The Prize
Author's Note: It's been a long time since I've written a fanfic – I haven't been writing anything much at all recently which isn't good. I want to start trying to write more so this fanfic is part of that decision. Not sure how long this one is going to be, but reviews encourage me to write more and I reply to all signed reviews.
Synopsis: Draco wins a date with Hermione at her charity auction. She's furious that it has even been set up. He's convinced it's an opportunity for them to see if they can get along now things have changed. Hermione isn't so sure it's going to work...
They had first seen each other again at the reunion, two years after he had left Grimmauld Place, when he had shuffled out absurdly on those crutches they gave him at St Mungos. He had fallen badly on his leg in the battle, but it would repair itself given time, the Healers had said. That was Hermione's most prominent memory of Draco Malfoy which was peculiar given all the memories she had of him. Somehow, that image of him dragging his legs out of the front door, the great Slytherin warrior broken and bruised, had stuck in her mind. She barely thought of him at all in the intervening years and did not ask anyone about where he was or what he was doing or if his leg was okay. She wasn't interested. One heroic decision, one moment of great courage did not resolve him of his past actions, she had thought. Her mind had not been changed. She didn't like him and didn't expect to ever like him because she did not expect to see him again, least of all at the Hogwarts Reunion.
She had walked in with Harry and Ginny and Ron. The ex-students were all crowded around their House Tables, clusters of red, yellow, blue, green, silver. A flash of a lone green scarf had drawn her eyes as its wearer was standing behind the Gryffindor table, a silvery green smear against the river of gold and red. It was Malfoy and he wasn't talking to anyone, still tall, still slender, still blond and still scowling. It was an ugly face to make and she wondered why he looked so sour – why was he here if he didn't want to be? What was the point? But Hermione thought she understood why he had chosen a spot as far as possible from the Slytherin table – it was shame. He no longer wanted to be associated with the Slytherins. How peculiar.
"Curiosity,"
Hermione jumped at the voice behind her and a measure of her pumpkin juice cocktail slopped over the rim of her glass. She turned and looked up and her eyes met the steely grey ones of his. They had only been here ten minutes and she was already about to get into an argument with him…
"Excuse me? Curiosity what?" she babbled.
"That's why I came here tonight. You're wondering it," he gestured vaguely about the room with the tumbler of firewhisky he was holding. "They're all wondering it."
"I…I was wondering no such thing," Hermione replied tartly. "I was wondering nothing whatsoever about you."
She focused her gaze on a Ravenclaw banner over Malfoy's shoulder. She couldn't look directly at him for too long. It made her nervous somehow. He had very intense eyes and Hermione wasn't sure if this was because he was a very intense person or because they were an extraordinary pale shade of grey-blue and stood out so much. Curious.
"Alright," Draco shrugged but he didn't move away and this irritated her for some reason. She gave him ten seconds to get the hint, but he didn't.
"Look, I don't know what you want. Harry and Ron –"
" – are still babysitting you, I see. You think they would give it a rest now you're in your twenties…They watch you, they did it back at school and they're still doing it now. Look,"
Harry and Ron were standing a few metres away talking to Neville, standing proudly in his teacher's robes, but they both kept glancing over at her.
"How dare you. I don't require babysitting," Hermione retorted. "Friends look out for each other. Don't you have friends who do that?"
"No," Draco replied and he didn't seem put-out about it either. "I'm a solitary sort of person."
"You know, I think you came over here because you were curious about me. I think you came over here because we went in the same school, fought in the same battle on the same side – well, at least we were on the same side for the most part. We lived in the same house for over six months and you wanted to talk to me and this is your weird, Draco Malfoy way of saying hello, how have you been, what's up? Except you're hoping I'm going to answer those questions without you actually asking them because you're too cowardly to be polite for once," observed Hermione.
Draco expelled a short, humourless laugh and tapped his glass irritatingly on his teeth. "You've still got all us worked out, then."
"Yep," said Hermione. "We're not at school anymore and I'm not afraid of you now."
"You never were afraid of me," Draco threw back. "Not for one second."
"Don't act like you know me,"
"Why are you being so defensive?"
"Force of habit,"
"You have an answer for everything,"
"So do you," Hermione smiled then, despite herself. "Your leg got better then."
