Possession
Why do the good girls always want the bad boys?
- No Doubt, "Bathwater"
This was all planned out. So simple, so unbelievably stupid, a cow could have taken the place of Hermione Granger and pulled it off. Of course, the whole idea was Ginny's, and her thoughts weren't questioned. Dean liked Hermione. Dean was the perfect guy. Hermione was the perfect girl. They would be the perfect couple.
So there they were, in Hogsmeade in the dead of winter, drinking butterbeers. Hermione had all of her coats stolen; she went without one. Ginny would bring up how cold it was, comment on Hermione's lack of clothes, and Dean would offer her a coat. She would take it, signifying that they were, indeed, a couple. Hallelujah, let us all rejoice.
"Brr! I'm freezing! Hermione, how in the world can you stand going without a single winter coat! You must be bonkers." Ginny cued. She had worked on the line for a total of five minutes in her room last night. She had worked on Hermione's for an extra two. They rehearsed for ten and then called it a night.
"Well I couldn't find a coat in my closet, but I agree, it is freezing." Hermione looked down at her wrist where the smeared line was written in black ink. This was Dean's cue. He looked Hermione in the eye and pulled off his own muggle Varsity Soccer coat.
"Here Hermione, take mine." Bam. This was her cue to reach out and take it. Hermione stared at the coat momentarily; Dean was semi-stupefied. The moment turned into a minute and Hermione looked up, shocked, and said clearly:
"No thanks, Dean, I think I'll be fine." With that, she stood and walked out into the blizzard-like snow. Without a coat.
Now what, or should we say who, caused this turn of events was relatively simple. Hermione turned right and met up with the source: Draco Malfoy.
Three Days Earlier
"Yeah, Dean Thomas really likes you, Hermione," Ginny whispered excitedly, "He told me himself!"
"Really?" Hermione asked. Dean was the strong, athletic type. Prep to the core and good looking, labels were almost embedded in his skin and he bled soccer balls in the place of red blood cells.
"Do I lie? No, I don't. Well I'll take on the challenge of hooking you up, but I guarantee it won't be too difficult. Now, what do you say?" Ginny said. Hermione looked at her expectantly. "You say, 'thank you Gin, you're the best'."
"Thank you Gin, you're the best." Hermione repeated, parrot-like.
"Good God, Ginny, you'd think the girl couldn't say anything without it coming out of your mouth." Draco commented from behind them. Hermione opened her mouth, but no words came.
"I can think for myself, thank you. I'm not a ditz!" She finally said, after what seemed like an eternity.
"Yeah, she's not a bimbo. She's got the grades to prove it, right Hermione?" Ginny added. Hermione nodded subconsciously, then smacked herself mentally. She could think for herself, but she wasn't proving it very well.
"Book smarts, yes…" He dragged off, then smirked at Hermione's contorted face. "She knows it's true, most of the time anyway." He turned on his heel and walked into another hallway.
"The nerve!" Hermione spat. She furrowed her brow, and Ginny followed suit. "Well this is my stop," she stopped at the Transfiguration classroom, "I'll see you at dinner, alright? Potions after this."
"Bye! I'll work on a plan to hook you up." She was then swept away by the crowd of people, and Hermione didn't respond.
In Potions that day, Hermione was paired with Millicent Bullstrode, and they were right next to Harry and Draco's cauldron. Millicent kept sighing and swooning, and Hermione seriously considered checking her pulse. As a nice gesture, Hermione decided to ask her what in the world could be worth swooning about in Potions, especially since they were making a light elixir which was hardly difficult.
Millicent sighed again and fluttered her stubby eyelashes, "Draco Malfoy is so hot." Hermione thought she would double over in peals of laughter. She also heard Draco and Harry sniggering in the area next to them.
"That's what all the swooning is over?" Hermione giggled. Harry was turning red in the face from trying not to laugh so hard.
"Yes, I guess so… don't you think so? Don't you think he's gorgeous?"
"Well if I did, I don't think I would tell you." She glanced over at Draco, who was deeply involved in slicing and dicing softened pearls to add to the elixir. He didn't seem to be listening at all anymore.
