Strawberry Coffee Cake
I glanced down myself to make sure that I looked alright. My tight, grey shirt was spotless, thank Merlin, the denim pants were slightly worn and torn, but they were my favourite and my black shoes were shiny. Yep everything was perfect. Going for the door I suddenly remembered the only thing I really had to remember! The strawberry cake. Running back to the kitchen I grabbed the cake. I looked around to make sure that there wasn't anything else I needed to remember. Nope, nothing at all. It was time to go.
I arrived at Hermione's door at exactly one o'clock. Perfect timing. I had thought about just flooing in, but decided that this was more romantic. So there I was, knocking on her door the Muggle way – apparently she had me under her spell, so I was willing to do Muggle things for her – waiting for her to answer. She didn't leave me waiting for long.
"Give me a second, Draco!" I heard her call from the other side of the door.
"Sure thing," I called back, grinning to myself. Even after all the time we'd spent together the last month it still pleased me immensely to hear her say my name. It sounded – I don't know – different… better when she said it. Three seconds later the door was pulled open and a breathless Hermione appeared in the door opening.
"Sorry," she said, short of breath. "I was sort of not dressed…" She trailed off and blushed crimson red. "Oh Merlin! You didn't need to know that!"
Her flabbergasted rambling had me laughing on the spot.
"I don't mind at all," I laughed, clutching my stomach with my free hand. "It's refreshing when people just say what they think."
"Sure," Hermione said quietly, still blushing and avoiding my eyes. She stepped to the side to allow me entrance. "Please come in."
I finished laughing and did as she said. As I walked by her I noticed just how beautiful she was. Her hair was in total disarray, her cheeks were flaming and her black eyelids kissed her cheeks gracefully. She was wearing a very pretty coral dress with no sleeves, cut just above her knees.
"You look nice," I commented. In my head I was screaming, "You look gorgeous!" But well, some things are better left unsaid. Or at least left till a better time. Say, like when you actually know someone.
"Thank you," she said shyly, blushing again while reaching up to straighten her hair. I couldn't help myself – I took a hold of her hand to stop her.
"Don't," I said, looking her straight in the eyes. "It looks good on you like that; all out of control."
All at once her wonderful wit returned to her.
"I thought you hated my hair," she said with a cheeky grin. "At least that's what you used to say once. Wasn't there a nickname? Or yeah, fur ball! Or what about frizzy head. That one's my favourite."
She started laughing and I had to accompany her.
When we settled down I answered, "Yeah, I wasn't all that nice. And I really didn't like your hair back then. But we've both grown since then and now I actually like it just the way it is."
"Then I won't change it," she said with a sincere smile.
A strange silence started growing between us. That blasted silence that killed all fun! I cleared my throat to beat it down and handed her the cake.
"Here you go," I said sheepishly.
"Oh!" she exclaimed in delight and took the cake from me. "What is it?"
"It's strawberry coffee cake," I explained. "Hopefully it still works with tea."
"I'm sure it will," Hermione smiled and led me to her sitting room. First now I noticed how cosy and Hermione her place was. Everything seemed to be a little sliver of her soul. There were books everywhere, both Muggle and Wizard. All of the furniture was light and colourful making the room seem bright and cheerful. I instantly fell in love with her decoration just because it oozed her.
"How do you like your tea?" came her soft voice from the kitchen next door.
"If you have a little lemon then that's fine," I replied, not wanting to be a burden to her.
"Of course I have lemon," she said, her voice coming closer as she tried to push through the door with two mugs of tea in her hands. I rose quickly and went to open the door for her. At first she seemed very confused, but as I smiled at her, she returned it thankfully.
"Thanks," she said and set the mugs down.
"Anything else I can do for you?" I asked, wanting her to see that no matter what else she thought of me, I really was a gentleman.
"Yes, actually. You can make yourself comfortable while I get the cake."
I chuckled a little and she disappeared into the kitchen again. I heard her moving around in there. Suddenly I got this urge to watch her scurry around, but quickly decided against it. She would think me creepy and that was really the last thing I needed. Instead I just waited for her to get out. It only took her a couple of minutes before she was battling with the door again and I came to her rescue for the second time.
"Thanks," she said and blushed as she put a piece of cake in front of me.
"I hope it tastes good," I said hopefully as I watched her take a bite. I relaxed instantly as she closed her eyes with a little smile and practically moaned in appreciation.
