Short chapter here! I had to end it here, the dramatic effect was just too good.
Also thank you for all the reviews! I love hearing from y'all and I appreciate the feedback. I'm loving how curious you all are about what's going to happen. Don't worry, all will be revealed soon. I won't keep y'all waiting too much longer.
Enjoy!
Hermione was a nervous mess all weekend long. On Saturday, she practically jumped every time the front door opened. She misplaced several things—books, lists, shipment orders, schedules, receipts—and spent half the day looking for them. When Saturday passed and Malfoy hadn't showed, she was both relieved and disappointed. By the time she walked into the shop on Sunday morning, she was so exhausted that she just gave up. She resigned herself to whatever fate would become her. She'd hardly slept the night before, tossing and turning as thoughts and questions whirled around in her head like a tornado.
And the guilt! Oh, the guilt was eating away at her. She was finally able to admit to herself that she really did like Malfoy. Merlin's beard, but she did. So what was she supposed to do now?
Hey Draco, I know you think I'm just some Muggle Bookshop girl you met, but surprise! It's me, Hermione Granger—the girl you despised and fought against in one of the largest wars in Wizard history! Want to go out sometime?
Unlikely.
And what then? If she decided to come clean and tell him the truth—then what? Would he be angry? Definitely. Would he hate her? Most likely. Would he even want anything to do with her once he knew who she was? She couldn't even begin to wager a guess.
"Stop worrying your lip or soon you won't have any lip left!" Florence scolded.
Hermione jumped, surprised by Florence's sudden appearance. "Stop doing that," she grumbled.
"Doing what?" Florence asked.
"Sneaking up on me!"
"Joan, I have been standing here for at least five minutes. You're head is up in the clouds today, and I'll bet I can guess why," she teased in a sing-song voice.
Hermione leaned forward and rested her elbows on the counter. She let out a groan as she massaged her pounding temples. "I'd rather you not," she muttered.
Florence clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Well I'm going to anyway. Is it because of a certain blonde haired man? About six feet tall, handsome, flirtatious, who likes to purchase as many books as he can?"
Hermione grumbled unintelligibly, throwing an irritated glance at Florence.
"What was that, dear?" the ebony-haired girl asked, looking quite like the cat that swallowed the canary.
"I don't want to talk about it anymore, Florence!" Hermione exclaimed, finally at the end of her patience. "And I don't want to hear about it either!" She closed her eyes, focusing on massaging her aching head. "I don't care how handsome he is. I don't care that he's funny."
"Um, Joan?" Florence started.
"No!" Hermione cut her off. "I mean it, Florence! If you remind me one more time how handsome or literarily inclined he is, or you rub it in my face that I like him—any of that! If you say one more thing, Florence, if you say one more thing about Draco, and how you think I should go out with him, I'm going to lose it! I know he's smart. I know he's dashing—"
"Joan," Florence interjected, more forcefully this time, but Hermione continued ignoring her.
"I know that I 'light up like Christmas' when he's around. Do you really think I am unaware? I'm aware, Florence, I'm aware that I like him. I'm trying to figure out the best course of action here, I couldn't even bloody sleep last night because—"
And that was when someone cleared their throat. A very masculine sounding someone.
Hermione went completely still. No no no, she thought. Please, sweet powers above, please don't be…
Her eyes shot open.
Damn it all.
Draco Malfoy was standing right in front of her, wearing the most self-satisfied, shit-eating grin she had ever seen in her life.
Her jaw dropped open, absolute horror washing through her.
Florence shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "I…I tried to get you to stop, but…"
The silence that settled over them must have weighed three tons, at least. Hermione was shell-shocked. She couldn't move. There were no thoughts going through her head except for the knowledge that she was absolutely, completely, and totally mortified.
"I think I'll just…" Florence began. "Um… I'm gonna go," she concluded. And with that, she walked—no she ran—across the store.
Hermione's face was on fire as she stood up straight and sniffed, trying to regain what little dignity she had left. She opened her mouth, unable to find words before closing it once more.
Draco's eyes never left her. "You know," he drawled, "If it'll make you feel better, I can pretend I didn't hear any of that," he offered.
A fresh wave of humiliation hit her and her shoulders drooped.
Malfoy took a step forward. "If it's any consolation, I think that was, hands down, the cutest tirade I've ever had the pleasure of witnessing."
Hermione bit her lip, willing herself not to cry. She hadn't felt this thoroughly humiliated since Professor Snape had called her an insufferable know-it-all in front of her entire Potions class in first year. She swallowed thickly.
"There are no words," she croaked, "to accurately convey how embarrassed I am right now."
He pursed his lips together in an attempt to prevent himself, she was sure, from laughing.
"Well, let's just move on to another subject then, shall we?"
Hermione nodded gratefully.
Malfoy leaned forward onto the counter. "Good afternoon," he said, his voice thick with charm. "I'm here to pick up a book…and to ask you to dinner."