Summary: It has been six years since Voldemort died at the hands of Harry Potter. The Wizarding world has moved on, and flourished. However, in the deep of London, one young man struggles to seduce his friend of five years as she remains inept and in the dark regardless of the subtle ways he tries to win her heart.
Categories: Hermione/Draco Characters: None
Warnings: Sexual Situations
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 2
Completed: Yes
Word count: 6328
Read: 9925
Published: 03/04/07
Updated: 04/21/07
1. A torch carrying Slytherin, and a thick-headed Gryffindor by mgle_teacher
2. A peace sign, and a kiss by mgle_teacher
A torch carrying Slytherin, and a thick-headed Gryffindor by mgle_teacher
Author's Notes:
I got the title and story idea from the book he’s just not that into you by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo. In no way am I trying to infringe on copyright laws, and I am not making any money out of this.
On another note, this is my first published Dramione, I hope you guys enjoy it! I walso want to give props to my wonderful beta: helgaandgodric (Kate) *hugs*
Furthermore, this is a two-part one-shot. Enjoy!
A blond, twenty-five year old man quietly sipped his butterbeer, listening to his long time friend and co-worker chit-chat about another failed relationship to yet another loser not worthy of her time: Victor Krum.
“So he said that he’s been rather busy with Quidditch and that he would Floo me when he had a chance, but that was a week ago, and I was wondering if perhaps I should-”
“He’s doesn’t fancy you, Granger. And by Merlin, please don’t waste your time giving him a Floo-call,” he rudely cut her off, already knowing where this was headed.
“What? Why ever not?” she asked, confused at his answer.
He rolled his eyes before answering exasperatedly, “When a wizard who fancies you says he’ll Floo you, believe me he’ll Floo when he promised he would, and nothing short of the resurrection of the Dark Lord is going to stop him.”
“Malfoy you are so full of it “ you’re one to be giving relationship advice. I don’t even know why I bother being civil to you sometimes. When was the last time you even had a stable relationship?” she asked, taking a swig of her Butterbeer.
“Relationship? Have you seen the baggage I carry, Granger?”
“Of course, Malfoy. It shares a compartment with my baggage,” she cheekily replied.
Huffing in exasperation, Draco mumbled, “Honestly, Granger. You deserve better. Just don’t Floo him.”
Hermione muttered under her breath about men and their psychotic ideologies before pushing the bar stool back.
“Listen, Malfoy “ it’s been a pleasure catching up with you. I’ll see you next week, same spot, same time?” she asked.
Draco silently nodded in answer, paid the bar tab, and walked Hermione outside of the Leaky Cauldron where they had ritualistically met at the end of every work week for the past two years to unwind from their gruelling job as Potions Assistants.
“Of course, Granger “ wouldn’t want to miss the next episode of your pathetic love life,” he drawled before adding, “I’ll Floo you tomorrow.”
“Promise, Malfoy?”
“Slytherin’s Promise, Mudblood.”
Scowling at him, Hermione gave him a very out of character two finger salute in reply to his ‘endearment’ before Apparating to her flat.
“Granger! It’s me! Whoa, Granger! Those robes really cover more than one thinks!” Draco leered as his head popped into Hermione’s floo.
“You prat! You said you’d Floo tomorrow morning!” Hermione shrieked covering herself with her bathrobe.
“I changed my mind, Mudblood. Let me through, I have nothing to do tonight.”
“Bloody snake, do you really think I’ll let you through after seeing me in my birthday suit?”
“It’s your fault, really, who has a fireplace in their bedroom. Ugh, imagine if Finnigan and you had actually been at it. Makes my skin crawl-Oof! What was that for?” Draco scowled as a shoe hit him square in the face.
“For being a pervert, and not accepting that you were ogling me,” she smirked.
“Ogling? You’ve got to be kidding!”
“Granger?” Malfoy called out for the third time from the living room Floo before coming through into Hermione’s flat.
He had been worried about her since she had not been in to work for a week, and she had not returned his calls or owls either. Familiar with the flat, having been friends for many years now, Draco made his way to her bedroom. Once outside the door, he heard the sniffling of heart ache.
Sighing, both in relief and sadness, he softly knocked before entering.
