So Much For My Hogsmeade Weekend
by Nefarious-Marshmallow
Disclaimer: All characters and settings are the property of J.K. Rowling
"Omelet, Hermione?" Ron offered, holding a glop-filled ladle above his friend's scant plateful of food. "You're eating less than usual today."
"Mmmm," Hermione murmured absentmindedly, not taking her eyes off that morning's issue of The Daily Prophet. "Not hungry, thanks."
"Not hungry?" Harry repeated amusedly. "Now that's a change. What're you reading?"
Hermione didn't answer, but instead frantically flipped through the pages till she found what she was looking for. "Hermione?" Harry asked again. "Are – "
"AH-HAH!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly, abruptly leaping out of her chair and causing several heads to turn in their direction. "I KNEW IT!"
"Er, Hermione?" Ron asked, his eyes skirting around the table. "What's going on?"
"Only the most thrilling thing to occur in our generation since the Triwizard Tournament!" she squealed. "Oh Ron, Harry, this is wonderful! Simply wonderful!"
"The most thrilling thing," Ron mused another his breath. "Let me guess....a Quidditch tourney at Hogwarts?"
"No, of course not," Hermione replied dismissively, but blissfully nonetheless. "They're reinstating the Autumn Fair at Hogsmeade!"
"Er," Harry said, trying not to sound too disappointed. "The what?"
"The Autumn Fair!" Hermione repeated. She pushed aside her and Ron's plates ("hey!") and spread the newspaper out on the table. "For six hundred years, the Hogsmeade Autumn Fair was held annually in honor of the peoples' most beloved season," she read aloud. "Unfortunately, the fair was put to an end after the first war against You-Know-Who. Now, due to popular request, the festivities will be reinstated on their traditional date, the second weekend of October...that's the next Hogsmeade weekend!"
"What's so great about that?" Ron snorted. "They have those things back at home all the time! I've been to dozens of them!"
Hermione glared at him, annoyed. "This is no ordinary fair, Ron. According to Hogsmeade: Then and Now, the Autumn Fair is an opportunity for wizards from all parts of the country to bring their local culture and knowledge to the magical world's most famous town. Don't you see? The fair itself presents great educational opportunity!"
"I've never actually been to a wizard fair," Harry piped up. "And...I'm guessing it'll give you an opportunity to promote S.P.E.W?"
"I hadn't thought of that, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed ecstatically. "Oh that's a wonderful idea! You and Ron are going to help me, right?"
"Errr..." the boys mumbled, but before either of them could answer, Hermione gave them each a big hug and dashed out of the hall and toward....
"...the library. Nice going mate!" Ron grumbled, pounding Harry on the back. "Now look what you've planted into her head!"
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Twelve more hours till the best Hogsmead weekend of my secondary school career, Hermione thought to herself, while she happily organized a stack S.P.E.W. pamphlets, pins, and badges into three neat little piles. Admittedly, S.P.E.W. had never really caught on in Hogwarts, but with the diversity of people attending the fair, there was bound to be at least one or two people who'd take interest and hopefully spread the word around.
She wasn't the only person excited about it either. She'd been distracted from her homework every night that week by the sound of Lavendar and Parvati tittering over the cheap trinkets, hair ribbons, and the dishy men they could find at the fair. Unsurprisingly, Harry and Ron came around eventually, after hearing about the many broomstick equipment vendors attending. Even Snape seemed to anticipate perusing the stalls of foreign potions ingredients dealers.
The Fat Lady's portrait creaked open suddenly, causing Hermione to jump in her seat. "Oh, Parvati," she breathed heavily, seeing her bejeweled friend step into the common room. "You gave me quite a fright!"
"Ah, well, I tend to have that effect on most people," Parvati said brusquely, peering around the fireplace and the two stairwells. "What are you still doing up?"
"I should be asking the same of you," Hermione chuckled. "I'm just preparing a few things for the fair tomorrow."
"Oh, those things," Parvati remarked distastefully, glancing at the numerous S.P.E.W. badges strewn across the table. "I'd better get to bed."
"Yes, you should," Hermione replied, polishing another pin. "Er – Parvati? Are you all right?"
Parvati stood in the middle of the room with her arms crossed, as if she weren't sure which stairwell to take. "What, Granger?"
Hermione's ears pricked up. There was something very familiar about the way she said Hermione's surname. "What did you call me?"
"Umm," Parvati mumbled, eyes darting around the room. "Oops, I meant 'Hermione.' I'm a bit out of it - think I had too much firewhiskey. Lavender and I smuggle that stuff in all the time, you know. Goodnight, Gra – Hermione!" And with that, she headed up the staircase.
"OOF!" Parvati yelped, feeling Hermione's weight around her waist. "Hermione! What the hell are you doing?"
"Don't you dare call me by my first name, you imposter," Hermione seethed, gripping Parvati's squirming body tightly. "Now who are you? What are you doing here?"
"How dare you accuse me of being an imposter!" Parvati shrieked. "Oh wait, you're right, I'm not Parvati, I'm PADMA! Now let go of me! I need to go to our room!"
"I would let you," Hermione growled. "Except that you're standing on the wrong staircase. As any real Gryffindor would know, this one leads to the boys' hall."
"Oh," 'Parvati' said softly. "Well...like I said, Gra – Hermione, I've had a little too much fi-"
"Don't give me that," Hermione fumed, squeezing Parvati's arm more tightly. "Parvati's allergic to firewhiskey. She wouldn't drink a drop of the stuff in a million years."
"Fine then," the fake Parvati said coolly. "I'll leave you alone to work on your SPEW badges, you silly bint."
Hermione reddened slightly but didn't loosen her grip. "No."
"No?" Parvati repeated, raising her eyebrows.
"I won't let you," Hermione snarled. "I'm going to keep you here until the Polyjuice Potion wears off, and then I'll call Professor McGonagall to see that you suffer the necessary consequences."
"If you want to do things that way, I'll be more than willing to," Parvati sneered, her dark eyes glinting maliciously. "Now move it!"