"Harry's hot too. I could eat him up with a spoon." Millicent said. Hermione added the last of the ingredients and the potion glowed a white light. Snape handed them a vial for each of them to store some of it in.
"Oh yeah, he's the cutest guy I've ever seen. But I don't know, I'd rather not eat him at all." Hermione said, grinning broadly at Harry, who had turned red in the face. "Though, I must admit, he looks really yummy with his shirt off. Whew, quidditch player body." Harry turned maroon and Millicent's eyes were twitching uncontrollably.
"I'm just kidding Harry!" She called to him, and he smiled. Draco's face remained neutral, as if he didn't hear or didn't care to hear what she was saying. In fact, Hermione couldn't think of more than maybe ten times in their six years of school when he had showed any real emotion. It was well known that his father was a death eater, his mother was a little snot, and the Malfoy Manor was an overall cold place. She knew that Draco couldn't possibly be a death eater quite yet, but she wasn't sure either if he wanted to be. In fact, there wasn't much that she knew about Draco Malfoy.
She also knew he is an only child, like her. Only children have high IQ's, and grow up in the company of adults. They are the center of their parent's attention. They are perfectionists. They are often bossy. And they have very high personal expectations. All these fit Hermione very well, and from what she could tell, it fit Draco Malfoy too. She read it in Dr. Kemps book of Child Psychology. But then again, Harry was an only and he wasn't anything like that. Then again, he did have an interesting childhood, raised more like a last-born, with Dudley and all.
After class that day, Ron and Draco bumped into each other, accidentally of course. "You should watch where you're going, Weasley."
"Likewise Malfoy, you never know who you're going to run into."
"You know, Weasley, I almost feel sorry for you, living like you do. Little money, many family members… Must be so chaotic in your house." His steely eyes flashed silver.
"Don't you ever talk about my family like that!" Ron's fist was poised. Hermione jumped in between them.
"Come on, Ron, Snape is right around the corner and he'll surely see you." She said quietly. "He's not worth it."
"Finally, words of her own outside of the classroom. Amazing, and I bet that's not even a line from Ginny, is it?" Draco turned his attention to Hermione. She shook her head no, and walked away, dragging the red Ron with her.
Two days later, in the library, Draco approached her in the check-out line (which was rather long). "You know I see right through you, don't you?" He hadn't meant it as in insult, more like a simple question.
"Yes." The word bubbled out of her mouth before she even bothered to think about it. Why did she feel as if she needed to tell him the truth?
"Why aren't you lying?" His eyes flashed silver again, and his face was questioning.
"How do you know I'm not?" She answered his question with a question. He lifted his eyebrows.
"I see right through you, Granger, I thought we went over this already."
"Am I really that invisible?"
"To me, yes. To your boyfriend Harry, you're like a steel door." He knew he had struck a nerve.
"He's not my boyfriend! I was really just kidding about the whole quidditch player sexiness thing. I thought you could see right through me to be able to tell that." She said, flustered.
"This is the third time Granger. You're translucent enough for me to tell where your nerves are. And I thought you were smart." He said, his face still neutral. She scowled, outwitted by him once again. He really was a steel door to her, and somehow, that really bothered her.
"I may be booksmart, but that doesn't mean I know shit about you." She said. His eyebrows lifted again, and he seemed almost surprised by her use of language.
"You still surprise me, translucent that you are. Meet me at Hogsmeade in front of Godfreyes. At seven. You say you don't know shit about me, well here is your opportunity." He turned away, but then seemed to think better of it. "And do not be late, Granger, or your opportunity will be lost. Most likely forever."
He disappeared from her vision as quickly as he had come, leaving Hermione just as confused. What had caused such an abrupt change in him was out of Hermione's grasp. Damn, she thought, but I'm supposed to meet up with Dean at 6:30… But then Draco's voice rang through her head, asking if she had a mind of her own.
"Yes." She answered aloud, but she still wasn't sure which commitment she would choose.