“Granger? Are you ok?” he asked, sitting at the foot of the bed. Hermione was covered by a thick blanket, tissues thrown all over the floor, while hugging a pillow. Her eyes were red, and her ivory skin was blotchy from crying.
“He broke up with me,” she replied brokenly, burying her face in the pillow.
“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered, standing up and moving closer to give her a proper embrace of support.
After a while of holding her, Draco heard Hermione mumble into his chest, “He didn’t fancy me, did he?”
“No, Granger, he didn’t fancy you. Otherwise, he would have been bloody mental to break up with you - especially after a year.”
“Why can’t I find a decent wizard to love me?”
“I don’t know, Granger, but you deserve better. Now, let’s get you up and about. He really doesn’t deserve your tears, and you’ve already wasted an hour too many wallowing in self-pity over the scum that is Seamus Finnigan,” he muttered softly, staring deeply into her brown eyes as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her cheek.
“You think so?”
“Granger, I know so!” he answered smugly, wagging his eyebrows, “I’m sure there’s a nice young wizard out there waiting to be your boy-toy. You’re bloody hot, Mudblood. I’ve seen you in all your naked glory.”
She smirked in reply, while playfully hitting him on the shoulder.
“Why are you dating Blaise Zabini, again?” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration at the ruined lab he had just finished.
“Because he’s fun, and-“
“He has a problem you know.”
“No, he doesn’t. I mean…,” she trailed off regrouping her thoughts. “He likes his Firewhiskey but he’s fine,” she rambled, making excuses for her pathetic boyfriend of two months.
“Firewhiskey? Granger, you’re in denial. Zabini is addicted to illegal potions that you can only acquire at places like Knockturn Alley. They’re the Muggle equivalents of hallucinogens. He has a problem, and you’re not going to sober him up. You do realize that’s the only reason he’s dating you, right? He’s hoping that after a while you’ll provide him with those potions.”
“You’re lying!”
“Argh, you bloody Gryffindor! You make all sorts of excuses for these pathetic men in your life when the answer is written clearly in front of you,” Draco angrily muttered. At seeing her confused face he added, “He doesn’t fancy you enough to quit his dangerous addiction. If anything he should be the one jumping through hoops to be with you, not the other way around.”
Hermione glared hatefully at Draco before slapping him across the face for the second time in their lifetimes.
The stinging heat of the slap warmed Draco’s tinged cheek, but he stood his ground.
“You deserve better, Granger. I thought that after Finningan you’d be able to find a worthy man to call you his own,” he muttered, stalking out of the Potions lab, leaving Hermione to clean up the mess.
“You were right, Malfoy,” Hermione murmured as she pulled the bar stool out to sit next to her Slytherin friend.
He scowled at her before taking a sip of his green snake tonic.
“Isn’t that drink a bit strong?” she asked, trying to smooth their earlier spat.
“No.”
Without ordering, Tom brought Hermione her customary single Butterbeer. He eyed the couple carefully, and noted before walking away that their usually cheerful bantering appeared strained.
Probably a lover’s squabble, he mused.
“So there I am - trying to seduce the man, and he’s mumbling like a fool saying that he doesn’t want to ruin our friendship, and-” Hermione stopped babbling when she heard the deep sigh from the Slytherin next to her.
“Ok, Malfoy, just spit it out, or stop giving those insufferable sighs,” she spat, annoyed that only two weeks since their last spat and he was already criticizing the men she chose to date.
“Granger, we’ve been friends for how long? You should know the answer by now.”
“Yes, yes, I’ve heard it at least ten times before. ‘He doesn’t fancy you.’ It just doesn’t make sense, Malfoy. You tell me that all the time, yet you fail to explain it. Why couldn’t Neville Longbottom be telling me the truth about not ruining our friendship with sex?”
Malfoy took a swig of his butterbeer, carefully processing his answer before calmly answering, “Ok. You and the Weasel were friends prior to jumping into bed together, no?”
“That’s not the same!” she cried indignantly.
“Really? I was under the impression that you two had a long and well-established friendship prior to him getting in your knickers, Granger,” Draco calmly stated.
