Chapter Nine: "Remedies"
There were innumerable reasons why Hermione Granger was an unfailingly sensible person. However, she decided after finding herself hungover next to Ron, that perhaps she went too far in that direction. Her life had no balance, or perhaps, she didn't know how to mediate it properly. Because calculating the outcome of being reckless was usually enough to get her to drop radical notions from her mind. Yet she never stopped to actually do anything remotely spur of the moment most of the time, and here it was now, a giant mess she landed in when she finally decided to be careless. There existed no justification to what had happened, and she couldn't figure out why the drunk version of herself would resort to banging a taken man, let alone one of her best friends.
Obviously, he was at fault too. They were both vulnerable and horny, and both had the chemistry that made it almost irresistible to be naughty.
However, being a generally kind person with high morals and feelings, Hermione now had the lovely sensation of bricks crushing her insides with guilt and remorse. And it only became a million times worse when Ron woke up in the same mind state.
She had gotten up first, sitting in silence under her duvet, staring at her reflection in the wardrobe mirror, waiting for him to arise.
"Oh my god, oh my god."
He was hyperventilating immediately, eyes wide as consciousness overtook him and noticed who was next to him. Momentarily affronted, she wasn't sure if she should pat his back soothingly when he flailed about under the sheets or leave him be. Because she wasn't entirely certain if he was feeling bad because he'd un-technically cheated or because it was Hermione he ended up in the sack with. Perhaps both.
"I'm…..going to have a shower."
Quietly exiting her room, she peeked around the flat to see if her roommate was back in. Luckily she wasn't, but as she went to snatch her robe, she heard the sound of silent sobs.
This is why I don't do one night stands, she cringed in her head as she walked in shame to the loo. The atmosphere was so awkward, she wanted to curl up and die. He was so upset about last night he was crying.
"Well, he isn't single, that's effing why," she mumbled to herself as she stepped under the hot water, banging her face against the wall, not bothering to even flick on the light.
With no ideas on what she was going to do, or how she would explain this to Ginny (Or worse, Harry), tears welled up and she wasn't able to stop them.
"I'm never drinking again."
Draco was in the complete opposite of positions in his flat. He was suffering from a mild headache, but was otherwise content and was well rested as he stretched. Georgia had ended up nodding off next to him, borrowing a t-shirt and boxers. It was all harmless, dresses aren't meant for relaxing. They just enjoyed a night in, watching bad old films, eating good pizza, and sharing even better company. It was nice to be around someone who wasn't judgemental or big-headed, it was nice not to be alone.
Thinking that he overslept and she had left for some event more important and appealing, he was surprised to see her cooking in his kitchen when he yawned his way to the main floor after getting dressed. It was odd to see such a put together person so messy, her fingers and clothes covered in batter. He'd never even used the stove before. Didn't know how to work it.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she sung, the smell of sizzling bacon and pastry filling his nostrils.
"Morning," he responded a bit confused. He hadn't bought any meat in weeks, and he hadn't a clue on how to make pancakes. It was daily routine now to cross the street, narrowly avoid bikers, and pop into the patisserie for a croissant in the morning, and strolling to Hyde Park.
"You really need to go shopping, love. There's plenty of nice markets in this area. No wonder you're so thin. Now, eat," she poked his stomach as he walked over to the cupboard and reached up to grab some tea, looking him up and down. "Is that one of Viv's shirts you're wearing? Going somewhere today?"
"Yeah I probably should," he shrugged, admiring that she got up early to go buy food for them. "Thanks by the way, I do appreciate it. I'm really bad at the culinary arts unfortunately. I'm also lazy, I buy most of my meals, not make them. And yes it is, do you like it?"
He spun round and posed ridiculously, now able to be himself with her. It didn't take long for him to get comfortable, but most he associated with never let outsiders in enough to allow him to want to put his guard down, being a Malfoy with a reputation didn't ease the process. He wasn't sure if she found him attractive or merely was intoxicated last night, but he could say with certainty that she at least liked him, and that was good enough.
"Obviously, you cheeky bastard," she stuck her tongue out. "You look nice."
"I do try, you know. I'm meeting someone for an appointment at 2, so I have a few hours. What d'you want to drink? Please don't say a margarita."
"Dammit, I was going to you know," she joked, pushing him lightly. "I prefer espresso, gets me right going. Holy moses, you could open up a shop though, with all this stuff," she remarked about his tea habit, amused at how organized the cupboard was.
"Yeah, I might just do that."
He sat down, pouring sugar in his drink, watching her empty the mixing bowl onto the skillet, while playing idly with the cutlery.
"Is it good? I make a mean chocolate chip pancake," she inquired.
"Goodness, I've only just sat down."
"Well god, hurry up. If they're rubbish I'm going to have to make some more!"
They continued to bicker with each other for a while as he ate her delicious breakfast; and then the doorbell rang.
Startling them both, she watched as he furrowed his brow. Watched as he stood up apprehensively off his stool, with a gait of a cornered cat.
"I take it you're not expecting anyone? Want me to go change?" she asked, adding more syrup on her already drenched plate.
