Bus Stop-Parts Seven and Eight
By Marmalade Fever
Part Seven (Tuesday)
Hermione's aunt dismissed her early, patting her on the back and shoving her through the door before locking it so that there was no way to linger. Hermione was beginning to have her doubts that the woman was even slightly ill. From what she could tell, Hattie was spryer than she was, not that Hermione was exactly what one would call limber.
She strode down the sidewalk, wind whipping her hair to and fro. Ahead of her, at the bus stop, Malfoy was standing, thankfully, alone, the umbrella waving above his head. "Morning," he greeted, as she approached. He was having trouble holding onto the umbrella handle, the wind wanting to take it for a ride.
"Morning," she greeted back, taking her usual place beside him.
"How goes it?" he asked, now wrapping his other hand around the umbrella.
Hermione shrugged. "Not bad, you?"
"I'd be better if this blasted wind would stop blasting," he observed.
Hermione couldn't help but smirk at his dilemma. "You poor boy."
Now it was Malfoy's turn to smirk as he reached one hand into his trench coat and removed a lacy white parasol with pink ribbons. "For you," he said.
Hermione frowned slightly. "A parasol?" she asked, taking it from him.
"A parasol," he confirmed. "From the Latin, meaning under sun."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You just made that up, didn't you?"
He shrugged noncommittally. "Open it up and join the fun." He clutched a little tighter at the umbrella.
Hermione began to open it but paused. "What if it blows away?"
"Then you'll just have to chase it five blocks," he answered.
Hermione sighed heavily and opened the parasol. Because of the lace, it didn't catch in the wind quite so much, the way a broken sail wouldn't work as well as a whole one. It was even prettier when open than it had been before, and Hermione found a pattern depicting the Lady of Shallot. "It's really beautiful," she praised, raising it up over her head and hanging onto it with some trouble.
"I believe a thank you is in order," Malfoy reminded.
Hermione smiled. "Thank you."
He grinned. "You're quite welcome. Now you look like Mary Poppins."
Hermione raised a single eyebrow. "And how do you know about Mary Poppins?. Surely you haven't seen the film."
Malfoy gave a barking laugh. "Land sakes, no. I read the book."
Hermione frowned. "She wasn't at all attractive in the book."
Malfoy smiled teasingly. "Yes, I know."
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Did she even have a parasol in the book? I don't quite remember."
He shrugged. "I don't either. But there was a photo on the cover with her holding one."
Now Hermione smiled. "That photo was probably from the movie. I don't mind being compared to Julie Andrews."
"You know I have no idea who that is?"
Hermione nodded. "By the way, you have your Latin wrong. Para comes from parare which means to prepare or ward off and sole means sun."
"Yeah, so?" he asked.
Hermione shrugged. "Just thought you should know."
"I don't need to know everything. At least I didn't say it was Spanish, for sun." He tugged at his umbrella handle to keep it from blowing away in a strong gust of wind; Hermione followed suit.
"I do like it," she added.
"I think I figured that out when you said it was beautiful and thanked me," Malfoy replied, giving up and actually closing his umbrella. He pulled his hat down closer around his ears.
"Well, if you're closing yours…" Hermione said, beginning to slide her parasol inward, but Malfoy stopped her.
"We can't both break the rules," he said, clicking his tongue.
"But…" Hermione began.
"No buts, Granger." He flashed her a toothy grin.
"You're weird."
"I know, love, and so are you." He stuck his tongue out at her.
"I think your rules need revising." Hermione folded one arm against her chest, the other still holding the parasol aloft.
Malfoy groaned and reopened his umbrella. "Fine. Happy, now?"
"Well, no. Not really. But thank you anyway." She grinned at him, and he grinned back.
"Anything of interest happen to you after we parted yesterday?" he asked.
Hermione shook her head. "No. It was an average day. Try any fantastic new ice cream flavors?"
Malfoy sent her one of those sly smiles of his, reached his hand into his coat pocket, and handed her a half-pint of gelato. "Cashew brickle fudge?" he offered.
Hermione just stared. "You had a parasol and ice cream in your coat? Both? Wasn't it awfully cold?"
He shrugged. "I also brought a spoon." He removed said utensil from a pocket, blew on it to get the lint off, and handed it to her, all while fighting his umbrella.
"You know I can't eat ice cream and hold a parasol at the same time?" Hermione asked doubtfully.
"Eat it on the bus," he suggested. He pointed a way off down the street to where the number fifty-two was rumbling toward them.
Hermione checked her watch. "That was certainly fast," she remarked.