“I-It-I’m not even going to answer that!” she angrily sputtered.
Unperturbed by the Gryffindor’s incensed outburst, Draco continued, “Granger, if a man fancies you “ no friendship is going to stop him from getting into your knickers and shagging your rotten if he has the opportunity. Case point: Ron Weasley.”
“Name someone other than Ron.”
“Fine. Draco Malfoy, lifetime friendship with one Pansy Weasley, nee Parkinson.”
“You can’t name yourself!”
“And pray tell, why not?”
“Argh! You’re an insufferable prat!” she bellowed.
“All I’m saying, Granger, is that if a wizard you’re dating fancies you, and you’re more than willing, then you should be shagging him right now instead of being here wallowing in self-pity with me.”
Draco quietly wondered why Hermione had been so silent the past couple of days. Ever since their conversation about friendship and shagging, a dark cloud had hung over her head.
“Granger, pass me the hellebore,” he ordered, carefully observation her reaction. She mutely grabbed the glass jar and practically hurled it at him.
“Whoa! Granger, you want to blow us up into oblivion? You know hellebore is an unstable ingredient,” he admonished.
“It’s not fair!” she pouted.
“What?”
“It’s not fair! You’re always right!”
“Of course I’m always right.”
“You don’t even know what you’re right about!”
“Enlighten me.”
“Neville Longbottom,” she gruffly answered. A smug grin crossed Draco’s lips in response.
Huffing in irritation, Hermione walked out of the lab screaming, “Don’t forget! Harry’s wedding is in two weeks!”
“And where are you going?”
“To find me a bloody date, I wouldn’t dream of showing up with you for yet another social event.”
Draco Malfoy was enjoying his time at Potter’s wedding, but had decided to take a stroll through the gardens of the hall they let for the occasion. Quietly pondering his bachelorhood, Draco heard an anguished but muffled cry from behind the tall rosebushes. He quickly made his way around to find a distressed Hermione Granger futilely trying to fight off a very drunk Jonathan, her newest flame of two weeks. Draco’s grey eyes narrowed in anger as he took in the scene before him: Granger’s dress was torn at the shoulder, and by the swollen cheek she was sporting, the bastard had obviously dared to lay a hand on her.
The Slytherin quickly strode to the couple, and pulled the belligerent fiend off his friend, swiftly punching him on the face, and effectively knocking him out. However, one punch didn’t seem good enough to the vindictive man, and Draco darkly made a mental note to give the bastard a good trashing when the loathsome cockroach wasn’t sloshed.
Without warning, he grabbed an anguished Hermione Granger, and Apparated her to his flat in London.
As soon as they arrived, Draco felt her mighty rage upon him.
“What do you think you’re doing, Malfoy?!” she spat angrily.
“Obviously, saving the damsel in distress,” he answered, glaring at her.
“Damsel? I was handling it quite well without you.”
“Indeed. Hence, the reason you’re currently sporting a swollen and reddened cheek.”
“Well, I didn’t need your help, Ferret.”
Draco narrowed his eyes in anger, and Hermione glared at him petulantly. They glared hatefully at each other until Draco shook his head in disgust, sadness written all over his eyes.
“I don’t know why I even bother,” he spat.
“Bother!” she shrieked, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Open your eyes, Granger! You date all sorts of pathetic losers! And now you’ve allowed one to hit you!”
“Allow? Did you think I asked to be slapped?”
“Of course not, you bloody wench! You’re just so thick sometimes. I’ve offered you my friendship, and…” he trailed off.
“Oh, that’s rich! You offered me your friendship?”
“Yes, Granger, I allowed you to become my friend. Or did you really think it was your Gryffindor charms?” he taunted.
“I never asked for your friendship, Malfoy! Your existence, or lack of one, doesn’t affect me in the slightest.”
“Get out!”
“Gladly,” she spat, turning her back on him to hide the angry tears welling up in her eyes. Only hesitating for a second, Hermione bit her lip in worry then chose to hold her pride and walked out of the flat.
Regardless of the angry words they’d traded during their spat, Hermione began missing Draco and his sardonic self after a couple of days. However, she refused to be the first to break down or apologize “ they had fought before. It would all blow over, and they’d continue carrying on with their friendship of five years as if nothing had ever happened.
