Author's Note: Percy's birthday gala! There's work to be done... ;) How do our two dates-but-not-really feature?
Draco held his breath for a moment before rapping his knuckles on Hermione's front door.
Putting the finishing touches on her hair, Hermione rushed to the door to open it.
"Well?" she asked anxiously. "Do come in…" Trailing off, she took in Draco. His button down shirt was the same rich purple as her dress – and yet somehow, it looked more masculine than any other color Hermione had seen. It was tucked into crisp khaki pants, and the belt buckle gleamed. He looked – fit. Very, very fit. "Your muggle dress sense hasn't suffered, for all your distaste of them, I see."
"I've already told you, Granger. If I do it, I do it right." He paused for a moment, debating as to the best way to tell her how she looked. Smiling, he asked, "I take it I was a worthy date, after all?"
"Moreso than Ron, in any case."
He frowned. Why did Ron have to come up, blast him? Why couldn't it simply be that he, Draco, was a date worthy of her in all her beauty? She was saying something else –
"I figured you'd rise to the occasion, even if it is a Weasley party and beneath your dignity. And I couldn't have you leaving me behind in the dust, could I?"
There we go. That's more like it. His face broke out into a smug smirk.
"I always leave people in the dust, Granger. Especially you."
"Oh, is that the case?" she raised an eyebrow. "Keep in mind that this is my crowd tonight – not yours."
"I can be a charmer when I want to – haven't I proved that?"
"True, but who's to say the Weasleys would be deemed worthy of that charm?"
"Who's to say you were?" This is going too far. "After all, what can you expect – I do want out of probation, you know."
Hermione looked slightly crestfallen, turning around and grabbing her purse to mask her face. Is that really all? Once he gets off of probation, will he go back to the insults of before – and actually meaning it? Dear god, no. No, no, no. The last two or three weeks had been – such a relief having him around. He was a lighthearted break from the dull reality that surrounded her, in all her bookwormish loneliness. Turning back around, she merely commented, "Yes, well, telling me that's why you're being polite is not the best idea. I'm bound to keep you around for longer now – or I would, if I could actually bear the sight of your face."
"Ooh, burn," he laughed, knowing she couldn't possible mean that – right? And if she doesn't, it's her own loss. I am Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince, and no blasted mudblood's opinions are going to injure my self-esteem. Why am I letting her get to me? Calming himself down, he proffered his arm, and she apparated them to the Burrow – or as close as magical boundaries allowed.
"Pardon me," he sniffed as they began trudging towards the house. "I must say – that is smaller than our gardener's shed."
Hermione rolled her eyes. It was true, no doubt – but that gave him no right to – hold up, she reminded herself. This isn't Ginny's house anymore. Or George's. Or Bill's, or Percy's, or Charlie's. The only Weasley still living here besides the parents – is Ron. Something struck her. "I know – sad, isn't it, that Ron can't provide for them properly, despite being a professional athlete and all?"
"I always told you Weasel was a good-for-nothing."
"Yes, well, his entire family isn't."
"Please. The only decent ones – well, the twins were fairly amusing, I suppose. And Ginny – isn't bad-looking, for a redhead, I suppose. If she stopped wearing secondhand clothes."
"How generous of you. You haven't met Bill, have you?"
"Bitten by Fenrir, no?"
"Yes," Hermione replied nastily. "Your old family friend, if I'm not wrong."
"Come on, Granger. Lay off. You think he didn't scare the living daylights out of me, too? The number of times he swore to feast on my flesh… and you wonder why I plotted Dumbledore's death? Or how Voldemort keeps order?"
She said nothing, sobered. The number of people who had seen the good in Draco – whether it was Dumbledore's offering him second chances (said Harry), or Harry's saving him from the Fiendfyre, or Ginny's seeing fit to keep him from Azkaban – he couldn't be all bad, then. There had to be a decent streak in him, she decided, looking sideways at the lean man walking beside her.
Draco drew closer as they approached the entrance to the back garden. Sensing her shudder as they opened the gate and entered the backyard, he slipped his hand into hers, willing her not to argue, not to say anything. It's just part of the act we're putting on, Granger. Nothing more – but nothing less, either.
A slight shiver went down Hermione's spine as they passed the garden where Ron had jumpstarted the debacle of the rehearsal dinner. Draco's cold hand took hold of hers, and she was grateful for the support, even if it was put-on. It meant more than he knew.
"Ah, Hermione!" Percy greeted her with a pompous kiss on the cheek and a sad excuse for a hug. "And – er – Draco, wonderful!" He shook hands with the blonde, somewhat unsure.
After exchanging pleasantries, the pair pulled away, only to be faced by an open-mouthed Ginny and shellshocked Harry. "Do you mind explaining – this?" She gestured at their hands, clasped together.
Draco and Hermione looked at each other. "Well, that's a good start, I suppose," the brown-eyed witch laughed. "Relax, silly. I told you we were working on house elf legislation. This is purely professional – he's here so that we can talk to… everyone here. You know the types of people at Percy's gatherings."
Ginny conceded, still suspicious. "Hand-holding, though? Really?"
"There's a reason for everything," Hermione countered, eyes dancing.
"Does it have something to do with Ron and-" Ginny began.
Harry groaned, catching on. "Women." He shook his head at Draco.
"Granger, let's grab something to eat," Draco cut her off. "Sorry, I'm a little nervous," he apologized to Ginny. "I have quite the task in front of me, trying to prove myself in front of dozens of people who are bound to hate me."
She fell prey to his pity party, much to Hermione's dismay. "Oh, you'll be fine, Draco. Don't worry about it. I'm sure you're perfectly capable of being nice, even if you never have been around me."
