The Truth About Reality
The Date: Part One
A/N: I said I'd be updating my other stories soon...oops. It's not really my fault, because I've only had one contact for about a week, making it hard to use the computer. Sorry people. I'm working on the next chapters for a lot them. Hopefully, I'll be set by next weekend. Please review, by the way.
I also wanted to say that this is my first time with DM/HG. If you want to read good stories for that ship, check out Priah, Marmalade Fever and AngelicDevil1.
Disclaimer: Don't own HP...Like I'm really going to get sued...9.9
Hermione glanced nervously at the camera that was faithfully trailing behind her. The man behind the lens gave her an encouraging nod, but the cruel, blinking light won out. She anxiously smoothed her hair and stopped at the appointed restaurant.
Why had she agreed to this again? Damn Arthur Weasley! He had been so excited at the prospect of seeing someone he knew on television that she had joined in his joy, and rued it bitterly now. Why couldn't the TV itself be enough?
The Weasleys were actually one of the first to finally get one. Back in the days of the war, there had been about one solid month of true warfare. Owls had become unreliable since they were often intercepted, shot down or, in the worst cases, bearing a special type of magical bomb. Television rapidly became an easy way to transmit information, more accurate than radios. Now that those days were over, the television was used for recreation, and thus the dating show she was participating on was born.
Just like the Muggle world, wizards were fascinated by "reality" programs. Dating shows like this one were not exactly in that category, older than the other branches of the genre. According to the producers, this episode would be the first to air for this particular show. She couldn't imagine how she'd be interesting enough to hold the fate of such an enterprise, though.
Well, it wasn't her choice on who would participate, she decided, but she had already signed the papers, so she had to continue. Hermione handed her wand to one of the officials, who was looking a bit impatient. He reminded her again that she and her date had to pass for Muggles. She couldn't see how this would be an interesting premise for entertainment, since she had no difficulty, but nodded anyway before entering.
A waitress soon led her to a private table near the back of the room. Apparently, she was the first to arrive. Sitting down on the chair, she crossed her legs, swinging her foot as she waited. After quickly checking her appearance, Hermione glanced around the building.
It was an upscale place, decorated to remind one of an outdoor café. The round tables were white, like the wire chairs. The carpet was surprising thick for such an establishment, the color of wine. Romantic-period prints decorated the walls, in carved frames. Small lights were spread between, modeled after candles, but they were not lit, as the far wall was nearly entirely windows, pouring in warm illumination.
Twenty minutes later, Hermione could have told you who painted each picture, what pigment they used, which of those pigments most closely resembled the carpet, the names of every person ay each table, and any other trivial information. She was being ditched before the whole damn nation!
Hermione finally called over one of the stone-faced waiters and ordered herself a glass of champagne, wishing she could buy something more like whiskey. This was going to call for something to make her feel better later.
She flashed a fake ID rapidly, too fast for him to get suspicious. Not that she was usually one to break rules. It had all started after Ginny graduated. The girl, who had been coddled all her life, was eager to go out and have fun. When she accidentally let her intentions slip, Hermione had been tempted to warn Molly, but she happened to sympathize with the youngest Weasley. Thus, the responsible thing to do would be to keep an eye on the girl, and Hermione had gradually found herself enjoying their excursions.
Half an hour after she had arrived, Draco Malfoy strode into the restaurant. After flirting with the giggling waitress, he followed her to the table reserved in the back, a camera behind him as well. He halted abruptly, and gawked at Hermione.
Hermione came close to dropping her champagne flute when she noticed who was standing there, the last person she would expect. There was no way he could be mistaken for anyone else. Draco, in fact, looked much as he had always: Same tall, muscled but lean frame, same pale hair, though longer now, same cold eyes, same disdainful expression directed towards her.
"How kind of you to show up, Mr. Malfoy. I suppose you're doing me a favor, right?" she asked, annoyed and emboldened by such.
"Trust me, if I had known it'd be you, I would not have bothered." he retorted icily, purposely averting his eyes from her, as if the sight of her was insufferable,
"Likewise."
He was about to answer that, but the camera man suddenly entreated that they feign civil companionship just for the day. Draco agreed by sitting down and Hermione canted her head to illustrate that she would attempt it. They were unaware that the various members working on the television program would frequently request things from them.
