all characters belong to JKR
Chapter 3: A Broken door and a Story –
As the three friends approached Barlow's cottage, they all three had different expressions on their faces. Hermione's was one of shock and worry. Ginny's was one of horror, and Luna was of a contemplated awe.
"It's a wreck!" Ginny said of the stone and stucco cottage, with gables, broken shutters and a thatched roof.
"It needs so much work," Hermione echoed.
"I think it's wonderful. I get very good vibes from it. I think you'll get good rest and restoration here, Hermione," Luna said.
Ginny was about to tell Hermione that her father said the key was over the eaves, above the door, under a little iron emblem of a snake and a lion, but before she could say a word, Hermione's hand went on the doorknob, and the whole door fell inward, landing inside the door.
"I guess you won't need a key," Ginny said.
Hermione waved her hand over her face to dispel the dust. She stepped right on top of the door as it covered the threshold and into the small cottage. There was a small, dark hallway with a bedroom on the right, and a larger room, which served as both living room and kitchen on the left. There was a small lavatory off the bedroom, with a door that led out to the hall, and a large covered porch off the back, which faced the seashore. They were up high, and the hill that the cottage was on was rocky, so it would be a dangerous trek down to the shore, but just the thought of waking up to this wonderful view each morning brightened Hermione's prospects at staying here considerably.
Luna pointed to a trapdoor in the ceiling, in the hallway between the main room and the bedroom. She said, "What's up there?"
"An attic space. If you pull the trapdoor, a set of stairs will fall down. When we came here as children, we would all sleep up there. It was spooky even back then," Ginny said.
Hermione pulled on the rope, and a set of stairs came down. She let them fall into place and she said, "We might as well let it air out with the rest of the house." She went to the other room and began opening all the windows with her wand.
Soon, all the women were opening windows, and using magic to take away layers of dust from years of neglect. Before long, the place was starting to look halfway livable. When it was time to go to lunch, Hermione told the other two women she wanted to continue working. Her luggage and some items from home were being delivered later, and she didn't want to miss them.
"Remember, it's our last night, so we have to have some fun tonight," Ginny lectured.
Hermione promised and the women left. She walked in the bedroom and stripped the bed of its old linens. She used magic to clean the mattress, and then she stooped down to take some clean sheets out of a basket, where Luna had just placed them after washing them.
She threw the bottom sheet on the bed, and after securing three corners, she leaned across the bed, almost on her stomach, to secure the last. Draco Malfoy had let himself into the cottage, since the door was propped up next to the house, and he stood in the doorway of the bedroom, enjoying the view.
"There has to be an easier way to do that, although I'm not complaining," Draco said, still admiring her backside.
She turned to face him. She realized she was on a bed, on her stomach, so she scrambled off quickly. She looked down at her cut-off shorts, dirty t-shirt, and was embarrassed for him to see her like this. She pulled her hair out of the messy bun she had it in, and shook her hair out before saying, "I wasn't expecting you."
He walked over to the top of the bed, to the corner that was left uncovered by the fitted sheet. He pulled the corner of the sheet to cover the mattress and said, "Look Mum, no magic. I did it on my own."
"Oh, go on," she said, waving her hand in front of her face.
"This is a, shall I say, a quaint little domain," he said, looking around and fingering items in the room with a look of disgust on his face. The bedroom had a large stone fireplace. He looked at it and said, "Is that thing hooked up to the Floo network?"
"I haven't a clue. There's one in the main room, too," she said. She walked down the little hallway and out the door to the back porch. She said, "Before you say anymore disparaging remarks about my humble abode, look at that view. Isn't it lovely?"
He was watching her face, and her smile, and the way her eyes danced, and without looking at the view he said, "Breathtaking."
She turned to him, noticed that he was staring at her, and she blushed and then looked down. She leaned against the porch railing and said, "Why are you here?"
"Shall I go?" he teased.
"No, you may stay, but how did you know where this cottage was? I don't remember telling you. Did I even tell you the name of the cottage? It's Barlow's cottage, by the way," she said. She grabbed one post of the porch and hung onto it with one hand, and leaned toward him with a gleam in her eye. "Isn't that a lovely name? Barlow's cottage?"
Draco thought she was mad. He said, "It's called that because that was the name of the family who originally lived here."
"How do you know?" she asked.
