Intruders

I heart SW69, the best beta ever.

Draco woke up a few hours later and didn't recognize his surroundings. He was alarmed for only a moment before recent events caught up with him and he remembered. It was surprising that he had drifted off, he thought, and he wondered how long he'd been out. A glance at the clock on the wall told him it was almost noon, which meant he'd only been asleep for two hours. He frowned when he remembered that Granger had told him she'd be right back. Where was she?

He rose hesitantly from the bed and walked to his door to open it. Craning his neck to look down the hall, his eyes found Hermione's door, and he saw that it was closed. Unsure if she was inside or not and uncomfortable with venturing into new territory, he moved cautiously down the hall. As he paced closer, he heard the faint sounds of music and knew she must be inside. Uncertainty faded as curiosity took its place, and he couldn't help wondering what she was doing, alone in her own bedroom. He leaned back against the wall across from her door and crossed his arms.

Considering his options, he was half-tempted to go off and explore the Grangers' house on his own, but he knew it was a bad idea. And he couldn't just stand here doing nothing all day. This was Granger's house, he was her guest, and she should be catering to him, not doing whatever she was doing inside her bedroom. He reached forward to knock, but paused when his curiosity got the better of him. Instead he moved forward quietly and turned the handle of her door slowly, careful not to let it squeak.

As it turned out, he needn't have worried about alerting her to his presence. The music that had been faint from the hall was rather loud now that the door was open. He glanced around Hermione's room with wide eyes, and it struck him that it was as if he were touching something he had never been allowed to touch. He knew she would never have given him permission to intrude. It was even more amazing to see her room because it was just so... her. Someone else had decorated their rooms at school, but this room was all Hermione's. Everything in it was what she had chosen for herself. It was more than a room; it was a window into a girl who confused and often angered him. He didn't understand her at all, but this... this gave him a hint of who she really was.

It was something he'd never considered before. The idea of being curious about what Hermione Granger kept secret was absurd, but here Draco was. He really hadn't known what to expect when he'd opened the door. A part of him had expected to see tacky stuffed animals perched all over the place, but no animals were in sight. Her bed was made of black brass, and she had chosen pale-blue and gold satin for her duvet. Her walls had photographs...stationary photographs, he noted...of different scenes from places in the world. Places she'd traveled to, he assumed. A map of the world with small, red dots scattered across it took up a good portion of the opposite wall.

There was a large vanity with a mirror next to her bed and several bookshelves, which were mostly filled. Draco recognized the television under her window for what it was, and he smirked. Another large, silver box was sitting on her dresser, flashing blue lights. He wondered vaguely what it was, but his attention rested finally on Hermione herself, who was sitting cross-legged at the head of her bed, writing in what he assumed was her journal.

Draco felt a sudden desire to know what she was writing, but didn't move, choosing to watch her instead. Even though he knew she wasn't likely to hear him, he kept his breathing as quiet as possible and stood as still as he could. She had tied her hair back again and had changed into Muggle clothes...denim shorts and a plain, yellow shirt. Her lips were moving slightly, and he realized she was singing along to the music. He listened more closely to the song and was surprised to find it wasn't revolting. It was smooth and sort of mysterious, much like the girl singing along to it, Draco realized.

Hermione smiled slightly for no apparent reason and laughed to herself, and Draco felt himself smile in turn. The sound of a violin rang through the room as the song played on, and she closed her eyes and bobbed her head a little until it was over and the music faded out. She opened her eyes and smiled, and Draco couldn't have breathed if he'd tried. She began to write again, completely unaware that there was someone watching her and that something was happening to him.

He wasn't sure how long her stood there, and he didn't really know what he was feeling or thinking. Suddenly, everything felt as if he were seeing it for the first time, and what he was feeling... He knew he really was feeling it for the first time. As he stared at her, it was amazing to him that after everything she'd been through and seen, she could still smile like that. She was untainted.

He was broken out of his trance when Hermione suddenly looked up and saw him standing there. Instinctively, he took a step back.

He expected her to start shouting at him, ordering him to get out, but she just looked at him with a startled expression on her face. Finally, she closed her journal and got up from her bed gracefully. She crossed to the silver box and hit a button, and immediately, the music stopped.

She turned to him and said, "Hi. You're awake."

His throat felt dry when he spoke. "Why didn't you wake me?"

She crossed the room and slipped her sandals on. "I thought you needed to sleep," she said, and then she looked him right in the eyes. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," he lied, and then his curiosity defeated him again. "What was that song?"

Hermione came to the door and walked out into the hall, pulling it closed behind her. "Crush. Dave Matthews Band."

"Oh," he replied, and he knew he'd remember it for a long time.

He cleared his throat and stepped aside for her to move past him, trying to regain his composure. "Your room is rather... sweet," he said, relieved that it sounded as smug as he'd been trying for.

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "You could have knocked."