"Good is an understatement," she smiled and took another bite. "Who made this? I mean, I know you don't cook."
"I absolutely don't," I said and tasted the cake myself. It was brilliant. "I had my house elf do it."
It didn't even take me a second before I realised that I shouldn't have said that. Hermione became absolutely rigid in her chair, quickly set her cake down and sent me a very nasty look.
"You had your house elf do it?" she repeated my words in an icy voice. "You simply had you house elf to do it?"
I could see that she was beginning to work herself into a hissy fit and I had to do something to stop it before it got bad.
"She enjoys working for me," I hastily said. But Hermione was not at all comforted.
"Of course she does," she said hotly. "She doesn't know that she could live a different way!"
"How do you know that?" I asked, trying to keep calm and not get mad like I really wanted to. Sure, I might be in love with her, but she could still push all the right buttons.
My answer seemed to throw her off her balance for a second, but she quickly composed herself again.
"So she knows that she can have her freedom?" she asked with narrow eyes. "That every living creature is entitled to freedom?"
I grinned a little as I answered, "She lived with me at Hogwarts. She knew Dobby. She knew all about freedom."
She looked quizzically and searchingly at me.
"She knew Dobby?" she asked with a low voice. I nodded. "What did she think of him?"
"She thought him silly and stupid," I answered sincerely.
"No wonder," Hermione said, working herself into a hot temper again. "She was brought up to think that you only have to serve your master. It's hard to turn your back on the illusions of childhood."
"I've had her since she was very young," I said. "She's still very young. The first thing I did was to tell her that she didn't have to serve me if she didn't wish to do so." Hermione looked at me intently as I continued. "She took one look at me and declared that I wasn't fit to take care of myself – she was quite right by the way – and decided to stay with me."
Hermione was completely silent as she absorbed my story. I wasn't sure whether or not she believed me. Her feelings were hidden behind a mask of indifference. Then she said something I hadn't expected her to at all.
"Call her here."
My eyes widened in shock but I did as she asked.
"Whiskey," I called into nothing, "would you please come here for a second?"
With a loud crack my sweet, little house elf appeared. Hermione looked at her intently, watching how she was dressed like a little girl in real clothes and how her round, blue eyes looked adoringly at me.
"My Master called me," she said with her squeaky, girly voice.
"I did, Whiskey," I said with a patient smile. "This pretty lady would like to talk to you." I pointed towards Hermione and first then did Whiskey realise that we weren't alone.
"Ooh," Whiskey said and clasped her hands together. "You have pretty dress. Whiskey likes pretty dresses. Master buys me one sometimes. This Master gave me!"
She made a little spin to show off her newest dress, a soft blue one I had found I children's store.
"It's very pretty," Hermione said with an overbearing smile, one of those you'd use when talking to a little, happy child. To me, that was what Whiskey was.
"Master said you want a talk with Whiskey?"
"That's not necessary after all," Hermione said, still with the same smile. "I've learned what I needed to know."
"Oh," Whiskey said, this time looking quite disappointed. "All right then."
"But it sure was very nice to meet you, Whiskey," Hermione quickly added and instantly Whiskey's good mood returned to her.
"Nice to meet you too, Pretty Lady," Whiskey said and bowed a little clumsily.
"Please, call me Hermione."
"No no. Master calls you Pretty Lady, Whiskey calls you Pretty Lady."
Hermione looked confused between me and Whiskey and then started laughing.
"Okay, you can call me Pretty Lady if it pleases you."
"It does, it does!" Whiskey squealed and did a little, happy dance.
"Whiskey," I laughed at the funny sight. "Whiskey, you can go home now."
"Okay, Master," she said and with a loud crack she was gone again.
When she was gone Hermione stared at me, looking me up and down before saying, "She loves you."
I felt a little blush creep into my cheeks.
"Yeah, well, I love her too you know."
"I could see that," she said with a wide smile. "Now, let's finish Whiskey's wonderful cake."
Sorry, sorry, sorry for the long wait… hey! Is it just me, or have I been apologising for that a lot lately? Well, I still am sorry. I've been extremely stressed lately and it won't get any better the next month – I'm at the end of my senior year at High School so I'm busy with exams and studying. But I'll try to update whenever I can.
Until then – please enjoy this chapter and review!
