The story is getting off to a slow start, I'll admit, but I'm trying to a build a plot. R+R, and tell me if you like what you read so far. This is my first fic, be kind. If anyone wants to help beta, that would be great. And whatever pairings you may think I'm getting at… well, you may be right. Or wrong. ;)
Also, I started writing this pre-book 5, so everything is taken from the end of book 4 and I am making up the rest. Since I only have two chapters down, it won't be too hard to write from end of 5 (and hell, at the pace I write, book 6, too.) I am not overly familiar with London, so apologies if any descriptions or scenes seem off base. Contact: and the usual disclaimers apply. I don't own the characters.
His hands roamed over the spines of leather bound books lining the shelves. His eyes lingered over a few titles before quickly grabbing them and striding to the counter. His gaze was kept downcast as the volumes were rung up.
"That'll be 18 pounds, please," the cheery young brunette announced, eyeing the blonde haired customer with a raised eyebrow and mounting interest.
A twenty pound note was thrown on the counter and the books collected. Without a glance at the cashier, the young man turned on his heel and proceeded to stalk away.
"Um, excuse me! Your change?" the bookstore employee called out and looked questioningly at the retreating figure. "Don't you want your change?"
The young man turned, surprise and haughtiness clouding his gray eyes. "I don't need it" he sneered, and started to walk away once more.
The young cashier raised her eyebrows, all appreciation for his attractiveness lost over his unbearably rude demeanor. Behind her, astonished brown eyes peeked out from behind the storeroom entrance.
"Well, I'll be damned" breathed Hermione Granger. "Malfoy."
Draco threw the doors to the bookstore open and walked out onto the street. He readjusted the weight of the three books he was carrying in his arms and tried to put as much distance between himself and the bookstore as possible. He strode across Leicester Square and decided against taking the tube- he had lied about not needing the two pounds change back from the cashier. He needed the money very much, but he'd faster be eaten alive by snakes before he appeared in need of money in front of Hermione Granger. It was bad enough she'd seen him in a muggle store, wearing muggle clothes and using muggle money. She didn't need to know just how much money he had- or rather, lacked.
"Stupid mudblood," Draco muttered to himself, causing fellow pedestrians to give him strange looks.
"And to think I entertained the notion that all these years would have taught you some tolerance, Malfoy," a voice spoke from behind him.
She startled him a little, but Draco didn't break his stride. He did however, lessen the pace he was walking at and held his head higher as he spoke.
"Didn't think I was talking to you, Granger."
"Ahh, to me, about me, as long as I'm on your mind, it's all the same." Hermione fell into step beside Draco, and he moved away to put more distance in between them. The action was not lost on Hermione. "Really, Draco, one would think you'd have grown up a bit since school ended."
Draco stopped walking abruptly and caught Hermione by surprise. He stared at her, eyeing her from head to toe. "And honestly, Hermione, what makes you think that you are allowed to judge me?"
Hermione creased her brow in mild hurt. Having her name said so hatefully upset her, even it was coming out of Malfoy's mouth. "Whatever you think, Malfoy" all first name familiarity had grown cold, "I am not judging you. I'm merely stating that your immaturity is an outdated look for being 22 years old."
As Draco couldn't think of a good enough reply, he lifted his head still higher and looked down his nose at Hermione.
She had to stifle a laugh at the ridiculous pose Draco had taken up. If he raised his head anymore, Hermione was sure he would topple backwards. "So you want to tell me why a pureblood like yourself is buying muggle books in muggle London?"
Draco gave her an appraising look, sniffed, and resumed walking. "You know full well why."
Hermione jogged lightly to catch up. "So its true then?"
"And to what exactly you're referring to, I don't know."
Hermione bit back the need to insult him. "You didn't... you're not... You-Know-I mean, Voldemort…" She struggled to follow Harry's advice and not place fear in only a name.
Draco held out his left arm, his forearm bare because of the t-shirt he was wearing. "I didn't."
Hermione dropped her eyes to the sun drenched summer sidewalk, and they walked together in silence. It was neither awkward nor comfortable, just the kind of silence you shared with a stranger that wasn't bothering you.