Unfortunately for Hermione, she found a crumpled yet unopened parchment at the bottom of a stack of paperwork she had been sorting one day. She was going to throw it away but recognized the tidy scrawl of Malfoy’s writing. Wondering when he had slipped the note onto her desk, she idly remembered it had been before their fight of a week ago. She had caught him snooping around her desk she now clearly recalled. Besides, the proud Slytherin wouldn’t be caught dead in her office after a quarrel of epic proportions.
Tentatively, she broke the seal and opened it, recalling the day Malfoy had given it to her saying to open it only in the extreme case that he wasn’t around to properly admonish her for dating losers.
Upon reading the parchment, her eyes began to water at the letter.
Granger,
If you’ve opened this parchment, it means that I’m not around to properly admonish you for dating yet another loser. I couldn’t fathom what would keep my witty and biting remarks from your presence. However, wizards are not as complicated as you witches wish we were. And I’m going to do wizards everywhere a great disservice, but I’ll let you in on a secret: most wizards would rather be exposed to a prolonged session of the Cruciatus Curse than admit that they didn’t fancy you, and break your fragile heart “ don’t roll your eyes at me, Granger. Therefore, I’m going to spare you a couple of years of anguish.
A wizard doesn’t fancy you if:
1. He’s not asking you to spend quality time with him in a proper courtship (Yes, I used the word courtship)
2. He’s unavailable due to the presence of another Witch in his life (In other words, Granger, he’s taken)
3. He’s not bonking you (Need I explain this?)
4. He’s not Flooing you every spare moment he can
5. He’s shagging another Witch besides you
6. He doesn’t have the bollocks to quit any dangerous addictions for you and your relationship
7. He doesn’t want to claim you as his wife/witch after meeting you
8. He’s breaking up with you
9. He suddenly Apparates out of your life
10. He’s a filthy loathsome cockroach to you, or purposefully makes you cry
Just watch out for those wizards above and you’ll find the right one for you. Don’t make excuses for these pathetic excuses for men “ you deserve much better.
D. Malfoy
Hermione’s eyes stung with unshed tears at the kind words of advice from Malfoy. In it she recognized at least one wizard from each type that she had dated over the past five years and made a mental checklist of the main culprits.
Sighing, Hermione realized that Draco had just been trying to be a good friend all along. However, her pride wouldn’t allow her to apologise.
Two months passed before Hermione and Draco bumped into each other again. It was rather disturbing that for two people who worked in the same department, they both had successfully managed to ignore each other for so long. Hermione was beginning to reconsider her career choice as Potions Research Assistant, and seriously consider pursuing an Auror position. Then again, it’s not like it was hard to avoid each other “ they had been doing it their entire lives up until the war.
As she stood in a corner of Harry’s living room watching the other couples mingle, her heart ached at the sight of Draco with a pretty little brunette at his arm. Worrying her lip, Hermione wondered how long that had been going on considering she hadn’t bothered showing up for their weekly getting sloshed routine.
It must have been after our friendship ended, she thought bitterly. The Draco she knew rarely dated in the five years they were friends, or at the very least he was very secretive about his lovers. Even then, he only seemed to date when Hermione herself was unavailable and couldn’t spend time with him.
Turning her back on the image, she decided to grab herself another Butterbeer, and socialize with the other invitees of the Potter’s Christmas party. In her melancholy, Hermione failed to see the grey eyes that diligently followed her presence around the room, tracing her every movement.
“He’s not talking to me, Ginny. It’s been two months, and he hasn’t Flooed, or owled. We work in the same office, and he won’t speak to me,” Hermione said as she sat at the Potter’s kitchen table while the party was raging on in the living room.
Ginny rolled her eyes at the brunette, “Hermione, you’re about as thick as he is obvious.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Hermione, for being so bright, you sure can be dumb. Haven’t you noticed that Malfoy has carried a torch for you for the past five years?”
“Torch?” Hermione squawked. “You’re wrong, Ginevra. Malfoy doesn’t carry anything for me. When I moved to my flat, he scolded me for actually lifting a box instead of using magic. He even said I was ‘too Muggle for my own good.’”