"You sure?" Malfoy asked. "I thought it was just that old saying about time flying when your having fun, or something equally sappy like that." He laughed. "I ever tell you about the time I made Nott's alarm clock sprout wings? Now that was fun."
"I can't say you did," Hermione replied. "Not as if you tell me many anecdotes anyway."
"Note to self. Tell more anecdotes to Granger," Malfoy said, as if talking to an imaginary stenographer.
The bus rolled to a stop in front of them, and the door opened with a loud sigh. The queue was short today and they boarded the bus quickly. "Here's a spot," Hermione said, and she sat down next to a window. Malfoy, naturally, took the aisle seat beside her.
"Did you know," he said, as the bus began rolling down the street again and Hermione began to tuck into her ice cream, "that Mary Poppins was a parsel tongue?"
Hermione frowned, spoon halfway to her mouth. "You mean when they went to the party for her uncle at the zoo? The snake?"
He nodded. "I bet you she was related to Slytherin."
Hermione laughed. "I'm thinking it's a coincidence."
Malfoy shrugged. "Suit yourself. How's the gelato?"
Hermione smiled contentedly. "Cold but lovely. You spoil me, Malfoy."
"It's one of the things I do best." He paused for a long moment, as if thinking. "Granger, do you want to have children?"
Hermione swallowed her ice cream wrong and went into a coughing fit, her face turning steadily red. "What?" she asked, while he pounded on her back with his palm.
"I asked if you want to have children?" he repeated.
"With… with…" She couldn't quite bring herself to add "you" to the end of her question.
"You know… a bunch of fluffy-haired, buck-toothed little ones to pass your legacy of bull-headedness onto?" He gave a low whistle. "I imagine they'd give any teacher a migraine from the hand-raising alone."
Hermione coughed again. "Er, yes. Eventually I would, really."
"Excellent," he said, as much to himself as to her.
"Er," Hermione continued, not entirely sure how to proceed, "do you? Want to have children, that is?"
He raised one of his smooth blond eyebrows. "Granger, I'm the last remaining member of a very long line of prestigious purebloods. It kind of comes with the territory."
"I see." The word pureblood rested on Hermione's ears heavily. She ate a bit more of her ice cream, thinking slowly. Malfoy produced a second spoon from his pocket and nicked a good quarter cup from her. "Malfoy," she asked at last, "you wouldn't… I mean… you would never… think about altering your, er…" She stopped lamely.
"Go on," he urged, licking some gelato off his thumb.
"I mean… do you intend to continue your line, in the same way?" she asked at last.
He scratched the side of his head. "What do you mean? Like, marry my mother?"
Hermione shook her head. "Um, no. I meant something more along the lines of…" She couldn't do it. She just couldn't ask.
"Anyone ever tell you it's rude to not finish a sentence?" He asked.
She gave him a side look. His hair was mussed from the wind, almost as if he had just finished a Quidditch match. His eyes were stormy gray, perfectly matching the storm clouds outside. When exactly was it that he had become so, so, so… devastatingly handsome? She changed tacts. "Do you think you would ever consider, you know, not, er…"
"Your stop, Granger."
"Er…"
"Granger, your stop," he repeated, smooshing his knees in to let her by. She stood, her knees brushing against his.
"Er… Thanks for the gelato," she finished. "Bye." She left the bus, feeling doubtful.
Part Eight (Wednesday)
The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and there was very little left of July. Hermione carried her new parasol over her shoulder, twirling it behind her, still thinking. She'd been thinking ever since she had gotten home the day before. She just couldn't stop thinking… thinking about him. It had been a week and a half now, and he had already monopolized her thoughts. She had come to the conclusion that, yes, indeed, she did have just the slightest amount of a crush on him. A crush, on Draco Malfoy. Of all people. The mere thought left her weak in the knees and stomach. Imagine what anyone would say if they found out. Would they find out? The only way they would is if she told them, and the only reason for her to do that was… well, if something were to come of it.
She walked anxiously down the sidewalk. Her aunt had gone shopping with her that morning and had insisted that Hermione change into her new summery dress before leaving the house. So there she was, wearing clunky, strappy heels, and a dress with peach roses imprinted on the gauzy fabric. This was just about as feminine as she got without a special occasion.
Malfoy, foreseeably, stood at the bus stop, that black umbrella above him regardless of the weather. She rather liked that. It made her feel… special. Not just any girl could get Draco Malfoy to hold an umbrella over his head on a cloudless day, could they? She certainly hoped not.
"Good morning," she sang out, as cheerfully as she could. He stopped, turned, and looked at her for a long moment. His eyes skimmed first to her face, then to her feet, then up to her face again.