The minutes melted into the late afternoon, both walking side by side, both silent, both aware of the other one. They kept walking at a brisk pace, winding through the streets of London, until finally, suddenly, Draco stopped. He didn't turn to Hermione, he didn't turn away, he just stared ahead off into space.
"Why have we stopped?"
Draco kept staring ahead. "I stopped because this is where I live. You stopped because apparently, you have the mentality of a sheep." He waited for some sort of a weak insult, and was surprised to her Hermione stay silent. Finally, he turned to her and asked, "Why did you follow me, anyway?"
As obvious as the question was, Hermoine didn't know how to answer it. "I don't really know. I just... felt I had to. Or wanted to. Or I don't know." She paused. "I just did."
Draco's face remained impassive. "Well, I hope you understand why I'm not inviting you inside." With that, he turned and began opening the door to his building. He paused, adding "Just because I didn't agree to killing off you mudbloods doesn't mean I want you in my flat." He let the oak door slam behind him, leaving Hermione to stare after him, both with intense dislike and undeniable curiosity.
"So you're telling me you KNOW that asshole?" Fiona asked Hermione over their sandwiches.
"Mmm," Hermione had just taken a big bite of her sandwich and motioned to her co-worker that she had to finish chewing first. "No," she said with mouth still partially full, "I make it a habit running out of the store midday after strange men."
"Well, he -is- pretty hot.." Fiona trailed off.
Hermione rolled her eyes at the young brunette. In a lot of ways, she reminded Hermione of Ginny. "I thought you just said he was an asshole?" she taunted.
"Aren't all the pretty ones, though?" Fiona brushed the crumbs off of her fingers. "So, then, how do you know him? What's his name? Have you slept with him?"
Hermione creased her brow in mock disapproval. "School, Draco Malfoy, and do I look like a cheap whore?"
Fiona giggled. "Sleeping with someone doesn't make you a cheap whore, Hermione."
"Sleeping with him would."
Fiona smiled at Hermione. "You'd still like to find out, eh?" She giggled at the look on Hermione's face. "I'm going to go back to work. Who knows, maybe some handsome jerk from my past will show up to buy some books."
Hermione watched Fiona leave, losing herself in her thoughts. Sleeping with Malfoy, although a mildly entertaining thought- after all, he was rather good looking- wasn't at the forefront of her mind at the moment. Something was drawing her to him, unanswered questions she had about him. And she was going to find out, most likely to the great annoyance of them both. Hermione furrowed her brow together, remembering her school days with Malfoy, him acting the insufferable prick. He bothered her for a lot of reasons. His snobbish, rude demeanor, his ties to the Dark Arts.. but being apart for nearly 4 years, tumultuous years at that, gave Hermione a new perspective. To perhaps give Malfoy a second chance, if only to satisfy her own curiosity about him.
She considered what life must have been like for Malfoy in the past years. School had passed on all right, but once Hermione, Harry, and Ron had graduated from Hogwarts, all hell had broken loose. Fudge, the bumbling idiot he was, was killed, and the entire British Ministry of Magic literally held hostage by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Hermione could feel the anger rising in her, thinking about what innocent people had to go through, because of Voldemort's insanity and Fudge's stupidity. So much could have been avoided if Fudge had just listened to Dumbledore at the end of the Triwizard Tournament- but that is of no matter. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had helped Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix battle Voldemort, even managing to almost beat him once… but at great cost. His Death Eaters managed to save Voldemort in time, and bring him to safety, but the same didn't hold true for Ron. Hermione sighed sadly as remembered Ron, and his smile, and his sense of humor, his loyalty… she shook her head slightly. Thinking about Ron wasn't going to bring him back. But thinking about Malfoy… well, Hermione didn't understand why she was so interested. Perhaps because how he seems now was so different than how he seemed back then. And she was interested, how the son of a Death Eater came to live in Muggle London, dark mark free.
After while, Hermione cleared away the remains of her lunch and followed Fiona back out into the bookstore. Work stopped for no man, especially not a git like Malfoy.