“Well, you are.”
“What!”
“However, that’s not the point of this conversation, now is it? Hermione, love, Malfoy indeed carries a torch for you. Or haven’t you noticed that he’s always single when you are, or how he always knows where you are- even when you aren’t on speaking terms. He spends a lot of his free time with you, does he not? He always seems to be available whenever you ask, and has he ever refused to complete a potions project you’ve asked him to complete?”
“That’s impossible, Ginny,” Hermione cried.
Both women sat there quietly sipping tea, reflecting on the Malfoy heir.
“Let me see that list again, Hermione,” Ginny demanded. The young Gryffindor mutely handed the wrinkled parchment to her red-headed friend. Ginny Potter sat there for a minute before stating, “Oh, love, you are blind. Malfoy is so smitten with you.”
“Impossible.”
“Just go home, Hermione. Think about it. He may be a ferret, and a loathsome, filthy cockroach but Malfoy is definitely in love with you.”
A peace sign, and a kiss by mgle_teacher
Author's Notes:
Props to helgaandgodric who betaed this for me, and is a fellow Dramione shipper. =]
I hope you all enjoy this second part. It took me a while to finish it, and I really agonized over the ending, but it just seemed right.
Hermione didn’t bother thinking about Ginny’s advice, at least not until a couple of days later. She was sitting idly at her office contemplating her evening when she randomly pulled out the crumpled parchment that she had taken to carrying everywhere.
She stared at the words while musing on her estranged friend. “It’s just not possible. Ginny’s wrong.”
“The Weaselette is wrong? Well now that’s a newsflash, call the press,” drawled the sleek aristocratic voice of Draco Malfoy from her doorway.
Hermione was caught off-guard at the sudden presence of the Slytherin. “Bugger off, Malfoy.”
“It would be my pleasure, Granger. Unfortunately, Armstrong demanded that you and I work on the next batch of Wolfsbane III because she doesn’t trust the newer assistants.”
“We’re starting a new batch of Wolfsbane III? I thought that it was decided we would hold off on that until we worked out the kinks from Wolfsbane II?” she questioned.
“Severus was right; you were always an insufferable know-it-all. It was all in the memo that was sent last Friday.”
“Memo?” she asked, frantically searching for said parchment through the piles of paper scattered on her desk.
As he stood there watching his the object of his secret affections become flustered, he couldn’t help feeling remorse at his biting words of months before, but then he recalled her hateful glare the night of Potter’s wedding. “When you find that memo, I’ll be waiting for you in the lab,” he declared before turning his back and stalking out.
Several minutes later, Hermione found the parchment. After she scanned the contents, Hermione grabbed several notebooks and quills, and headed in the direction of the labs.
Upon entering the lab, Hermione found Draco skulking in a corner as he fiddled with the set up of his lab area.
“Oh, you’re here. It was about time,” he scowled.
“I’m not happy to work with you either, Malfoy,” she angrily said, disdain dripping from her lips.
“Oh, aren’t we feeling vindictive?”
“Shut up,” Hermione muttered as she began to set up her lab area as well. Grudgingly, they both worked until late at night without any interruptions or problems. It was without question why Potions Master Armstrong had demanded they work together; they were a flawless and well oiled machine in the lab; their teamwork was of legend in the potions research department. They both knew their ingredients, and worked diligently without hesitation. Moreover, over the past five years as co-workers, they had developed a friendship. Any other night they would have been wittily bantering back and forth, exchanging clever insults or discussing new discoveries in their field.
However, dead silence permeated the walls of the lab, only the scraping of tools, or crackling fire under the cauldrons made any noise.
After three weeks of working on the Wolfsbane III without exchanging more than a couple of words and notes, Draco had enough. He didn’t know if he could take watching her under the fringe of his hair, or pretend to be glaring at her when all he wanted to do was snog her senseless. He wanted Hermione to call as his own, but he knew that he had blown it. Their spat had gotten out of hand, both too stubborn to apologize to the other. He ached to be able to call her his friend once more.