He knew because this house was on HIS estate. It really belonged to his family, but many years ago, the cottage, but not the land, was given to Mr. Weasley's elderly aunt by his great-uncle. That was how he knew where it was, and the name. For some reason, he wasn't ready to divulge all of this to her yet, so instead he said again, "Shall I leave?"
"No, you can stay, if you brought me a housewarming present," she teased. She stood upright and sat on the porch railing.
He leaned forward, looked at how high they were, and said, "Don't fall; it's a long way down." He would take this opportunity to hold onto her, merely for safety reasons, but she took his word seriously, and she jumped back down. He squinted one eye and then smiled a wicked smile. He would have to find another reason to hold her later. He walked up to her and said, "Pick a hand. If you pick correctly, you'll have your housewarming present. Come on now, I don't have all day. Which hand?"
He presented both closed hands to her. She pointed to his right hand. He held it up and it was empty. She said, "I guess I don't get a present."
He said, "Oh, this is the correct hand." Then he placed his hand behind her head, and when he brought it to her face, he was holding a bouquet of wild flowers and daisies.
"My, you must know magic, Mr. Malfoy," she said, taking the flowers from him and walking back inside. She crossed over to the main room, found a large glass, filled it with water and placed the flowers in the glass. She placed the glass on the table. When she turned back around, he was right behind her. She said, "What would I have gotten if I picked the other hand?"
"Find out," he said. He held out his left hand, fist closed. Hermione touched the top of his hand with her finger.
He turned the hand around, and slowly opened his fingers. It was empty.
"I made a good choice," she said.
"I don't think so," he said.
"There's nothing in that hand," she stated.
"Oh, really?" he asked. He looked at his hand, and then presented it to her again and said, "It had a kiss in there before I left the house. I must have dropped it somewhere."
"A kiss?" she said.
"Yes, and a damn good one, I wager," he said.
"Maybe I'll pick that hand another time," she said. She couldn't believe she was openly flirting with him, and him with her, and how much she was enjoying it.
He stepped closer, wondering if he would scare her by being so brash. Wondering if he was scaring himself as well. He lifted his left hand to her cheek, and said, "Maybe it's there. Check again." He stroked her cheek, and held his hand there. She took his hand off her face, and with it cradled in both of hers, she opened his fingers. Though it was a simple touch of fingers and hands, skin on skin, it was singularly the most sensual thing he had ever felt. She moved her index finger across his palm and said, "I'm relatively sure there's no kiss in there."
Something akin to an electrical current gushed through his body. What were they both doing? Were they playing with fire? He brought his right hand up to the back of her neck and pulled her toward him. Hermione dropped his left hand and placed hers on his chest. She bit her bottom lip and he felt torn. He wanted to kiss her so badly. She had kissed him twice now. That just wasn't fair in his opinion! He wanted his due. He leaned closer, fully intending to place his lips gently on hers, to kiss her swiftly, but before he could, she suddenly sprang away.
She started to dust a table, which was apparently already clean. Without facing him she said, "Too bad that hand was empty. I might have liked that present."
He thought that she just might have, and he would have as well, if she hadn't bolted like a scared little lamb. He smiled and said, "Too bad you didn't pick what's in my pocket."
She turned to him swiftly, saw his playful smile, and she laughed aloud. She said, "You're a hoot. I think divorce agrees with you."
"So are you really going to stay in this god-forsaken hole in the ground?" he said.
She threw the dust rag at him. "Yes! I like it here."
"What are you going to do all day long?" he said.
"Write," she said. "I thought I would make the attic into a little office."
He looked confused. "I didn't know you wrote. Don't you work for the Ministry?"
"Department of Magical Artifacts and History, yes, and it can be somewhat boring and limited sometimes. I'm taking a leave of absence. In fact, I may not go back at all."
"What are you going to write?" he asked. He leaned against the table.
"I want to write a mystery, or a historical novel, or some other piece of fiction. I don't really know yet, but I want to give it a go," she said. She sat on a loveseat by the fireplace hearth. He came over and sat next to her.
"Write a mystery. I'll help," he said, with a twinkle in his eye.
"Aren't you going to laugh at me? Or tell me that I'm wasting my time? Or that I'm lacking direction?" she wondered.
"No." He suddenly frowned. "Are those things others have said to you?"