"NO!" Hermione yelled, pushing Parvati to the ground.
"Arrrrghhh!" Parvati slammed Hermione against the wall and pulled her hair. Hermione reiterated the move the tugged on the other girl's dark plait, causing her to squeal with pain. Hermione quickly scrambled up and flipped Parvati onto her stomach and sat on her back. "GET OFF ME, GRANGER!" Parvati screamed. She flung Hermione off of her and scratched her in the face with her long, manicured fingernails.
"Aiiiieeee!" Hermione screeched in pain and punched Parvati hard in the stomach. Parvati groaned loudly and looked up, grinning.
"You're bleeding, Granger," she snickered.
"You wanna taste it?" Hermione replied, pushing down on Parvati again and clawing at her cheeks and throat. "Then I'll – "
"MISS PATIL! MISS GRANGER!" Hermione and Parvati froze and looked up in horror at Professor McGonagall, who stood at the portrait door with Madam Pomfrey closely behind her. At the top of each stairwell stood several Gryffindor boys and girls, all in their pajamas but none looking the least bit sleepy.
"Er," Hermione and Parvati quickly climbed off each other, each trying to make the best of what looked like a doomed situation. "Errrr..."
"Explain yourselves at once!" Professor McGonagall boomed. "Actually, there is no need for an explanation. What you two have done is enough! Out of the people in this school, you two were some of the last I'd expect to behave so atrociously! And you of all people, Miss Granger, should have known better! You are a prefect! Physical fighting is strictly against the Hogwarts rules!"
But no one was listening to Professor McGonagall anymore. All eyes were, instead, on the curious spectacle that stood bleeding and disheveled in front of them. All watched open-mouthed as the girl's delicate feminine features expanded into more masculine ones – plump red lips shrunk into pale thin ones, a small rounded nose began to extend outward, and glittering brown eyes paled into cold grey the same shade as wet pavement. The hair gradually paled from black to white-blonde, and everyone gasped as they watched Parvati Patil transform into – Draco Malfoy?
"Ooh! Ooh!" Colin Creevey squeaked excitedly, snapping photographs with twice the usual amount of fervor. "Look! It's Draco Malfoy in witch's robes!"
A few people laughed, but were stopped abruptly when Draco shot them a sharp glare. "Well? What are you blokes all looking at?" he snapped, shifting uncomfortably in Parvati's robes.
"Madam Pomfrey, please call Albus and Severus at once," Professor McGonagall said urgently. "Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger, please take a seat on the couch. Everyone else should go off to their rooms. It is beyond decent hours to be awake."
Draco and Hermione made their way to the couches and sat as far away from each other as possible. Snape and Dumbledore, both swaddled in heavy pajama robes, swooped in through the portrait five minutes later. Snape took one look at his prized student and exploded. "What in the name of Mordred is going on here?"
"Yes, Minerva, what seems to be the problem?" Dumbledore asked, glancing at his wounded students.
"Isn't it obvious?" McGonagall said shrilly. "These two caused a racket fighting violently on the boys' staircase."
"Well he was disguised as Parvati Patil!" Hermione shrieked, pointing at Draco on the other side of the fireplace.
"She was the one who jumped me!" He yelled back, rising from his seat. "Fiesty little – "
"Now, now, now!" Dumbledore said firmly. "I want a clear explanation of what exactly happened here. Miss Granger, you'll go first, since, if I'm right, you were on the scene first. After you finish, Mr. Malfoy will tell his story - all right?"
The rivaling parties nodded in agreement.
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"I am going to kill you, Granger," Draco complained, scowling at the small conglomerate of Hogwarts students strolling by with armfuls of sweets and autumn-inspired paraphernalia. He adjusted the plant-filled box strapped to his shoulders and checked the time. "Damn, I've got six more hours left here with you."
Hermione didn't answer, but continued shuffling pamphlets, only stopping every now and then to harp at an unsuspecting idler. "Please support Hogwarts' indigenous Wakkle flower, which was engineered by our very own Professor Sprout!"
It was everyone's idea of a perfect autumn afternoon – the air was cool and crispy, the atmospheric stillness interrupted only by an occasional gust of wind. As advertised, the streets of Hogsmeade bustled with curious visitors and merry peddlers. Two days ago, Draco would've seen himself as the former – yet here he was, walking side-by-side with Hermione "Pick me! Pick me!" Granger selling potted plants for his lumpy Herbology professor.
It also didn't help that he'd been forced to deck out in a ridiculous velvet costume obviously conceived by a colorblind Renaissance designer. "I'm bored, Granger," Draco whined, trying to ignore the itch making its way up his thigh.
"Then make yourself useful," Hermione replied briskly, not taking her eyes off a passersby. "Good morning! Have you ever seen a Wakkle flower? No? That's probably because it's been bred on our very grounds. The Wakkle is a hybrid of...." Hermione's voice trailed away as the scant crowd (if it could even be called a crowd) quickly dwindled.
"Like I said, Granger," Draco continued, fashioning his third origami serpent out of a pamphlet. "I'm bored."
"It hasn't been that bad," Hermione replied stubbornly. "At least Dumbledore let us GO to the fair!"
"I'd enjoy it lot more if you weren't so bloody positive," Draco muttered.
"This is detention, Malfoy. I don't think enjoyment's part of the deal."
Draco murmured something incoherently and gazed longingly at a stand selling home-baked Belgian pastries. Granger was a total sap as far as he could see. All he needed to do was complain and loiter around, and she'd do all the advertising and plant-propagating. If she weren't Hermione Granger, he'd find this all very relaxing. Maybe he'd even make a move on her.
He watched idly as Hermione continued handing out little booklets and prattling nonsensically about the benefits of magical engineering. Sleep had nearly overtaken him when he spotted a flash of – what the –
"Well look what we have here!" Draco smirked, snatching the pamphlet out of Hermione's hands. "Why, Granger, this is simply heartwarming!"
"Shut it, Malfoy," Hermione snapped, snatching back the S.P.E.W. leaflet stealthily tucked between the pages of an information booklet. "This is none of your business."
