A/N:
19/02/19. I've made a few small edits this morning as I re-read this chapter in preparation on Chapter 3. Nothing substantial, just fleshing a few things out here and there.
Girl's Night – Chapter 2
The second Draco stepped out of his floo, before he even dusted his robes of soot, he had to jump up and down on the spot like an excited schoolgirl; he 'whooped' and laughed, feeling an overwhelming sense of elation. It wasn't the most masculine thing he'd ever done but no-one saw and no-one heard so he really couldn't care less. He was reeling from the effects, the results of the stealthily applied empathy spell he'd cast on Hermione. Amazed, shocked, awed, that anyone can feel so many things all at once: trepidation, confusion, excitement, curiosity, apprehension, begrudging admiration and dare he even believe it, arousal. I doubt even she's aware of that one. Could she intentionally want me? She certainly didn't act like it.
Her every emotion had flooded into his: the good, the bad, and the downright erotic; it had all hit his senses hard, shaking everything he believed about the Gryffindor swot. It was hard to know which emotions were specifically because of his presence but he was pretty sure those last three were.
Shame I didn't have a chance to get into that brilliant mind of hers. I wonder what thoughts had prompted that arousal… I don't care as long as she likes me. And she does. She likes me. Granger actually likes me. Doubt she'll admit it anytime soon; not with all that damn Gryffindor pride. And, Merlin knows, that witch is stubborn but she was flirting back. I need to know if that's her idea of subtle because if it is, coaxing out her wanton side should be fun. Now, how do I get into that party of hers?
Draco paced in front of his floo as he considered his options…
The direct approach: just floo to her flat and see what she does? The worst she'll do is hex me and kick me out. Or slap me again. No, I can still feel the sting of that sometimes.
The Slytherin approach: Magic. There are those 'extendable ears' things from the Weasley shop; at least I could hear if she talks about me. What if she sticks to her time honoured method of bitching about me? I've heard enough of that. With a girl's night though, and wine; she might open up a bit. No, I had to open my big mouth and say I wanted to be there so she'll be on the lookout. What else? Disillusionment…? Ah! Got it!
The stealth approach: With Ginny going, I shouldn't have too much of an issue convincing Potter to join me in eavesdropping; he will not want her spilling their bedroom secrets without knowing what she's saying. That invisibility cloak should be just the ticket.
Mind made up, Draco makes his way to the brewing area of his kitchen to make a fresh batch of 'sober up'. He wasn't feeling overly inebriated but socialising with Potter always took effort, even if they had marked a 'permanent truce in hostility' for the sake of keeping the peace and neither of them wanting to be constantly looking over their shoulders anymore. Then there was the coven of drunken witches, probably talking about racy subjects and spilling naughty secrets: I'm going to need my wits about me.
~DRAMIONE~
Hermione left the Leaky Cauldron and walked the 412 steps to the entryway at the side of Flourish and Blotts; she still didn't know why she counted the steps; it just sort of happened. She turned into the entryway and made her way up the fire-exit style stairs that led to her flat. Disabling her wards, well most of them, she unlocked the door with her own spell; 'Alohamora' was too well known, and stepped inside. The familiar scent of home captured her senses: very old books, brand new parchment, and thick candle smoke with a hint of vanilla; mmm, home. She felt her shoulders slump considerably and wondered exactly how tense Draco still made her. She hadn't even realised she was still tense around him, especially towards the end of their lunch. Not that anyone could blame me. He's hardly the poster child for reconciliation; but then, am I? Granted I've made peace with Snape; it made sense to considering what he sacrificed for the Order; the fact that I saved his life in the Shrieking Shack helps too I suppose. It's hard to hold a grudge against someone when you stop them dying.
