyes were drawn away from Hermione's. When he looked back, her eyes were focused on the floor again, and he knew that whatever it was he had seen in them was gone now. "Let's get going," John said, putting an arm around his wife.

"Hermione, would you two prefer to take your car or ride with us?"

The word registered with Draco, and an image of those four-wheeled contraptions he'd seen popped into his mind. He felt silly for not realizing until now that they wouldn't be Apparating, but of course they wouldn't. So... they'd be taking a... car. Draco looked at Hermione, who was again steadfastly avoiding his eyes, and the stab of irritation he felt gave him an idea. "Actually," he said to John, "I'd prefer it if we rode with you, sir. I don't think I trust Hermione to get us there alive."

Hermione's head snapped up as she glared at him, and Draco grinned. Hermione Granger was nothing if not predictable, and now she wasn't ignoring him; the uncertainty from before was gone as well, replaced now with the fire he recognized.

John chuckled and said, "Then you'll be glad to know that Hermione passed her driver's exam with one-hundred and eight percent."

"Of course she did..." Draco muttered.

"But if you'd prefer to ride with us, that's fine with me. Unless Hermione has any objections?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and snapped, "Let's just go," as she stomped out the doors, sending a final glare at Draco. Draco followed and watched as she grabbed hold of the handle to the rear door and pulled, sliding onto the seat smoothly once the door was open and slamming it closed quickly. Draco walked around to the other side and did the same, making a considerably less noise than she had. He glanced over at Hermione and found her leaning against her door, looking straight ahead, her jaw set. She almost looked physically ill.

He watched her for a moment as her parents took their seats, and then the car started to move.

Oh, dear. Logically, he had known the car had to move, but somehow it still surprised him. He swallow hard and focused on the muscles twitching in his stomach, his eyes shut tightly. Gripping the seat with his hands, he held his breath.

It was the sounding of Hermione chuckling that forced him to open his eyes.

"Feeling queasy?" She smirked, and for the moment, his nervousness was overridden by irritation. On the other hand, at least she was looking at him again.

"Shut up, Granger," he growled, closing his eyes again and sucking in a shaky breath as the car suddenly turned a corner. Thankfully, that was the last he heard from her, at least for a while.

Several minutes later, Draco's stomach had gotten used to car moving, and his nerves had calmed. He'd taken again to sneaking glances at Hermione, but she was back to staring straight ahead, though her body was less stiff now and swayed slightly with the movement of the car. He noticed that she had crowded herself up against the door even though there was plenty of room between them, and he rolled his eyes for what felt like the fiftieth time that night.

Draco knew that he should be thanking Merlin that she wanted nothing to do with him, that she was staying out of his hair, but he wasn't happy about being ignored. It was quite annoying, not to mention that now that the novelty of the car ride was wearing off, he was bored as hell. He wanted to get a rise out of her. But he couldn't do that if she kept pretending he didn't exist.

A glance forward told him that Hermione's parents were busy talking in the front seat. He knew they wouldn't hear him, so he thought for a moment and then chose a few words that were bound to stir something up.

"Hold my wand, Granger?"

Hermione looked at him like blankly for a moment before he saw a spark ignite in her eyes and a flush spread through her cheeks.

Bingo.

"What?" she gasped, her eyes wide.

"My wand, Granger," he replied as casually as he could, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, waving it lightly to demonstrate his meaning.

Hermione stared at it, then blushed harder and looked away, and he knew he had her.

"Not that wand, Granger. Although, I must say, I never knew you had such interesting thoughts running through that head of yours." He wagged his eyebrows at her and twirled his wand as he chuckled.

Hermione blushed harder still, but favored him with a glower this time.

"I mean, especially in front of your parents..."

He gave her a cocky, suggestive wink, designed solely to infuriate her, and judging by the narrowing of her eyes, he figured it must have worked.

"Give me that," she snapped, snatching his wand from his fingers. "I don't trust you with it."

"Give that back!"

"I thought you wanted me to hold it," she challenged.

Draco's mouth snapped shut. The truth was he hadn't though beyond his initial comment, which had been purely for shock value. He couldn't think of a reason he'd actually want her to hold his wand, and now she had it, and he had nothing. Back to square one.

Nice going, Draco...

Draco leaned back against the door with a sigh and folded his arms, sulking.

"Take it," she mumbled, tossing him his wand back at him. "It's not as if I have a use for anyway. I'd hide it, but there's no room for it in this... dress." She said the last word as if she were describing mold... or something worse.

