came to that.
And it was not going to come to that before she put up some resistance. The bastards had the audacity to attack her home? She would make sure they left with a potent reminder.
The L-shaped kitchen was full of windows and so she bolted into the lounge room where there was more cover. Ducking behind her sofa, she crawled to one of the front windows to peek under the heavy curtains.
It was frosted over from the outside, so she couldn't see very much besides murky dark and the faint sound of the wind blowing through the woods. There was someone in the yard, though. That much was obvious.
Dropping to the floor again, Hermione grabbed a sleeping Crookshanks, basket, rug and all, and lifted up a loose floorboard she had designed for just such an event.
She dropped the basket into a small compartment under the house. The old cat was far too comfortable to mind being temporarily jostled. There was a croaky "brrrow?" as she replaced the floorboard.
"Shush, Crookshanks," she whispered. "This is for your own good." With her wand firmly in hand, she pressed herself flat beside the front door and counted to five.
**
Two months of regular hot meals, a warm bed and a roof over his head had not succeeded in dulling Draco's razor sharp instincts. Yet .
It would probably take a few more years, he reasoned. Some traits were hard-wired, unfortunately.
The snow was coming down hard now such that the cottage and porch in front of him dissolved into a frosty, white blur.
It was a good thing he still managed to see the front door swing open violently. Not waiting to question his judgment, he immediately hit the ground, his gloved hands pressed flat on the snow covered paving. Less than a meter over his head, a magical field spread in an arc from the porch.
He heard, rather that saw the effect of the spell. There was the sinister snapping of twigs, singeing noises and the sound of the white picket fence at the front of the property splintering.
After this concentrated, contained destruction ceased, he cautiously raised himself on his elbows and was confronted by a pair of worn, rabbit slippers inches away from his face. The slippers were rapidly sinking into snow that had turned into slush. All he could see were two pairs of tattered bunny ears and flannel-covered ankles.
Remnants of the spell still swirled around the front yard in a superheated cloud of air.
"Jesus Christ, Malfoy!" An incredulous Hermione Granger was standing over him, with - he couldn' t help but notice - the glowing red tip of her quivering wand still hovering over his face.
He grabbed it and pointed it elsewhere before she unintentionally blew off his eyebrows.
"Just Draco, is fine," he said as he sat up. He noted that his clothing was already soaked through. "Though I'm flattered you think I'm the son of God."
Yes, that was incredibly lame. Nothing diffused tension like a well-timed, lame joke. Hermione was in no mood to see the lighter side of the situation, however. Her wand hand was visibly shaking and her face was a pale reflection of the snow.
"You ass! I could have killed you!" All amusement vanished then, when he realized how acutely upset she was.
"Lucky for me that you didn't, then," he said softly.
It would have felt entirely natural to step forward and take her into his arms to reassure her, but Draco didn't, because he didn't allow this feeling to eventuate.
Hermione continued staring at him, as if not quite believing that he was indeed standing in her now decimated front yard. She stomped one soaked bedroom slipper and wrapped her arms around her. The colour returned to her cheeks - two dark, red spots on each cheekbone - and the shrewdness came back with it.
Dressed in her too-large pyjamas with rolled-up cuffs, with flakes of snow melting in her dark cap of curls and her eyes spitting brown fire at him, Draco thought she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen.
A familiar, damnable tightness settled in his chest. He was dill to have come there that evening. What did he think was going to happen?
"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she asked, with a beady expression.
Draco decided honesty was the best course of action at this point. He shoved back his hood. "I'm not sure. I was hoping you could tell me."
A thought suddenly occurred to him. Perhaps she had