I suppose I've given up the hatred of Draco's parents too, she thought as she removed her cloak and headed down the short corridor for her lounge. Narcissa came to me personally to apologise for the attack her sister inflicted on me at their Manor. She even healed the scar for me; thank fuck! I never got anything done with all that endless bleeding. And as for Lucius… well, he's always going to be the back-handed politician, it was good of him to set up that new wing at St Mungo's in my name – even if it was to somewhat redeem himself. That man really knows how to spin. No wonder he managed to keep himself out of Askaban.
Hermione dropped her beaded bag (which she never got around to removing the 'undetectable extension charm' from) on the large, plush, Gryffindor red, corner sofa with golden corded embroidery and accents when she entered the lounge. You can take the girl out of Hogwarts but you can't take the Gryffindor out of the girl, she thought wistfully as she lovingly smoothed a hand over the fabric. She followed the beaded bag onto the sofa, but at the other end; legs up, she scooted her bum down a bit and let curled in on herself leaning against the soft, comfortable cushions which had the titles of all her favourite books appliqued on (a Yule present from Harry and Ginny last year). She removed her wand from her chest and set an alarm for an hour later, before dosing off peacefully, meditating on the exact depth of the liquid silver of Draco's eyes.
~DRAMIONE~
Well, better get this part over with, Draco thought. He didn't have a lot of time to convince Potter to help him and as much as he hoped Harry wouldn't want Ginny discussing their bedroom delights, he didn't really know them well enough to assume it. He opened the fire grate, took a pinch of emerald powder from his antique silver floo pot; mother always was ostentatious with her gifts, and threw it into the fire, as he knelt at the hearth. He leaned into the emerald flames and called out '12 Grimmauld Place'.
After a slightly dizzying whirl of flames around his head and a sudden stop that would've knocked him over if he hadn't been kneeling, he was greeted with the sight of a medium size library, half the size of that at Manor, but decent all the same. I bet Granger has read every book in here twice; the second time to make corrections to the author's words. He let himself smile at the idea before remembering his 'mission'.
"Potter", he yelled out. It was considered rude to floo directly into someone else's home and the etiquette that had been ingrained in him since birth, he wasn't about to be impolite; especially as he really needed this favour. He called out twice more after a minute of waiting before Harry finally entered the library. He was wearing quidditch gear, holding his broom and looked windswept… hmmm, perhaps a friendly game might convince him to help me.
"Malfoy?" Potter seemed taken aback by the presence of his old rival seeking him out. "What on earth are you doing here?"
"Do you mind if I come through? I need a favour but kneeling in the hearth to ask it is a bit unbecoming." I still have my pride.
"I suppose. I'm not making any promises though." Potter replied. Of course not.
Draco pulled himself out of the fireplace and stood. The return from a floo call never had the same dizzying effects as making one. I wonder why. Hermione would know. He sighed with longing and a sappy smile swept over his lips at the thought of her adorable know-it-all tendencies, Gods, I'm pathetic; he attempted to school his features, remembering who he was about to encounter, grabbed a handful of floo powder, stepped into the flames, called out 'Potter residence' and dropped the powder into the embers below.
The emerald flames glowed and rose from the embers, swirling around him and whizzing him passed at least forty fireplaces before stopping at the Grimmauld Place library. Draco stepped forward and slapped the dust from his robes, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth to remove the sickening love-sick smile which hadn't really faltered in his attempts to remove it. He hadn't expected Potter to wait right there for him and it was a hasty move to conceal his feelings, rather than being able to do it slowly, or well. His old Quidditch rival eyed him suspiciously before heading towards the library door.
"We'll go through to the kitchen. Tea or coffee?" That was easier than I thought. Potter doesn't know how to be 'nice' to me. What's he up to? Well, I better be pleasant enough back.
"Coffee… please." Draco stated quietly, like the ability to have manners was new concept, even though his mother had trained him in more etiquette than should be humanly possible to know. It was really still only a chore when it came to Potter. Being nice to Gryffindors sucks; except Granger.