"Yeah," Draco nodded, but he wasn't smiling. "It did. It took about a year but it's fine now."
"Well, good," Hermione replied. "I'm pleased," her voice softened. "Really, genuinely I'm pleased that you're better now."
"Of course you are," said Draco and Hermione couldn't decide whether she had heard sarcasm or not. "Let me get you another drink, as it was my fault you spilt most of yours."
She should have said no there and then and put an end to it before it had started. But she didn't. He was being polite and to throw it back at him would be rude and cruel. And that was where it had all begun.
The next time she saw him, was at a charity ball she had organised for the House Elf Welfare Foundation she had founded a year after leaving Hogwarts. She didn't remember inviting him, he had just turned up. Several young women instantaneously began to giggle and gossip and stare as he walked in and according to a snippet of overheard conversation, he was a regular at such high society events and often made an impression on both the women and the men with his charm and quick wit. Quick wit? Yes. Charm? Certainly not, Hermione thought. It was the first charity ball she had organised for the Foundation in the six years she had been running it. Unlike Draco, she had little interest in the vapidity and falseness that surrounded such events – the people who attended these charity balls rarely had an interest in the cause they were intended to support but her assistant had said it would be good publicity and an opportunity to gather donations. She had reluctantly agreed.
The ball was being held at the Flutterby Hotel which had a magical entrance on Oxford Street. It was owned and run by Astoria Greengrass, a Slytherin who had been in the year below Hermione at school. She was a businesswoman and socialite with valuable and wealthy contacts and had recommended people to add to the guest list. She was pleasant enough, but Hermione found her sometimes condescending, often patronising and too grandiose for her to count as a friend. She was a business contact, nothing more.
When Draco had walked into the ballroom, Astoria had let out a thrilled little shriek and hurried over to give him one of those ridiculous air kisses she was so fond of. He embraced her politely and over her shoulder, his eyes caught Hermione's own and he smiled a mysterious smile. Hermione scoffed and looked away.
"Who invited him?" asked Ron from beside her.
"I think Astoria might have taken a few liberties with the guest list," replied Hermione. "There are a lot of people here I don't remember approving at the meeting."
"Then say something!" Ron insisted. "This is your party, she's taking the mick."
"No," Hermione sighed. "He's here now. Besides, he's rolling in gold. I'm sure he'll make a donation or buy something at the auction. I'm thinking of the Foundation here. And it's her hotel; she can do what she pleases. She's coming over…"
"Hermione darling!" Astoria had flounced towards them both and Draco was walking behind her. "You remember Draco Malfoy, from school?"
"Yes," said Hermione. "How are you, Malfoy?"
"Very well, thanks," Draco replied, giving her a half-smile that was almost mocking. "Where's Potter?"
"Working," Hermione replied. "He said he might pop in later."
"Malfoy," said Ron stiffly and they shook hands.
Astoria smiled around at them all. "I thought I would invite Mr Malfoy to our little event… he's a supporter of various causes and was particularly interested in the Foundation… St Mungos recently had him open a new ward and they unveiled a plaque in his honour, for the donations he makes… and do you know he is a patron of Equality for Squibs?"
"Is he now?" said Hermione. An attempt at atonement, for past mistakes she thought. "I didn't know you were such a charitable person, Mr Malfoy,"
"There's a lot people don't know about me, Miss Granger."
Well, we have an exciting auction on tonight," said Hermione politely. "Wizarding Heritage has donated a voucher for a VIP Historical Tour of Diagon Alley –"
"Sounds fascinating," interrupted Draco. Was he being sincere? Hermione wasn't so sure.
"- And there's a week's holiday in France, the chance to attend a practice with the Chudley Cannons amongst other lots. I'm sure you will bid as much as you can?"
"Of course," said Draco.
"Good. If you'll excuse me, Mr Weasley and I have to greet more guests. Help yourself to drinks at the bar, it's free. The auction begins in about an hour."
Hermione walked away, right away to the other side of the room. Ron followed.
"Why are you so flustered?" Ron asked her. "What's up with you?"
"It's just… he was at the reunion and now he's here again. It's just strange, seeing him again after all this time, that's all. I'm fine."