"We're – or should I say, you're -- shamelessly feeding propaganda to innocent minds, Granger. Of course it's my business."
"And what would you know about innocence, Malfoy?" Hermione snorted, slipping the S.P.E.W. pamphlet back into the pile of Wakkle ones. "And since I'm doing all the work here, I'm free to do anything I want."
"Fine then, have it your way." Draco grabbed an especially opulent specimen and thrust it at a tiny toddler's face.
The child started to bawl, and his mother gave the ill-matched detention partners a disapproving glare before disappearing back into the crowd. "Malfoy, you prat!" Hermione exclaimed. "That's not how you're supposed to sell potted plants!"
"And your 'hi, have a pretty flower and spew badge' way was better?" Draco asked irritably. "Blimey, Granger, if you stopped acting like such a know-it-all, maybe people would actually listen to you."
Hermione threw him an icy glare but didn't reply. Instead, she continued to pass out pamphlets and flyers while strolling down the cobblestone paths. Occasionally, a pedestrian would walk aimlessly by and prod at the curious-looking plants, but most people ignored the two sixth-years. Only Dumbledore and Flitwick showed any interest in Draco and Hermione's project. Hermione twice caught Neville throwing them curious glances, but she suspected he was too intimidated by Draco to actually approach them.
"So, Granger," Draco said suddenly, interrupting her thoughts and ending the half-hour of silence between them. "When can we stop doing this?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "We can quit for an hour during noontime and wrap up at five. Either that, or we finish selling each and every plant in that box, so if you want to get out of here as quickly as I do, I'd suggest you cooperate."
"Now that you've put it that way, fine," Draco agreed resignedly.
Hermione peered over into Draco's box and silently counted the number of flowerpots squeezed inside. "Hmm....we have twenty-three pots left," she murmured. "So if we sell five per hour, we can be out of here by about three."
"Make that ten per hour and we can ditch each other in time for lunch," Draco suggested with sardonic jolliness.
"That's the spirit!" Hermione chimed. "Come buy fresh specimens of Hogwarts' very own Wakkle plant....!"
An hour and fifteen minutes passed, and no one had even bothered to ask the price of one Wakkle. "Like I said before, Granger," Draco groaned, clearly perturbed. "This is all your fault."
"That's it," Hermione exhaled loudly. "How on earth is this MY fault? You're the one who went femme incognito for no good reason!"
"No good reason?" Draco retorted. "No good reason? I haven't even given a reason for what I did! And trust me, it was very good. But then again, you're a Gryffindor and a Mudblood so I wouldn't expect you to understand anyway."
"Do you realize you've been using the same weak argument for the last five years?" Hermione moaned, lowering her forehead on her palm. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but people our age outgrew name-calling around the time puberty struck. But then again, you're a pansy and an inbreed so I guess you haven't experienced any changes in maturity since then."
"Shut up, Granger," Malfoy sneered, causing a few wizard tots to scamper away.
"First tell my why you disguised yourself as Parvati," Hermione shot back. "And don't stop walking. Hi! Care to see what a Wakkle plant looks like?" A frizzy-haired wizard gave them a blank stare before muttering something in German and heading toward the acrobatic monkeys.
Draco watched him amusedly for a moment before replying. "It's a bit complicated."
"We do have five more hours left," Hermione replied, daring to look up at him.
Draco checked his watch again and stared gloomily at the box of plants bumping against his stomach. "I'll tell you if you tell me something in return."
"Like what?"
"I'll think of it later."
"Fine," Hermione sighed, inserting a few more S.P.E.W. flyers into her container of pamphlets. She'd work around Malfoy's question when he gave it.
"Adrian Pucey and I were discussing our new Quidditch strategy when I caught Potter and Weasley skulking a few feet away from us. I shot them a look, and they ran away like cowards. I just wanted to check Potter's plans to see if he copied our team's. To do this, I got ahold of some Polyjuice Potion and plucked a few hairs off of Finnigan. Obviously, something went wrong," Draco finished coolly, adjusting the box (it rather dug into the shoulders) once more. "Happy now, Granger?"
A faint smile appeared on Hermione's lips as personal indication of a similar situation she'd found herself in during their second year. "Just one more thing, Malfoy – what did you do with the real Seamus and Parvati? All I know is that both of them are in the hospital wing."
"That was easy," Draco answered with his usual trademark smirk. "They were snogging as usual in one of the hallways. I hexed them both, stole Patil's clothing, and off I went."
"Wait – you undressed Parvati Patil?!" Hermione shrieked. "Malfoy, that's just...wrong!"
"It's nothing I haven't seen before," Draco shrugged offhandedly, though Hermione thought she detected a hint of gloating in his voice. "Never underestimate the drive of Gryffindor girls – well, sans you, Granger."
"You sick freak," Hermione seethed, turning slightly red.
"Hey! I thought you supported inter-house relationshi – ow!" Draco yelled, massaging the spot on his arm where Hermione punched him. "Geez Granger, you can pack a punch."
"Well, you didn't need to go spy on us!" Hermione yelled. She could feel her temples throbbing. "Harry would never steal another team's plans!"
"Oh right, because he's just too noble, how could I forget?" Draco replied with mock foolishness.
"No, Malfoy, the Gryffindor team has enough talent to make and execute their own strategies," Hermione fumed, her brown and green beret coming slightly askew. "Oh, Merlin," she groaned, burying her face in her elbow. "Do all of our conversations have to end in arguments, Malfoy?"
"It's always like this, Granger," Draco remarked dismissively. "If you haven't noticed by now."
"But it doesn't have to be like this forever," Hermione sighed soberly. An accordion peddler held a luridly colored instrument to her face. She shook her head politely and gave him a small smile before turning her attention back to Draco. "I mean, if we could only – "
"Only what? Be friends?" Draco snorted derisively. "Because if that's what you're suggesting, you might as well forget it, Mudblood."
