I'm so terrible at building things up. I'm a drama junkie. But I really am trying my hardest to take things slow. A note for the chapter coming, for any reader not from the UK, remember the drinking age in the UK is 18, so being served at a bar when your 16/17 (if you know where to go) isn't all that difficult.
Anyway, thanks again to ChaosDragon: I know what you mean about something being missing. Hopefully I'll cover it without realising it in the next few chapters. And also thanks to Broadwaychick 07 for the review. J
What is going on?
The weekend passed too quickly for Draco to dwell too much on his second meeting with Hermione. With the onset of Christmas, the café was getting busier and busier. The usual customers had to fight to get seats with the Christmas shoppers. Draco and Blaise spent Saturday forcing their way through crowds of wet people with dripping umbrellas. The result of this was a cup of coffee smashed on the floor and two sandwiches landing in a mans lap when Blaise tripped over a pram. Both boys felt thoroughly drained by the end of the day. As they collected their goodly amount of tips from their jars in the staff room, Blaise had an idea.
"Hey, shall we go to the pub?" He asked Draco.
Draco paused getting changed for a moment.
"Which one?" He asked. "Do you think we'd get in?"
"Well, I've heard the King's Head isn't usually too fussy." Blaise replied, as he pulled his jacket on.
"I suppose we could give it a try. I'll ring my mum and check it's ok to stay out." Draco said.
Draco walked through to the café and asked Angela if he could use the café phone. He had never been able to afford a mobile phone, and he would only have Blaise and mum to call anyway. His mum laughed when he told her where he was going and wished him luck. He and Blaise called goodbye to Angela and Jack and made their way outside. It was dark and raining. A strong wind blew the rain against their faces and they made their way quickly to pub. It was called The King's Head and had a reputation for being seedy. It was where all of the under age kids drank. The kind of place where, when there was a police raid due, the owner would go round and tell everyone that if they didn't have ID, to give their drinks to someone who was old enough. Draco and Blaise made their way inside, glad to be out of the wind and rain. The pub was already quite busy, people drinking and chatting loudly and playing pool and darts. With a quick glance around the pub Draco could tell that about sixty percent of the customers were underage. He and Blaise made their way through the people to the bar. It was a solid wood bar made of dark oak that matched the panelling on the walls, and was sticky from spilt drink. Draco was careful not to lean on it. A petite blonde woman was serving drinks, she had her long hair tied up messily in a knot and was wearing a low cut black top that left little to the imagination. Draco nudged Blaise hard in the ribs when he noticed him staring very pointedly at her large breasts. She passed two pints of a smoky coloured ale over the bar to two frail looking old men and then turned to Draco and Blaise.
"What can I get you?" She asked.
Draco glanced at the pumps.
"I'll have a pint of Carling." He said, trying to sound confident.
Rather than asking him accusatorily if he was old enough, as Draco has expected her to do, the barmaid just nodded and turned away to get his drink.
"Result." Blaise murmured, as her back was turned.
Blaise also ordered a pint of Carling, trying hard to talk to the barmaids face, not her chest. He almost succeeded and Draco could tell the barmaid suffered his wandering gaze with long practiced patience. But then, he thought, she shouldn't be wearing such a revealing top. They moved away from the bar to a small table by a window. The table looked as if it had originally been the same colour as the bar, but was now covered in scorch marks from lighters and matches and scratches where people had thought it would be funny to write things with sharp objects.
"See." Blaise said triumphantly. "No problem."
Draco looked sceptically at Blaise, but he too felt triumphant.
They had arrived at the pub early and although they had some experience drinking in the past, from swiped lager cans from Blaise's dad and their many attempts, that sometimes works, of buying alcohol from the various off licenses during the summer, by 10.30, they were both quite drunk. The barmaid told them, non too subtly, to go home and come back another day. With good grace, they called goodbye to her and staggered out the door. They wove their way along the pavement and up the hill towards Draco's house.
"Can I crasssh at yours?" Blaise slurred. "Your mum'll kill me lessh than my mum."
"K" Was all Draco could manage.
It took several attempts for Draco to get his key in the door when they arrived at his house. It had taken them much longer than usual to walk home, probably owing to the fact that they were weaving around the pavement and had to sit down regularly for 'rests'. By the time they arrived home their trousers were soaked from sitting on grass that, although it had stopped raining, was still wet.