After bidding her a cold farewell on the last day of their third week of work, he had gone straight home, but he decided to go to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink. He was going crazy sitting in his flat with nothing to do. When he entered the foul-smelling place he was surprised to see a familiar brunette at the bar. He sat himself on the other end, and signalled Tom, the barkeeper.
“Send her a green snake tonic, and put it on my tab,” he ordered.
Tom raised an eyebrow in question at the young man, but prepared the drink without protest. He pushed the drink across the bar to the man’s usual drinking companion for the past two years, having noticed their two month absence as a concerned business owner more than a nosey busybody.
“From the gentleman across the bar,” he mumbled, sliding the questionable sizzling drink.
Hermione looked at the tonic quizzically before lifting her eyesight to meet unreadable grey eyes. She picked up the drink, and walked around to the Slytherin.
“What is the meaning of this, Malfoy?”
“It’s a peace sign, Granger.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?” he asked in irritation, sipping his Dragon’s Blood. Hermione stared with indignation.
“Isn’t that kind of strong?” she queried.
“No,” he flatly answered.
She pulled out the barstool next to him, and took a sip of the green tonic, only to promptly spit it out, “This is foul, Malfoy.”
He smirked mischievously before taking another sip of his own vile drink.
They sat in contemplative silence for an hour, throwing furtive glances at each other; Hermione out of suspicion, and Draco out of longing. It wasn’t long before he decided to make another move, and swallow his pride. “Granger, I miss your witty banter, seeing as no one can hold their own, like you, against me.”
“Figures,” she stated. “What of your statement about our friendship?”
“Well that part is entirely true, Granger. I did allow you to come close to me, or did you not realize that none of the other Gryffindor do-gooders carry a friendship with me?”
“What about Harry?”
“Potter and I have an understanding.”
“An understanding?” she queried, raising an eyebrow.
“It is better you leave it as it is, but I will tell you that what Potter and I have is no friendship, unlike you and I, of course.”
“What are you really trying to say, Malfoy?”
“Surely, a great formidable brain like yours can read between the lines, Granger,” he answered, paying the tab, and briskly walking out of the inn.
Four days later after their truce, Draco and Hermione were silently working alongside each other when she began making small talk. “How was your weekend, Malfoy?”
“Well, if you insist upon knowing, I spent most of it torturing Muggles,” he answered.
“Very funny,” she mocked. After a moment of consideration, she added, “Are you seeing anyone recently? I saw you with that brunette a couple of weeks ago.”
Looking slightly scandalized, Draco schooled his features, “Erm, no, Granger. Juliette was paying back a favour by accompanying me to Potter’s party.”
“Oh.”
A moment of uncomfortable tension passed between them.
“Are you seeing anyone, Granger?” he tentatively inquired.
“What? Oh no, I’m still very much a spinster.”
“Hardly,” he drawled.
“Well, all my other friends are already married. In fact, almost everyone from our year is married,” she mused.
“Or dead, in Azkaban, or on the run,” he added under his breath.
Draco kept working while sneaking furtive glances at the Gryffindor lioness that held his heart in her hands. He didn’t know when he had fallen in love in with her, but he knew that he had never acted upon his feelings because he had never thought he’d had a chance. That is until Potter had pulled him aside at his party and admonished him for being a prat.
“I thought you two would be shagging by now, Malfoy,” he angrily spat.
“Yes, well, we had a fight now didn’t we, and she’s too stubborn to apologize,” Draco had answered.
“Perhaps, but you’re both at fault. Knowing Hermione she’s more likely to hex herself than admit being wrong at all. I heard what you did to Jonathan Goodfellow,” he added. “I’m glad it was you, or I would have killed him with my own bare hands.”
“Indeed.”
“Look Malfoy, when you came to me and asked for my ‘blessing’ to pursue my best friend, practically sister, I never thought you’d wait this bloody long. She’s dated at least five other guys during the time you’ve been pursuing her, and you have yet to make a move.”
“The art of seduction is a delicate one, Potter.”
“Whatever, Malfoy “ you need to hurry up and ask my best friend out, or else I’ll do to you what you did to Goodfellow for making her wait so long, you besotted fool,” the black-haired man threatened.
An aristocratic eyebrow was raised in response to the empty threat, while his grey eyes followed the object of his affections around the room.