"Just for a day," Hermione suggested. She paused in her work and turned to face him fully. "Just for the next five hours, or until we sell the last plant. Cooperation and mutual amicability are the keys to getting things done quickly."
Draco peered at her suspiciously but didn't say anything. Was the sneaky little Mudblood up to something, or did she genuinely care about how they got along? "In your dreams, Granger," he sneered. "I'd rather spend a thousand solitary afternoons in the Forbidden Forest than hang around you for five hours."
Without waiting for her to reply, he strode off into the crowd, leaving her alone with her pamphlets and S.P.E.W. badges.
Alone, yes, but not for long.
"Aaargh!" Draco yelled, as an invisible force yanked him back to Hermione's side, sending him crashing down on the stone path.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Draco's landed on the ground with a hard thump. Groaning, he opened his eyes to see the box of plants hovering above his chest and Hermione Granger towering over his fallen form. "Get up, Malfoy," she ordered, not taking her eyes off him.
"What the – "
"Obviously, the fact that we're magically bound never occurred to you. Did you think Dumbledore would make it that easy to get away? Honestly, you underestimate the man sometimes," Hermione growled, her wand erect. "Now pick yourself up and cooperate."
"I don't take orders from Mu – "
"This isn't an order, Malfoy," Hermione snapped. "This is a requirement. As hard as it is to believe, I want to get away from you as much as you want to get away from me. Now get up and stop being such an ass!"
"All right, all right, I see your – UGH!" Draco grunted, as the box of plants landed squarely on his chest. "I get it, Granger, I get it!"
Muttering silent profanities in Hermione's direction, Draco pulled himself up and adjusted the ridiculous feathered hat sitting slightly askew on his disheveled hair. Damn Granger for being so annoying! He'd known she possessed a bossy streak and an oversized brain, but never in his life did he imagine that Granger could be so irritable, so sneaky, so short-tempered, and so strong-willed.
Sure, he'd seen her defend Hagrid on several occasions and she'd even slapped him in the face in a fit of rage, but hell, who would've thought she'd be so damn pushy all the time? After three hours of enduring constant insults, she should've been in tears. She should've had a nervous breakdown and acted like the poor damsel in distress she was deep inside. It should've been him commanding her, but it was the other way around. Damn her!
Still, this unseen side of Hermione piqued Draco's interest slightly. The pretentious bint couldn't possibly be so obstinate. She'd cried like a child when he accidentally hexed her beaver teeth back in fourth year. That side of her must buried somewhere. Digging it out, Draco mused, would be like unearthing a chest of rubies.
He jogged toward Hermione and found her describing (what else?) the Wakkle plant to a group of Hufflepuff third-years. "Malfoy!" she exclaimed, sounding considerably happier than before. "You're just who I need right now. This, everyone, is a Wakkle plant."
She nudged Draco in the ribs. Still smirking, he lowered the box to the third years' eye level. "This is a Wakkle plant, which was bred by our very own Professor Sprout."
A curly-haired girl peered into the box and wrinkled her nose. "Ew, it looks icky."
Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Draco beat her to the reply. "It's not really its appearance that's important, Hufflepuff," he drawled. "It's what it does that should interest you."
"Really now, Malfoy, I – "Hermione began, but Draco interrupted her again.
"What appears to be an ugly flower is actually a plant with extensive magical properties," Draco explained, turning a pot over and around his palm.
"Like what?" the third-years questioned curiously.
"It simultaneously heals acne while converting pimple pus into skin cream. Therefore, while your acne clears, your skin becomes softer."
The number of plants was reduced by three.
"Malfoy,...."Hermione started, putting her hands on her hips.
"Admit it, Granger, I'm a genius," Draco remarked smugly. "For all your reputed intelligence, I can't believe you hadn't thought of that before."
"Lying is wrong, Malfoy. Those third-years aren't going to be happy when their faces are covered with sap AND pimples."
"They're third-years, what can they possibly do to me?" Draco snickered. "Now do you want to sell these things or not?"
"I refuse to trick customers! I will not take advantage of those less intelligent than us," Hermione protested. "It's not right, it's not fair, it's not...."
"It's not Gryffindor," Draco finished sarcastically. "Come on, Granger, think of it this way – the Wakkle plant was just engineered. We don't know what kinds of secret powers it may contain. Maybe it does heal acne or clear freckles. Use your sodding imagination!"
Hermione frowned at him. "That's rationalizing, Malfoy."
"Rationalizing? That's business, Granger, get a clue," Draco snorted. "Now come on."
Two sold plants and a few more insults later, Hermione paused and stood gloomily on the corner of the sidewalk. "What's wrong with you, Granger?" Draco inquired, frowning slightly. "Feeling tired and delirious from all of this bloody work?"
"I'm so tired of this," Hermione groaned, dropping the basket and plopping unceremoniously onto the ground. "I'm sick of it all."
"Sick of what?" Draco asked. Ah-hah! So she DID have a breaking point! That took long enough!
"I can't keep walking around conning people into buying useless plants, Malfoy! I can't stand here watching everyone playing games and having fun while I'm stuck here looking like Mary Queen of Scots gone batty. It's just....ugh!" Hermione crumpled a pamphlet in her hand, mistakenly crushing a S.P.E.W. badge in the process. "I'd been looking forward to this day for weeks, yet here I am, stuck in detention with you. No offense."
"Your sentiment is returned," Draco replied dryly.
"Not that you've been getting to me, because believe me, you haven't," Hermione rattled, her voice losing its moroseness. "It's just the pure disappointment I'm entrenched in, that's all."
"Right, Granger. You've been smoking like a Blast-Ended Skrewt for the better portion of the day."
"I have not!" Hermione crushed another S.P.E.W. badge and glared at him, her amber eyes flashing. "It's not you...it's just that my punishment is so unreasonable! I was only defending myself against you...standing up for justice....ack, this is all your fault, Malfoy! But it's the administration I'm mad at, not you, not – "
"Granger, I think we've just earned ourselves an early quitting time," Draco interjected, feeling slightly alarmed at her frenzied state. "If your hair is any indication of what you feel right now, I'd say you need a serious calming spell – or at least a sedative."