"Draay, whyre we alwet" Blaise mumbled, as he leant against the front door.
"Duno," Draco replied, concentrating very hard on aiming his key for the lock. "Maybe, we went to the seaside. Seas wet."
"Probably," Blaise agreed.
Draco finally managed to open the door. Blaise fell flat on his face on the carpet as he had been leaning on the door when Draco opened it. Draco collapsed to his knees laughing next to Blaise.
"Shhhh," Draco said loudly. "Mums sleep."
The crawled up the stairs towards Draco's room. As they did so Draco's mum stepped out on the landing.
"Uh oh." Blaise said.
"What on earth are you doing?" She asked, a small smile playing at her lips.
"Shhh, we're being quiet." Draco stage whispered, as he slipped down a few stairs with a loud 'thump'.
"You're both drunk aren't you?" She asked.
"No. Definitely not. Definitely." Blaise said, swaying slightly on the spot, pointing to no-one in particular to emphasise his statement.
"Definitely." Draco repeated.
Draco's mum started laughing. Although Draco and Blaise were too inebriated to notice, the laughter took the years off her face that the cancer had put on. Her pale eyes sparkled just as Draco's did when he was happy.
"Get to bed both of you. I'll get you a bottle of water."
Draco collapsed on to his bed as Blaise collapsed on to the floor with a sleeping bag. Both of them were snoring by the time Draco's mum came in to put a large bottle of water on the table next to Draco's bed.
"I want to die." Blaise groaned.
Draco 'hummphed' into his pillow. Both boys had woken to thumping headaches and rolling stomachs. They had also found that they were both fully dressed, Blaise still had his trainers on and rather than sleeping in his sleeping bag, he awoke to find it partially wrapped round him but mainly screwed up in his arms.
"What time is it?" Draco muttered.
"11. Ish," Blaise said.
"What time are we meeting Jack?"
"2. Ish,"
"Oh god I'm going to be sick." Draco moaned, as he lurched out of bed and stumbled down the corridor to the bathroom.
Draco and Blaise managed to drag themselves downstairs about an hour later. Draco's mum was sorting some washing at the counter. Despite Draco's fairly severe hangover, he instantly noticed how tired his mum looked and felt guilty about waking her up the previous night.
"Mum. I'm sorry about waking you up when we came in last night." He said, sheepishly.
Blaise appeared to nod in agreement, but it was hard to tell as he had sat down and was resting his head on the kitchen table.
"It's fine Draco." His mum said, smiling. "I was awake anyway. You and Blaise were very amusing! How are you feeling this morning?"
"A little bit rough." Draco conceded, sitting down gently.
"Would you like me to make you some breakfast?" She asked.
Both boys turned a little bit green.
The familiar feeling of nervousness had returned to Draco's stomach by Monday morning. However, now when he thought of Hermione, rather than just pure seething hatred, he found a small portion of curiosity kindling. The weather was dull and cold and Draco walked quickly to warm himself. He was early and when he reached the welcoming warmth of the cafe he brought himself a cake and sat at the same table he and Hermione had before.
Hermione was late, as usual. It did matter, she thought, it was only Draco. Draco? When had she started calling him that? She stopped when she neared the café and pulled a small mirror out of her bag. She checked her reflection quickly. She was only making sure she looked good so he could see she was well out of his league. Satisfied with her appearance Hermione put her mirror away and walked in to the café. Glancing round she found Draco at the table they had been at on Friday.
"Hi," she said quietly, as she shrugged off her coat and sat down.
"Hi," Draco replied, playing with his fork.
They sat in silence for a few moments, as they had done the last time they met. Again, it was Hermione who broke the silence.
"That cake looks nice."
Draco seemed to look confused for a moment.
"Would you like to some?" He asked.
Draco pushed the plate across the table, turning it so the fork faced Hermione.
"Oh, um, yeah."
Hermione paused for a moment, looking at the cake. Draco watched her and rolled his eyes.
"For fucks sake, I don't have anything contagious, you can use my fork." He snapped.
