ferretface_git | For Hermione

Over a year in Darrow, and Draco continued to resolutely avoid settling down, in any real way. He'd learned to exist on meager Muggle funds, subsidizing his lifestyle with magic, when possible. It perhaps wasn't the most moral of choices, but Draco had never particularly cared for those types of rules. He wasn't stealing money, but if he could magic a solution to problems for which Muggles might've only had their money to save them, he certainly wasn't going to hold back.

However, there was still one problem he'd yet to solve: Boredom.

It was a constant, creeping pit in his chest, this feeling of listless uselessness. This life without purpose or identity. He didn't even have any real rivalries anymore. He didn't even have any hatred to pour his energy into.

It was pathetic. It needed to stop.

That afternoon, he found himself at the Lamplight. Once, Granger was a bitter enemy, but on the island, she'd become a voice of reason. A person to speak to, when he needed advice. And the sad truth was, in this place, he didn't have anyone else to turn to.

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"I was considering it," Hermione said, raising a brow. She couldn't read Malfoy's expression easily — couldn't tell if it was rooted in some sort of strange gratitude, or if he was being as derisive and dismissive as he ever was in their school years. Something about the fact that he'd come to her looking for a job made her want to believe the former, but trying to reconcile the boy she knew with the man she was speaking civilly with still jarred, at times.

"I would also point out that both of us still have a lot to learn in a place like Darrow. Would still have a lot to learn back home. But yes, I had been thinking of asking you to be an instructor at the school. We all know that you're more than a competent wizard, and many people could benefit from your expertise."

"Yes, I'm sure there are many wonderfully interesting things we could be learning from these people," Draco said, his tone almost comically leaden with sarcasm, to the point that it was clear he was teasing her, in his way.

"Any expertise in particular? In case you've forgotten, I haven't actually lived in our world in over half a decade."

Hermione rolled her eyes, not bothering to hide her reaction. She didn't doubt that Malfoy was trying to goad something out of her — though what exactly, she wasn't sure. He'd been mystifying her a lot as of late, his intentions never quite clear, though he also never carried quite the same level of disdain around her as he had in their early school years.

She nudged Malfoy's cup of tea forward, then narrowed her eyes in thought. "Potions was the first subject which came to mind. And if you're afraid of having lost your touch, I can certainly help to test your skills. I've been practicing for all this time, after all. I could even teach you some of the latest potions that have been devised in the past few years." Her lips curved into a grin.

Honestly, even after all that had happened, while on the island, he loathed to accept help from her, or anyone, for that matter. Still, he knew he would need a bit of practice, after so many years letting his skills go to waste.

"Let's just hope I don't embarrass myself," he said, rolling his eyes. It was quite a big step for him to even acknowledge that he might not excel at something-- Even more revolutionary was the admission that he might care what she thought of him. He always had, of course, but he'd have kissed that oaf, Hagrid, before admitting it. And we're not talking about a chaste, closed-mouthed kiss, either. Tongues and all.

"All the more reason to keep you in practice, so that the risk of you embarrassing yourself is minimal," Hermione pointed out, her expression quite serious for a moment. No matter how lightly Malfoy was trying to pass off the moment, admitting that he might need Hermione's guidance helped indicate just how much time he'd spent away from magic. Back home, Hermione didn't think that Malfoy would ever turn to her in such a way.

"I have no doubt that even if you are out of practice, you'll pick the skill back up quickly. Potions is a great deal about precision, after all. Precision, creativity, and a lot of rote memorization. You should be fine," she said. "Provided the job interests you. You might have to deal with students you don't particularly respect or enjoy."

"I deal with people I don't particularly respect or enjoy everyday, so, it shouldn't be much of a change," he said, a wry smile curling his lips.

As much as he'd loath to admit it, he understood her concern. It was a great show of trust, that she even thought he'd be qualified to deal with students, without infecting them with his Death Eater rhetoric.

"And it would seem like I've managed to work my way out of one of those groups, at least," Hermione remarked, smirking faintly as she sat straight again. In a strange way, it was gratifying to be a source of trust now in spite of their rocky background. Hermione wasn't sure if Ron or Harry would ever share quite that level of sentiment, but to Hermione, after the war, there had been nothing quite as important as making sure differences could be set aside and the path towards peace paved well.

"I still have a long way to go before the school is likely to open. If you're feeling open to administrative work, I could use help in figure out how to organize all of this, finding spaces that work for the subjects that we teach, reaching out to other potential professors. But if you only want to teach the course itself, I'd also understand."

"I'm not sure I'm the administrative type," Draco drawled. He did take a certain pleasure in dolling out orders to subordinates, but that wasn't likely what she'd had in mind.

"I suppose I can keep an eye out for interested parties. I do know of at least one potential student."

It wasn't too surprising to hear that Malfoy had made at least one friend of magical background in Darrow, although Hermione couldn't even begin to guess at what kind of person that might be. Someone capable, Hermione thought. Maybe someone who wasn't eager to blend in and assimilate with all of non-magical society.

Maybe she was many too many assumptions based on the Malfoy she knew from home.

"Oh? Care to tell me more about this person?" Hermione asked, leaning forward in interest.

"Agatha Prenderghast. I think you might have met her. Or your other half has, at least," Draco said, arching a brow, "She's young. Twelve, thirteen, I don't know, but she has a great deal of power, but she's still learning how to control it."

A great deal of very dangerous power, but they both had plenty of experience with that.

For Hermione

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