Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

This and Here

Chapter Seven

After Dinner Conversations


Hermione woke up without ever having realized she had fallen asleep.

She'd laid her head down on her desk for a minute, trying to settle her discomfort with Draco's sudden defensiveness, trying to figure out if she liked his jealousy taunting her from the background or not.

Confronting him in his office had been… strange. He'd seemed a little desperate, and disparity in men often led to lack of appeal in her eyes—but with him, she'd been two seconds away from giving him a cookie and a pat on the head. Good boy. Now, stay. He had that type of effect on her. Where he could go so far as to call her a 'fatass bag of lard', and minutes later, she would forgive him.

In the end, she'd decided nothing, because her eyes had closed and her breathing had calmed and she was asleep.

A knock on the door had woken her up. She scratched at her face, like that would somehow help to erase the signs of fatigue, then knocked over a pile of papers onto her lap, to make it look like she'd been furiously working.

"Er.. come in," she chirped, but a rasping lining surrounded it, then drowned it.

"Granger," Draco greeted politely as he stood in her doorway. He looked a little apprehensive, feet securely positioned in one spot as if he knew that any further intrusion into her office would agitate the Hell out of her.

"Mmhmm…"

She flipped through the paperwork as he leaned against her doorframe with his arms across his chest. He was eyeing her, and she could feel his glare burning crisply through the top of her head, daring her to look up. But she refused to give him the satisfaction. Draco got off on that sort of thing.

"Just thought I would drop by before I left, to let you know that I talked to Adrian."

"Really? What did he say?"

"We made arrangements for tomorrow evening," he said, like it was no big deal. Like he hadn't just agreed to letting them see other people when they both knew very well that was the farthest from what they wanted. And if circumstances were different, and their lives completely opposite, that they would go for it.

She pursed her lips, tossed the papers onto her desk. Nodded.

"So I'll see you tomorrow night then."

"Right."

He didn't move, even though she'd already stupidly waved good-bye. Of course, it wouldn't be that simple. She groaned and leaned back in her chair.

"What?" she said, "And close the door behind you. I assume that you've got some sort of rant prepared, and I'd rather the rest of the hall not hear it."

He stepped into her office, swung the door closed with his foot, and walked straight up to her desk with his hands tucked in his pockets. His expression read 'all business', and a little bit of something else. To prepare herself, she stood up out of her chair, slung an arm across the back of it to balance herself.

"I sensed a bit of urgency in your tone, Granger. Got a hot date or something?" he jibed, cocking a brow.

"What did I tell you, Draco? I don't want to hear it if it doesn't have to do with work," she warned.

"You weren't complaining before."

"That's because I was trying to be polite. And patient. But guess what? I don't care about being polite, and I don't really have any patience left," she said as she drummed her fingers along the back of her chair.

"This is because of Friday, isn't it? Honestly, what was so bad about it? I know you had fun…" he waggled his eyebrow for good measure, which only infuriated Hermione to the point where she could feel her skull bursting into millions of pieces underneath her skin.

"No!" she shouted, walking around the desk with her arms flailing madly around her to emphasize how little of the concept he seemed to grasp. "It was not fun, Draco! Your idea of fun is pushing house elves into fires, or throwing babies off cliffs. What happened Friday was not fun!"

She placed her index finger against his chest, edging him back several steps.

"I don't even know why I agreed to go on some stupid double date with you in the first place—you'll probably pour truth serum over—"

"Hey now!" Draco suddenly roared, "I only did it because you kept denying it! Maybe if you were mature enough to admit that you loved—"

"DON'T SAY IT!" she shouted, quickly covering his mouth, as though she could somehow prevent the projectile vomit of those horrible words. Even though the only way she could was if she reached her hand down his throat and ripped apart his vocal chords.

But he obliged and stayed quiet. When she was certain he had closed his mouth, she pulled her hand away.

"Draco, you can't force people to say what you want them to say. I can't trust you, I can't trust your stupid little ideas, and now, I can't even trust myself around you. I don't feel safe with you."

His expression immediately softened and he took a large step back as if she'd just struck him very hard. He glared at her stonily as if was her fault that she'd gone to the Shrieking Shack with him. Oh right, like it was her idea to walk around Diagon Alley like a pair of Japanese tourists, bolting at every loud noise and staring accusingly at anyone who looked at them in any other way but politely.