Hermione ignored his second comment. "An early quitting time?" she whimpered. "We're not allowed, Malfoy. They'd kill us if we were caught dallying."
"Isn't that what we're doing now?" Draco rubbed Wakkle sap off his fingernails.
"So are you suggesting that we abandon our duties and just....have fun?"
"Right you are, Granger."
"Well then," Hermione said, lifting herself up. "I won't say no to a bit of a break, as long we keep it at a reasonable length and stay out of our superiors' sight."
"Well, if we do run into them," Draco grinned. "I'm saying it was your idea."
"Yes, because you're just too much of a pushover too stand up against me and stick to the rules," Hermione sniggered, grinning back.
"In that case, I take full responsibility for any crime they convict us of."
"I knew I could rely on you, Malfoy. Now where should we stash these bloody boxes?"
"You mean you're going to leave them behind?" Draco asked, sounding slightly more aghast than he intended.
"Honestly, Malfoy, how are we supposed to do anything while carrying them around?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just bring along some pamphlets for safe measure."
"Why Granger, I didn't know you had it in you," Draco smirked. "Or are you just humoring me?"
"You don't deserve the expended effort, ferret-face." Hermione unlooped the strap off her shoulders and shoved the box, flyers and all, behind a rubbish bin. "Now let's go do something."
Draco did the same with his box and silently followed her as she strode toward the bustling crowds and colorful smoky explosions that enveloped the fair. When the hell did Granger become so subversive? She wasn't what he'd call a rebel without a cause, but he had to admit, this was pretty good for the professors' darling and Hogwarts' eternal golden girl. Not that he admired that or anything.
"Malfoy!" Hermione called, turning around and motioning him over. "Let's go this way." She pointed toward a crowded lane festooned with color-changing banners.
Draco showed no signs of agreement or disagreement, but wordlessly followed her as she dodged toddlers, rowdy teenagers, and an occasional goblin. Hermione felt rather surprised at his complacency. Was Draco as tired of arguing as she was, or was he actually becoming nicer to her?
Or maybe Malfoy was just slow. "Granger," he quipped finally. "Aren't we a little...old....to be here?"
Hermione scanned area, which seemed to be a haven for sugar-intoxicated second-years (all Hogwarts students were given the privilege of visiting Hogsmeade during the fair) and runaway children. "It's perfect. This isn't McGonagall's thing, and – "
"– I'll steal the jester's hat and dance naked on the pillory block the day Snape knowingly steps foot in here," Draco jibed. "Shrewd, Granger."
Her eyes' previously dull embers suddenly lit aflame. "You just agreed with me."
"I did not just agree with you," Draco snarled. "We just happened to share the same minor revelation."
"And you complimented me too!" Hermione chirruped, giggling freely for the first time that day. "I knew you had it in you, Malfoy!"
This earned her a scowl from the ill-bedecked Slytherin. "How would you know what a compliment is, Granger? I'm sure you've never received a proper one!"
"And I'm sure you're just the person to administer one," Hermione said, imitating his drawl.
A school of leprechauns milled past them. Draco didn't bother to move aside. "Surely you aren't asking me to say something nice about you."
"No, because I'm really not interested in whether or not you can churn out something other than a bland, recycled insult," Hermione answered brusquely. "C'mon, let's play a game."
Before he could reply, Draco found himself being dragged over to what looked suspiciously like.... "A fishing game? You can't be serious!"
Without letting go of his arm, Hermione sat him down and paid the booth holder six sickles. "Of course I'm serious, Malfoy. I think it's time you got in touch with your inner child."
"Inner child?" Draco snorted, gazing almost wistfully at a chubby tot squirming out of his mother's clutches. "Merlin, Granger, if I weren't magically bound to you right now, I'd sure as hell get in touch with my inner child."
"Cute, Malfoy," Hermione replied, making a mental note to remember that afternoon as the day she used the words "cute" and "Malfoy" in the same breath. She handed him a net and a supple "fishing rod." "It's my treat anyway."
Draco made a face but didn't reply. Adjusting himself on the stool, he wound up the miniature fishing rod and muttered a spell before casting the rod into the bottomless box of water. He smirked slightly as Hermione's eyes grew wide at the sight of the bait sinking lower and lower until it disappeared out of sight. "Ever played the fishing game, Granger?" he asked, smirking.
"Yes, but not at a wizards' fair," Hermione replied, her amber eyes wide. "How does it work here?"
"In a magical fishing game, the 'prey' isn't confined to a box. What you see here is like a watery version of a Floo network – players whisper the name of any waterway they want their rod to travel into and then lower the rod into the water," Draco explained. "It's simple but entertaining for youngsters."
"So you're saying I could catch the giant squid if I wanted to?" Hermione asked, winding up her rod.
"No, fishing areas are restricted to certain approved sites," Draco replied factually. "Practically any body of water can be accessed, but not all regions of that body can be fished in."
Hermione whispered the words "Niagara Falls" into her fishing rod and cast it into the box. She watched once more as the fishing line descended into the dark waters vanished from sight. Sitting across from her, Draco gazed deeply into the rippling darkness, an oddly pensive expression softening his features. He seemed so....peaceful. So thoughtful. So harmless. So....not Malfoy.
She watched him out of the corner of her eye while pretending to be concentrating deeply on catching something worth the three sickles. Of course, nothing she did could really affect what she caught, but it wasn't as if Malfoy would notice that, it wasn't as if...
"Like what you see, Granger?" Malfoy cocked his head toward her, grinning sanctimoniously.
Hermione forced a shudder. Merlin, what did it matter if Malfoy noticed? She could always just insult him back. He brought out that side of her, anyway.
A few strands of hair fell over his sleepy eyes. She could feel the tell-tale blush creeping up her neck and into her pale cheeks. She couldn't think of anything to say.
Say something, she urged herself. Say something...anything! Any insult! You're ugly, Malfoy! Eat flobberworms and die!
