“You’re sure you don’t want my help?”

Malfoy glared at Hermione as he roughly shoved past her and levitated his luggage through the door.

She watched him follow his bags up the stairs, wand pointed, directing them further up into his designated room until he emerged once again. He stomped down the carpeted stairs, pushed Hermione with his shoulder again, and went to retrieve more of his luggage.

Hermione sighed to herself when he stepped inside the lift for what had to be at least the fifth time, and was out of sight once the cream coloured doors had closed.

Was it really only yesterday he’d shown up in her office? Had it really only been this afternoon when he’d interrupted her meeting? It felt as though weeks had passed rather than two days. She glanced up at the wooden grandfather clock near the television and stifled a yawn: it was 9:37pm.

Hermione tiredly went over to the fridge as she heard the door being barged through again followed by two more bags floating up the stairs with a very disgruntled Malfoy trailing behind. She pulled out a bag of oranges to briefly satisfy her hunger (it was too late to even bother cooking a real meal) and began cutting up pieces with her wand, eating as she went.

“Brilliant!” Malfoy exclaimed, coming down the stairs. “What am I supposed to eat?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “There is food in the fridge, you know.”

He stared at her incredulously. “You actually expect me to… to eat the same food as you?”

“Uh, yes.” She popped another cut up piece of orange in her mouth.

“I’m not eating the same food as you,” he said firmly. “There’s no telling what you’ve done with it or how filthy it is.”

Irritation surged through her. Hermione reminded herself not to let him get to her – she was better than that. Be civil. “Well, Malfoy, I’m sorry to say but you’ll just have to scavenge for your own food then.”

“Malfoys don’t scavenge,” he said, disgusted. “That’s yours and Weasley’s kind. Tell me, how is he? Sprouted out any children yet, or haven’t you had the wealth to keep them? Have you had to sell any?”

“Keep your mouth shut,” she spat with so much venom laced into her words, that for a moment he seemed taken aback. However, Malfoy soon recovered, a triumphant look on his face.

“Ooh, I’ve hit a nerve, have I? So I’m presuming you have had to sell a child?”

And before Hermione could even process what she was doing, she had hurled the rest of the orange at him, watching it bounce straight off his forehead.

For a moment he could only gape at her, his hand slowly coming up to touch the wet spot where the fruit had collided with his head, as though he could not believe what had happened. Malfoy then looked down, staring at the mangled fruit. He stomped on the orange with his shoe, leaving a right juicy mess.

“I believe that’s what monkeys do too, throw food. Very sophisticated on your part, Mudblood,” he sneered.

Shooting him a very dark look, Hermione forcibly crammed the oranges back in the fridge and slammed the door shut before storming past him and also slamming the bathroom door behind her.

Draco marched after her to the bathroom door and pounded his fist against it. “GRANGER! Who stepped up and made you in charge? Who said you get to have the first shower?”

“I did!” she shouted back.

He laughed without mirth. “Oh of course you did! Typical Granger, always in charge, always the boss, as long as everything goes her way she’s content –”

“SHUT UP!”

“YOU SHUT UP!” Draco could not believe the nerve of this woman – how dare she tell him to shut up?

The sound of the shower being turned on reached Draco’s ears and he kicked the door, vowing to himself he’d set her right once she got out of the shower. He strode to the lounge room, sat down with a huff and picked up the same copy of the Daily Prophet his father had been reading earlier.

Draco flicked through its contents with uncalled for viciousness, bored with it already. The Daily Prophet was not quite as interesting as it may have once been. The falling of Voldemort and many of his followers led to lesser and lesser news worth knowing. Now, the paper had resorted to cooking recipes, which witch and wizard were getting married, who was having children, ads for some strange, weird box things Draco did not recognise, but guessed them to be something Muggle related, and very so often a missing witch or wizard picture. Draco did not think anyone else had noticed, but the amount of missing people was, slowly, but surely becoming more and more frequent. He glanced down at a picture on the right side of the page he was currently on and could have sworn he had heard the name of the wizard before, not that that was peculiar or anything, but there was just a strange feeling about the name… as though he was supposed to remember something about it…

The shower stopped then, breaking Draco’s thoughts and forcing him back to reality. He had almost forgotten to be annoyed. Almost.

Hermione dried her hair, feeling much more relaxed than she had all day. Usually before bed she would read with Crookshanks in her lap, although considering today had been a far cry from ‘normal’, she was exhausted and had a definite plan to flop face first down on her mattress the instant she was in her room.

Hanging her towel on the golden hook of her door and breathing in the smell of her shampoo, she had just set foot out into the hall when Malfoy suddenly came into view and effectively blocked her path.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What now? The bathroom’s free.”

“I think we need to get some things straight,” he said darkly. “If we’re going to be stuck together for a year, there needs to be some rules and regulations. That way, we can make this whole lovely experience that much simpler for ourselves. With me so far?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and nodded, if only to get this speech over and done with.

He breathed out. “First things first, I get the shower before you, always. Second, when I go out and buy my own food, under no circumstances will you go anywhere near it – especially apples. Third, you are not to touch any of my belongings without my consent, but I advise you don’t even bother to ask because unless I am close to death, the answer will be no. Fourth, if I bring a lady home with me, you make yourself scarce. Fifth, you and I do not wash our clothes together and we have a clear understanding on who owns what. Sixth, if I so much get a glimpse of Potter, Weasley or anyone else I hate in here, I will hex them out and will not be responsible for my actions. Seventh, now this is one of the most important, I want you to keep as far away from me as possible. Is that clear?”

