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The Flatshare: A Dramione Love Story

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“Let me get this straight. There will be no chance of them ever meeting? None at all?” 

Pansy Parkinson leaned across the table, her dark brown eyes piercing those of the wizard facing her.

The barest smile lifted the corner of Neville’s mouth as he replied smoothly, “None at all Miss Parkinson, I assure you.” He took on a more formal tone mocking her severity and Draco let out a low chuckle. Really, it was worth bringing Pansy to this meeting just to see someone who could absorb all her intensity and give it right back. Who would’ve thought Longbottom would make such an excellent negotiator?

The meeting took place in the Witch’s Brew, a trendy bar located on the outskirts of Diagon Alley with a sleek atmosphere and long menu of signature cocktails that had Pansy’s style written all over it.

Pansy looked back over the contract one more time with an expert eye, her years of studying in magical law coming in handy to help her friend out in his time of need.

“So, Draco will have the flat from 8 am to 6 pm Monday through Friday, and the lease owner has agreed to let him remain in the flat for all 24 hours on Saturdays and Sundays. This agreement will remain in effect for at least 6 months, at which time the contract will be up for re-evaluation as the lease owner sees fit.”

Neville nodded as she checked off each specification “Yeah, sounds correct. Also, as agreed, the lease owner would like rent paid in full no later than the last day of the month preceding the next rental period, and the security deposit plus first month rent is due at contract signing.” He eyed Draco skeptically, doubt clear on his face.

Once upon a time, Draco was more than good for the money. He used to have a Gringotts trust fund account bursting with gold, and unhindered access to the family vaults to boot. Now, he was an ex-convicted former death eater with no family money to fall back on and a job with shite hours that paid a pittance. His drawn face and loose-fitting shabby robes spoke of a desperate man living for each measly paycheck, and Neville read this like an open book.

“Well, Mr. Longbottom, I assure you my client has the funds available now, and will hold to that agreement.” Pansy snatched Longbottom’s attention back to her pretty, pale face as she continued to review the document. Draco fidgeted a little, uncomfortable to be under such scrutiny by the very boy he’d bullied mercilessly all those years at Hogwarts.

The last couple months of couch-surfing after his latest eviction allowed him to scrounge up enough money to pay the first month’s rent and deposit. He calculated that with his current pay and hours he’d be able to cover the rent on time and have a little bit left over each month for the necessities.

Pansy was one of the biggest rising stars in Magical Law, her advocacy for many on the wrong side of the second wizarding war of Great Britain gave her a reputation as something of a pit bull among wizarding barristers. She was ruthless, direct, and powerful. Her talents as a youth were squandered on bullying and school gossip, but her sharp wit and eloquent style of argument granted her the respect of the Wizengamot and the Council of Magical Law. Draco was under no illusion that he’d ever be able to afford to employ a barrister a fraction as good as Pansy. However, their close friendship ensured that she’d look out for him, much to Draco’s eternal gratitude.

Whenever he’d tried to acquire rental contracts after his release from Azkaban, Pansy always acted as his proxy in signing the contracts, sometimes even ensuring anonymity. It wasn’t until the renting owner found out exactly who their tenant was, usually after he was outed by a snooping gossip reporter or probation officer contacting the landlord, that they turned him out onto the street for being death eater scum. Oh, they were always careful to give a ‘reasonable’ explanation for eviction so that Pansy couldn’t take them to small claims court, but every story ended the same.

Until now.

This turning point in Draco Malfoy’s regretful life thus far was aided by an inconspicuous advert in the Daily Prophet for a flatshare situation. It was the best he could find for the price and the lease owner wanted to remain anonymous as much as he did. It was also a perfect match for his late-night working schedule, so he could come home and crash land on the bed to sleep the mornings away. The inclusion of weekends in the agreement was Merlin-sent because he won’t have to rely on old Slytherin pals for spare furniture to sleep on.

It was so perfect in fact, that Draco had been waiting the whole meeting for something to go wrong in an otherwise ideal situation. Maybe the owner was a lycanthrope. Or perhaps the flat was practically unlivable with a leaky ceiling or an incurable rat infestation. Or maybe the lease owner could still change his or her mind and want to know his identity. Cue another eviction.

“Ok Miss Parkinson, before we go tour the property, I’d like to go over a few contract addendums involving conduct while on the premises.”