Oh, for the love of Oberon!
"You're...er.... I think you've caught something!" Hermione squeaked, pointing animatedly at his stationary fishing rod.
Malfoy tugged the fishing line, which remained relaxed as ever in his palm. "I don't think so, Granger."
And then, as if a heavenly deity somehow took mercy on her, her rod jerked downward as if pulled by an invisible force. "That would be mine then!" Hermione shrieked, pulling the rod with all her might.
She felt some of the weight being lifted off her as Draco stepped in and yanked the rod as hard as he could. "Pull, Granger! You've got something big!"
"Obviously," Hermione grunted, but just as the word escaped her lips, she and Draco tumbled onto the pavement as the tension relaxed and whatever it was she caught flew into the air and landed beside their feet.
"Get off me, Granger," Draco groaned, pushing her off him a little more gently than expected. "What in Salazar's pickled barrels did you snag?"
"Exactly that," Hermione answered, standing her catch upright. "A barrel. Some daredevil muggles enjoy riding them down Niagara Falls....sadly, only a few survive."
"I'll be those ones are wizards," Draco remarked. "Are you actually keeping that thing?"
"Of course, it's a keepsake," Hermione replied, casting a shrinking spell on it. "Bollocks, I should've done that for the Wakkle boxes. No matter," she added hastily, tucking the barrel into her pocket. "I'm hungry. You want to grab something at the The Three Broomsticks?"
At first Draco looked at her blankly. Then his features contorted into what was unmistakably the Malfoy smirk. "So, Granger," he drawled, raising an eyebrow. "Are you asking me out?"
"What!" Hermione exclaimed. "Are you insane? I'm just thirsty, that's all!"
"I thought you said you were hungry, Granger."
Hermione rolled her eyes at him again. "Come off it, Malfoy. Forget I asked."
"I wouldn't have agreed, anyway," Draco stated airily. "The food bars serve is very unhealthy."
It was Hermione's turn to smirk. "Since when did you start to care about health? Besides, you're already pretty fit."
Hermione regretted saying this as soon as the words left her mouth.
"First you ask me out, and now you're checking me out?" Draco cackled, his grey eyes glistening with merriment. "I never knew!"
"Damn you, Malfoy!" Hermione yelled, throwing down her fishing rod. "I really need a drink now!"
She stalked off toward the bar, unaware that she was dragging a sixteen year-old boy behind her. Stupid Malfoy. One minute he'd be insulting her, and the next minute he'd be – she felt a chill run down her spine – flirting with her. Malfoy, flirting? And with her? What was wrong with him?! When did guys become so spontaneous and unpredictable? Women were the moody ones, not men! Or was he just playing with her mind? That bloody inbreed. She'd show the bastard how easily fooled she was.
But if she were hardier than Malfoy thought she was, why did she blush so hard during their verbal interlude a few minutes ago?
She'd think on it later, she decided, as she and Draco strode through the doors. "Wait," she hissed, taking a step backward. "We can't go in here."
"What!" Draco complained. "So I was dragged all the way here for nothing?"
"There are teachers drinking in there," Hermione answered, watching them surreptitiously. "Let's go somewhere else."
"Like where?" Draco asked petulantly.
"I know just the place," Hermione answered slyly, heading down the opposite lane.
And Merlin, did she ever know the place.
"You cannot be serious," Draco said for the second time that day as the unlikely pair walked through the door of Madam Puddifoot's. He gazed in horror at the waxed leaves and dried flowers adorning the walls. "You want to eat HERE?"
"You wanted a date, you've got a date," Hermione replied crisply, sitting down at a table for two situated near a pumpkin display. "Two menus, please," she said to the waiter, who wore an outfit unnervingly similar to Adam and Eve's first sets of clothing.
"You were the one who asked me out," Draco sulked. "Hell, Granger, do you know how many Hogwarts people there are in here? What'll they think?"
Hermione flipped open the menu and perused the list of drinks and pastries. "Firstly, you know you want a drink with me. Secondly, even if the snogging couples pried themselves apart long enough to actually notice us, they wouldn't be as stupid to assume that we're actually together." She shuddered visibly and looked up from her menu. "So as they say in America, chill out."
Draco glared at her and returned to sulking. He'd been right when he called her shrewd. Whatever Granger was up to wasn't amusing at all. Mordred, he hated her. He really hated her. She was bossy, snide, and almost as arrogant as he was. She made him spit out more insults than he imagined he was capable of conjuring. She was inventive, witty, and sly. She was tough, and as much as he hated to admit it, bloody good at girl-fighting. She was responsible, yet daring. She followed the rules, yet ran ahead of them. She was almost....
If she hadn't been sitting in front of him just then, he would have buried his head in his hand. Damn it, Draco, he moaned inwardly. Mudbloods aren't supposed to be likeable....especially by Malfoys. Especially by him.
"Are you ready to order?" Hermione asked him, but she called the waiter over anyway. Draco motioned for her to order first. "All right, I'll have one carrot cake without the cream cheese frosting but with the whipped cream on the side. For my drink I'll have fruit tea, but with the sugar replaced by fructose and without the slices of lime. And do you think you could replace the cinnamon sticks with cinnamon cubes?"
The waiter looked somewhat bewildered but nodded anyway. Draco sighed and closed the menu. "Geez, Granger, that took long enough. One fruit plate, a pumpkin waffle, and a spiked cider, please."
The waiter raised his eyebrows. "Er...I'm sorry, we don't serve that last item here."
Before Draco could protest, Hermione raised the menu and peered at it before exploding into a fit of laughter. "Malfoy, you twit! That's SPICED cider! Learn how to read already!"
Draco scowled and gave his order correctly. As soon as the waiter left the table, he turned his attention back to Hermione. "What, you're still laughing, Granger? My, you're easily amused."
"Hahaha! It – it's – j-just t-that...SPIKED cider?! HAHAHAHA! I'm never gonna let you live this down, Malfoy!"
"Just shut up, Granger," Draco groaned.