Draco reached over to another table and grabbed a spare fork and thrust it at Hermione. She looked up and found him looking directly at her, his eyes ablaze with anger, hurt and irritation. She almost lost herself in his blue gaze for a moment. She looked down quickly.
"I wasn't thinking that," she said quietly, then paused. She picked up the fork from the plate. "I was thinking that you were last person I ever expected would share a piece of cake, or anything, with me."
Hermione forced herself to look up again into Draco's piercing blue eyes. In truth, she wanted to look at them, to lose herself in them. That annoying little voice in her head told her that she wanted to look at him and find him looking back at her, but not as someone he hated. Hermione suppressed the voice as she cut a piece of cake with her fork and ate it. She saw the anger and irritation leave Draco, slightly.
Once they started talking about work they once again found their defensiveness leave them and they were easier in each others company. Before they knew it they were not talking about work. Hermione told Draco about going to New York with her Dad and the sights and the shopping. They were both laughing when Draco told Hermione about his weekend and he and Blaise waking up fully clothed with horrendous hangovers on Sunday.
Draco kept catching himself studying Hermione, when she was concentrating and he could see her gently biting her lower lip and when she was laughing and her whole face lit up. Every time this happened he had to stop himself and remind himself who she was. It was like she was a different person.
Hermione also had to stop herself from watching Draco. She watched as he would pull gently at his lip ring with his fingers when he was looking at his notes, and the warmth and passion in his eyes when he was talking about the band he played it. It was like he was a different person.
Draco glanced at the clock on the wall of the café.
"I should go. I have to meet Blaise and Jack."
"Yeah, me too. Go. I mean. Not meet Blaise and Jack." Hermione stumbled over her words, feeling awkward.
Draco laughed, and then smiled. Hermione found herself smiling as well, at Draco. It was the first time they had genuinely smiled at one another, Draco thought it felt weird, but surprisingly good. As they left the café they found themselves walking in the same direction, stealing glances at each other when the other was not looking. As they reached the end of the road Draco felt the first splashes of rain on his face. It quickly got heavier.
"Oh my God, my hair. I can't believe I came out without an umbrella," Hermione squealed.
Draco grinned then noticed a phone box to his left.
"Quick, in here." He said, grabbing Hermione's arm.
He pulled Hermione in after him and shut the door. They looked out of the glass as the rain pummelled the roof and splashed at their feet as it came through the gap at the bottom of the phone box. It was only after a few minutes that Draco realised how close Hermione was to him. They were only inches apart. He looked down at Hermione and saw her quickly look down.
Hermione had started laughing as Draco pulled her in to the phone box. Then quietly watched him as he stared out at the rain. It took a few minutes for the closeness of the situation to dawn on her as well. She saw Draco realise it too as he turned to look at her and quickly looked down. But Hermione found she could not make herself keep looking at the floor, slowly, she looked up, right into Draco's eyes. He was so close she could see the few rain drops still glistening on his neck and the slight flush that had risen to his cheeks. It was like she could not drag her eyes away from his.
"Draco, I.." She whispered.
But Draco quickly looked away.
"I think it's stopping." He mumbled. "The rain."
Draco gently pushed past Hermione and stepped out into the rain, which was not stopping, and in fact, seemed to be getting harder. Hermione was left alone in the phone box, her heart pounding in her chest. She raised her fingers to her lips and the question of what it would be like to kiss a guy with a lip ring flashed into her mind.
Draco walked quickly to the warehouse barely feeling the rain, or the cold. What had just happened? He asked himself. Hermione had been so close to him, he remembered the smoothness of the skin on her face. He remembered light smell of her perfume. Had that actually been nearly a kiss? But she didn't like him. Did she? She hated him. And he hated her, he had to remind himself. But he had not hated her in the café and he certainly hadn't hated her when she was so close to him in the phone box. What was going on?
Hermione got the bus home. What had just happened? She asked herself. She and Draco had been so close. She remembered looking up and losing herself in his eyes and looking at his lips and that glinting, black lip ring. If she had just tilted her head slightly, would they have kissed? Would they? But he didn't like her. Did he? And she didn't like him, she reminded herself. But she hadn't hated him in the cafe and she definitely had not hated him when he pulled her into that phone box. What was going on?