"No, no….it should be okay," he replied uneasily, walking to the entrance hall.
Opening up to reveal a dissatisfied Pansy, he found his happy demeanor rapidly missing.
"Hey, Pans, what's up?"
"Don't you act all casual to me, mister. You haven't returned my texts! Or hundred phone calls. I thought you'd died!" she screeched, shoving him into his house. "It keeps going straight to voicemail."
Whoops, he mused. He'd left his phone at home when he went out, and it had died by the time he returned. He could've charged it but he wasn't troubled by its absence. Besides, it was rude to be on it with guests over.
"Pansy," he chuckled. "You're insane. I'm fine."
"Lucky you, I've been seriously worried! You're clean and decent, you're apparently going out. How the hell is it so hard to contact someone! Augh!"
The queen of dramatics strolled further into his flat, and before there was time to explain the scene she set upon, Georgia had greeted her with a happy 'Oh hi, Pansy."
And Draco knew by the way she answered, that he was fucked.
"Hello Georgia May. Sorry, Draco didn't inform me he had company."
Catching the model's eye, he gave an apologetic look. But she, like many well versed in bitch-speak, was a pro at redirecting conversation, and acting like nothing affected her.
"We hung out yesterday, it was a bit last minute," she explained sweetly, licking the tip of a peeled banana.
"Clearly," Pansy snipped. "Draco, you are a great pretender. I didn't realize you had become so, what's the word?….Cavalier."
For once in his life, Draco Malfoy was speechless. The claws had been unsheathed, and he didn't know how much goading Georgia could take with grace, seeing she was almost as fiery as the girl starting the altercation.
"He's not pretending," Georgia laughed disbelievingly. "We didn't have sex, love. No need to fret."
"I'm not fretting," she blushed red, exhaling to calm herself.
"Yes you are, don't feel bad about it. You care about his welfare, nothing wrong with that, eh?"
Pansy was rarely faced with such kindness or logic. She didn't know what to do.
"I – "
"But it's none of your business about who he decides to go out with. So maybe don't jump to conclusions, hm?" she suggested, getting off her chair to make her way upstairs. "It'll just turn your hair prematurely grey. I'm going to get changed, Draco. Meeting up with some old friends later."
Sneering at her apparent rival sashaying away, Pansy mumbled under her breath: "I don't much care for her."
"No, you probably wouldn't."
"And why do you say that?"
Her voice was small, quizzical, and almost enough to make Draco quit what he intended to say. But Georgia May's words were swimming in his head, how Pansy was so obvious about desiring him, and how much it seemed to matter to him that he needed to bang a girl he loved first. He didn't want to be like this. It seemed ever so juvenile.
Draco found it essential to get rid of Pansy's grip on him, he realized last night that he was using her protection as an excuse for not putting himself out there, and counted on her far too much to pick up the slack when he needed defending or companionship.
"Because we kissed last night."
He admitted it with a calm detachment, rubbing the skin on his thumbs over his nails, staring at her directly, watching her expression fall from shock to a delicate despair.
Fumbling to find something in her purse, she looked anywhere but at him, something uncharacteristic of her usual nature that made him feel unnerved.
"Did you do any more than that?"
Suddenly the strain in the room came flooding in all at once, like an oil spill leaking into once clear waters. He decided to be technical.
"No."
"So, if it wasn't a one night stand, then why would she stay over?"
"Because she's my mate," he clarified, to which she snorted.
"Your mate? You've known her for five minutes. Do you like her, then?" she asked acidly, as if yearning for such a person was sickening.
"No, I don't."
"Then why kiss her?"
Her voice broke then, and she finally snatched the phone she was seeking out of her pink bag. Opening it up, she picked a random contact to text, so she didn't have to pay full attention to him.
"Because we were drunk. Because she likes to have fun, and I'm too reserved for it to go any further. I'm a virgin, remember? Felt weird."
"You went out to drink?"
"Yes, I did. Problem?" he asked, irritated she had no know every minute detail in his life. Irritated that she sounded so hurt for no reason.
She was left one of the only people he'd yet to stand up to, and now was as good a time as ever to confront her. Because he seriously cared for her, and it was reciprocated, but he had been wondering as of late if Blaise was right. Maybe if she did fuck him, she'd lose all interest, and he'd be just another thing on her most wanted list that she could cross off and forget about after a week.
"Big time. Why didn't you invite me? Or check your phone? I was texting you non-stop!"
"To find out if I knew about Granger and Zabini!" he countered, to which she growled in protest.
"At the start! You said that if I wanted to see you, text! And I did as you suggested! So it's your fault, not mine, and furthermore I – "
"You, were being bloody annoying."
His tone was stern as he cut her off, and he continued before letting her quivering lips affect his conviction or daring.
"I'm not your dog or servant to mess around with, lest you think I am, lest you think you don't treat me as such. I don't have to tell you every single detail of my life, Pansy. Just as you don't have to of yours. You were trying to guilt me into revealing things that I chose not to share with you, and you know you're one of the only people I like, and trust. But you use that to your advantage against me so often, I'm starting to get paranoid. I have to wonder if you actually need me or you just fancy the feeling that I depend on you. Maybe you like hanging about and dragging me to dress shops because you don't want to be bored."