Hermione donned an amusedly acerbic expression. "Why? Afraid I'm making a scene?"
"Pardon me?" Draco snapped. "Making a scene? Why would I care? After all, you're the silly Mudblood here, aren't you? I'm just the pureblooded Slytherin stuck with you."
"Haha," Hermione laughed caustically. "Malfoy...."
"What?" Draco asked succinctly, playing with the complimentary toothpicks. "Did I hurt the poor little Gryffindor's feelings?"
"No," Hermione replied firmly. "It's just that...we've been hanging around each other the whole day. Doesn't it bother you that we haven't had even one decent conversation?"
"Hmmmm....." Draco thought, cupping his chin in his palm. "Let me think....no."
"Oh, come on!" Hermione rolled her eyes at him again. "No one can go a whole day arguing with someone else!"
"Obviously, you don't know me very well," Draco replied curtly, playing with the toothpicks once again.
"I know you're capable of holding a civilized conversation....even with me," Hermione said gently. "Don't you want to try just this one time? Come on...what are your hobbies?"
Oh hell, she wasn't joking. "Hmm, torturing Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and first-years. Your turn."
"I mean it, Malfoy," Hermione interjected. "Give me a serious answer now."
What did girls always have to get all damn earnest and conversation-ally all the time? Hell, even Granger wasn't totally lacking in feminine characteristics. "That was a serious answer!"
"All right," Hermione sighed resignedly. "In my spare time, I like to – "
"Let me guess," Draco interrupted. "Go to the library and read big, boring books."
"I'm trying here, Malfoy," Hermione said through gritted teach. "This isn't working, is it?"
"It took you long enough to notice," Draco replied brusquely, unwrapping the toothpicks.
"Look, Malfoy, we may not get along normally, but can't we at least try?" Hermione said almost pleadingly. "This whole...rivalry....bullying....insulting....is just silly and childish. We're not eleven years old anymore!"
"Mmmhmmm," Draco murmured.
"It's just that....."
After those three words, Draco promptly zoned out. He'd almost forgotten that Granger had this earnest, introspective side to her. Salazar, did she really want to become friends with him? Well, maybe not friends per say, but friendly acquaintances? Two people who treated each other civilly, two people who could cross each other's paths without exchanging cruel remarks?
No, it was impossible. He and Granger had been enemies the day they'd met. It wasn't as if one day could really change that. They couldn't possibly go from mutual dislike to mutual affection during the span of one Hogsmeade weekend.
Wait...affection? Draco blinked. Where in Mordred's lair did that come from? He couldn't even imagine them feeling neutral toward each other, much less affectionate. But then again, Granger wasn't asking him to feel neutral, was he? And it was then that he realized that Granger wasn't even asking him to like her.
She just wanted them to treat each other like human beings. They didn't need to hold any positive feelings for each other...they just needed to act civilly. A façade was all she was asking for.
And it was then that Draco also realized that a façade simply wasn't enough.
He looked up from the toothpicks. She was still chattering away, completely oblivious to his lack of attention. "Granger?" he interrupted her.
She snapped out of her reverie and focused her eyes on him. "Er...yes, Malfoy? So do you have any opinions at all on what I was just saying?"
"Um, yeah, of course," Draco lied. "But then...."
"So what do you think?" she asked eagerly, not bothering to brush the curls obscuring her face.
"I...I think that's very good," Draco said lamely. "But Gra – "
Wrong answer. "You what?! You think what's good?"
"I mean bad!" Draco quickly corrected himself. "Yeah, I totally agree. Things need improvement."
Hermione peered at him bemusedly. "You weren't listening to me at all just then, were you, Malfoy?"
Draco shook his head. Where was that damn waiter when you needed him....
She threw up her hands in the air. "Then I've been wasting my time, just like how I've already wasted this whole day. But what was I thinking? I should've expected you'd act this way, Malfoy. Merlin, when do you EVER act any differently? Don't you see, Malfoy?" she said imploringly, her amber eyes gleaming with pure frustration. "All day long, I've been trying to discover some kind of...hidden side to you. At the beginning of the day, I was positive that you are the two-dimensional, egotistical little prick I've always known you to be. Sometime later, I began to wonder if there wasn't something else to you I just couldn't see. I really thought there was, Malfoy, and if you knew me really well, you'd know that my gut feeling, my first hypothesis, is usually correct. Well guess what. I was wrong. For the first time ever, my intuition tricked me into foolish optimism. Right now, I'm back at the beginning and thoroughly convinced that you ARE a two-dimensional, egotistical little prick."
They gazed at each other for just a moment after Hermione ended her soliloquy. Steely grey locked with deep earthy amber. Draco stared at her, his expression blank and emotionless. Hermione fixed him with a look of intensity that he knew he'd have a hard time forgetting.
The moment passed and Hermione tore her eyes away from him. "Goodbye, Malfoy," she said coolly, rising from her chair. "I'll see you at Hogwarts."
"Granger!" Draco called after her, as she stepped out the doorway. "Wait! I have something to tell you!"
Hermione ignored him and strode down the cobblestone paths. "Wait! Granger!" Draco yelled again. "Arrrgh...GRANGER!!!"
Hermione disappeared behind a clown carrying balloons. "Well...fine then!" Draco roared, not caring whether she heard him or not. "Have it your way! I really could care less whether a bloody Gryffindor greeted me in the halls anyway! I really don't give a DAMN about your bloody feelings, you bint!"
I could've done better than that, Draco thought to himself, resisting the urge to show any signs of remorse. That was a pretty low-quality insult. He could do so much better than that.
But for reasons he'd rather not deal with at the moment, he just couldn't do it to Hermione Granger.
-----------------------------------
The sky was tinted orange, and the yellow glare of the setting sun shimmered off the quaint Hogsmeade rooftops and hit Hermione in the eyes.
It'd taken her awhile to realize that the magical bind had worn off, but what was more shocking was the realization that she'd just spent the last three hours or so frolicking around the Autumn Fair with Draco Malfoy.