"Good morning to you, too," he said, the slightest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He, apparently, had gotten the memo about the weather and had left his trench coat at home, though he still wore long sleeves, perhaps to hide his Dark Mark from view, or maybe it was just to prevent a sunburn. He was awfully pale.
"I'm glad the wind died down," she commented, twirling the parasol over her shoulder gaily.
"It was a bit gusty, wasn't it?" he asked. His eyes had dropped down to her calves again, staring. Hermione fidgeted and his eyes went back up to her face again. "New dress?"
She smiled graciously, nervously. "Yes. Do you like it?"
He didn't answer right away. "Peach roses?" he asked. "You like peach?"
"Well," Hermione faltered, "maybe no more than the next color…"
Seemingly out of nowhere, Hermione honestly couldn't tell, seeing how he wasn't wearing his coat today, Malfoy pulled out a peach rose. "For you," he said, still staring at her dress.
"Thank you," she said, a little taken aback. "That's very…"
"Don't mention it." He stared off down the street, wordlessly. Hermione wondered if there was something wrong.
"Can I ask you a question?" she asked, suddenly all nerves. He shrugged. "What are your intentions?" Her stomach curled into a ball inside her.
"My intentions?" he asked.
"Toward… toward me," she elaborated.
He didn't look at her or say anything for a long moment. "That's quite a loaded question."
"Well?" she asked. Her heart was beating abnormally fast.
"Well… What was that question you were going to ask me yesterday, just before you got off the bus?" he asked.
Hermione froze. "I was going to ask… well, that is…" She paused. "Don't change the subject!"
"You know, I was flipping through Mary Poppins yesterday and found a few, er, errors in our conversation yesterday."
"You…?" Hermione hung her head. "What?"
"Well, first of all, it wasn't her uncle's birthday, it was her birthday, and the Hamadryad was her cousin. Or, rather, her first cousin once removed on her mother's side." He paused, as if waiting for her to say something. "But I admit she probably wasn't a parsel tongue, because apparently she only talks to snakes and other animals when her birthday falls on a full moon. Well, mostly anyway."
"All right…" Hermione said.
"And secondly, you were right, there wasn't a parasol. It was just the photograph on the cover. Besides, she took that parrot umbrella with her everywhere, probably rain or shine. Sound familiar?"
"A bit…" Hermione said, still a little confused by the sudden topic change.
"And it didn't say she was unattractive. It merely says that she's thin with large feet and tiny blue eyes."
"So I remembered a few things wrong," she admitted. "I'm not perfect."
"You very nearly are so," Malfoy said, resting his chin in his hand. "What was it you were going to ask me yesterday?" he repeated.
Hermione paused, and took in a breath. "I was going to ask…" If she was going to broach the topic, she might as well go full-steam ahead. "Do you think you'd ever consider having children that weren't pureblood?"
"You mean, having them with someone who's less than perfect herself?"
"I don't think I'd use that exact wording, but…" She trailed off.
He held up a hand to stop her. "Maybe."
"Maybe?" she asked.
"Yes, maybe. And to answer your question about my intentions, well, all I can say is this." He stopped. "Tomorrow, instead of going home, why don't you come to Diagon Alley with me? You can sample some ice cream with me, and then… we'll go on a date."
"A…" Hermione's mouth fell right open. "A date?"
"Don't look so surprised. I don't hand out roses to just anyone, you know."
"Okay," Hermione answered.
"So it's a date?" he asked.
Hermione nodded. "It is indeed."
He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Lovely." She wasn't entirely sure if he was referring to her answer or to her. He was staring at her calves again, after all.
"Well, there's the bus!" Hermione declared, a little more breathlessly than she had planned. She was going on a date with Draco Malfoy tomorrow! She was… What was she going to wear? What was she going to tell her friends?
Malfoy closed his umbrella as he joined the queue, and Hermione closed her parasol. His hand moved and found hers, and a jolt of excitement passed through her. His hand was warm and large on top of hers. "You're shaking," he observed, as they got onto the bus and found their seats.
"Am I?" she asked.
"You act as if you've never been asked on a date before."
Hermione didn't answer at first. "Well, it has been awhile."
He smirked. "I bet your aunt will be rather pleased, don't you?"
She laughed nervously. "I suppose so." She moved the peach rose up and under her nose and took a good long sniff. When the bus halted at her stop, Malfoy let go of her hand.
"Tomorrow?" he asked.
"Tomorrow." Hermione left the bus, her cheeks glowing brightly.
A.N.: Yes, chapter five is the final chapter, and it will include the date. Yippee! Sorry this took so long.
Oh, also,
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim Mary Poppins, the work of P.L. Travers.