Pansy waved her hand impatiently for Neville to continue. She and Draco had discussed the additional rules of the flat before the meeting, and didn’t find anything that would be too difficult to abide by. Neville cleared his throat, purposely needling the impatient witch across from him with his deliberate slowness. “Firstly, the renter will agree to abide by certain cleanliness standards such as cleaning dishes, keeping clothing and linens properly clean and refraining from leaving unpleasant odors around from food, trash, or personal items.”

“The renter will keep to the left side of the bed, and use the previously designated drawer, closet, and study space only, without infringing upon the lease owner’s personal items. The renter will agree to not allow more than 4 guests in the flat at any given time to avoid over-crowding or disruption to neighbors (though soundproofing charms have been placed on the walls and windows for additional insulation.)”

“And lastly, the lease owner owns a cat that is to be treated with respect at all times, and an owl that may be borrowed when not in use by the owner.”

Neville looked up when he finished, his green-brown eyes sparkling with amusement at Pansy, who was tapping her foot impatiently on the ground.

“Are you quite finished, Mr. Longbottom?”

“Almost, Miss Parkinson. I’d like to obtain a card from you in case I need to contact you for any questions.”

“What further questions do you think you’ll be asking exactly?”

A slow grin slid over Neville’s dimpled cheeks and he shrugged slightly “Just in case something comes up.” Pansy scowled and rolled her eyes, but Draco noticed her cheeks pink a little when she passed her card across the table

“Merlin, enough with the flirting! You two are absolutely nauseating.” Draco huffed out. “Let’s go see the flat now.”

Their attention snapped back to Draco. It was like they forgot he was there. HE was the one who the meeting was for, anyway.

“Yes. Malfoy and Miss Parkinson, if you’ll follow me we shall proceed to the floo of the Leaky Cauldron. There are wards that prevent strangers from Apparating directly into the flat.”

Pansy took Draco’s arm and they strolled along a few paces behind Neville down the cobbled street of Diagon Alley. It was a gorgeous spring day, and Draco’s heart felt light with the possibility of a fresh start.

“Pansy, did I thank you already for helping me?” He sighed blissfully.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe like a thousand times now? It’s like you're genuinely grateful or something.”

“Yes, very. You’re the most important person I have, Pansy. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

She grinned and leaned into him a little “Anything for my ex-turned best friend.”

“Sooo… Longbottom, huh?”

A sharp elbow caught him in the side and he heard Pansy growl under her breath. “Shhhh! He’ll hear you!”

Draco let out a hearty laugh that even had Neville turning over his shoulder to see what was so funny. How ironic that the chubby round-faced clumsy boy that Pansy had bullied as a child would turn out to be such a brawny specimen of manhood? He was head and shoulders taller than even Draco and his curling blonde hair and beard seem more suited to a hermit in the woods than an herbalist with a flower shop. And now, Pansy kept sneaking looks at his big hands and beefcake arms like she wanted to bite them.

Neville directed them to the floo of the dingy old pub, and called out “the Reading flat!” into the green flames before he disappeared. The reason for this floo network moniker became clear the moment Draco and Pansy spun into view of the tiny flat.



Books covered two tall shelves along the wall, stacked 2 layers deep. Books lay in haphazard towers on the neat little coffee table, and formed mazes all along the floor. Books were crammed under the small red velvet loveseat and rested open on the seat cushions. It was a miracle Draco could even venture past the main living area. He peeked around to the kitchen to see another two book stacks covering the tiny dining table.

It wasn’t that the place was messy. It seemed clean enough, but Draco could hardly even see the peeling blue-patterned wall paper for the forest of books obscuring every surface.  

“Is the lease owner some sort of Professor or something?” That would explain the unusual flat sharing conditions. A professor would likely travel on weekends for research and need the extra income to fund their projects.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Malfoy but I can’t give you any details.”

“The question was rhetorical.”


Draco continued his inspection of the flat disguised as a bookshop to find a tidy little bathroom with a shower (and thankfully no books,) a small office area with one desk covered in books (of course) and the other cleared for his use if he decided to sign the sublet agreement. At this point, Draco knew he would. True, he had no choice, but better than that, it was a decent-sized flat at a ridiculously amazing price.