As they reached the kitchen, Harry filled a kettle with water and popped it on the stove top, clicking his fingers to light a flame underneath. He turned to Draco and gestured, awkwardly, to the eight-seater oak table.
"So what's this favour?" he asked as he returned his gaze to the counter to ready the mugs. "You must be desperate if you're after my help. The great Draco Malfoy lowering his standards to beg a Gryffindor for assistance; this has to be eating you up inside." Bastard Potter loves this. He's never going to help me.
"I can hear the smugness in your tone, you know? It doesn't quite rival mine though. Bet you're smirking too. In fact I know it." Gods, I hate this tosser. "And, I know because I'd be ten times worse if you were coming to me for help."
"Oh, I don't doubt it. You always were a smug git."
"Thanks Potter. Love you too," his own smirk hitting his lips at the banter. He found, when these occasional back'n'forth slagging matches occurred from time to time, that he'd strangely missed their rivalry from school. It was boring being so pleasant all the time and falling in line with what one was supposed to be. There was no real ill will left between the pair of seekers anymore, they just sniped at each for the sake of it; to feel nostalgic. Potter had become something of a frenemy. Weird.
"So, this favour then…?" The smugness was still there, and a half-smirk, as Potter brought over the mugs of coffee and sat opposite, beckon over a sugar pot and small milk jug.
"Right. Yeah. The thing is… this 'get together' Granger's having. I wanted to –"
"How on earth do you know about that?" Potter interrupted, suspiciously. He didn't look at his coffee companion as he spooned sugar into his drink and poured milk.
Draco sighed. I suppose I'll have to tell him something resembling the truth.
"I bumped into her in the Leaky – sounds reasonable; his never going to guess I was following her. We had lunch – less likely but still within the realms of believable, I think. Your wife sent her patronus reply while I was there." That's enough truth. Hopefully.
"Hmmm. Ok." He still seemed suspicious but gestured for Draco to continue.
The Slytherin took a deep breath and considered how to phrase this. There was no point beating around the bush; he needed Potter's trust for him to go along with this. The truth it is then, minus the ulterior motives of getting Granger all to myself, eventually. What would Hermione do in this situation? Courage! Ok, think like a Gryffindor.
"Well, Granger said something about a girl's night in. Wine, gossip, etcetera. Thought it might be fun to eavesdrop. Thing is I've got no way of getting there without an insider. She pretty much told me directly not to bother trying as she had the whole flat… 'warded up the wazoo' I believe was the phrase she used."
"You're can't be serious." Harry let out a huge burst of laughter that Draco found almost insulting. "That's crazy, mate. Even I can't gate crash one of Hermione's shindigs. Believe me, I've tried. The last time I tried was six months ago, I tried to sneak my head in through the floo and ended up with tits for a week. She said, and I quote 'If you want to join in, you'll keep those until my next girl's night. No men allowed.' You're out of luck, mate. Sorry."
"Shit. You were my only hope Potter." Draco said dejectedly. He felt his stomach drop and felt a wave of defeat fall over him. Bollocks. And, it dawned on him, he was too eager for this; even Potter would pick up on that. His cheeks thinged with colour as he realised he was showing a little more truth than planned. Double bollocks.
"Why do you even want to spy? They all turn into a bunch of cackling old crones who can barely stand up with how much booze they get through. All they talk about is the wizards they fancy and the 'length of his broomstick'. Even on just a night out, Gin is always saying to Hermione about me keeping her 'flying all night'. It's bloody embarrassing."
Draco raised his eyebrows at the not so subtle references and Harry shrugged, as if to say, 'what did you expect? I am the chosen one'. Smug git.
"I was thinking maybe about that marvellous cloak of yours?"
"Tried it. She has three permanent wards to disable concealments… ones she invented herself. I can get through them but the cloak stays outside. I think she actually created one of them specifically for my cloak. She's a sneaky little witch when she wants to be. Don't tell her I said this but she'd have done well in Slytherin." Harry sounded both impressed by the achievements of his best friend and irritated that he couldn't beat them. "It's a side effect from the war. She fears a surprise attack constantly. She's not jumpy like she used to be but it's taken a long time and I think it's only because her wards are stronger than what Hogwarts has."