Raising a manicured hand to her cheek as if he'd slapped her, her eyes were burning with a rage of which he'd rarely seen.
"How dare you? You know very well how I feel. I've told you that I'd date you in a split second and – "
Her face suddenly grew ghostly white. She'd resolved not to mention that night ever, and now here it stood that she confessed freely she had remembered it.
"No you haven't!" he shouted, out of breath, uncertain of where this catalyst of emotion had started, and when it would end. For a moment she was relieved, and composed herself until he persisted. "You only spoke about having sex with me that night. And yes, I remember, don't be surprised," he retaliated angrily at her audacity of looking completely surprised.
"Of course I remember. You never actually came out and said you wanted to date me, or that you even love me, and why would you? Why would you even think that when you have Sergei? How could I be better than him? The answer is I'm not, and you'd understand that if you weren't so fixated on the idea that I don't want you."
"But maybe I – "
"No, you don't! You know you don't or else you'd be crushed when I said I never felt that way. You wouldn't have tried to suck my cock, you just like the thrill. Just want to fuck me to see if it would be nice, and then you can drop me like every other bloke that gets too close to you, that you get too comfortable around."
"Why are you being so rude?"
"Because I'm tired. I'm sick of your jealousy," he walked closer to her, and she flinched when his breath hit the shell of her ear. "I want to be your friend, and I want you in my life. However, you can't always fly off the handle. I'm delighted I'm not solitary for months at a time anymore, but you have to get it through your head that you're not the only person for me now."
She said nothing, which only served to infuriate him more.
"Pansy, I did know about Blaise cheating. Georgia is the one he cheated with, and she mentioned it, and him, at dinner with Vivienne. I advised her to tell Granger first, and yes, I was there when it all happened in her flat. Now you know, now you can do what you may with that information. And leave me be. Any more questions?"
He was lying again.
Yet the video he shot was long gone, he had deleted it. And mentioning its existence would throw him under the bus, revealing it would be unnecessary.
"No, thank you. I think you've made your message very explicit."
Stomping out of the room, he wasn't satisfied.
Stomping out of the room, he contemplated on if she would spill the beans to Blaise.
Stomping out of the room, he just wanted her to turn round and apologize. A deep-seated part of him wanted to beg her not to leave, to tell her all he needed was for her to defend herself.
Because she didn't refute his statements, didn't tell him he was wrong. All she had said was 'maybe', not a definite, 'yes, I love you', or 'yes, I need you.' Not even a 'I am just using you.' That's all he wanted.
Slumping onto the floor, leaning against the fridge, his forgotten house guest tip-toed back to where he was down the staircase and joined him. Gazing at nothing in particular, head against the cool steel, he spoke.
"I shouldn't have yelled at her."
"No, probably not," Georgia replied coolly. "Do you feel any better, at least?"
He shook his head.
"No. I wish she actually got mad. Or upset. She never relays her real sentiments until she's unable to resist, and does something stupid. I told her what happened, with you and Blaise. I'm sorry."
"It's the truth, isn't it?"
He turned to look at her, and she was impartial. She really didn't care.
"She never confirmed to me whether I was right or wrong. If she simply views me as amusement."
"Silence speaks volumes, I'm afraid."
She laid her head on his shoulder, rubbing his knee gently with a free hand.
"It's just….annoying. Knowing that the person closest to you is not even genuine half the time. I always thought she was, because of how often her temper is lost. But I think I'm right, and I think she just doesn't want to admit to me that she's in lust. It's like I'm some school-girl crush, a little game or tool for enjoyment."
"I don't think that's totally true. Perhaps she doesn't want to lose your friendship, and is too inhibited by your existing one to throw it away."
"But I told her that I don't love her, or want to do her. Like, what else am I supposed to say? Or do?"
"Oh….right. I don't know, Draco," she groaned. "Let her think it out and come to you."
They sat there for a while, and Draco considered perhaps that he was growing up by leaving ultimatums that could result in severed ties. And he questioned whether or not he should give up his childish revenge fantasies. Tell Theo the deal was off and leave Blaise by himself, leave Granger too, to live their pathetic lives while he made his as Slytherin-free as possible. He could get used to waking up having real support there for him.
It was so fun though, he argued to himself. Riling up people like Hermione was really fun.
But what was there to gain?
Where had this morality come from?
His questions unanswered, it was getting late. Eventually, the two had to part ways, while that lingering subject mottled his mind as he helped some notable singer pick out outfits for her one-on-one hot yoga class.
"Yes, Amrit is a great trainer. Lost 3 lbs in one week!" she was raving through her private changing room. "Ugh, brown? Draco, please. You know my thighs are fat and terrible in autumn hues."
No, he didn't know.
He couldn't even remember her name.
Or what genre of music she sung.
And he didn't give two fucks.