She was wrong about him all right. True, he'd acted like a brat for the better part of the day, but underneath those petty insults she'd detected quick thinking and intelligence. And to think he used that intelligence to think up nasty remarks directed toward her. Why did he care so much? If she were Draco, she would've just ignored her and pretended she didn't exist. Why did Draco have to persist in annoying her? And annoy her he did. But the more important question was that at this point, why did she care? She didn't care so much that he insulted her (it was practically expected, anyhow), but why was it so important that she discover another side to him?
She'd never thought about other facets to Draco's personality before. As far as she cared, he was Harry's nemesis and a pompous, conniving, racist brat. But was he really? Was he really like that inside? And even if he was, was there more of him that could balance those unfortunate traits out? She really did believe he was different. But then, she was wrong.
I was wrong, Hermione thought gloomily. I was wrong when it mattered the most.
Oh, well. There were plenty of other guys at Hogwarts. There were gentlemen, intellects, and athletes there. There were people who'd treat her as if she were a pureblood. They were people who'd place value on her rather than demean her. There were people there who would genuinely love her.
But then again, none of those people were Draco Malfoy.
This is bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, Hermione chanted silently. Of all people....it had to be him. It had to be the hair that got to her - that impeccably styled blond hair that looked delectable even when a bit windblown or messy. Or maybe it was those stony, stormy eyes, cold and intense at the same time. Maybe it was the fact that he bothered to argue with her in class, or the fact that she'd caught him with a copy of John Milton's Paradise Lost one day in the library or the fact that he couldn't sell something he hated or the fact that he was just so sly and darkly funny.
It was all these things, Hermione decided. All of them and none of them at the same time.
She hated him. She hated, hated, hated, hated –
"Granger?"
Hermione spun around to see Draco climbing up the hill. Damn him. What did he want now? This would either end in a screaming fest or turn out like the ending of a sappy, romantic B-movie. "How did you find me here?"
"I asked around," Draco replied, shrugging. "You're not exactly inconspicuous, you know."
Hermione frowned at him as he reached the top. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"It means exactly what it sounds like, 'Mary Queen of Scots gone batty,'" Draco replied, striding over to where she sat under a fiery-hued tree. "May I sit down?"
"No," Hermione answered as coldly as she could.
Draco sat down anyway. "What're you drinking?"
"Go away, Malfoy."
He leaned in closer. "Smells like cider to me...cider and....is that alcohol my nose detects?"
"I thought I told you to go away, Malfoy!" Hermione yelled irritably.
"Okay, fine, I'll go away," Draco assured her. "But will you hear me out first? Please?"
Hermione's eyebrows shot up. Did Draco just say 'please' to her? "All right," she agreed. "But make it short."
Draco leaned against the tree trunk and gazed out at the fair below them. The crowds were hardly decreasing. In fact, they seemed to be growing larger in number as the sky grew darker. "Granger...I....I shouldn't have said all those things today."
Eureka.
"Pardon me?" Hermione turned towards him.
"I'm sorry. For all of it. Well, not all of it, some of it was rather deserved, in my opinion, but yeah...I'm...yeah. My apologies, Granger," he finished awkwardly.
"Oh," Hermione said softly. "Oh....I see." Draco really had just apologized. Well now. Things were about to change slightly.
Hermione grinned widely. "So you're sorry for disguising yourself as Parvati and breaking into our common room?"
"Yes," Draco grunted, fidgeting slightly.
"And you're sorry for acting like an insufferable prat?"
"I'm not an insufferable – oh, all right," Draco muttered.
"And you're sorry for making fun of S.P.E.W?"
"Yes, Granger, for the last time, yes!" Draco roared. "I'm sorry for making you mad, and I'm sorry for running your whole sodding weekend!"
Hermione watched as he scowled and let lose a few quiet profanities. Clearly, apologizing wasn't his thing. "You didn't ruin my weekend, Malfoy."
"Oh," Draco replied softly, looking up. The sun hung halfway below the rooftops, casting a glimmer of light between their eyes. All he saw was the small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You still owe me an answer to any question, Granger."
Hermione didn't answer, but took a large gulp of her spiked cider. She swallowed and nodded. "Well, I – "
"Do you still hate me, Granger?" Draco asked, his tone playful, bewitching, and sincere all at once.
The sky had darkened into a dusky violet marred only by a smattering of pink and orange streaks. "Are you kidding, Malfoy?" Hermione answered, looking up at the moon's pale shadow hovering over the townspeople. Somewhere in the distance, a Sonorus-enhanced voice blared for the return of two costumed Hogwarts students. "I've always hated you. I still hate you now, and I have a deep suspicion that I always will."
"Likewise, Granger," Draco replied huskily, leaning in closer. He could count every freckle scattered across her nose and cheeks. She tilted her head sideways, her eyelids fluttering as if touched by sleep. He'd just felt his doing the same when –
"MR. DRACO MALFOY AND MISS HERMIONE GRANGER - PLEASE REPORT BACK TO THE THE THREE BROOMSTICKS IMMEDIATELY! MR. DRACO MALFOY AND MISS HERMIONE GRANGER – PLEASE REPORT – "
"I forgot about that," Hermione remarked ruefully, pulling away from him. "So I guess it's my turn to get us in trouble."
Draco returned this with yet another campy smirk. "So Granger," he purred, his voice like custard. "Ready for another detention?"
The first signs of twilight shimmered above them. The cider was getting cold."Anytime, Malfoy," Hermione replied, gracing him with an earnest smile. "Anytime."
-------------------------------
A/N: Credit where credit's due:
- Hermione's style of ordering food was
inspired by the movie When Harry Met Sally.
-
Props go to Ted, Mike, and Nina, whose banter provided the basis for
the whole "are you asking me out" conversation.
This is a one-shot written for the dmhgficexchange. Fic requirements are as follows:
Name/Pen Name: Sileya
Rating(s) of the fic you want: Any
3 - 5 Things you want your gift to include:
physical fight
detention and/or punishment
Draco & Hermione stuck working together
What you don't want your gift to include:
character death, angst