"So is that why you're going out with Pucey," he asked, regaining his composure. He approached her so suddenly that she instinctively held up her hands to ward him off. The freak. "Okay, I get it, 'Let's throw Draco off the trail'. Ooh, you caught me with my pants down. Fine, I'll admit it, I don't like it—so you can go ahead and call him, owl him, whatever the Hell you like, and tell him you can't. Okay?"

"Excuse me?"

"I said—"

"I heard what you said!" she snapped, "You're not listening to a word I say! Stop telling me what to do, you big moron! I want to go out with Pucey because he's very nice. That's right. I want to!"

Draco threw his head back and laughed very overdramatically. "All right, I get it. Okay, haha, joke's over. You got me! Where are the cameras?"

Hermione held her head in her hands, completely baffled by how stupid one man could be. He was completely oblivious to everything he was saying, repelling her words like bothersome gnats that just got in the way. She sighed and tilted her head back to look at him, evenly, in the eye.

"This isn't a joke," she sneered.

He chuckled again.

"But, but we love each other," he reasoned.

It was a bit like explaining sex to a child. There's birds, there's bees, there's a penis somewhere in there, and then out comes a baby. Just a bit too much complexity for him to handle. She wondered where to begin—whether it was smarter to explain how it ended or how it began because either way, it would go in one ear and out the other and end up having not been digested at all. All that mattered to her was getting it off of her chest because it had been weighing down on it for quite a while, suffocating her heart and making it beat irrationally when he was around.

"You can love other people, too," she finally said.

And as if she'd told him he had bad hair instead, he inhaled sharply and pursed his lips, as if he was thinking about which way was easiest to kill her. She grabbed her purse from her desk and swung it over her shoulder, but not before spotting him shrivel backwards a bit.

"I think it's time for you to go," she said, meaning it in the nicest way possible because she had to go home too. He nodded, completely avoided eye contact, and sauntered towards the office door, opening it, then slipping out with hardly a word.

xXx


It was painful. Like getting an arrow shot into your gut, so deftly that it avoids all vital organs, but causes so much pain you wish you were dead. Like that kind of pain.

But of course, it got worse.

When he stepped out of the lift and into the Atrium, there was old, reliable Pucey, waiting for Hermione with a bouquet of flowers, like some White Knight. He waved his 'hello's and 'goodbye's all in one consecutive flit of the wrist, and turned his attention to the lift opening directly next to Draco.

Out stepped Hermione, and with a blush flooding her cheeks, Pucey walked up to her, gave her a hug, whispered something in her ears, and she was immediately giggling. And everyone else hardly found it as disgusting as Draco. They turned to one another and commented on how well-suited they seemed for each other, how beneficial this could be to her career. How Hermione Granger had always needed a counterpart as strong and charming as Pucey. Draco gagged and gagged and gagged and considered tackling Pucey to the ground and shattering all the bones in his face. But he was dreaming, because Pucey was one of the few reliable friends he had left, and it would do him no good to hurt his hands trying to punch Pucey any ways.

Instead, he watched helplessly as Pucey guided Hermione to the main lift, catching brief snippets of conversation about how he had such little time left in London that he wanted to spend as much of it with Hermione as possible. How could the man even know Hermione that well? They'd literally only talked for ten minutes.

Then again, Pucey had mentioned once or twice how she'd tutored him at Hogwarts. How she had been an exquisite teacher and patient with his slowness.

Pft, what patience was he talking about? Whenever he was with Hermione, she was always batshit crazy. Snarling and spitting and foaming at the mouth. Yet, he was strangely attracted to her.

Well, whatever. In less than twenty-four hours he would have a gorgeous model at his side, and they would walk together into the restaurant and Hermione and Pucey would both be so baffled by this sudden turn of events that they would hardly have the time of day for each other. He waited until the main lift came back down, then stepped into it among a throng of other wizards and witches eager to return home.

xXx

Zabini had actually pulled through this time. As Draco escorted 'Veronica' through the front door of the restaurant, he couldn't have felt prouder. She was tall, slender, blonde, and so, so incredibly stupid. But hey, at least they were turning heads.

Work had gone by incredibly slow. Not a word from Granger, but plenty from Pucey, who'd called and owled all day, nagging him about Hermione. About her favorite food, about her favorite color. How the hell was he supposed to know?—well, hadn't he gone out with her at Hogwarts for a while?—oh yeah.

And it was during this particular conversation with Pucey that Draco had realized that Granger had been right. He didn't really listen to most of what she had to say. He'd known her for nearly a decade, and still had no idea what she liked to do with her free time—other than read, read and work. Maybe study some Magical history in her free time. Oh God, he was a jerk.