No, he thought, pulling purple neon spandex from a pile he'd created, throwing it over the wall and removing the offensive one she laid over it. No, I think if I become a regular person… I'll go insane.
Kilburn
"With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride – you're toxic, I'm slipping under…"
Hermione had a migraine, and was stuffing cushions over her head to drown out all noise.
Britney Spears had been singing about casual sex for the past hour, and Ron had been ignoring her crooning, taunting them both as it was most ironically the ringtone Lavender had set for her number in his mobile. This constant calling didn't include the 25 texts she'd sent over the course of the day. Now it was late, and he still hadn't gone home. All she wanted was for him to leave.
Even if he had answered, it wouldn't have mattered; Ginny was chewing them out, she herself cursing her actions because she'd let them go home together unsupervised.
"How could you do that to her, Ron?"
"I thought you didn't even like her?" he asked, with no muster of passion, his demeanour defeated.
"Ah!" The ginger girl scrunched her unwashed hair in her hands, appearing thoroughly ragged and shagged. She'd only just arrived a half hour ago, and had to suss the occurrence of their evening romp out of them. "Maybe I don't, but you should break up with her if you're unhappy! Before you go trying it on with other girls!"
"You think she is some other girl?" he whined, pointing at Hermione, defending himself more than her.
"No, she's not, but that's not the issue. And don't use the 'we were on a break', how spineless," Ginny pointed right back, as he opened his mouth. "You'd be equally pissed if she made out with, with Seamus or something. Right? God, you're lucky I have to tell Harry about this, I have to go deal with him."
"He'll understand," Ron prodded her, only causing her to chuckle at his silly logic.
"Yeah, okay, Ron. You tell yourself that. Hermione, you have anything to add? I thought you didn't want Ron! You said he was too up and down about his feelings. You said you wouldn't go for him. Are you out of your mind, you just got cheated on and this is how you react?"
"You said that, Hermione?"
Her worst nightmare was coming true, that she'd become everything she'd loathed, and that everything she'd tried to keep under wraps had been said without her consent.
Moaning, Hermione rolled onto her back and pushed away the pillows.
"I was thinking last night that I was tired of trying too hard and being so careful, to have it always turn to complete bollocks. I was thinking, drunkenly, that I just wanted to have sex. And knowing that Ron used to find me attractive, combined with him flirting with me, I did. I didn't care if he just wanted to shag, or if he was vulnerable and lonely, or if he likes me. So sue me, so fucking sue me."
The brother and sister stood dumbstruck at how defeated she appeared.
"And yes, I did say that."
"Hermione – "
"You think I don't feel bad? I don't know what to do, I don't know why I did it. I snapped, I think. And I don't expect any compassion, I want to forget it even happened."
"But it did happen," Ginny reiterated exasperated, rubbing her temple. "Honestly, are you two still teenagers? Own up to it. Call in Lavender and say you're sorry. Whatever decision she makes, at least you were honest."
"B-but, I don't want to hurt her. I don't want her to leave me."
"Shouldn't have drunk so much and let your other head take the reins, then, eh? Now will you answer that, for Merlin's sake?" A final command and Ginny marched out of the front door, slamming it behind her, no doubt traveling to inform her fiancee of how stupid their friends were.
Ron glanced at his still ringing phone in revulsion, then back and forth between it and Hermione, shrinking under her displeased gaze.
"Well, are you going to?" she questioned.
"I dunno…."
With him hesitating again, she rolled her eyes at his lack of nerve and stood up.
"Where are you going?" he cried, as she grabbed her keys and wallet. Sitting in this venue, rank with his infidelity and her idiocy, she had to leave.
"I need to get out of here. Lock the door won't you?"
"You're leaving me to do this by myself?"
It was the first time today he had any sort of temperament other than anguish in him.
"Yes. Because you know she was always jealous of our friendship, and you know that I liked you when you two dated in school. I have nothing against her, and this wasn't out of some spite or a 'fuck you' to her, so it's best if you confront her alone."
"No it isn't! You're being a coward!" he exclaimed to her back, and she froze but for a moment before unlatching her escape.
"About time I slipped up, hm?"
There was no reply.
Getting onto the dark street, she almost felt safe, as he had not chased her, until she saw ringlets of gold bouncing in her direction.
"Hermione! Hermione!" She was unable to avoid this, Lavender was click-clacking her way over lightning fast. "Have you seen Ron? I meant to call you earlier, but I was busy. He's been avoiding me all day, I thought perhaps he was in trouble. He said last night he was going out with you, so I thought maybe you'd know."
The desperation and worry set Hermione off in a manner she had not anticipated. She'd been numb all morning after her initial cry, and it wasn't until now that she wanted to confess all her sins and grovel on her knees.
"Lavender – "
Faltering, there was a light inside her spurring her on: Do it, you have to do it.
Swallowing, she reminded herself that she was a Gryffindor, and her will could tough it through anything. But only if she had made every attempt she could to right the injustices she'd made.
"Lavender, he's in our apartment, upstairs."