"Where's the fun in that?" he asked, and he still felt he was being a little too... nice. He needed to piss her off. "I only wish you'd been naked, Granger...then I'd have something interesting to mention at the next Prefects' meeting."

She threw him an icy glare that made him smirk, and she led the way down the stairs. "If you're quite finished insulting me, I'll show you where the kitchen is."

"I'll never be finished insulting you, Granger. It's just too easy."

Hermione glared at him again. "Why am I not surprised?"

Draco followed her through a short hallway and a swinging door and found himself in a spacious kitchen with an island covered in blue tile, surrounded by barstools. Everything was very clean, he noticed, yet it still retained the warmth he'd felt since first walking through the front door.

Hermione pointed to the right and said, "Icebox," then pointed to the counter in the corner and said, "Coffee."

She indicated in the same way where the dustbin, silverware drawer, and dishes were located.

Clearly she wasn't going to cater to him.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, walking to the icebox and opening it.

Draco admitted he was and muttered something about poison that made Hermione roll her eyes. He walked up behind her and peered over her shoulder. "My God, Granger. You've got nothing here."

"My parents normally eat out. We can run to the supermarket later if we need to."

Draco held himself back from making a snide comment about the lack of house-elves who should be doing the shopping. Instead he reached in and grabbed a box labeled 'Captain Finkle's Fabulous Fish Fingers.' He wasn't sure what a Fish Finger was, but since he happened to know for a fact that fish did not have fingers, he thought it was a safe bet that these were probably edible. Besides, they looked to be the only substantial food in sight.

Hermione looked annoyed. "Help yourself," she snapped.

"I will," he replied, raising an eyebrow at her.

He looked at the box and then around the room. "How do I...?" he muttered.

Hermione sighed in exasperation and snatched the box out of his hand. She pulled out and handful of the things and placed them on a plate, then found another silver box and slid the plate in. She closed the thing and poked at it until it lit up and started humming, and Draco's eyes widened momentarily before he settled in a stance of nonchalance. The gadgets Muggles used as substitutes for magic had intrigued him for quite a while, and he was tempted get a closer look at this one.

"This is called a microwave," she said condescendingly, as though speaking to a child. "It heats whatever you put inside it."

Draco gave her a sneer but didn't dignify her with a response. There was a small area on the microwave with a timer counting down to zero, and Draco watched in skepticism. As interesting as this device was, he found it very unlikely that when the timer hit zero, his food would be warm.

When the timer reached zero and made a loud screeching noise, Draco did not jump in surprise. When Hermione reached in and pulled out the steaming plate of food, he was not impressed in the least. She handed him the plate, which he almost dropped when he felt how hot it was, and pulled a bottle of ketchup out of a cupboard.

Hermione repeated the process for herself and joined him at the bar with her own plate just as he was starting on his second finger...they were incredibly greasy, almost soggy, and he couldn't believe how good they tasted.

The two of them ate in silence, and Hermione finished first.

"I didn't want to be the first to bring it up," she said, "but we need to figure out what we're going to do next."

Draco swallowed his mouthful. "I thought we were going to wait for your parents to get home, then talk to them about it."

"Oh. Yeah... we were. I just... I mean, I didn't think you would..."

"Stop stuttering, Granger. Under the circumstances, I think it's our best option," he said. He didn't like admitting it, but what else were they going to do? Besides, Hermione's mother had been... nice, likeable. Perhaps her father would be, too.

Hermione nodded and stood. "It's 12:30 now. They'll be home at 5:30. That's five hours."

"I can add, Granger."

"Shut it."

"Make me."

"I'm going to go take a nap. I'm sure you can find a way to amuse yourself. The telly is through that door," she said, pointing to the right, "and the study is through that one if you'd like to find a book. I'm assuming of course that you haven't forgotten how to read."

She gave him a nauseating smirk and strolled out of the room.

Draco shook his head. Hermione Granger really went above and beyond the call of obnoxious.

A few more bites polished off his last fish finger, and he got to his feet. He placed his empty plate on top of Granger's on the counter and chose the first door she had pointed to. About an hour later, he was thoroughly bored with the telly, so he turned it off and decided to do some exploring. If he ever wanted to, he thought now was his best chance.

Ten minutes later, he figured he'd seen most everything, and he found himself in the study. An image of Hermione spending hours in here as if it were a bloody chapel came into his mind, and he smirked.

Draco looked around the room until he found the most valuable thing he'd seen yet in the house, and by 'valuable' he didn't mean monetary worth. Draco Malfoy loved the piano. It was a little-known fact, but he'd played since childhood. His father had demanded that he become an excellent pianist, and he had always loved playing, so he'd chosen not to let the fact that it had been his father's idea stop him from enjoying it. The Grangers' piano was very fine indeed. He smiled genuinely as he pulled the bench back and sat down. He was at home now.