But none of that mattered, because by the end of the night, Draco would be able to look at Hermione confidently and not have her squirm from discomfort. Plus, he'd have to pull out the big guns and get rid of Pucey. But without Pucey noticing. Which would be a difficult task, but Draco was up to the challenge.

"There they are, quick, look sexy," Draco said, indicating to the back of Hermione's head, and Pucey who sat to her left.

Veronica immediately pouted her lips, batted her eyelashes, added an extra sway to her hips. But neither person noticed her presence until Draco purposely knocked his elbow into Hermione's head.

When she turned around, Draco was somewhat floored. She looked fresher, more alive, happy even. Her hair was pulled up, her black dress was strapless, flowy and short, and she was smiling a real smile.

Or had been. Now she was glaring at him, knowing very well he'd hit her on purpose. Words came out of her mouth but he couldn't differentiate one syllable from the next. All just a bunch of mush. He didn't realize he was staring until Pucey cleared his throat.

"I think your date is waiting for you," he said, gesturing towards Veronica who seemed to be having difficulty pulling her chair back from beneath the table. Draco groaned, then walked over to her chair and helped her into it. She smiled seductively and held out her hand to Pucey.

"I'm Veronica. I've seen you before," she purred.

Draco was pleased at the look of pure displeasure on Hermione's face. But that quickly changed when Pucey brushed Veronica off.

"If you've ever been to one of my matches, then, probably," he said brusquely, turning his attention back to the highly interesting conversation he was having with Hermione. Draco looked over at Veronica and frowned.

"So, what have you two been discussing?" Draco inserted, causing both Hermione and Adrian to look at him at the same time. But then Adrian quickly shook himself out of confusion and smiled as he turned back to look at Hermione.

"Well, it turns out that Hermione's really into—"

"Reading," Draco intervened. Well, pft, no-brainer.

"Uh, no… Actually, she really enjoys—"

"Studying," he interrupted again. God, he was slugging these totally out of the ballpark. Hermione glared at him from across the table, eyes spewing burning lava, but Draco ignored it.

"No… she likes to paint in her free time," Adrian said, looking at her with one of those, classic Pucey smiles, "And I was just telling her about how I recently auctioned off one of my own pieces for charity."

Oh, the lameness of it all. Draco worked hard to swallow the vomit that rose up in his throat. He was getting more and more bored by the second. Selling paintings for charity? Pucey, Pucey, Pucey.

Veronica, seemingly amazed by the conversation topic, turned to stare wide-eyed at Hermione.

"You paint?" she queried in awe, "Draco was just telling me all about how you spend all your time reading. Wow, you can read, and you can paint!"

He nearly fell over in his chair. Veronica was dangerously stupid, but apparently very entertaining, according to the smug grin on Hermione's face. Pucey, on the other hand, was completely oblivious.

"Haha, Veronica, I didn't say that…"

"Yes, you did. I remember. You said that maybe if Hermione didn't spend all her time reading, she could spend more time getting a life—"

Shit.

"Uh, I didn't meant it that way—I meant it in a highly complimentary way that perhaps if Hermione didn't read as much, she could be able to enjoy… things," he struggled.

Agh, he was as good as dead. But apparently the two lovebirds hardly noticed, they were all over each other.

"So, since when have you been painting?" he inquired, hoping to turn the conversation in another direction. Instead, Hermione only appeared agitated. There was no satisfying this woman.

"Actually, I showed you several of my paintings back at Hogwarts," she replied. "Adrian remembered."

And now she was rubbing it all in her face. He held back a sneer. Time to take things up a notch.

"Oh, yes, Hogwarts. How could I forget?" he said as he slapped Pucey on the back, "Remember when you used to call Hermione, 'Hermaphrodite? I do!"

Then Draco was guffawing so loud that people at other tables looked over in confusion. Pucey, on the other hand, was boiling. His face was completely blank, but Draco realized that he was calculating, that the gears were turning and sooner or later he'd figure out what Draco was doing.

He glanced across the table at Hermione, who was biting her lip in anger. Perhaps that hadn't been the smartest move, but at least Adrian looked like the moron now. Right?

"That was a long time ago," Adrian finally responded, taking Hermione's hand in his as he turned to look at her, "But I still feel that I should apologize if I hurt you in any way when I did that."

Hermione was falling for it. She was actually falling for the crap Adrian was shoveling out. Draco inhaled sharply and threw his napkin onto the table. His plan had just backfired in his own face, and Adrian was reaping all the benefits he should have been reaping.

"What!" he shouted, "You're actually falling for that drivel?"