"What?" She was truly perplexed. No glimmer of truth had dawned on her yet, but why would it? "We were meant to go out, has he forgotten his phone? I know we've been fighting, but –"
"Because last night he got too drunk," Hermione interrupted before she lost confidence. "And had sex with me."
"W-what?"
She would have preferred a seething Lavender over her appearing beaten down. Hermione should've been careful what she wished for.
"I'm really sorry, Lavender. I know you don't want excuses, but ever since Blaise cheated on me, I've felt as if I'm worthless, and was rash in thinking that having a one night stand was the remedy. And that's all it was, and will ever be. He's in absolute bits, has no idea what to say or how to fix it, and thought," she embellished, "if he told you over the phone you wouldn't speak to him again. But he loves you, and he wants to make it better. If you want to talk…he's up there."
Naked, Hermione gathered all the meaning she had to convey in one look, and while Lavender was convinced, and knew this girl wouldn't lie to her, a small part of her wanted to scratch her stupid seamless smile off her face.
"How could you?"
"I don't know," Hermione stated to the ground, wanting to hug her. "I was - I just wanted somebody…."
"Well next time get your own boyfriend," Lavender spat in her shrill voice, getting near enough that Hermione could smell her perfume. "You've been after his cock for years, just because he had a lapse in judgement doesn't give you the right! You watch your step! Just because everyone else thinks your perfect doesn't mean you are."
"Lavender," she breathed, offended. "It wasn't like that at all. He was flirting back, it's not just me, I do know I'm to blame as well, and- "
If she didn't feel a burning sting, she wouldn't have believed that Lavender had actually smacked her so hard. But she felt the blood flow to the left side of her face, no doubt her palm leaving a hefty mark.
"You have some nerve. He always tells me you give off a tarty vibe, you probably went for him when he was upset, no doubt told you he was."
Jaw gaping, Hermione didn't dignify that with a response. She'd apologized, and she meant it. All she could do now was leave with her shame.
Instead of going home, she turned round slowly and walked down the road in a daze, unsure of where she was going.
And suddenly, ridiculously, a name came to her. A photographic memory was one of the gifts laced in her DNA; she remembered the digits she'd scrawled a few days previous as she waked to a booth to dial the number.
Fishing for fifty pence, she managed to catch the person she sought in the nick of time.
And forty-five minutes later, after a stuffy streetcar ride, she dropped off in Leicester Square to Zoo Club, a scene in which she immediately felt out of place. Luckily, her name had been marked as VIP on the list.
The wooden floor was darkly lit with neon lights, and led to a funky dance space. Bright red leather couches and strange art décor scattered about around a long marble bar. Georgia May, who was surprised to be called upon by a near stranger again in such a short span, immediately bounced up to greet her. Yanking her outside to smoke a fag, she was able to talk properly, escaping the loud techno inside.
"Oh my god! Your face does look red. And you look a frightful mess," she said with horror. She had to admit she was a little tipsy, it was a Saturday night in July after all.
Hermione sighed.
Her hair was frizzy from the dry air, she couldn't be arsed to make herself up during the day, and was wearing tatty leggings with an ancient cable-knit sweater.
"You're right. Maybe I should just go back home. I don't feel up to going to a disco, I don't want a repeat of last night."
She'd recounted her tale to Georgia frantically, almost incoherently, through the line, before asking if she could meet up. Just to talk or be in company.
"No, no, god, I was only here to kill time. My place is only a few blocks away, we can get you cleaned up and looking respectable," she winked. "Taxi!"
Surreal. Surreal was the only word Hermione could think of as she wiggled into the cab next to another girl who had made the same mistake as she. Only, Hermione felt even worse as Georgia kept repeating her sympathies as she blurted out more heinous details of the crime. Because she knew the story of her lover's, knew he was taken, and decided to go ahead anyways. Georgia had not a clue about Blaise's.
"If it were me, I wouldn't feel that bad. They were on a break, and he was leading you on! He was complimenting you all night, and he must've known how shit you felt after what I did, god. You used to like him! What a cad."
Georgia was a ball of energy and nerves tonight. She felt partially responsible for Draco's falling out with Pansy, and was so eager to make it up to Hermione in leeway of that, that adrenaline was currently acting as her oxygen.
"Still, I resolved not to ever be with him. I don't know, I just feel like a giant hypocrite now. I dumped Blaise for being a slag, and now I'm said slag."
"Ah, honey, we all fuck up. We're all a slave to our desires," she sang theatrically, raising a hand to her forehead, causing a small giggle to rise up Hermione's throat. "See, you're better already. Just need to unwind, in a more orderly, less reckless, fashion. I'm so glad you called, I was really hoping you'd let me make it up to you one day."
"I'm glad you were here once I actually needed you," she replied, and Georgia grinned.
They stopped abruptly in front of a very crumbly, old building. Taking her hand and dragging her into a lift, Hermione noticed she could see the River Thames looking out a window once they reached the top floor.
"Beautiful view," she commented as they walked into her apartment, which was twice the size of hers. Regarding the slightly over the top shag carpets and coloured walls with amusement, she added politely as they entered her boudoir, "And cute sheets."