He stopped in the bedroom to scratch the ears of the fluffy orange cat lazing at the foot of the bed. The cat was ugly as sin with slightly greying fur and a squashed face, but he purred happily at Draco’s touch. This room was amazingly free of books except for one positively modest stack on the right nightstand table. The queen-size bed took up a majority of the space and a small closet with a sliding door stood half-cleared out for him to share with his mystery flat mate. He smelled something distinctly floral on the air and noted that there were more than a few colorful women’s dresses hanging in the closet. Definitely a witch then.

Well, that shouldn’t be too weird.


“So, Draco, what’s it going to be?” Asked Pansy behind him.

“I’ll take it.”

And as easily as Draco never dreamed it would be, his new life was finally about to begin.



“I just don’t understand why you won’t terminate your lease. You practically live with me anyways. Why bother subletting it like this?”

Ron sprawled on his sofa pouting like a twelve-year-old man-child and Hermione found herself grinding teeth to keep from snapping at him. It was a terrible habit that her dentist parents had tried to correct over the years, but in her moments of stress and frustration she couldn’t help but grip her jaws together and hold on tight.

“Ron,” She explained patiently, again, “You wouldn’t have enough room to hold all my books. Besides, I like having the extra space just in case.”

“In case what? You need to get away from me or something?”

Hermione did not dare confirm this as true but instead kept on. “No, Ron not at all! I just like to always be prepared. I’m also not ready to say goodbye to my cute little flat. I’m rather attached.”

“Hermione, we’ve been dating for seven years. Seven! Don’t you think it was time we moved forward with our lives? Moved in properly together?”

Hermione refused to meet Ron’s eyes. He knew her enough to take one look at her and see the distaste there. She’d been trapped in limbo the last few years, unable to take a step forward or turn away. They’d always been an institution, Ron and Hermione. War heroes turned lovers, best friends of Harry Potter’s, and Witch Weekly’s hottest couple of the year, 5 years running.

Ron and Hermione went out for Friday night dates or Ministry parties. Ron and Hermione dressed to impress. Ron and Hermione could be seen at Quidditch games almost every weekend, and Ron and Hermione always attended the Weasley family dinner on Sundays. The well-worn track they’d dug was comforting but inescapable.

This flat share idea of hers was a compromise of sorts. She tried to let go of her individualism one tiny inch at a time, and it still felt like it will never be enough for Ron. Hermione was not sure she would ever be ready to be Mrs. Hermione Weasley, mother and homemaker extraordinaire. She was only twenty-five, and there would be time for that life.


Or maybe never.

“Ronald,” She used his full name to signal when she was done discussing something. “We agreed to a compromise. If it were up to me I’d keep the place and not rent out at all. Please just let me do this and stop badgering me about it.”

He angrily punched the pillow into a fluffier shape and jammed it under his head. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to share your space with a complete stranger. How do you know you won’t be sharing your bed with a total psychopath?”

“Neville is an excellent judge of character. If he thinks the renter is okay, that’s good enough for me.”

“And that’s another thing, why Neville? I should be the one you trust with this. I can make sure whoever rents the place is above board.”

Hermione shot a wary look at him “Ron, I know you care so much, but you… don’t always think things through with a level head. I thought it might be better to have someone more neutral to the situation be in charge of negotiating for me.”

“Well then, what about Ginny or Harry?”

“Are you kidding? Harry’s just as bad as you and besides they’ve got their hands full with the new baby.”

Ron sat up suddenly and peered suspiciously at her. “It’s not because you think Neville’s… you know.”

“Because Neville is what exactly?”

“Well, witches are always falling all over themselves to buy flowers at his shop or squeeze his biceps or something.”

The ends of Hermione’s curly hair practically crackled with electricity. “Ronald Weasley. Just what kind of girlfriend do you think I am, anyways? You know I love you. I’m with you. Neville is just a friend, which you know perfectly well.”

She turned on her heel and stomped into the kitchen, slamming cabinets until she located the kettle. She dropped it heavily onto the range and filled it with water from her wand and lit the burner for tea.

She heard him pad into the room silently behind her. His arms snaked gently around her waist and he leaned to whisper in her ear. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I shouldn’t have said all that.” But Hermione was still annoyed and shrugged him off as she got out a mug and some cream for the tea.