In retrospect, that was perhaps the worst thing he could have said.

At the same time, both Hermione and Adrian stood up, pushing their seats back. She looked stunning with her eyes all aglow with rage and her dress swishing around her knees as she moved. But then she was tucking her hand into the crook of Adrian's elbow and whispering something into his ear, and Adrian was actually listening.

She smiled sweetly at Veronica, mouthed a 'it was nice to meet you', but didn't acknowledge Draco's existence at all.

"I think we're going to eat somewhere else," Adrian said for her, shooting daggers with his eyes. Then the two turned and left.

Ugh, and now he was stuck with this airhead. At least they hadn't ordered anything. Perhaps he could get up and make a run for it. No, things were already bad enough as it was. With a groan, he leaned back in his chair and waited for the night to end.

xXx


Hermione knew he was there before she even got to her floor. There was just that distinct feeling that crawled up her spine and laid eggs of suspicion in the back of her head.

When she got to her hall, he was sitting there against her door, arms sprawled out across his knees, snoring softly. He immediately jumped up when she walked up to him, jingling her keys to get his attention. After wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth, he jammed his hands into his pockets.

She'd just gotten back from her private dinner with Adrian. The two had talked for hours as they ate their desert, and yes, she'd been corny enough to share it with him. So the cheesecake sat in the middle of the table and they each took bites, and sometimes their forks would clash and she would blush and he would smile. They'd talked so long that she'd forgotten she had work tomorrow morning, and he'd forgotten about his early practice. And even though they'd talked about it, argued, bickered and challenged each other on this particular topic, he still insisted he walk her home because he was a gentleman. Though she might not have felt anything, he had, and they agreed that that would be enough.

So at the door they said their good-byes, and he snuck in a kiss, and she hugged him in thanks. Then she trudged up the stairs with that sinking feeling that the evening had just begun.

Draco looked like a lost orphan, his hair tousled from having slept at an awkward angle with his face burrowed into his shoulder, and his clothes rumpled from sitting on the ground. But he still had the nerve to smile at her as though nothing had gone wrong.

She unlocked her door, completely ignoring him, and walked into her flat. She left the door open for him.

"What?" she said, but it was a defeated 'what', and frankly, she didn't really know if she had the energy to argue with Draco. She'd already spent all of it arguing with Pucey about their compatibility. And no, not 'their' as in his and hers, but 'their' as in Draco's and hers.

"So, no Pucey?"

She grumbled and threw her purse onto one of her chairs.

"No, no Pucey," she sighed.

"What happened?"

"Well, wouldn't you like to know."

"Yes, actually, I would."

Leave it to Draco to take her sarcasm for seriousness. She closed her eyes and let out another large sigh.

"What are you doing here, Draco? And where's that dim bulb of yours?"

He shrugged. "I sent her back to Zabini. She was one of his models that he manages."

She was a little relieved.

When they had walked in together, she had nearly fled to the bathroom. The woman was gorgeous, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. The two looked completely perfect for each other, and for a second, as Pucey's words had bounced off of her, she had a small twinge of fear that Draco had found his match. But knowing that 'Veronica' had been there on behalf of Blaise mollified the fear.

Hermione nodded. He still hadn't told her why he was here, though she could take a few guesses why.

"What? What's wrong?" she asked as he stood there, staring at her.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry."

"Well, I should hope, your behavior tonight was completely unacceptable—"

"No, not about that, about not listening to you," he clarified. "I'm definitely not sorry I got old Pucey to squirm a little."

"Well, he certainly didn't appreciate it," she sneered. "Neither did I. You were rude, completely out of line—"

"All right, all right, I get it. There's something else I had to tell you—"

"—inconsiderate, bad-mannered, overall offensive—"

"Granger…"

"—a bad conversationalist… OH, and LATE—"

"Hermione!"

She had barely gotten started as the memories from the past twenty-four hours started to flood through. There were hardly words to explain how ashamed she was to be around him at that moment. How angry she was at his thoughtlessness. How incredibly stupid he could be.

She still couldn't understand why Adrian still insisted on being his friend, after everything they'd talked about over dinner. Perhaps it was some deep Slytherin bond, that when broken, kills slowly and painfully. With all these thoughts clouding her head, she hardly noticed when Draco reached into his back pocket and pulled something out with his hand.

She stopped counting off on her fingers and slowly let her arms fall to her side as he dropped down to one knee. Oh for the love of…

"Marry me."


Author's Note:

Moving on... ANNDD next chapter.