“Granger?”
“Yes, Malfoy?”
“What are you doing tomorrow night?” he quietly asked, knowing that he was sporting a bright red hue on his cheeks and ears.
Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in suspicion before replying, “Er, nothing in particular. Why, Malfoy?”
The Slytherin cleared his throat nervously before continuing, “I was wondering if you were available for dinner.”
Draco quickly spared a glance at Hermione finding her, to his consternation, shocked and blushing at the same time.
“I-”
“Granger, if you can’t just say so, I understand. I just thought that what with the tentative peace we’ve formed that a dinner would be appropriate. After all, I rather enjoy your company,” he rambled, creating plausible excuses for asking her out.
Hermione didn’t listen to anything else he said; her thoughts were running through her mind in a mad rush.
Ginny was right! Oh, Merlin! Draco does like me. He just asked me out, right? What do I do? Oh gosh, why is he giving me that weird look? I need to think. I can’t think. I can’t deal with this right now. He’s my friend. Only friends. Oh gosh, he’s seen me naked!
She began to feel her heart racing wildly, and all of a sudden claustrophobia shrouded all rational thought.
I can’t breathe, she thought as her eyesight darted everywhere except to meet the concerned grey-eyes staring right at her.
“Granger? Hermione? Are you ok?” Draco asked as he watched her shake her head.
“No,” she murmured. “I’m not ok. I can’t breathe. I have to get out of here,” she lamely finished, running for the door. She could hear footsteps behind her, and a voice vaguely yelling out her name. However, she didn’t stop to find out who was her persecutor; instead, she ran as quickly as she could outside and Apparated to her flat, non-verbally changing the wards to not allow anyone through.
Draco stood bewildered at Hermione’s sudden escape. He hadn’t expected this reaction, maybe some laughing, or even punching, but not a hasty exit. Crestfallen, he had watched her Apparate, and knew that if he tried to follow he’d be rudely pushed back or worse splinched for even trying.
Sighing in defeat, Draco decided to give up on his torch of five years. If this was her reaction to being asked out, he could already visualize a date, or even a proposal. Then, upon reflection, he scowled at the thought of the time he had wasted pursuing this one woman before fuming with anger. After a few moments of angry contemplation, and to his own surprise, he decided to retreat for now, lick his wounds, and create a better strategy of ‘attack’ if he was to woo Hermione Granger.
The next morning Draco was busy finishing an order of Anti-Nausea Potion for St. Mungo’s, rethinking his ‘courting Granger’ strategy, when he felt a presence in the room. He turned slightly to squint, and recognized the figure formed in the shadows. Smiling meekly, he decided to acknowledge her before he was verbally attacked.
“Why Weaselette, it’s so nice for you to come visit me. Does Potter know that you’re here with me?” he asked, wagging his eyebrows.
“Shut up, Malfoy”
“You Gryffindors are so eloquently verbose, it amazes me.”
Ginny ignored his sardonic remarks, continuing on with her mission, “What were you thinking, nitwit?”
Confusion marred Draco’s features. “What?”
“What? That’s all you can say? What in Merlin where you thinking?” she barked.
“About what? You snotty Gryffindor! I have a lot of thoughts that I share with the world at large, and many others that I don’t, so choose one,” he sneered in anger.
“Hermione.”
“What about Hermione? I haven’t seen her around since last night during her hasty retreat.”
“You’re such a prat! Just put a cork in it, Malfoy, and listen because I’m only going to say this once! What were you thinking by asking out my best friend after giving her the silent treatment for two months? Did you think she would just crawl all over you? Gosh, you’re such a prat! She Flooed me last night having an anxiety attack because you came on to her. Honestly, haven’t you ever heard of subtlety? For all the ‘delicate art of seduction’ you preached to Harry, you sure bollocks this up!”
Draco glared at her verbal tongue-lashing, and had just about enough of dealing with incompetent Gryffindors. “You don’t know anything, Weaselette so you keep your busy body nose out of my life.”