Present Time"You came, Granger." He almost seemed surprised for the second time that week, but Hermione could never really be sure. "And you're on time. I made reservations- have you eaten dinner?" She shook her head no and shakily followed him in the door.
"I thought you may like this restaurant. It's Italian, named after their founder who was also the benefactor and chef. Have you been here?" He asked once they were seated. She rubbed her arms, where there was only a pink cardigan over a large flowered print dress. The dress itself only reached her shins, and she wasn't surprised to find goosebumps.
"No, I've never been here." She answered, putting an unruly lock of hair behind her ear. He did a funny half-smile and surveyed her features.
"Why don't you have a coat?"
"Because I wasn't in control of my actions when I was getting dressed."
"Why did you decide to come?"
"Because I decided to think for myself." She smiled, knowing that the answer would please him.
He smiled. "Are you cold?"
"Not very, not anymore." She finally said, looking at her disappearing goosebumps. "Am I through with the interrogation?"
"Maybe." He looked at the menu. "May I suggest the fettuccini alfredo, it's the best I've ever had. Or the spaghetti, if you like red sauce better."
"You seem like quite a connosseur. I think I'll have the fettuccini alfredo. My favorite Italian dish." She didn't even bother looking at the menu, and there was momentary silence. "Why did you bring me? Why me?"
"You fascinate me." He said nonchalantly. Hermione stared at him expectantly, waiting for something more to clue her in. When she accepted that he wasn't going to say more willingly, she relaxed into her chair.
"Did you think I'd actually come?" She added.
"I wasn't actually sure. I wanted you to come, I always get what I want. But then again, you consider me an enemy and Potter and Weasley certainly consider me an enemy. What would you like to drink?" He said, and added the last bit when the waiter arrived.
"Um, water is fine." She said off the top of her head.
"But what do you want?" He asked. She raised her eyebrows. "Fine isn't good enough."
"Well then, a Shirley temple would be great." She looked at Draco, and he nodded.
"I'll have a butterbeer." The waiter nodded and left. "Always shoot for the moon, Hermione. If you don't reach it, you're still heading for a star. I always demand the best for my investments."
"You consider me an investment?"
"Investment in the broadest of terms. Investment in money and time and most importantly, investment of feelings. And I never invest in things, or people, that I don't believe in. That I don't stand for and plan on standing with." Hermione's indignation turned into surprise and even the feeling of flattery.
"You certainly are a surprise, Draco Malfoy." She smiled again, and was so glad that she made the right decision.
Hermione went home with a take-out box full of fettuccini alfredo, after rendering the inability to eat any more. She planned on heating it up for lunch the next day; it was the best she'd ever had. He'd given her his black coat for the trip home, and once she reached her room, she discovered in the pocket a note from him.
Hermione-Meet me in front of room 311 on the third floor on Monday at 8. Be on time.
She smiled to herself, he didn't seem like one to put mushy endings or shows of affections in notes. She opened the door to her dorm where Ginny was sitting under her bed.
"So you did end up getting a coat!" Her voice reeked of disdain and disappointment. Hermione frowned- she wasn't sure whether she should be telling anyone that she was dating Draco Malfoy quite yet. He wasn't her type, and he seemed like more of the "bad boy", which he kind of was.
"On sale at Esperanza's. I was freezing, Ginny, and I was starving. Want me to wander around Hogsmeade in the midst of a blizzard with only a light cardigan?" Hermione snapped, matching Ginny's disdain.
"You should have taken Dean's coat. That was the original plan, wasn't it? What happened there Hermione?" Ginny scoffed, rising from Hermione's bed at an intimidating 5'8", to Hermione's 5'2". Hermione shrugged and took off her shoes.
"I really don't know. I don't think I liked Dean enough, there were other things weighing on my mind." She slipped on her slippers and piled her hair into a bun.
"But you said yourself you liked him!" Ginny almost yelled, her voice grating in her throat.
"I never did such a thing and you know it. I never said I liked him. You were too excited getting us together to wonder whether I liked him or not, Ginny." Now it was Ginny's turn to be caught off guard. "I'm going to take a bath. Think about it."