"Yes, but of course. No one believes I can do it. My mother said that it's ridiculous and that I've never shown an interest in writing before, but that's not true. Just because she's not aware of something, doesn't mean it's not a part of my life. I hide a lot of things from people." She felt like she could share this with him, and she wasn't sure why. She continued, "I've always written poetry and short stories. I've just never told anyone." She suddenly looked at the floor. She said, "It is a bit daft, but I just want to do it, even if it's just as a lark."
"Well, hip-hip hooray for you, Granger. I think you should. I'll even help." He stood up and walked in front of her. "I think you should write a mystery. Have the setting be a small cottage by the sea. A shabby cottage by the sea."
"Write what you know, gotcha," she said.
"The heroine needs a really strong name," Draco said.
Hermione shot out of the loveseat and said, "Miranda! I've always loved that name."
"Great, Miranda it is," Draco said, playing along. He walked around her and said, "For the last name, we need something simple, plain."
"White?" she said.
"No, but I like the colour theme," he said.
"Gray?" she asked, then added, "But spelled with an 'A' not and 'E'."
Draco said, "Miranda Gray, with an A. I like it. Now, the hero needs a name denoting his dashing, blond good looks."
Hermione turned to him and said, "Blond?"
"Yes, blond!" Draco said.
"No, he's got raven black hair, stubble on his cheeks, and he's a rogue. We'll set our story during the Napoleonic wars, or perhaps right after. I love the regency era. We can say he was injured at the battle of Waterloo, and he came back to the county of Devin, a broken and bitter man," Hermione waned. "And his name with be Waring Glynn, with a Y before the N." She laughed at when she realized it rhymed, just as Miranda Gray with an A, rhymed.
Draco laughed and said, "And it's up to poor little Miranda Gray, with an A, to save his soul and earn his love."
Suddenly, Hermione sat down and said, "This sounds more like a romance than a mystery."
"Oh, we can throw in a murder or two, and perhaps he can be the lost son of some duke, and she's really his long lost sister," Draco said, sitting beside her again.
Hermione laughed and said, "A romantic mystery about incest? I don't think so, Malfoy."
He smiled again and said, "Well, it's a start anyway, and if you need help writing any of the love scenes, I'm your man."
"I'll remember that," she said. She was sure she was blushing again.
The way her cheeks reddened reminded him of that blasted picnic again, three years ago. He remembered that they were standing in the kitchen of Theo Nott's house, and she was pouring some iced tea into a glass. He walked up to her that day and said, "Thanks, I was thirsty." Then he downed the whole glass, sat it on the table, and said, "Yum."
He expected her to throw some sort of fit, even though he was just playing around with her, but she didn't. She blushed. The way she blushed just now.
"Would you like to go for dinner tonight?" he asked.
"It's the girls last night. We're going out. Please, though, join us," she said.
"I doubt they would want me to join you," Draco said, in an unassuming way.
"I want you to, though," she said. "We might need to work on the book tonight," she joked.
"Okay, then," he said. He stood up and said, "I'll let you get back to work."
She walked with him to the door and said, "Meet us at the inn at 6:30. The Inn, Malfoy. Can you remember that? I didn't say something else. I said, The inn."
"You'll never let me live that down, will you? You have to admit, the Blue Angel and the Blue Moon sound very similar," he said, winking at her.
They stood in the open doorway and she said, "Yes, they both have the word blue." She looked at the ground.
"What's the name?" he said. She looked at him.
"Of what? The inn?" she asked.
"No, Granger," he said.
"Barlow's cottage. You are forgetful. I've told you that twice now," she said.
He placed his hand on the door jam, so that it touched her arm slightly. He again said, "No, Granger. What's the name of our story?"
She threw her head back and laughed, the same way she did years ago at the picnic. She said, "How about we think on it, and both give each other our best suggestions tonight."
"It's a date," he said. And by jove, he meant it this time. Tonight was a date. Tonight he was really going to kiss her, the way people kissed on dates. Before he could say goodbye, she took the lead again, leaning forward, and placing her warm lips on his cheek. She kissed him and then leaned back and smiled.
He had nothing more to say or do, so he disapparated from the very spot. She smiled and walked back in the cottage. She had a date with Draco Malfoy.
(Coming up: A Dance and a Date)