Ron looked at her sympathetically. "You don't need to let him intimidate you. I won't let him harm you or say anything… I'll look after you –"
"Look after me?" Hermione said suddenly, turning her face to look at him. "I don't need looking after anymore, Ron. I don't need… babysitting."
"I never said –"
Hermione sighed and rubbed her forehead wearily. She felt drained. "I'm sorry. It's the stress of this thing… I knew it was a bad idea setting this up, this whole event. I didn't mean to snap at you,"
"Forget it," said Ron but he still seemed stung.
Hermione spent the following hour mingling with her guests. She danced with several men when the band struck up a tune, discussed the charity with a group of its patrons and made small talk with the people she didn't know. Astoria floated around the room and occasionally wandered over to introduce Hermione to her business contacts. Draco spent most of his time standing in the corner, sipping on firewhisky and watching the guests with interest. He spoke courteously to those who approached him but otherwise kept his distance. Hermione noticed clusters of women in ball gowns scattered around the room, eyeing him surreptitiously. Now and then, one of them found the courage to go over and engage him in conversation. He caught Hermione's eye more than once, but she didn't hold his gaze. His frequent glances were making her self-conscious, but she didn't speak to him and he didn't speak to her and Hermione was content to let things be. She had greeted him politely and that was enough. He would donate towards the charity and then the ball would be over and she probably wouldn't see him again and she didn't care one bit.
Astoria approached the stage where the band was and announced in her twittering voice that the auction was about to begin in the event room next door and that the guests should make their way there promptly and that a five course meal would be served afterwards. Hermione did not feel hungry. If her presence wasn't so important she would have slipped away already.
The event room was lined with rows of chairs and an elderly wizard was standing at the front with a lectern and gavel. People filed in, chattering excitedly about the auction and Hermione sat down next to Ron with a supressed sigh. Draco took a seat a few rows ahead of them with a very slim, very pretty witch with shiny blonde hair. She was whispering something in his ear and Draco smiled but didn't seem overly interested in her flirtations. She didn't seem to notice. Astoria took her seat behind Hermione.
"I'm determined to get that practice with the Chudley Cannons," said Ron as the last few people took their seats. "Oh come on, when's it going to start?" he looked impatiently at the wizard with the gavel.
"Good," Hermione said warmly. "Remember it's all for charity-"
"Yeah, yeah," muttered Ron. "What lot number is it, do you remember?" he said, flicking hurriedly through his auction catalogue.
"There's a little surprise for you coming up!" Astoria whispered to Hermione as the auctioneer announced the first lot – an exclusive Honeydukes hamper. "I invited so many eligible, rich, young men here for reasons other than the auction, Hermione!" she winked.
"What are you talking about?" Hermione hissed, feeling unnerved. "What have you done, Astoria?"
"You'll thank me later!" she giggled, placing a finger to her lips.
"Astoria!"
"Hermione, the auction…" Ron interrupted.
"…is filled with the finest handcrafted sweets from Honeydukes including all your favourites. However ladies and gentlemen, the real prize in this lot is the several boxes of exclusive sweets created just for this particular hamper. You won't ever find the contents of these boxes in the shop so this really is a once in a lifetime opportunity for those of you with a sweet tooth! Now remember ladies and gentlemen that this is for charity so bid generously! I'll start the bidding at one hundred Galleons… One hundred Galleons… two hundred… two fifty –"
"Three fifty!" Ron called.
"Three fifty to Mr Weasley..."
"Ron, I thought you were bidding on the Chudley Cannons lot?" said Hermione exasperatedly.
"Yeah but come on Hermione, exclusive Honeydukes merchandise?"
"Four hundred to the gentleman in the blue dress robes –"
"Five fifty!" cried Ron and Hermione rolled her eyes. Since Ron finished his training and became an Auror just over two years ago he had started earning a particularly significant wage he had been behaving rather frivolously with his new found wealth.
"A fool and his Galleons are soon parted!" said Hermione with a wry smile.
Ron managed to outbid the wizard in the blue robes to the tune of nine hundred Galleons and beat a particularly aggressive bidder to snap up the day's training with the Chudley Cannons.
"Brilliant," he said triumphantly.
