7) The elephant in the room

Muggle phrases are funny things, and despite being brought up by them, Hermione had never had the desire to use them, mainly because they did little but confound the wizards and witches that had the opportunity of hearing them. Although, as she stood backstage, one that her father used to use frequently, popped into her mind, and in his voice she thought of 'The elephant in the room.' The young Hermione Granger at the age of 6 had asked her father what it had meant and when he had explained it of something that everybody knows but nobody wants to talk about, she had dismissed it with her childish intellect of a mind and had thought no more about it. A silly phrase with little sense had no place in a brain as tightly packed as hers, and it was only today that she thought of it once more and decided it was very apt for this situation. Which is putting it mildly. A slightly more dressed down but highly enthusiastic woman had taken Classandra Meek's place, showing no signs of the previous scuffle except the small but dark scorch stain by the foot of the leather seat. No questions asked, no comments rose, and it seemed like the rowdy audience had quietened down having witnessed the fate of Miss Meek. Of course, as interviews carried along, many were getting back into its excitement and cackles of mirth were heard throughout the room.

Hermione had sat down on a rickety chair with her head in her hands, trying to block out the world. Ginny had just entered the stage, and the Gryffindor felt a small wash of guilt as she couldn't bear to watch her friend go through the same thing and instead hid in a corner. Luckily for the redhead, Ginny had a sort of charm that others lacked and was skilled in making light humour and turning the conversation in the way that she wanted it to go. The mystery that was Malfoy hadn't said anything to her since he voiced his opinion when she had returned and instead stood the opposite way of the hall, refusing to look at her. Not that she wanted him to anyway.

When she thought of Draco Malfoy, Hermione surprised herself. She did not fill with the burning hatred like she had done in year 3 of Hogwarts, neither was there the intense loathing like she had for Voldemort and his other followers. Yet he acted the same. He wore the same clothes, did the same things, but whether it was because she had known him from school or something else, there was something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. And the puzzle that he was, so far seemed unsolvable, which only worried Granger more.

Tributes came and went, the once light hallway now only lit by the glowing torches above as the light of dusk had been clawed away, darkness reigning in its stead. Despite the majority of interviews already having passed, 6 muggle borns were wringing their hands nervously at the prospect of being taunted further if they were picked by either Draco or Pansy to join them once again on stage. As the long blonde girl, Chelsea, finished, the half-bloods and traitors were ushered away, and Ginny gave a small smile of luck as Hermione was once again forced to sit there and wait. Pansy flounced past with a sneer, a peach satin dress that looked like a bad soufflé wafting out around her. She also noticed with interest, that Draco took her by her arm and murmured something in the Slytherin's ear before she nodded and took her place on stage. Hermione thought she saw their eyes flicker towards her, but she couldn't be sure. Even so, the pangs of nausea filled her stomach at the thought of having to remerge into the bright lights and death eater filled room.

To her surprise, Pansy picked the dark haired boy Flyn to come join her, apparently to seek revenge on the time he tricked her at Hogwarts. Trivial things that only mattered to Pansy, but despite this, the Gryffindor felt a bout of sympathy as the impassive boy made his way calmly to the doors, a thin sheen of sweat the only giveaway of his discomfort.

Meanwhile, Draco was pacing, a habit he had unconsciously adopted from his father whenever he was nervous or trying to solve something. He had just talked to Pansy; there was no going back now. Hopefully she had just passed off his interest in old rivalry, although he wasn't exactly sure how he would answer later questions. But he would come up with something.

It was risky. He hoped that everyone would believe him.

He hoped that she would believe him.

He hoped against hope that she wouldn't ruin it.

His fists clenched and his new Italian leather shoes tapped softly against the marble floor as another roar of laughter echoed through the hall. 1 minute to go, and so the Slytherin took this moment to clean his face of emotion, straighten up, and let the smirk that no longer needed practise adorn his features. He tried not to look at the small parchment coloured creature huddled up on a chair, her wavy brown hair hiding her face like a curtain.

The soft glow of torches cast sweeping shadows that contrasted with the shine of marble and Malfoy thought it was a rather good setting as he looked at the shadow of a former lively spirit.

"Mr Malfoy, you're on."

The Slytherin's head snapped up at the same time as Hermione's did, as a small death eater whose name he could not remember gestured to the doors that Pansy and a sick looking Flyn had just emerged from. He nodded curtly and ignored the pleading of Granger's eyes before she slumped in defeat back into the wooden chair.

Here goes nothing. He thought to himself before strutting out into the cheers and cries of a bloodthirsty crowd wanting some excitement.

Well. He thought once more.

If it is excitement you want. It is excitement you are going to get.

Hermione Granger felt no surprise as her name was called to return to the stage; only a slight kindle of annoyance which she knew would do her no favours if her sharp tongue got the better of her. However, she cared no longer, and decided that her odds with getting sponsors were completely beyond her reach after she turned out to be the result of a beloved death eater's death. She had tried to be nice, but now they would get Hermione. A few glances of pity were thrown her way by the remaining relieved 4 tributes, as they too filed out quickly, glad to be rid of the prospect of returning to humiliation once more.

If the new witch responsible for interviewing was nervous after the untimely demise of her former associate, she certainly didn't show it, and was extra enthusiastic in order to prove herself. Jemimah Crow was relatively short with a bob of bright blonde hair and round blue eyes that made her look younger than she actually was. Her small pink mouth was in a permanent grin, showing a set of slightly crooked teeth.