“Get out of my way,” Hermione said tightly, staring into his chest and willing for him to disappear. She thought if she were to say what she really wanted to, she’d never stop. He wanted her to retaliate, she reminded herself. She would not take the bait. 

“Not until you agree.”

“I’m not agreeing because this is my flat to begin with and I can just as easily kick you out!” Her voice rose of its own accord.

“No, you can’t. We did an Unbreakable Vow, Granger. I’m here to stay.”

Hermione bit back from screaming in frustration and seriously began to consider whether or not she should just move out and leave it to him. But she was no coward. She was a Gryffindor, damn it, and she would not be driven out of her own home by the likes of Malfoy.

“Yes, I heard you,” she mumbled. “Now, move.”

He stepped aside, grey eyes not leaving hers until she closed the door.

***

Hermione woke to a mouthful of orange fur as usual. Coughing, she gently nudged Crookshanks off and headed for the bathroom to wash her face.

When she strode down the stairs, she was not surprised that Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. She glanced up at his closed door and figured him not to be a morning person.

Inwardly grinning to herself as a wickedly childish idea occurred to her, she climbed back up the stairs to the hall where their rooms were lined against, and then proceeded to stomp her feet as loud as she could, pacing back and forth, down and up the hall before doing the same as she stamped down the stairs with Crookshanks in toe, meowing noisily after her.

When that still did not wake him, she went down into the kitchen, pulling open draw after draw until she found what she needed. Going back up, she hit the large frying pan with a metal ladle, satisfied by the amount of noise issuing from it and retraced her earlier steps.

“Granger!” someone called from down the stairs.

She jumped and whirled around to see Malfoy carrying a heap of grocery bags, looking up at her with amusement. “Do I, um,” he clucked his tongue, “want to know what it is you are doing?”

Hermione shoved both kitchen utensils behind her back, blushing. “I don't know what you’re talking about –” She stopped at his disbelieving expression and sighed, muttering, “No, I don’t suppose you do.”

He eyed her with curiosity for a moment longer, Hermione flushing ferociously the entire time, and then went very slowly to the kitchen, looking more than a little stupefied as he glanced continuously behind his back.

Hermione ran her hand through her hair; her cheeks red hot and looked down at Crookshanks. “This is all your fault,” she accused.

His head cocked to the side.

“All your fault,” she repeated.

He meowed and licked a paw to clean his ear.

“Granger, if the stress is really starting to get to you and you’re finally going to start acting as insane as your hair, I suggest you tell someone about it instead of blaming that…” Malfoy gestured to Crookshanks, “thing.”

“Crookshanks is a he, not a thing.”

He smirked as he bit into an apple before strolling out of view again.

Hermione, flushing even brighter yet, went into the kitchen to cook herself up some breakfast, determined to forget the embarrassing start to the first day. Chopping up strawberries and bananas whilst her porridge heated up in the microwave (she liked to cook the Muggle way sometimes), Crookshanks began to wind himself around her legs, purring loudly.

“I’ll feed you in a moment,” she snapped.

Just then, there was a loud sound of voices coming from the living room and then Malfoy’s yell of, “Holy fuck! What the hell is this?”

Groaning, Hermione abandoned breakfast and went off to the lounge room. She clasped her hands over her ears as she neared and ran over to turn off the television.

Malfoy let out a sigh of relief when the noise had stopped, and lowered his own hands away from his head.

“What is that thing?” he demanded.

“It’s called a television. More and more of them are being to be used by wizards these days, haven’t you bothered to notice?”

He frowned. “I saw some in the Daily Prophet.”

“Yes… they’re televisions.”

“What are they for?”

“You watch things on them,” she explained, wondering away.

“What kind of things?” he demanded again, following her.

“Eh, I don’t know,” she said distractedly, taking the bowl out of the microwave. “I suppose all sorts. People act on it and you watch how everything will plan out for the main characters.”

“Like books?” He leaned against the counter, watching her chuck in the bananas and strawberries.

“Yes, like books but only you just have to watch and listen to what they’re saying, rather than read.”

His nose wrinkled. “I’d prefer the books.”

Hermione’s gaze snapped to his, a little stunned. If he were anyone else, she would have agreed with him and may have asked about which books he liked and which ones he didn’t, but Malfoy was not Harry or Ron – not that they read anyway – so she kept her mouth shut, and took her bowl over to the dinning table where she could finally eat breakfast.

The door bust open then, and Hermione almost choked on her porridge when a tall olive skinned man entered. His dark eyes scanned the room, resting only for a moment on Hermione, when they abruptly brightened as they landed on Malfoy.

“Draco, mate!” he greeted.

“Blaise.” Malfoy smirked at Hermione’s horrified look. “Granger, you remember Blaise Zabini?”

Hermione looked between the two men, and for the second time in three days she felt like the odd one out.

Slytherins outnumbered her in her own home. 

________________________________________

Next chapter; how will Blaise's reaction to Hermione be? 

So, this chapter was mainly about settling in, it's pretty laid back so I hope it was okay.