Astoria bid on the holiday to France lost out to Colin Creevey who had attended the event with his rather beautiful wife. The Wizarding Heritage tour didn't fetch much above the reserve price which Hermione was a bit disappointed about but there was a fierce bidding war between a pair of collectors for the box of rare first edition books from Flourish and Blotts which more than made up for it. Draco bid on some antique furniture and the final price was over a thousand Galleons which Hermione was very pleased about. An hour later and the auctioneer was announcing the final lot and in the excitement of knowing she had made a tidy sum for the charity, Astoria's enigmatic comment had long slipped Hermione's mind.
"And the final lot… well, this is definitely one for the gentlemen! … My, my!" There was a curious titter from the assembled crowd. "The final lot this evening is the opportunity to take a Miss Hermione Granger on a date for an evening in the famous Flutterby Restaurant here at the Flutterby Hotel, courtesy of Miss Astoria Greengrass and the hotel staff. The bidding is to start at a thousand Galleons."
Hermione was speechless. She opened her mouth to yell, to protest at Astoria, at the auctioneer but she was struck dumb by the situation and before she could recover her senses, the bidding had already begun. Ron was perched next to her, clutching his catalogue and looking equally as flabbergasted.
"Two thousand Galleons!" said a voice from the back of the room and Hermione didn't even dare turn around to see who it was.
"Two thousand five hundred!" yelled another.
"Four thousand!"
"Five!"
"Eight!"
And then, Draco Malfoy rose calmly and smoothly to his feet and announced to the enthralled onlookers, "One hundred thousand Galleons."
Hermione still could not speak, she could not move. The room was silent. Even Astoria seemed lost for words. Ron's catalogue had been reduced to a tightly crumpled ball in his hand. The auctioneer raised his gavel.
"Do I hear one hundred and fifty thousand?" he asked weakly. Nobody said a word. "Sold, to the gentleman in the front row…. Er, thank you, ladies and gentlemen. If you'll follow the concierge he will take you to the dining hall… your prizes can be picked up from the front desk…apart from the er, final lot of course. Thank you for your participation and generous bids."
Hermione suddenly found her voice, stopped gaping at the auctioneer and turned sharply in her seat to confront Astoria.
"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "What on earth do you think you're doing, Astoria? Why did you arrange this without consulting me, why did you –"
"I… I knew you'd say no!" said Astoria who seemed uncharacteristically ruffled. "I didn't even imagine Draco would bid… You've been single for a year, I thought I would be doing you a favour, giving you an opportunity –"
"Of course I'd say no!" Hermione shrieked, not caring about the staring onlookers as they followed the concierge out of the room. "I didn't need you to do any sort of matchmaking for me; I didn't want to be auctioned off like a commodity! Have you any idea how that makes me feel, being sold to the highest bidder? You're ridiculous, Astoria!"
Hermione leapt to her feet and marched from the room, across the ballroom through all the curious faces, past the front desk where people were queuing for their won items, up the stairs and straight into the hotel room Astoria had set aside for her for the evening. She slammed the door, collapsed onto the dressing room chair and put her head in her hands. Angry tears welled in her eyes. She had been humiliated… Astoria's intentions were good but she had completely embarrassed her. A hundred thousand Galleons! From Draco Malfoy! And she was supposed to go on a date with him? Not a chance!
There was a knock on the door. Ron, Hermione thought. She really didn't want to speak to anybody but she had to let him in. She wiped her eyes and opened it but it wasn't Ron standing in the doorway, but Draco Malfoy. Hermione's anger bubbled up afresh and she actually pushed him – hard – in the chest.
"Go away Malfoy, go away right this second or I'll get my wand and make you leave! I'm not interested, do you hear? I had no idea what Astoria was planning and I want nothing to do with it and I want nothing to do with you. How am I supposed to show my face downstairs now? Go away, get out of here, I'm not going on any dates with you, just leave! Go –"
"Will you stop shouting for just one second?" interrupted Draco. "I want to talk about this…"
"Are you insane? Did you not hear what I just said? I don't care, I'm not bloody interested now leave me alone!" she went to shut the door but he was already halfway inside.
"Granger, for Merlin's sake just calm down for a moment! I'm not here to force you on any sort of date with me if you don't want to go. I thought you wanted donations for your charity?"