They heard someone stumbling out of the floo in the next room “Ron? Hermione? You home?”

Neville rounded the corner and held up a stack of papers and a sack of coins. “I’ve found a renter for you! They will move in next Saturday as agreed, and I have the deposit and first month’s rent in full.”

“Excellent, Neville! Thanks so much for this, you’re the best!” Hermione beamed at him. Ron scowled at the exchange and tramped back into his living room to sulk some more.

“What’s with him?”

“Oh, nothing. How’s it going, by the way?”

“Things are great at the shop! I’ve been working with Pomona to be the sole supplier of starter plants for Hogwarts. She wants to employ some of my cultivation techniques in classes and it’s been really amazing for business.”

“That’s great, Nev!”

“Also, I think I met someone.” He slipped out that last bit in a rush, ears turning pink.

“Oh, really? Do tell!”

“Well, she’s uh, well, you know her.” Neville fiddled with the hem of his shirt nervously. “I mean, she was at Hogwarts when we were, but we didn’t like her.”

“Ok, seriously, you have to tell me now!”

“Ok fine. It’s Pansy. You know, Pansy Parkinson.”

They heard a terrific scramble from the other room and a shouted “What??” from Ron who peered into the kitchen to stare at Neville, jaw hanging open.

“Well nothing’s happened yet. I just reconnected with her over drinks and she’s… interesting. Pretty even.”

Hermione nodded slowly. She knew Pansy had a reputation for being a brilliant legal mind, and had turned her act around somewhat after her days as a Slytherin princess and the erstwhile betrayer of Harry Potter. “Ok, well do you feel like she’s someone you could see yourself with, even after she bullied you all those years?”

“I know how it looks. I am all for giving her a second chance and I’m not the same timid little boy I was at school.”

“Don’t get me wrong Neville, you’re a great guy with good instincts. Just be careful ok?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded.

Neville looked over at Ron who was shaking his head slowly and squinting at him. “You’re crazy, you know that?” and he disappeared again into the living room.

“He’s right, but I’m happy you found someone Nev. I know things have been… rough on that front since you and Luna broke up.” Hermione patted Neville’s arm. “Let me know how it goes, ok? Also thanks again for arranging the flat share business.”

“Yeah, anytime Hermione. It was kind of fun, actually.”

“So, you liked the tenant ok?”

“He’s… interesting. I know he has a late shift of some kind which is why he won’t need a place in the evenings. I can’t tell you more obviously. I figure you’ll notice it’s a bloke soon enough but I have a good feeling about him overall.”

Hermione knew that the possibility of there being a wizard interested in the flat was high, but it took her by surprise nonetheless. Ron would not be pleased. He didn’t seem to hear what Neville said, and Hermione thought it would be better for her to break that bit of news to him later. When he had a full stomach, perhaps.

“Anyways, I’ve got to run Hermione! I’ll be sure to meet with the new tenant for you on Saturday morning. I’ll get a copy of your key and set the wards to recognize him as well.”

“Ok great! See you Neville!”


On the following Friday, Hermione stepped into the ministry lift, her arms overflowing with reports that Cormac McLaggen had unceremoniously dumped on her desk mere minutes before she was supposed to be heading to Ron’s flat for the weekend.

The insufferable prick.

She was just rearranging the stack when a hand shot through the almost-closed lift doors. Ah, think of the Devil and he shall appear.

“Granger.” He spread the word out like he was buttering toast. The sweep of his eyes that followed snagged on the hem of her skirt. Disgusting bastard.

“McLaggen, I’m going to have to report you to the Department Head if you keep up the inappropriate sexual harassment.”

“Awwww, Granger, come now. No need to get your black lace panties in a twist—” His eyes roved again over her hips trying and failing to x-ray through her skirt with his eyes.

“I didn’t say or do anything wrong. You witches are all so sensitive. Besides, you know as well as I do that I’ve proven myself to be an invaluable Head of the Being Division here at the ministry, and my uncle finds my conduct beyond reproach.

It was unfortunately true, Hermione thought. Having your uncle as Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had its advantages. But giving voice to the offense was her way of holding him at bay. You might be leering and creepy, but I’ll call you out on it every time. She kept a running file of incidents and stories from other witches in her department who were willing to confide. She’d have his arse handed to him one day.