As Hermione entered, she could see that one of the two black leather seats had been replaced with a small black leather couch, of which Malfoy was sprawled across on, his lazy grin trained on the approaching Gryffindor.

"Hermione Granger everybody!" Her voice had a lilt of an American accent, and even as she approached, Malfoy made no move to make some space on the tiny couch. She perched awkwardly on the edge and gave a sharp squeak as Malfoy once again picked her up with ease and put her on his lap.

"Much better." He said with a wink, and the crowd burst into peals of laughter.

Fury bubbled through Hermione.

Not again Malfoy.

Jemimah gave a tinkle of a laugh and began to ask Draco some questions which he answered with ease as Hermione sat stiffly on his lap. It didn't help that his left hand, hidden from view, was rubbing her back in a comforting manner, but this only made Hermione more edgy.

What are you doing? She thought, racking her brains.

"And tell me Draco dear, why did you decide to bring Miss Granger up here today?"

"Old school reunion would be a good way to put it."

"Were you two friends at Hogwarts?"

Draco flung his head back and laughed, causing Hermione to jump and nearly fall off.

"Heck no. She hated me, didn't you?" He turned his head towards her, his startling grey eyes portraying something more than comedic value….

"With a passion." She answered politely, and Draco laughed again.

Think Hermione. Think.

"We had fun really though, didn't we Granger?" he said and patted her thigh which she scowled at and attempted to climb off his lap, finding it difficult in a chiffon dress.

"Now now darling, none of that." And he lifted her back on with her back facing him, and wrapped his arms around her middle to stop her from escaping. The heat that radiated from Draco on all sides was easy to feel through the thin material of her dress and made it difficult for her to think. The death eaters murmured in confusion and Draco gave her hand a desperate squeeze.

He's not mocking me like he ought t, neither is he insulting me….but…something else….flirting. He's flirting with me?

Hermione turned quickly so her face was close to Draco's and she saw the relief fill his eyes for a split second as he knew that she finally understood.

What is the main aim of these interviews Hermione? Gain attention. And we're going to gain attention like nobody ever has before.

"Next question please?" she asked politely, relaxing into Draco's grip with a small amount of effort, and attempted to look at ease.

Jemimah looked slightly startled but continued anyway.

"So Hermione, have you ever met anyone like Draco before?"

The Gryffindor snorted. "Nope. Nobody like him."

"Can you imagine two of me?!" Said Draco grinning.

Hermione looked up at him sweetly.

"Can you imagine hell?"

Chuckles could be heard as Draco pretended to look offended.

"You Madame. Do not deserve my lap." And he nudged her so she slid off next to him.

"No I don't, but you can just about deserve my feet." And Hermione placed both feet over his lap so she was lying lengthways across the seat, her small frame in her favour.

The death eaters were uneasy with this progression at first, but Draco's easy and authoritative demeanour, they quickly accepted this different approach and began to enjoy it.

"Draco, in your opinion, what's been the best bit about the Hunger Games so far?" The witch said with a smile. Malfoy played with Hermione's brown pumps absentmindedly and nudged her.

"Your costume in the parade."

"I believe I looked radiant" Hermione joked, a pink tinge of embarrassment colouring her cheeks.

"That's one word for it."

"Maybe I didn't have enough make up."

"You don't need make-up."

He paused for affect.

"There's no saving your ugly mug." This time Hermione laughed along with the crowd before giving a mock scowl, swinging her legs back down to the floor and edging away from the Slytherin.

"You've angered her now!" said Jemimah.

"It's nothing new. I just have to make sure I don't overstep the line again, or I'll end up with another broken nose."

Granger spun round to face him.

"I broke your nose?"

"Yeah, feel sorry?"

"No. I'm quite impressed actually."

The bouncy witch leapt upon this information like a fish on a hook, eyes sparkling with entertainment.

"Do you mean to say Miss Granger broke your nose Mr Malfoy, once upon a time?"

Draco threw his arm gracefully around Hermione's shoulders.

"She throws a mean punch."

"Looks fine now." She said, flicking his nose with her forefinger. In one swift move, Draco caught her wrist and looked at her with a smirk and eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Scared now Granger?"

"Why, you going to punch me back?"

"No, I'm going to do this."

And to the joy of the entertained audience, Draco Malfoy went and tickled Hermione until she screamed at him to stop.

The time was up and still practising his theatrics, Malfoy stood up and bowed to the clapping crowd and even Hermione gave a little curtsey before being dragged off by the Slytherin. As she exited she could have sworn that she saw The Dark Lord smile in amusement as the doors closed behind them for the last time. As soon as they did, Draco stiffened and tightened his grip on her hand as he forced her into a small alcove, the flickering torches being left behind, plunging them into darkness as they stood opposite each other in the small space. Draco gave a small sigh.

"Sheesh Granger, took you long enough."

Hermione crossed her arms.

"Well forgive me, but I haven't seen you since Hogwarts and the prospect of you flirting simply confused me."

"You get confused a lot more easily these days."

"Shut up Malfoy."

There was a tense silence, and Hermione could barely see his face due to the lack of light. The elephant in the room popped back into her head. His reckless flirting had gained her attention that she needed. Attention could save lives. And not just anybody, but by the most wanted and likely candidate to win. Yes she was confused. But that didn't make her ungrateful.

"Thank you." She whispered.

"Don't thank me yet." He replied.

And with that he slipped into the shadows as easy as a wisp of smoke.

AN: Long chapter long reviews? Thanks for staying with me guys! ~TheOnlyQuirk