Ginny looked incredulously at Draco. “I don’t know anything, Malfoy? Let me tell you what I don’t know. I don’t know that you’ve carried a torch for Hermione for the past five years. I don’t know that you’re so obvious about it that everyone except Hermione who is too thick for her own good also doesn’t know! I don’t know that you asked my husband, your former enemy, for approval of a relationship with Hermione. I don’t know a lot, but I do know one thing,” she spat, stalking closer to the tall Slytherin, “You will ask Hermione out again, and this time do it right, you foul loathsome cockroach!”
Speechless, Draco raised an eyebrow at Ginny before smirking in amusement, the wheels in his head already turning at full speed.
“Weaselette, even though it is beneath me to ask for help, I think you could help not just me, but your friend as well.”
“I’m listening.”
The next day, Hermione was pleasantly surprised with a bouquet of flowers at her windowsill. She scanned the daisies for a note. The Gryffindor blanched after reading who it was from: Draco Malfoy. In neat script the note read:
Granger,
Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron at 7 p.m.
Malfoy
Hermione dropped the note, feeling her panic of two days prior rushing back in to her. She ran to her bedroom Floo, threw some powder in the fire, and called out for Ginny Potter.
“Ginny! Ginny!”
“Hermione? What’s wrong, love? Is something the matter?”
“He sent me flowers!”
“Did he know?”
“Yes, and a note!”
“Well, what does the note say?”
“He demanded we meet tonight!”
“Oh, well isn’t that splendid! This is great! Do you need me to help you find an outfit?”
“What? No! Ginny are you mental?”
“Hey, Hermione, why are you Flooing so early? Is something the matter? Is it urgent? I rather want to ravish my wife,” piped in Harry from the background.
Hermione rolled her eyes at her randy friend; not that she blamed him at all. After all, he was a newlywed.
“Harry! Shove off”
“Is that any way to talk to your husband?”
“Honestly!” huffed Hermione.
Hermione stood in front of the mirror admiring her reflection. She nervously chewed the bottom of her lip, wondering if she had finally gone mental.
I can’t believe I allowed Ginny to talk me into this.
She lightly brushed off imaginary lint off her fitted robes. Her chestnut curls fell gracefully around her face. Sighing, Hermione nodded to herself before Apparating to her ‘date’ with Draco.
Draco was sitting in one of the booths at the Leaky Cauldron towards the back, waiting for his date. He hoped that the Gryffindor would show; otherwise, he’d be very upset, and Potter would have to look for a new wife. Or he’d just have to quit his job as Potions Assistant; he didn’t think he could take the knowledge that he was publicly rejected. He’d probably have to leave the continent too.
Just as he was in the middle of a good session of self-pity, a shadow fell across the table which caused him to look up. Draco smiled, and quickly got up to greet his date.
“Malfoy,” Hermione began as a blush creep onto her cheeks.
“Granger,” he replied, pulling out a chair for her. She gave him a weird look, but sat down.
“You’re early, Granger. Would you like a Butterbeer while we wait for our reservations at The Golden Wand?” the Slytherin asked, trying to stay calm.
To his surprise, Hermione decided to cut through the awkwardness, “Malfoy. Erm, Draco, why did you ask me out? Is this a truce? Are we friends again? You didn’t have to buy me dinner and drink for us to be friends. An apology would have been enough. Besides, I thought that your peace sign six days ago was enough.”
Hermione noted that he looked completely lost at her words, and confusion flitted through his eyes.
“Hermione, I asked you out for dinner because, well, you see,” he rambled on, flushing at his lack of words.
As she sat there watching the former Slytherin stumble over his words, looking rather uncomfortable, Hermione began to laugh. She couldn’t believe it. Ginny had been right all along, and all the proof she needed was the Slytherin currently in front of her looking thoroughly miffed at her.
“Granger, I demand you stop laughing this minute,” he barked in anger.
“Oh, gosh, I can’t. It’s too funny, Malfoy.”
Abruptly, he stood up and stalked around the table to her looking rather livid. “Granger, I may fancy you, but I will not stand for you laughing at me,” he scowled. Suddenly, he grabbed her by her arms, and pulled her up to him.
“Hey, what are you doing, Malfoy?” she asked, incredulous at his behaviour.
“Something I should have done ages ago,” he muttered before crashing his lips to hers.
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