* * *

Hermione wondered if leaving Draco alone and unsupervised in her house was a good idea, but she didn't fancy the idea of babysitting him, and she really did need a nap. The bizarre nature of the situation she found herself in had struck her more strongly than ever when she'd told Draco Malfoy to amuse himself with her telly. And if she wasn't mistaken, he had been noticeably less hostile towards her after his own nap. She wondered what had caused the change and how long it would last before he remembered that he was Draco Malfoy and that his mission in life was to be an insufferable prick.

Not that she didn't appreciate him behaving himself in front of her mother...she had honestly expected him to treat her mother with the same open animosity that he showed her. But he hadn't. He'd surprised her and had been very charming. Hermione suspected he had it in him to be charming at any time and chose not to be. What a shame, she thought. She could almost tolerate him.

She fell asleep easily and woke up several hours later, then rolled over to look at her clock. It was 5:15. She sighed sleepily and closed her eyes. She sincerely hoped her parents had some ideas. Her thoughts turned to her reluctant houseguest, and she wondered how Draco had chosen to spend afternoon; she hoped dearly that he hadn't disregarded her mother's request that they not set anything on fire.

She got out of bed and straightened her clothes. As soon as she reached the top of the stairs, she heard music. Someone was playing the piano. Someone was playing the piano very well. She froze for an instant before the music pulled her toward it.

It couldn't be...

No way.

Hermione quickened her pace and walked towards the study. She knew who the pianist had to be before she reached the archway, but when she saw him sitting there, his hands creating music like she'd never heard before, it hit her harder than anything ever had.

She watched him from the side as his fingers moved faster than hers ever could. His eyes were closed, and his expression was blank. His body swayed slightly, following his hands wherever they took him, and she was captured.

Then he opened his eyes, and she'd never seen him look more alive, not even when he was ready to hex her. She couldn't help feeling that she was seeing something she wasn't meant to be a part of, and it scared her... It moved her. How could this boy, this boy who had never been anything but horrible and selfish, create something so beautiful? She looked at him now and knew for certain that the face he showed to the world was not his true self; this was. The music gave him away.

Physically, he was the same Malfoy he'd been five hours ago, but something had changed. She was seeing him now...really for the first time...and she felt so much in that moment. Every emotion hit her like a tidal wave, and she found it hard to swallow.

A door opened and closed behind her, and she jumped. When Draco jumped and turned his head towards her, she jerked her own head away and turned to go greet her parents. She blinked the moisture away from her eyes and pushed everything she'd just felt deep down where no one would ever find it. What had just happened to her... was...

"Hermione," her father said, holding his arms out for her. She crossed to him and wrapped her arms around his chest.

"Hi, Dad," she whispered.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he said, pushing her back to look her over. "When I heard what happened... I..." His voice cracked, and Hermione hugged him again.

"It's okay, Dad. I'm safe."

"I know you are... thanks to this boy here."

Hermione's father released her and crossed the hall to Draco, who was standing awkwardly in the archway between the study and the foyer. She blushed as she remembered that she'd explained in her letter that Draco had helped her. She'd wanted her parents to know the truth, even if it was hard for her to admit, and she'd hoped that if they were kind to Draco, he might feel inclined to be pleasant himself. It had been a good idea, judging by the way her father was smiling at Draco as if he were the salt of the earth.

"Thank you," he said simply, holding his hand out to Draco. "I owe you my life and more."

* * *

Draco was speechless. The bond between Hermione and her father was obviously very strong. The way he held her and spoke to her... Hermione was her father's life. Draco hadn't known that kind of love and devotion from a father for his child was possible until that moment. He felt more out of place than he ever had. And then the man looked at Draco, and he didn't know what to do with his hands. This man emanated goodness and authority; he commanded respect in a way Lucius Malfoy never had. Draco was terrified for a brief moment, but then the man offered his hand.

"Thank you. I owe you my life and more."

Draco didn't trust himself to speak, so he shook the man's hand and nodded. He glanced at Hermione, but she was staring at the floor, a tight set to her jaw. A pang hit him hard in the stomach. He tried to ignore it and stayed as still as possible as he listened to Hermione's father give a detailed account of his most recent 'root canal.'

About ten minutes later, Hermione's mother came in the door and greeted both her daughter and Draco warmly. He hoped his smile didn't look as strained as it felt. Was this how Hermione's life was all the time? Draco wondered if she knew how lucky she was, and then he cursed himself for the thought.

He stood back and watched as the family had their moment together. Anger rose up inside him, and he walked into the kitchen to sit down on a barstool. The last thing he wanted was to hang around in the hallway witnessing something he would never have. He would not allow himself to envy Hermione Granger. She was a Mudblood, he reminded himself, and she had nothing that he wanted. There were certain things that were meant for Draco, and this would never be one of them. He and Granger lived in different worlds...literally. She had her friends and her family to rely on, and they had her. Draco was alone, and he was better off for it.

And if ever he had a moment of weakness when he forgot who he was and what Granger was, he would remember that when her father had thanked Draco, Granger hadn't been able to so much as look at him. It made it so much easier to remember why he hated her.