A Slip of the Tongue
by Sienna
Chapter Three: In which Draco thinks, really, too much.
Draco was still standing, open mouthed (most unbecoming behavior for a Malfoy, too) at the Malfoy library door that his mother had shut several minutes earlier.
What?
She paid Hermione to go out with him? But… But.. That was preposterous! Was she being serious? Why?
His palm hurt, and when he looked down, he was surprised to realize that he'd been clenching his fists so tightly that his perfectly manicured Malfoy fingernails had left fingernail marks on his palm.
Hastily, he shook his hands, trying to get rid of the marks. After all, Malfoys were supposed to be perfect, in every aspect, in every way. Even if one's heart felt like it had been cruelly ripped out of one's chest and stomped upon with three inch, hot pink stilettos, one had to maintain appearances.
But that was how he felt. Betrayed. Hurt. Damn it! He was a Malfoy! Malfoys didn't get treated like this! Malfoys treat people like this! (Not that he treated Hermione badly. He was madly, crazily in love with her, and up until then, he had been pretty sure that she was madly, crazily in love with him as well… Okay, fine, at least a little bit in love with him) They don't get treated badly! He should be angry! Furious! Mad!
He wasn't, though.
It had taken him fifteen painful, embarrassing, long-suffering months (which was four hundred and fifty six days. Or ten thousand, nine hundred and forty-four hours. Six hundred and fifty-six thousand, six hundred and forty minutes. Thirty nine million, three hundred and ninety-eight thousand, four hundred seconds of his precious Malfoy life!) of groveling, torture (verbal, emotional and physical, from his girlfriend's friend ,otherwise known as Potty and The Weasel, who had more or less come to accept him as part of Hermione's lives… or had they?), and other things that he did not want to speak of, to finally get Hermione to go out with him.
And it was all a lie?
It made sense, though. A bit. After all, his mother loved him very much. He was sure of that. And, all mothers want to see their children happy. His mother wasn't any different. Maybe she'd seen how miserable he was, and figured out that he was in love with Hermione. Maybe she'd decided to take matters into her own hands (perfectly manicured also, of course).
Seeing as how they were immensely wealthy, (Draco was sure that by pawning something like… Lucius' spare pimp cane, it would bring in, well, a lot) it would have been very easy for her to bribe Hermione with enough money to last her entire lifetime, just to go out with Draco for, oh, say, six months or so?
They'd only been going out for six months. Less.
Their six month anniversary was in a week, actually.
(Not that Draco, as a man, was supposed to remember, obviously, but him, being a Malfoy, and an intelligent, in love one at that, he had, and had been preparing a lovely Happy Anniversary surprise day for Hermione)
And lately, Hermione had been snappier with him than she was usually. Last night, they'd had an argument (about house elves) which had led (oh, and Crookshanks eating habits as well) to Draco staying at (and also how much time she spent at the office) Malfoy Manor for the night.
Oh no.
His mother had definitely bribed Hermione to go out with him.
But… But… Hermione didn't need the money. She didn't like money. She'd made that inescapably clear when he tried to get her to go on a date with him in exchange for a stunningly beautiful emerald and diamond necklace (this was one of his first attempts, of course), and she'd thrown a fit (and not to mention the necklace, across the park where he'd ambushed her, but he'd gone searching for it after and managed to restore it to its original beauty and flawless state, because he fully intended on giving it to her again, sometime in the hopefully not-so-distant future, and Malfoys didn't give gifts that were anything short of perfect), shouting about how she was a human and could not, would not be bought like an object. And the fact that the necklace was Slytherin colored (and you'd think she'd be more about the House Unity...).
Then she'd slapped him (hard, his beautiful Malfoy face had been left with a red mark for three days, twelve hours, forty-six minutes and seven seconds, not that he had been counting. Of course, he could have easily spelled it off, which was what he would have done if it had been anyone but Hermione to leave said imprint on his face, as Malfoys had to look perfect every second, every minute, and every hour of every day. (He did, however, hide out in his room until the mark was gone, obviously, or someone would have seen it and asked lots of questions that Draco didn't really want to answer, or actually know the answer to) But he didn't, because he thought that it could be a memento of sorts, and anyway, she had touched him. Which meant that she liked him), much like when they were in their third year, and stomped off, muttering darkly.
Of course, when they finally started going out, Draco had offered it to her again, she'd rolled her eyes and accepted, and Draco nearly jumped with joy (nearly being the key word, he was still a Malfoy and had some pride left) and fastened it around her neck before kissing her thoroughly.
He'd also made some cheeky remark about her not minding the Slytherin colors anymore, and she'd raised her eyebrows and said that if he wanted her to mind them, she could, to which Draco had hastily said no and taken her hands in his (to stop her from removing the necklace, he'd told her later, but it was really an excuse to hold her hands).
Draco sank down into one of the many plush velvet armchairs (actually, it was his favorite one, it was extra soft and extra comfy) that were scattered around the immense Malfoy library. He put his head in his hands, feeling lost, like a little boy (Incidentally, when he had been a little boy, he had curled up in the very same chair when he had lost his stuffed dragon, but that really is rather off-topic). He needed a hug.
Preferably from Hermione!
But she didn't even like him. If she was being paid to go out with him. If. He wasn't sure yet. If she liked him. And if she was being paid. This isn't even making sense, he thought miserably.
They needed to talk.
A/N: Here's chapter three. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You guys are angels. I love you all. :)
Keep reviewing!
xx
Sienna
PS: Two hundred and sixty nine days until Order of the Phoenix comes out… Everywhere… But Australia. sobs