“You need to complete those reports by Monday, Granger. It’s going to take all weekend, so don’t even think about pursuing that pointless little side-project of yours.”

The lift opened up to the atrium and Hermione stepped off, not even giving McLaggen a backwards glance, or an indication that she’d heard his parting shot.

Ron was going to be furious. This was the third weekend in a row she’d had to miss their date night for work. If Hermione were being honest with Ron though, she could finish reviewing and filling out case files in a trice, but if she were going to get any further on her personal pet project…

Ron knew about Hermione’s aim to create a new group within the Being Division called the House Elf Liaison Office, but he was always annoyed when she talked at length about her research, or did the work in her (their) free time with no pay, and no visible benefits to them.

Unfortunately, Cormac McLaggen also found out about her proposal when she went over his head to appeal his uncle Tiberius directly. Tiberius hadn’t seemed that interested at first, but when Hermione sold the idea as a positive PR opportunity and a chance to let the department’s resident war hero gain some good press for the project, he seemed much more interested.

That was before he passed it off to his number two.

Who then did everything in his power to squash the project out of spite.

Hermione’s work situation was fast-becoming untenable, but she was persistent and bold. She’d take down McLaggen while establishing her project and writing a house-elf expose to boot. She’d met with publishers to see if there was any market for a book like that, and as long as it was dramatic and heart-wrenching enough she might be able to pull it off.

Hermione stepped into the floo back to Ron’s flat to find him already dressed in his best blue dress robes, hair styled perfectly, smiling to see her. His smile fell however when he saw the stack of files and the apologetic look on his girlfriend’s face.

“Hermione…” He warned. “Not again. George and Alicia are waiting to meet us at Wisteria Café already. You need to get ready!”

“I’m sorry Ron, I can’t. Not tonight, please give them my profoundest apologies.”

“You know what this dinner means to me. To George too! It’s been ages since we’ve planned expanding the shop to Hogsmeade and things are finally picking up.”

“Ron, I can’t. It’s a shite job I know, but I am on the verge of making a really big difference for House Elves. This celebratory dinner is a great idea and I’m glad you have reason to celebrate. I really am so sorry.” She apologized again.

He threw up his hands in disbelief and stormed over to the fireplace, threw some powder into the flames and disappeared without another word. Hermione tried to feel regret but could only come up with a limp little twinge.



“There you go Draco, that’s the last of it” Gregory Goyle dusted off his hands and turned to his friend for one last farewell. “Anything else I can do for you, Malfoy?”

“No, thanks a lot, Goyle. For letting me stay on your sofa, for helping me find the job, for everything.”

“Ok yeah mate, don’t get all sappy now. Holler if you need me, I’m just a floo away!”

Draco took the last box into the cramped little office and set it on the desk. He finally had a home again. It felt strange being here in this space that was so obviously lived-in. It had books and pets and an unseen female presence that both discomfited and soothed Draco. He emptied the box, laying his NEWT study materials out on the desk. The mysterious flatmate’s tawny owl sat perched in a cage on the other desk, its head tucked beneath its wing, clearly resting.

Draco pulled out a sheet of parchment and began writing.

Dear Mother,

I hope this finds you well. I’m borrowing the owl from my new flatmate. I finally found a flat to stay in while I’m in London, and I’ll be here at least 6 months, as per the rental agreement. Pansy has been excellent dealing with the arrangements and I hope this will be a more permanent solution than previously.

Work is fine, hardly taxing but it gets me by okay. I’m due for a performance review soon and if my supervisor finds my work satisfying enough, I will hopefully be able to negotiate a higher wage.

How are Teddy’s studies coming along? I can hardly believe he just turned 7. In just a few short years and he’ll be at Hogwarts too. What do you think Andromeda will do when she’s not at home with him full-time like she is now?

I’ve been working with Pansy on getting a visitation scheduled for father. I know you have no interest in going with me, but I’ll let you know when it’s approved if you change your mind.

I’ll be in touch to come visit soon.



He approached the owl tentatively. “Hey there, would you like to deliver a letter for me?” The owl blinked open its dark brown eyes and regarded him a moment before hooting assent.

Draco tied the roll of parchment to its leg and said “Please deliver this to Narcissa Malfoy, care of Andromeda Tonks.”

