An Invitation

"Do you--?" Hermione hesitated, feeling embarrassed. "Do you want to come over to my place? I meant what I said when I told Harry I was going to watch a movie," she laughed.

Draco was caught off guard by her question. "Oh," he scratched his neck, feeling uncomfortable, "uh--"

"No, don't feel obligated!" She added quickly. "I just wanted to invite you, in case you felt like getting out. Of course, you probably want to be at your place. My apartment is a dump compared to whatever you've got, I'm sure."

Draco definitely wanted to go but judged himself for it. He just got divorced!

"I'll come. A movie will be good for me. And, as for your place, Granger, I honestly don't care what it looks like. It's my father who thinks what the Malfoys have are important in life: Money and our background. I'm not him, though."

"You can say Pureblood, you know," she smiled. "No need to skirt around that word for my sake."

Draco looked at her arm that was hanging at her side. The word "Mudblood", that his Aunt Bellatrix had carved into Hermione's skin, was still visible and always would be.

"Yeah, that's my father," he mumbled, the sight of the scar causing knots to form in his stomach, "a swell man."

"You're not Lucius Malfoy, Draco," Hermione told him. And she took his hand in hers to Disapparate.