"Not like that!" Hermione shouted.
Draco looked at her appraisingly. "Is there a minibar in here?"
"What?" Hermione snapped.
Draco strolled into the room and headed for the kitchenette. He crouched down and opened the minibar under the counter.
"Did I not just tell you to get the fuck out of my hotel room?" said Hermione, simmering with fury. She kicked the door closed and marched over to him.
"Nice language, Miss Granger" Draco scoffed. "Here… have a drink," he handed her a glass of firewhisky. She stared at it and then knocked it out of his hand. Draco raised an eyebrow. "Or don't," he said and took a sip of his own. He stepped neatly over the puddle of shattered glass and firewhisky on the floor and sat down on a plush chair opposite the dressing table as if he owned the hotel.
"I'm getting my wand, I'm calling security," Hermione insisted.
"No you're not," said Draco infuriatingly.
"Excuse me?"
"You're going to hear what I have to say," Draco replied calmly.
"Don't tell me what to do!"
"Now you sound like a petulant child,"
"Listen here, Malfoy," said Hermione placing a hand on each arm of the chair and glowering down at him. "Get out or I'm going to make you leave,"
"Wand's over there," said Draco, nodding towards the dressing table.
Her humiliation, her anger, her frustration had exhausted her. She sighed, rubbed her forehead and sank into the chair next to him. "Please Malfoy; I just want to be alone."
"Would it really be so bad?" he said after a moment.
"Would what be so bad?" said Hermione. She felt close to tears again, but she wouldn't cry, not in front of him.
"Me and you, going out for an evening?"
Hermione scoffed and laughed. "Are you being serious? Are you actually being serious here?"
Draco shrugged. "When the auctioneer announced that lot, I intended to win. I thought it might be interesting… Life is very dull being a millionaire, Hermione. It's the same crap every day. You're surrounded by idiots like Astoria Greengrass and that vapid blonde who plonked herself next to me at the auction. The women want you for your money and the men… well, they just want your money. You can't trust anyone,"
"Oh well poor you!" said Hermione. "Poor little rich Draco Malfoy! I'm not something you can win to alleviate your boredom! Do you know how insulting this whole thing is?"
"Very insulting I imagine, having all those young, eligible men with endless Galleons, who have endless lines of women fawning over them, fighting over this one chance to be in your company for a single evening. How terribly awful that must have been," Draco replied.
"You don't understand and I wouldn't expect you to understand," answered Hermione.
"Tell me, wouldn't it have been ten times worse if you didn't get a single bid?" asked Draco.
Hermione looked up at him and frowned. She had not thought of it like that. But still, he was missing the point!
"Wouldn't you just like to see if we could get on with each other for the first time in our lives? Just to see if it was possible, now that we're both adults and I'm not quite as much of an arsehole as I used to be? Although I'm not denying I may still have arsehole-like qualities…"
Hermione made a sceptical noise. "Why should I care if we get along or not?"
"I just thought it might be nice to find out. I've been trying to build bridges ever since I joined the Order. Sometimes it's worked, sometimes it hasn't, I don't force it. Potter, Weasley and I are amicable; perhaps you and I could reach at least that?"
Hermione did not answer. She did not know what to say. Draco Malfoy being honest and polite had entirely disarmed her.
"At the reunion," Draco continued. "I spoke to Potter and Weasley and they were courteous enough and I was to them. Weasley and I greeted each other and shook hands earlier which is about as much as I could hope for from him, but in the two times I've encountered you since I left Grimmauld Place all those years ago, you've behaved with nothing less than hostility and I don't blame you for it but I'm here in this room now because I think we could change that. I'll understand if you say no but I wanted to make an attempt."
"You're here to ease your own conscience," Hermione told him. "Even this attempt at reconciliation is a selfish act coming from you."
"I'm here because I'm trying to change things. Wouldn't you want to do the same?"
Hermione fell silent again.
"You know what; I'll leave you alone now. If you want to talk, take this," he reached inside his breast pocket and withdrew a business card. Hermione looked at it blankly. "I'll put it here then," he placed it on the dressing table, next to her wand. "If I don't hear from you, that's fine. The Foundation will still get its one hundred thousand Galleons. See you, Hermione." And he left.