"So you didn't bring yours then?" he asked, honestly wondering if she'd left it behind.

"I'd didn't say that." With a smirk of her own, she glanced down at her own chest, and Draco's eyes followed before he realized what he was doing and looked away.

He looked back a few minutes later and was glad to see that she was focused on the window. He didn't know when he'd have another excuse to look at her like this, so he after deliberating for a moment, he decided to take advantage of the opportunity that had presented itself.

And... she really was quite... striking. His eyes traced the lines and angles of her face, the curls in her hair, the defined shape of her collarbone... and down to...

"Malfoy."

"Hmmm?"

"I'm going to give you two seconds to stop staring at my chest before I take that wand back and use it on you."

"Is that a promise?"

She quirked an eyebrow, looking him slowly up and down, as though appraising him to see if it would actually be worth the effort.

Apparently it wasn't, and Draco was disappointed once again...and bored. She focused her attention elsewhere, and Draco was left to think. It struck him as rather odd that she hadn't really bitten back. He thought that any other time, she would have responded to his teasing much more violently. It felt... out of character. If there was one thing he could always count on, it was the ability to get a serious rise out of Granger. So what was different now?

He couldn't pretend for a moment to have any idea of what was going on inside her, but for once, he wished that he were one of the people she confided in, if only to get a better idea of how to wind her up. And... if he was honest with himself, she was not what he'd always thought she was. It was difficult to cling to his one dimensional view of her now that he'd seen her in her own home, with her own family, her own memories. He hadn't exactly pictured what her life had been like as a child before Hogwarts, but it had definitely surprised him to find she was not at all underprivileged...and not just in a monetary sense, but in general.

He'd always been of the opinion that she, and those like her, were lucky to even be allowed to breathe the same air as people like himself. But now, to see her in the world she'd been raised in, it was apparent that she had a life outside of his view of her. If she somehow woke up tomorrow with no magic, her life would go on and would probably be just as successful as it probably would have been in the magical world. She didn't seem to need magic. It didn't seem to make her different one way or another. Over the last few days, weeks even, he'd begun to see her as her friends saw her, as her parents saw her. Just as a normal person. A person who got out of bed in the morning and followed the same routine as always. A person like himself.

There was still a voice in his mind telling him that she was a worthless Mudblood slag and that he was a fool for letting himself question that. The voice sounded very much like his father, and it was making less and less sense with each moment he spent in Granger's company. Yet it also made sense to him that the wizarding world was weakening with every Mudblood integrated in. There was something to be said for pureness of blood, pureness of magic, if only from a strength aspect. If someone like himself produced offspring with someone like her, there was an increased chance that the child or children would be born with weak magic or no magic at all. That was a fact. Sure, there were flukes, exceptions to this rule, like Granger and... Potter, but on the whole, they were diluting the power and traditions that were his rightful heritage. So how was he to reconcile what he knew to be true with what he was learning about Granger?

"Malfoy."

"What?"

"You're still staring."

* * *

Hermione breathed a quiet sigh of relief now that it seemed Draco had stopped trying to pester her. The shapes passing by the window were blurred with her thoughts as she pondered her life of late. When Draco had put his hands on her to help with her necklace, she'd felt a tingling in her skin, in her stomach, and her mind had been drawn back to the moment of watching him play the piano. It felt to her like there were two different Malfoys: verbal Malfoy and Malfoy by touch. When he opened his mouth, it was usually very hard not to loathe him, but other times, when he was silent, or touching her, or smiling... that Malfoy was one she had a hard time finding fault with. He was turning out to be more than what he appeared, and though she couldn't say she liked him all that much, she'd have a hard time hating him ever again.

And then there was... her awareness of him, which she couldn't deny. She was attracted to him...on a physical level certainly, and if there was more to it, it wasn't something she was ready to examine. It was just so convoluted. He could touch her so casually, and she knew it was nothing to him, but his touch gave her feelings she didn't want to have. She wished for space from him, both emotional and physical...time to process the things she was learning and the feelings she was having.

Although... the exchange about Draco's wand had brought an... interesting topic to mind. Draco's sexual history. He had to have... of course he had. She'd heard stories. She'd found them disgusting at the time and had wondered at their credibility. Surely he hadn't slept with that many people. And there was no way he was that good.

Hermione swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus on something... anything else.

Several minutes later, the car stopped in front of a very nice restaurant. She didn't wait for the valet to open her door. She needed air.

This was going to be a long night....