#no it isn't my multichapter crackfic

[misscrawfords]

Dramione Month 18: Pride and Prejudice

For once, it was quiet in the sitting room at Grimmauld Place. Hermione had taken advantage of the interlude to curl up with an old friend of a book and hope it would distract her from whatever might be going on outside of their safe house.

She had only read a chapter, however, when the peace was shattered as Harry and Malfoy apparated directly in front of her and brushed themselves down, only stopping their bickering when they saw she was there.

“Everything okay?” she queried Harry, studiously ignoring the recent unwelcome addition to the Resistance.

“No change,” he confirmed. “You and Ginny still on for the late shift?”

“Of course.”

“Right.” He hesitated a moment then turned to Malfoy. “You want a drink?”

Malfoy shook his head and collapsed into an armchair, closing his eyes. Harry hovered a moment before shrugging. “Suit yourself, I’m getting coffee.” He left the room.

Hermione gazed at Malfoy a moment to see if he would make any effort to acknowledge her but he did not open his eyes. In fact, he looked exhausted and Hermione bit back a snide comment and picked up her book again.

She read several paragraphs before she was assailed by the prickling feeling of being watched. She lowered the book and saw that Malfoy, still sprawled in the armchair, had opened his eyes a slit and was observing her in a particularly cat-like way.

“What?”

“Pride and Prejudice?” he murmured.

She glanced at the book cover, surprised he had been able to read the title from that distance. “Yes, it’s a novel by-”

“Jane Austen. Yes, I know what Pride and Prejudice is.”

“You do? But she’s a muggle!”

“I’m not a bloody philistine, Granger.”

Hermione blinked. “I’m surprised you know what a philistine is,” she remarked snootily, recovering quickly.

“Careful, too many distressing revelations in one day can be bad for your health.” He pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked at her with more focus.

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“Pointed, clever, subtle, devastating. You really know how to wound a man.”

She rolled her eyes. “I do, actually.” She turned a page ostentatiously before she had finished it. “So, what do you know about Jane Austen anyway?”

“Is this is a test, Granger? Loathe as I am to suspend any pleasure of yours, I’d rather not.”

Something in his turn of phrase made her frown but she could not place it. “Have you even read any of her novels?”

“All six.”

Hermione looked up. “You’re joking.”

“Not at all. There’s a very charming nineteenth century illustrated wizarding edition at the Manor. I’ve read all of them at least twice.”

She cocked her head at him. “A nineteenth century – illustrated? So the pictures-”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Move. Yes, Merlin, Granger, that’s what magical pictures do.”

“Oh.” Hermione had to sit with this. She did not want to wish to go to Malfoy Manor in pursuit of a complete set of magical Jane Austen novels. But she also did not not want to do that. She pursued a different tack. “But why do you have them? I didn’t think you’d read muggle novels.”

Malfoy smiled somewhat wearily. “Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think you do, Granger. Austen may be a muggle but she’s highly relatable if you were brought up in a pureblood wizarding household. Just replace social class with blood status.”

“So what does that make me, the muggle-born? Some kind of servant?”

“No.” He thought about it while Hermione observed him sceptically, waiting for the insult. “Something middle class. In trade perhaps like the Gardiners. Not as bad as being a muggle but still not really acceptable to my family’s kind.”

There it was.

“Not really acceptable… Good to know. Thanks for that! And what does that make you – Mr. Darcy?” she added with a mocking sneer.

“Something like that,” he replied with a grin, quick as a flash.

“Ugh, you’re repulsive.” She raised the book to block him from view and for a moment she thought it had actually worked until he plucked it right out of her hand and stared down his nose at her.

Hermione opened her mouth but for the second time that evening something about him and the way he was looking at her arrested her.

“That’s what she thought too,” he said when he had fully gained her attention. Then, after holding her gaze a moment longer, he turned away, yawned into his hand and stated that he would have a coffee after all before leaving the room without a backward glance.

Hermione was left disturbed, the foundations of her preconceptions rattled.