Georgia's spacious bedroom was covered in leopard print. The wallpaper, a rug, her pillows, even a huge vanity was upholstered in the pattern. Countless outfits were strewn on the floor, and a heap of hair products and makeup littered every inch of available space.
"Oh, please. It's disgusting, but I'm barely ever home or awake enough by the end of the night to clean. Too proud to hire a maid," she laughed, thrusting open her closet and holding out her arms. "Dig in, ladies choice."
"Erm, I don't think your clothes will fit me, I'm afraid," she admitted, eyeing Georgia's flawless body in comparison to her own.
"Nonsense, you must be only a size or two bigger than me. Here, how about this?" She popped a navy long-sleeve dress into her hands laying on her bed, stretched out from use, and comfortable.
She was hesitant, but this would save her time in rifling through clothes she couldn't pull off, and save her feeling embarrassed.
"Okay…"
Deciding that obviously dear Georgia had no qualms about anything, in her tight PVC pink shorts and black crop top, Hermione stripped down to her panties, and pulled the recommendation over her head.
"Oooh, nice bra. Where'd you get it?"
"Oh, um, Agent Provocateur," she admitted, to a gleeful nod of approval. "Not usually in my budget, but, you know."
It was lacy and black, ultra sexy. Something she'd purchased with Draco's pay, which was very strange now she thought of it.
"Yes, I do. And that looks good!" she remarked, the dress was the perfect length. "You know, I'm glad my dad's making me pay for my rent. He paid for school and gives me a food and necessity budget, I suppose. But it's made me realize I can't spend all my money on pretty things nobody will see," she tittered, smoothing out the creases of fabric hung on Hermione's shoulders.
"Oh, school? What are you going for? And where?"
"Here," she patted her vinyl stool. "I'll fix you up, love. We should look fab 24/7, not just cuz there might be males in the vicinity."
So she sat down for a makeover.
This is nice, Hermione decided after five minutes of gentle chatter. Having her hair brushed and being told about Georgia's art program, and of bustling New York City, it made her reminisce of Hogwarts, of simpler times, and now she longed to go back. It was nice, she decided, because she wasn't feeling under scrutiny, and she knew she could relax for a moment before returning to real life on Monday.
"I'd love to go to uni for English Lit, but I guess I don't have time now."
"No, you should! I adore school, honestly. You're so young. Draco mentioned you were a lawyer, how ever did you manage that?"
Hermione felt a jolt in her stomach at the mention of his name. Why would he talk about something like that? How could he be so tactless?
"Oh," she began puzzled. "I did well in secondary. I uh, was accepted to attend a special program to accelerate my graduation, and scored a great internship," she made up, convincing her new friend nonetheless. "Anyone can whip up a contract."
"Not anyone. Wow, you must be so smart. No wonder he wanted to hire you."
"Hire me? How do you – " A weight dropped from her mouth to her lungs, as everything that had happened in the past week became painfully clear. How was it that Draco had conveniently managed to be in her flat when Georgia had called to confess? "Can I ask you a question?"
"Anything, darling."
"Did Draco know that Blaise cheated on me?"
Georgia, who was bending down to apply a touch of lipstick, went from smiling to a deer caught in headlights, perhaps a dementor frightened by a patronus.
"Um," she stammered, moving away from her. "Well. Well, yes, he did."
"That bastard!" she slammed her fist on the table. "He knew! He knew all along and he was in my house when that shitshow happened!"
Georgia, startled at her sudden change in mood, pushed lightly on Hermione's head, as if she was a roused house pet. "Dear, he suggested that I go to you first, and not give Blaise the benefit of the doubt. He only wanted me to tell you because he said you didn't like him."
"Excuse me?"
This information was alarming. Why would he be so decent?
"I got the feeling from how he asked me, that if he told you, you'd somehow back out from helping him, and he didn't want that. He made me promise not to tell you, but one day you would've wondered how I knew you were dating, who gave me your number, and then what?"
"That dirty, little weasel!" she seethed, clenching her teeth, feeling dim-witted.
"Hermione, he was the one that told me you were dating Blaise, he was the one who put an end to any further affairs. Maybe you don't care for him, but he went to see you in your flat and texted me the a-ok to inform you of the cheating. Said he wanted to make sure you were alright beforehand. He's not a bad guy," Georgia defended, confused to her strong reaction.
"That idiot warned me Blaise would be scum! He warned me and then didn't tell me when he finally was? Why? Why didn't he?"
"I don't know! I'm sorry I told you, I – "
"You don't know him like I know him," she explained, staring with such fury that Georgia had to speculate if perhaps she'd been wrong about Draco. "He made my life hell in school, he deceives people for his own personal pleasure or gain, and even if he can be decent, he's only doing it for himself!"
"But why would he be nice to you if he didn't like you? People change you know."
"Ha! Not him."
Georgia left it alone for a second, allowing this woman she'd scorned to her own stewing as she stepped away from the finished primping. Hermione examined herself in the mirror, pleased that she did, in fact, look one hundred times better because Georgia knew how to use curling barrels properly.