"Wow. I knew she was talented, she beat me in every class at school, and I'm fucking amazing, as you know Potter."
"Sure, Malfoy." Potter conceded sarcastically.
"But, if she's creating her own wards that strong, she's surpassed even my opinion of impressive." Shit. Didn't mean to say that.
Harry's eyebrows rose in question at that but he seemed to think better of it and went back to his exposition. Thank fuck!
"Well, after Dolohov; then your crazy bitch of an Aunt, she got kinda obsessed with protections. She was impressed with how McGonagall got the statues at the castle to defend it. She has stone lions outside her flat… never cross them."
"I really need to apologise for all that. Especially after she got me out of a sentence is Askaban. And insisted I go back to Hogwarts for my last year. I really do owe her."
This time, Potter didn't let it lie.
"I think that's probably a good idea. I'm surprised to hear you say it though. Do you like her or something?"
Bollocks. How do I get around this? Evasively. Postpone the inevitable.
"Or something." Draco responded, attempting to sound non-committal; but he felt his face warm a little and assumed there was a pinkness to his cheeks that would rival Grangers from earlier. Potter smirked, knowingly. Shit. Is that really what those smirks look like? No wonder everyone thought I was a prick. Although, I pull it off better, I'm sure.
"C'mon, Malfoy. Out with it. I'll try and help you with this crazy scheme, if you admit it."
Draco sighed and slumped, dropping his head into his hands on the table. This can't be happening. How am I even considering confessing all this stuff to Potter. I need to hear her say it though. I need to know if I've got a real shot.
"Fine." He said, without changing his position. "I've had a 'thing' for Granger for years. It started in sixth year, maybe even before. Probably when she slapped me in third year; I'm sure you don't need reminding of that. It certainly made me take a bit more notice"
"I was surprised she did it, she hadn't been particularly violent up until then but you always riled her, especially after what you called her in second year." Draco lifted his head and had the grace to look sheepish. "But it's not like you didn't deserve it. You were a prick to her and you know it, not to mention being a bastard about Buckbeak."
"Yeah, yeah; I know. I didn't like that she was besting me in every class. When I said that 'thing' in second year, I'd just found out she topped me in a potions quiz. Even with my Godfather teaching the class, I couldn't best her. Father was pissed at me for being outshone by a muggleborn, I just snapped. Even when I used to think that word, I hardly said it." Draco kept his eyes on the table, all this confessing was embarrassing but he needed to get Potter on side. "As for the Buckbeak thing, I was embarrassed. You, 'Saint Bloody Potter' had ridden the damn beast; I wanted a go, I'd have loved it, really wanted to in fact. I'd sort of forgotten about the bowing thing and just wanted a go. When it attacked me, I didn't know what to do. So I returned to habit and told Father."
Harry nodded, though Draco didn't see. He'd suspected as much sometimes, when he was feeling understanding.
"Okay, look…" Draco looked up. "I can't promise anything but there might be a way I can get us in. Truth be told I've been dying to know what they actually talk about anyway; might be quite enlightening. Just be prepared for a bit more embarrassment too, yeah?"
"Thanks… Ha-a-rr-ry." Draco attempted to not say Potter for the first time in his life. It was the least he could do really.
"Struggling with that, are you?" Harry said, almost breathlessly, trying and failing to hold in his laughter and surprise.
Draco shook his head with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement, thankful that Harry let it drop as he shared his plan to invade Granger's girls' night.
"Come on through to the library, Draco"; he said with so much inflection and sarcasm, Draco was almost impressed. "There's a few spells I need to look up." Getting up, Harry led his new 'partner in crime' to the library.
This should be fun they both thought simultaneously.