After the owl left the tiny study window, Draco wandered into the kitchen to prepare himself a cup of coffee. I should think of a name for my mystery flat mate he mused. He knew, he’d call her Book Girl.

Unfortunately, Book Girl did not appear to have a coffee maker muggle or magical so Draco settled for grinding his coffee beans up coarsely and steeping them in the French press he found. While he waited, he wandered around the house studying Book Girl’s things.

There was the kitchen table, complete with two matching wood chairs. She’d removed the stacks of books that were there before and in their place was a vase full of fresh wildflowers. She had one of those muggle chill boxes, covered in neat little color-coded notes for groceries, to do items, and reminders. Draco opened the door and found that there were a variety of take-out boxes and some vegetables in the drawer and milk in the door shelf. There was an empty shelf for him to fill with his own food.

The cupboards had chipped white paint and squeaked loudly. Draco pulled out his wand and performed a few useful loosening charms until the doors closed more silently. He’d learned the trick from his job as a magical maintenance worker for the Ministry.

He moved to the main room and studied some of the books on the shelves. He saw that amid the chaos, Book Girl actually had a system for organizing the books. They appeared to be classed by subject and then alphabetized within each section. His fingertips traced the peeling gold lettering on a well-loved copy of Hogwarts: A History. He moved along the bookshelf until he came to a section with a completely different style of book. They seemed to be made with paper covers hard and soft, instead of leather or dragonhide. The titles were unfamiliar to him. The Lord of the Rings, the Chronicles of Narnia, and Matilda captured his eye. He pulled out a few titles before deciding that these must be Muggle books. The art on the covers didn’t even move.

So, Book Girl was familiar with Muggle literature. Either she was muggleborn or just really interested. Draco may have cared a long time ago but his experience with the war and the fall out years later brought him to the realization that he didn’t really know why blood status was so important, other than the fact that it had been drilled into him at an early age. The antiquated ideal definitely wasn’t worth the tearing apart of his family, the death of his friend Vincent Crabbe, or the violent and traumatic things he’d been forced to do by his evil aunt and their master Lord Voldemort.

There were also people like Ted Tonks who died as a fugitive during the war and left his Aunt Andromeda to weather the remaining years of her life alone. There was his old classmate Hermione Granger who carried the legacy of a war hero and blazed a trail in magical innovation as the ‘brightest witch of her age’. She was just as powerful as any other witch or wizard and keeping up a charade of hatred for blood status was pointless.

He moved to the coffee table and saw that the stacks each had a different subject. One was a collection of tomes about magical creatures, another was about legislation involving magical creatures, and a third was about the Ministry’s organization and history.

Book Girl had to be some kind of Professor. Maybe not at Hogwarts, but she was definitely eye balls deep in politics and law. Maybe Pansy would like her, Draco mused.

After Draco finished his coffee he returned to the book self and grabbed the small paperback copy of Matilda off the shelf, and settled into the squashy red loveseat to read.


Draco had thus far avoided the bedroom.

He’d read the quaint little story of the magical genius girl all morning and only put it down when his stomach signaled hunger. He floo’ed over to Diagon Alley to hunt out some food.

He elected to Apparate back this time, arms full of magically-shrunken bags of food and sure enough, the wards recognized him as promised by Neville. He stored the groceries, cooked a simple vegetable omelet, and then studied for the write-in NEWT’s at his desk in the office. The ginger cat joined him after a time, curling up at his feet while he reviewed human transfigurations.

When it was dark, Draco finally resigned himself to it. He stood in front of the bed staring at the light blue floral-patterned duvet folded back neatly over crisp white sheets. He caught a faint whiff of detergent. Book Girl had kindly laundered the bedding before he moved in.

It hadn’t fully hit him until this moment that they would be sharing a bed. Yes, never at the same time, but it felt dangerously intimate. He walked slowly over to the left side of the bed—his side—and gingerly sat on the edge of the mattress. He looked over to the other nightstand and saw a few more muggle titles on the other side. From what he’d read in Matilda, he decided that a lot of these muggle books seemed to be stories for entertainment. Maybe she liked to read something light and uncomplicated before bed?

He got back up to change into pyjamas, and then grabbed Matilda from the front table to finish. Lying in the unfamiliar bed was strange at first, but as Draco read the book, he slowly relaxed and fell asleep, not even extinguishing the light.