"Look, you shouldn't judge him from before. If he hangs out with people as malignant as that Pansy girl, or Blaise, it's likely been hard to overcome being such an arse."
"What d'you mean?" she asked, genuinely curious. "You don't like Pansy?"
"I can't say, really. But she obviously wants to fuck him, and held it against him when he told her no. He's got it in his mind that that's the only reason she stay round, because she's waiting for him to give in to her seduction. And then she'll leave."
"But that's…." Hermione glimpsed memories of the two arm in arm, always around each other. He was never with anyone else. "Isn't she his friend?"
"Yeah, she is. But, in my opinion, he's probably right. She cares for him, yet she cares more for herself. I'm certain she is frustrated that he keeps rejecting her. Anyways, I feel weird discussing his life. I was supposed to meet with him later," she added, "but I can cancel. I was going to ask if you were okay with it, but you're probably not…"
"No, no, invite him. In fact, I'd like to see his ego shot down a bit by having him answer to me."
"D'you think he's going to be pissed I told you then?" she asked with wide eyes, thinking Hermione to be out of sorts to be this incensed. Poor girl, she thought. Poor Draco.
"No, he should be fine," Hermione lied through her teeth.
If she was honest, the last thing he said to her might've been pleasant, but she had a hard time believing that he wasn't the same person he was when he was 15, brutal and unkind. And she so desired to make him squirm.
"Okay, well I'll text him to meet us here? We can go from there….you know, he never seemed to have an ego to me. Sorry to keep discussing it, it's just really irking me. It was a façade for the boys he hangs out with," she murmured, praying that there wouldn't be a fight in her house. "You know what, i'll shut up. Here, I'm just going to tidy. Want something to drink?"
"I'll help," Hermione jumped up, feeling a bit bad she was being so rude. "And for the record, he wouldn't be an evil prat to you because you're a pretty girl that actually can stand him for more than ten seconds."
Unable to argue that logic, as it was evident he had a difficult time making people like him, Georgia started to wipe res weed and beer stains off the side table. They poured themselves white wine, and Hermione cleaned up the kitchen while the hostess put away CD's and magazines, hastily sweeping the floor and chilling more alcohol in preparation for their visitor.
Hermione was on her third drink, telling herself she was just more used to alcohol now and was nervous, not developing a habit, when the buzzer rang. If he wasn't coming, she would've kept the promise she'd made that morning, but there she was consuming more poison at every passing second.
Snapping attention to the caller box, Miss Jagger let him up, anxiously hoping the two of them would stay in order.
And when he ambled in, Georgia was the only person who had ever recognized the hidden meaning in the way they looked at each other.
He had changed after his work day, and was wearing fitted dark plaid trousers and a white t-shirt. Despite a clean shave, he looked properly ruffled and frazzled like in the morning, when Hermione Granger was sat with an almost dangerous smile on her face not ten feet away from him.
"Hello," he greeted, kicking off his boots, ill at ease under these two women's gazes.
"Hey Draco. So, bad news" Georgia wasted no time. "The jig is up, Hermione knows you knew about the infidelity. I'm really sorry, but I was helping her out tonight, as I promised to do, and it sort of slipped out. We're out of coke, anyways, and there's nothing to mix my whiskey with so I'm going to pop down to the shop for a minute."
Before he had time to argue, or think, she skipped out of the door, heels on, and left a snake in the lion's den. The silence was palpable.
"So," Hermione began, the only time today she felt the upper hand on her side, "want to take a seat?"
She indicated the chair across the island with a flourish of her hand. If he could stand up to a friend, he could stand up to her. Not wanting to back down, not expecting to have to put his guard up this night, he walked with purpose to it and sat, as she courteously poured him a glass.
"Thanks. Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?"
Leveling his eyes to hers, he began to feel incensed at the fact that she wasn't reacting to his forwardness.
"First of all, why the hell would you reveal personal information about me to somebody who is not a wizard? You're towing a line here, Draco, and you best be careful. Second of all, you are a vile prick for not telling me straight away when somebody you know has been unfaithful, especially when you warned me, especially when you don't even like him. You and I sat in my apartment like bloody fools while I was in such a state! How could you do that?"
Dragging out sipping his wine, Draco clinked his glass on the counter, gathering his wits for her. There was no doubt in him now that he could never follow through Theo's scheme. She was livid. He could see quite plainly she loathed him to no end. And somehow, though he was doomed to fail, he still wanted to explain his actions.
"Hermione, for revealing you as a lawyer, I do apologize. That is all my fault. As for everything else, please, implore me, just for a second."
She was about to shout, but he held up a finger, and gave her that same stare of conviction he had in her flat a week ago. She let him continue.
"If I had told you straight away, would you have believed me?"
Lowering in her seat, she chose not to reply.
"No, you wouldn't. Because you didn't believe me when I said that Blaise was using you. And again, I understand why, I was trying to piss you off. But I was still right, yes? I don't like him, I did have my best interests at heart, as most people would. Just because you're better than the rest of us, doesn't mean we can reach your set standards."
