He Just Doesn't Fancy You by mgle_teacher
Chapter 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.