This was the crux of the plot. Two people with such different sentiments would assuredly react oppositely to the favors beseeched. Perhaps they would also simply spite one another. Meanwhile, Hermione would have to prevent Draco from making any blatant errors, and he was not likely to take her advice, nor was she in the mood to guard him from humiliation.
The waitress from before took their orders, and winked at Draco. He smiled slightly at the woman, meaninglessly, and Hermione rolled her eyes, sipping from the glass of water provided. Draco seemed amused at her irritation, and came to the conclusion that if he could harass her so, the time was well-spent.
"Are you actually flirting with a Muggle?"
"We aren't supposed to bring up anything involving...that. And yes."
"Isn't that hypocritical?"
"No, nothing wrong with having fun with them, keeping them in their place."
"Keeping them...Oh...So, um, how did you end up on here?"
"Here?"
"The show."
"Oh, well they just came to the manor and asked, and everyone else convinced me it'd be a good idea. Obviously, they were wrong."
Who really calls their house a manor? she thought. Hermione remarked "Here I thought that anyone who dared pass the gates got swallowed by a chimera or chopped up for use in potions."
Before he could respond, the waitress brought them the food, a light pasta dish for Hermione and salmon for Draco, along with his wine, ordered with a real ID. Mockingly, he raised the glass, saying "A toast?"
"To what?"
"Surviving this date?"
"Cheers." she drawled, tapping the rim against his wine glass.
After several minutes lacking conversation, Draco inquired politely what she was doing now, a very general question. Hermione chose to answer with the same genteel impersonality.
"Right now I'm studying Magical Theology, and then working on the side to pay for it."
"What are you doing as a job?"
She was shocked that the word 'job' was not filled with scorn, because he wasn't someone who had to have a job. It wasn't necessary for him to do anything at all besides produce an heir, but Draco was ambitious, and just wasting the wealth accumulated by his predecessors was unappealing.
"I'm ghost writing."
"What's that?" he asked hesitantly.
"Basically, I write the books for famous people who can't really write themselves."
"I see."
The conversation lulled again, with the two silently measuring the other. Draco calmly scanned Hermione's weary but impassive features. Her face looked much the same, just more mature. Her hair had not been dyed, but it was cut shorter, just an inch or so beneath her shoulders, and much smoother. He found himself wondering if it was always like that now, or if she had done it especially for this event. Other than that, she was taller, of course, and nearly...Junoesque. Interesting.
Hermione had already observed his looks, and didn't want him to realize if she chose to do so again. She was reflecting on his personality. It was different, but she could not place it...He seemed reserved or mild, or maybe it was just how he wanted her to perceive him. She could not tell.
Out of the blue, he suddenly asked "How's Potter? You keep in touch still?"
"Yeah, and his memory is back. Harry and Ginny are engaged now. You remember her, right?"
"Um...I think so."
"Why do you ask?"
"Just wondering."
"Mmm-hmm."
That was random. Thinking back on it, she could not recall Draco having played much of a role in the final battle. He had been at some school in Australia, or maybe Austria. In any case, she hoped it was Australia, and that some Aussie had beaten a poncy, mincing git like Malfoy up. How dare he inquire about Harry's welfare?
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Draco didn't notice though, glancing instead of his watch rudely. Hermione glared at him over her cream pastry, but didn't comment on it. Instead, she asked "What about you?"
"Huh?"
"What have you been doing since Hogw--school, I mean?"
"Oh, traveling mostly."
She nodded, and asked where, although she didn't care too much. Conversation carried on this way for about ten minutes more when the waitress walked to their table, setting the bill down on the tray with a couple ordinary mints wrapped in fancy, foil paper.
On impulse, Draco picked up the sheet before remembering that he had no knowledge of the currency. Handing it to his date, he asked "How much it that?"
"Don't worry; I've got it." she said, and as she went to place it on the tray again, she noticed a second paper, just a sliver. Picking it up quickly, she joked "Oh, isn't that cute? She left you her phone number. What a ...scarlet woman."
"Scarlet woman?" Draco repeated, smirking as he nibbled the mint...Like a squirrel, Hermione thought, and bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. More like a ferret!
"I'm on TV, got to be careful about how I come off."
"Granger?"
"What?"
"What's a phone?"
She shook her head, laughing as they walked out to the next destination while Draco followed, still musing over a phone, the cameras in their wake.