A/N: My first drabble! It's quite long you'll find. Done for a Drabble Friday wherein the author was required to use the words pearls, feather, luminous, and ricocheted as well as the quote "There was a point in time when I would have done anything for you, but not anymore." As you will see, this was not easy for me haha.
Characters: Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy, Lavender Brown (mentioned), Ron Weasley (mentioned)
Enjoy!
oOo
That was sodding terrible. Who eats with their mouth open? Or asks if I'm in my fertile time?
Hermione Jean Granger hated dates. She also had the frizziest hair she had ever seen and the straightest nose. Both of which her date had chosen to comment on, because he was apparently a horrible person.
Listen, shite brain, you wish you had hair like this! Your forehead was so big I could drive a boat through it. Wait. No. Your hairline was receding so far back TO TRY TO ESCAPE YOUR HORRIBLE FACE. Yea, that's better. You wish you had this hair.
Hermione can remember with disturbing clarity the night when her eleven year old self had attempted to use a relaxer spell, provided by Lavender Brown, to straighten her curls. The event had been fruitless at best, calamitous at worst. It took all summer to configure the correct charms to get her hair to grow back in all the patches before school began.
She surreptitiously reached a dark hand up to check a former bald patch.
Her mistake had been listening to Lavender Brown then and it was her mistake now as it had been the blonde witch who had set Hermione up on this blind date disaster. She really should have known better; Lavender was currently engaged to Ronald Weasley, so obviously she had no idea what a proper wizard was like.
A thick evening haze had descended upon Diagon Alley and Hermione's normally frizzy chestnut ringlets had plunged straight into madness. Had one seen Hermione walking through the streets one may have perhaps mistaken her for an exotic bird attempting to lure a mate with wild displays of feathered aesthetics. Alas, no avian or human mates would find Hermione today, just the overwhelming frustration of a wasted two hours.
Smoothing down the frizz with her hands was useless, as was attempting to tie it atop her head in a chic bun. Despite what magazines and the press may want witches to believe Hermione knew full well that the myth of the messy bun was just that; a myth. A fallacy devised by the fashionable elite as yet another tool of oppression. Probably invented by a Malfoy with their damned shiny, practically sodding luminous hair. A sham invented by the image conscious as a means by which to keep down the plain masses.
Hermione's face twisted with her thoughts and the passersby stared.
Fuck off, all you sodding arseholes. No one, save for a select few, were even the slightest bit aware of the expletives that ricocheted through the Princess of Gryffindor's golden brain on a daily basis. And dare I say, if the masses knew they would be quite appalled.
Hermione Granger had a sailor's mind and it was midway through imagining the look of horror on Molly's face if she ever heard Hermione's inner monologue when all else was interrupted by the screech of a banshee.
"I would've done anything for you, you sodding prick! Anything!"
Hermione's head whipped around, dark curls hitting her cheek by the motion, to see an enraged Pansy Parkinson, her pug face as red as her dress, howling at a shocked Draco Malfoy.
Oh, damn.
"Pansy, I don't know-" Draco appeared disturbingly confused and Hermione found she quite enjoyed that particular look on his pale features.
"Take these!" Pansy ripped off the pearl necklace she was wearing and it was then Hermione realized how posh and done up the witch looked. "I don't need them! I don't need anything from you!" She shoved the necklace into Draco's chest and turned, screaming wordless as she stormed away, leaving the wizard standing there on the sidewalk.
As Draco was Hermione's colleague within the Ministry and now the fellow victim of a horrible date, she felt it her sacred duty to comfort the baffled wizard. In that moment, as Hermione stepped over to Draco, intent on placing a hand on his shoulder in commiseration, Pansy chose to rip her shoes off (also a gift from Draco) and hurl the stilettos at the wizard.
Pansy Parkinson always had terrible aim with her spells and unfortunately, Hermione discovered as the heel pummelled into her forehead, the witch's aim was even worse with shoes.
Hermione fell to the ground, clutching her head as her vision blurred.
Oh, and she experienced some pain.
Oh Godric sodding Gryffindor I'm fucking dying. Has my head been dislodged from my body?
Pain throbbed through the head she did still have.
"Holy shite, Granger!" A distant voice seemed to say. Very distant.
An angel. Come to take me to heaven. My suffering is finally over.
An amorphous blob of colors blocked the sky. A red circle full of darkness moved and words floated around it.
"Are you okay? How many fingers am I holding up?"
Maybe I could tell if you stopped moving your sodding blob hand around.
Hermione focused.
"6 or 7." Wait, that's not right.
"Shite, Granger." The blob reached down and pulled Hermione upright. The whole city spun, but at least she remembered she was in a city. Colors and shapes fumbled around and settled back into place.
"Okay, okay. How about now?" The blob, now clearly formed into Draco Malfoy, held up three fingers.
"Three."
"Sodding Salazar, Granger, what the fuck were you thinking?"
What the fuck was I thinking?! I was thinking you needed a word of comfort you arse!
"You owe me a drink, Malfoy." Hermione growled.
"That's what you were thinking as a shoe collided with your respectable cranium?"
"A drink."
"Right." The wizard grinned.