A/N: Okay. I know that I can't change the whole "Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione" thing (thanks for that, Katie). However, that's why it's fan fiction. I'm not JK Rowling. If I was, as I've mentioned in my disclaimers, nothing would have turned out the same. So let's get over this right now.
THIS IS A HERMIONE/DRACO FIC. If you don't like the fact that Hermione's not with Ron, go read something else. Alright? In addition, this does not follow Books 6 or 7. Yes, I've read them. Some people might not have. Suspension of disbelief, okay? (A/N by Sinead)
Listen
"Malfoy, would you at least pretend you're listening?" Hermione Granger said exasperatedly for the third time that evening.
"I'm listening," Draco Malfoy said nonchalantly. The two were sitting in their private Common Room, which they had earned from being Head Boy and Head Girl.
"There's a difference between hearing and listening. Not that it matters to you—you're not doing either."
"Look, Granger. I'm not interested in planning a trip to Beauxbatons. You were always the smartest in the year. Can't you do it yourself?"
"Malfoy, I didn't want you to work with me—that's how Dumbledore assigned it. You're Head Boy. I'm Head Girl. Deal with it!"
"Good God, Granger," Draco said, taking the clipboard from her and throwing it in the fire. "You're going about this all wrong, you stupid Mudblood." He turned to stare at her coldly, but realized a split second later that she had stormed off in tears. Draco got up quickly and followed her until she slammed the door to her bedroom.
"Colloportus," She shouted, evidently across the room.
"Granger… Please," Draco said pleadingly. It was clear that he had no idea how to handle a crying girl. "Please open the door. Hermione?" He asked the last word carefully.
"Just leave me alone. There's no reason I should talk to you," Hermione said quietly, her voice shaking.
Malfoy decided not to anger her any more than she always was, and instead pulled the smoldering clipboard out of the fire, and saw that only half of the paper was in tact. He began to read the list that Hermione had established, before noting that very little of it had anything to do with the actual trip that Dumbledore had asked them to plan.
Dumbledore had called them to his office on the first day of school to tell them that it was their duty to organize a trip for the seventh years. He had made plans with Madame Maxime at the Beauxbaton's Academy, and the seventh years were allowed to stay at Beauxbatons for a week in order to strengthen their cultural expectancies. "In times like this, we must band together and become friends with those we never thought we would befriend," he had said.
The list Hermione wrote, however, simply had attractions near the Academy that she was interested in seeing. Musee des Beaux-Arts was written near the left of the page, with a few stars around it. Opera National de Bordeaux was also inscribed near the top of the page. Draco stared down at the paper in his hands, folded it into quarters, and pocketed it.
"Hermione," He called again. "I really need your help planning this."
"I could've used your help ten minutes ago," Hermione said coolly. Feeling half annoyed and half guilty, Draco strolled out of the Common Room and down to his old Common Room, where he saw Blaise lounging on a couch.
"Blaise," Draco said. "Help me out."
"You get her pissed off again?" Blaise asked jokingly.
"I didn't mean to," Draco said defensively.
"Oh. Whatddaya need?" Blaise laughed.
"Help planning a trip to France."
"You must really like her," Blaise said. "True?"
"Well—," Draco tried to think of some sort of excuse, but he could think of nothing. "Yes," he said finally. "Yes I do."
"Then sit right down," Blaise said, patting the couch beside him. "And we'll work this nonsense out."
--
"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore said, surveying them over the tops of his half-moon glasses. "This is very impressive. I commend you on taking this project so seriously."
"Thank you, Professor," Draco smiled courteously. "Hermione and I worked very hard on it," He lied.
"Yes," Hermione said cautiously. "We worked very hard on it." She shot Draco a smile, and he returned it.
"Well, you two had better get downstairs. You'll need to announce the trip after dinner."
--
"Why'd you tell him I helped?" Hermione asked. "I didn't."
"I know, but he doesn't need to."
"I feel so awful, though. I didn't help at all. Is there anything I can do now?" She asked hesitantly.
"Well, I was thinking maybe one night, we'd sneak out one night…"
"That's against the rules, Draco," Hermione said, biting her lip nervously.
"Don't pretend you weren't thinking it, Hermione," Draco smirked.
"I—," Hermione began.
"Here," Malfoy said, thrusting an envelope into her hands. She opened it slowly, and unfolded four tickets in her hand. Two were entrance tickets to the Musee des Beaux-Arts, and two were tickets for a ballet at the Opera National de Bordeaux. Hermione stared at him.
"This must've cost a fortune. These are front row tickets," She said, waving the tickets to the ballet.
"It was nothing," Draco said earnestly.
"Well… how'd you know?" Hermione asked.
"You wrote it on that paper that I threw in the fire," Draco said guiltily.
"Thank you so much," Hermione said. She turned and began to walk to the Great Hall, but then stopped. "Why is it that boys only listen to me when I don't say anything?"
"I suppose," Draco said, shortening the distance between them. Draco tilted her head towards his and captured her lips in a soft, loving kiss. "That that's because you talk too much."
A/N: Hope you liked it! I wrote this based on Sinead's storyline. I'm hoping for a few welcome back notes:P
Love,
Emma