He rolled his eyes, pulling Hermione away.
"Hermione, darling, eet ees lovely to see you!" Fleur swooped down, bestowing hugs and kisses and good wishes galore. "And who ees thees?"
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," he replied suavely. Hermione couldn't help but be impressed that he was able to maintain his cool, despite Fleur's part-veela nature. Ron, and even Harry, had never been able to fully pull that off. Especially Ron - he nearly drooled any time she looked at him.
"Hermione! Good to see you here," Bill said goodnaturedly, striding up in his trademark dragon-skin boots, hair as long as ever. He winked at Draco. "Lucky man, you are."
Fleur shook her head at her husband's flirtatious nature. "Where ees Victoire?"
"With Teddy, where else?" he laughed. "They're inseparable."
Hermione and Draco made their excuses and moved away, exchanging significant looks and separating. It was time to get to work.
For the next two hours, Hermione brought up house elf legislation wherever she went – keeping it classy, of course. She never shoved herself on people – unless it was Harry or Ron, and Merlin knew they deserved it.
Malfoy, too, turned up his charisma as high as it would go. People seemed surprised that this former death eater was speaking on behalf of those his family had mistreated for decades – centuries, even – but they listened. Funnily enough, he seemed to elicit the best response from Kingsley.
Having successfully convinced the tall, intimidating wizard to support the proposal, he turned away.
"Malfoy," Kingsley called.
He faced him again. "Yes?"
"I'm glad you're putting in this much effort. It's appreciated." Pause. "I like you."
Draco nodded, concealing a smile. Who said he couldn't please when he wanted to? "Thank you, sir. Your words mean a lot."
As Audrey led everyone in singing Happy Birthday and Percy cut the cake (in the shape of the Ministry "M"), Hermione and Draco reunited amidst the crowd.
"Let's go," he whispered. "This is driving me nuts."
She laughed. "Hold on for a little while, and we will. I'm nearly done."
"Who else do you need to talk to?"
"Ron."
Blast him. "He's not on the list…"
"Yes, well. It would be rude if I left without at least saying hello."
"You don't need to waste your time on him."
"Just let me exorcise this one devil, please?"
Sighing, he gave in – grumpily – and let her drag him by his hand to where Ron and Lavender were feeding each other cake. Ick. And she dated this man? For four years? That is disgusting.
"Malfoy," Ron sputtered, looking up. "What the bloody hell-"
Hermione made to cut him off, but Draco beat her to the punch. "I'm with Granger." He put his arm around her shoulders.
"He's here with me," she corrected, still smiling. His arm dropped to her waist. A shiver went through her body – as if she'd been electrocuted. That couldn't be good.
Lavender finally seemed to recover her senses. "Oh, Draco – your shirt – matches Hermione's dress!" she observed brightly. Ron stared at her, as if to ask if she was really that stupid.
Draco laughed and drew his arm tighter around Hermione. He was suddenly reminded of why she was his ideal. Go figure. It took the Gryffindor harlot to prove to me that the Gryffindor princess is worth my time. Lavender was just – so commonplace, so ordinary. Everything Hermione was not.
Ginny approached, sensing trouble. "Your dress is gorgeous, Hermione. I meant to tell you that." She tried to break the tension that she knew was inevitably building up. Focusing both Ron and Draco on the cause of their hostility was not the best idea, however.
Hermione's cheeks turned crimson, feeling Ron's eyes on her – and Draco's – but who was making her blush? She didn't know – and if she did, she didn't want to admit it. "Thanks! It was – er – Draco's-"
"It wasn't really my selection, though," his brow creased. "You picked it and asked for my approval."
Ginny's eyebrow went up. "You went – shopping together."
"Er – well – yes." Hermione shifted her weight slightly, thinking that she should have taken the chance to leave when Draco had asked. This was a little too awkward.
"You neglected to mention that."
"I'm sure she's incredibly sorry for not informing you of every little detail about her life," Draco intervened. "She's got more important things to worry about."
"Like what? You?"
"Of course."
"Stuck up prick," came Ginny's eloquent response, rolling her eyes.
The unlikely pair turned to walk away, ready to leave, when Draco felt a tug on his pants. He looked down to see a young, blonde, adorably mischievous face staring up at him.
"Er – yes?"
"Are you an angel?" she asked simply.
Hermione burst out laughing.
"What?" Draco gasped for air. Whose child was this?
"My daddy says that my mommy is an angel, because she's beautiful. You're beautiful, too. Are you an angel?"
The question was answered for him. "Yes," his date replied, breathless with laughter. "He is the sweetest, kindest, nicest angel ever." The sarcasm in her voice could not be denied – except by a little four year old. Draco glared at her pointedly, and she returned her most charming smile.
"Will you pick me up?" He had no choice but to oblige, really – and although he'd never admit it, he didn't really want to refuse. She was cute. Swinging her up, he turned once in a circle, and then, seeing Hermione watching him, quickly set her down and smoothed out his shirt. As he straightened up, Victoire wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a rather wet kiss on his cheek.
"Thank you," she whispered, running away, in all probability back to Teddy.
"Er, well, then," he said gruffly, taking Hermione's hand and apparating to – where on earth was he taking her? There was one panic-filled instant – and then she found herself in front of Malfoy Manor's iron-wrought gates.
"Draco, I should go," she said, not interested in seeing Narcissa, who must be inside.
"Come on – one drink for a job well done isn't going to hurt. Mother's not around, don't worry."
"We're not done yet," she rolled her eyes.
"I was talking about my surviving the party."
She didn't say anything, but followed him in after he unlocked the gates. If only she'd known what she was getting herself into…