The heart in her chest quaked, strained with fear. He was talking to her like a regular human being, and it was almost like he'd just flattered her. She suddenly grew hot for reasons she didn't fathom, gripping her drink tighter.
Draco described to her the evening at the restaurant with Vivienne, about how horrible Georgia May had responded to the news that they had been dating, and the plan they formulated to fix it.
"I tried to make sure that the right fucking thing happened. So you can be all stroppy with me like usual, but I made sure Blaise didn't have time to turn you against me, and let you come to the conclusion yourself and see with your own eyes how much of a pile of dragon shit he is."
Hermione had no rebuttal, and looked at her feet, unsure of how to reply.
After an excruciating pause, the door creaked open, and Georgia returned with a 2 litre and blunt wraps, literally feeling herself cut through the tension like she was a fancy knife.
"Um, I'm going to roll up a joint. Anyone going to share?"
"No, thank you," Hermione answered civilly.
"Maybe," Draco answered tersely, wiping a hand over his face dripped with sweat. Then he got down to act. "Anyone want another drink?"
Without replies, he shuffled around to find three cups, pulled the liquor from the freezer along with ice cubes, and measured it out generously, adding splashes of cola.
All that could be heard once the drinks were poured was the grinding of some expensive bud, and the crinkle of delicate paper. While Draco watched Hermione, and she glared back at him.
She was upset because he had a point. She was upset because she was getting wasted two nights in a row with people she shouldn't be. And was almost finished the round he'd just handed her. The fact that Malfoy was in the same vicinity as her, and really, that she was in Georgia May Jagger's house at all, was too much to wrap her head around.
"I have just one question."
Draco felt a shiver roll down his spine; she'd shattered the peace.
"And then I'll let it go."
Walking up to refill her empty glass, Draco urged her to continue. Georgia snatched her whiskey before offering him a puff. And when he shook his head, she sauntered to her room, and softly closed herself in it for privacy.
"Why?"
Her attitude was removed from the inquiry, a quality that once again made him massively unsettled. Scared him, because he felt regret filling his insides.
"Why what?"
"Why, Draco Malfoy, the heir of Slytherin," she laughed mirthlessly, "why would you ever be nice to a filthy mudblood like me? Why wouldn't you consider using this as blackmail against me, or Blaise? Because you know you've done it before."
Each step he took was like a gasp for air, and Hermione felt her body go rigid when he placed himself next to her, instead of across.
Chanel No 5 was present again in Draco's senses, whiskey and coffee in Hermione's. She tried not to take notice of the way his jaw was sharp and strong, his collarbones and neckline prominent against creamy skin. He tried not to be aware of her heaving breasts, rising and falling as she steadied her breaths, and of the way her teeth peeked through lips that were so perfectly pink.
"You know what, Granger? I've been asking the same question for a week now. I've been reassuring myself that it's because I wanted revenge on Blaise, and while that is true...I don't know. I wanted to piss him off, Theo wanted to piss him off, and you, god he just loved flaunting you," he began, the timbre in his voice different. It was low, coaxing almost, a cobra ready to strike. "Maybe it's because Georgia turned out to be a lovely person, maybe it's because I'm too much of a coward to want to be linked with all this. But actually, now the people relevant in the matter know exactly what took place. Surely Pansy has told Zabini by the way he sent me a wretched, foul voice message."
She wanted to inquire further, but she was acutely aware that his hands were inches from hers, and she knew he wasn't finished.
"The truth is, darling," he drawled, his grey eyes scorching with something Hermione naively thought was distaste, "That Theo made a bet with me, dared me to try and talk to you to get petty revenge with Blaise. And I accepted because I love going against those I feel deserve it, I couldn't resist."
"And?" Hermione paused, thinking once more he still wasn't done.
"I accepted because I found myself angry every time you and he were mentioned in the same sentence. I found myself not wanting him to hurt you, when I shouldn't care at all. So I made it my mission to see you dump him, as you'd been gracious towards me. And for some reason, I love riling you up. I love watching the blush creep up your face when you're flustered, I love all the names you call me," he was suddenly whispering, his thumb had found its way to her face.
Hermione couldn't breathe.
A bang caused them to jump from their skin, and coughs were wracking Georgia's frame as she emerged bleary-eyed, vacantly grinning, from her domain. High as a bloody kite, she noticed their proximity and as the smoke rose around her like some ghostly fairy, she retreated backwards with a coy expression.
"My god, you two. Just fuck each other already."
When she was gone again, they flickered their gaze to one another's, shoving their hands onto their laps, reluctantly giggling a bit because of how they mimicked each other.
And then, in the aftermath, as Draco noticed her stunning smile fade, he found that he wanted to see it again. It was a thought that sobered him, a thought that blazed his entire being.
In a fit of thoughtlessness, he made his bed tonight, and was certain, whatever the outcome, he'd finally be able to sleep in it.
He seized her by the tamed hair on her head, and smashed his lips onto hers.
