TWATW-Chapter 10-The Art of Redecorating

By Marmalade Fever

Draco's laughter died down after a few minutes. They walked in awkward silence, Granger looking in shop windows as if on a mission. After a few minutes, she ducked into a store, leaving him to follow in the wake of the door's jingling entry bells. It seemed to be some sort of flooring store.

"Excuse me," Granger said, already approaching one of the workers, "we're interested in getting our kitchen re-floored, preferably with wood linoleum."

"Linoleum?" Draco muttered in distaste.

The man nodded. "We have quite a selection. If you want to set up an appointment, we can get the measurements done. Once you've decided on a pattern, we'll order a roll and install it."

"Do you have any in stock? We're in a hurry," she said, tapping her foot.

"Only a couple. Right this way." He led them into a backroom. "Looks like we only have the one roll in wood," the man said, looking expectantly between them.

"We'll take it," Draco said, boredly. The roll of flooring was a smooth, cherry-colored wood. The way he figured it, anything was better than the awful grass and flower floor they currently had.

"How soon can we have it installed?" Granger asked.

"Well," the man began, "probably sometime next…" Draco cut him off.

"Money's no object," he said.

"…Day," the man finished awkwardly. "Tomorrow." They nodded. "I'll let my superiors know and our men will come first thing in the morning. I have to warn you, though, you won't be able to cook until it's finished."

"Not a problem," Draco replied.

Granger copied down their address and telephone number and gave it to the man. "It isn't a very large kitchen. How long should it take?" she asked.

"Well," the man replied, "I haven't seen it, but probably… two days, give or take."

…

"Well, that's one thing down," Granger said as they exited the flooring store. "The wallpaper is bearable… though only slightly, but I think we should take down the paintings."

"Agreed," Draco replied, frowning at the memory.

"Maybe we should buy new linens next," she suggested, peeping through a window. Without waiting for a reply, she entered the shop. Draco hurried to catch up with her. After all, he could be stuck with that kitchen for a very, very long time. Well, now, that was a depressing thought: he could be stuck with her for a very, very long time as well.

She had migrated, as if magnetized, to a selection of tablecloths. "What do you think?" she asked, holding a lavender and white checkered one aloft.

"Didn't we already have this conversation?" Draco asked, curling his lip.

Granger blinked. "What?" she asked in sincere confusion.

"Lavender, girl, lavender," he reiterated.

She rolled her eyes. "Not this again! Look, why do you keep bringing that up? Why would you care?"

Draco shrugged. "Just like to see you ticked, love."

"Oi," Granger muttered. "But seriously, now. Which tablecloth, hmm?"

Draco hesitated. "You have to promise that this never gets back to anyone." Granger nodded, apparently entertained. "The pink," he said, pointed to a solid mauve tablecloth.

Just as he figured, she burst out laughing. "What? You? Pink?"

He glared at her. "It goes with the cherry wood floor," he said. "And we need maroon accents, napkins and such."

"Mar…" Granger began, clasping her ribcage, "maroon?" Draco crossed his arms, deciding to wait out her fit. "You do realize these are all red tones?"

"What? Just because of my house, you think I want to put green and silver with a wood color that would look like someone had just up and got sick all over the place? Yeah, right."

Granger bent her head to the side and looked at him, a small smile gracing her features. "You do amuse me so." She patted his arm.

"Great," he said sarcastically. They picked up their chosen linens and matching chair cusions and headed to the check out.

"I think that should be enough for now," she said, as they headed back to the car. "We'll probably have to move the furniture from the kitchen while they do the flooring, anyway." She checked her watch. "Want to get some lunch?"

Draco shrugged noncommittally. "I don't care, especially," he said.

"Or," she continued, "we could go back to the house, clean up the kitchen, and eat there."

Draco blinked at her slowly. "I don't clean," he said gruffly.

"Gee, I would have never guessed," Granger replied sarcastically. "Do you cook?" Draco's only reply was to snort. She rolled her eyes. "Well, there's a first time for everything."

"Oh, I beg to differ, dear. Some things just aren't meant to be," he said, crossing his arms.

Granger unlocked the car and they both climbed in. "Just keep telling yourself that," she said, as she began to drive them back to the house.

"And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"Oh, this whole situation," she said broadly. "I'd think you'd say it wasn't meant to be."

"And yet it seems to be happening anyway,' he said with a sneer.

They arrived back at the house and went inside. Crookshanks was playing with a tattered piece of facial tissue. Draco headed straight for the couch, sat down, and put his feet up on the coffee table. Granger rolled her eyes at him and began opening different doors before returning with a broom. Draco surveyed it coolly as she thrust it into his hands. "Looks like a step down from a shooting star," he said, turning it over and trying to give it back.

Granger grunted. "You, sir, are going to use that broom to sweep the kitchen. I can't very well be expected to do all the work around here."

"Funny," Draco remarked, "I'd have thought you'd be used to it by now."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips.

"Don't be so daft, Granger. I've seen you. Like back in the third year when you were doing so many things I thought you were going to drown from getting in over your head."

Granger raised an eyebrow. "And what were you doing paying attention to me in third year?"

Draco touched the side of his nose. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Besides, I had to figure out what possessed the pedastaled golden girl to slap me the way she did."

"And did you?" she asked, suddenly smiling fondly in remembrance.

"I came up with two theories. Either you just had a lot of pent up anger, probably because of that bloody bird of Hagrid's, or…"

"Or?" she asked.

"Or else you had a crush on me," he said, pointing to himself.

Granger snorted. "Well, I hope you didn't decide to go with that second one, because you would have been dead wrong."

"Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Draco Malfoy, what exactly are you insinuating?" she asked, frowning at him, though there was a slight smile attempting to tug at her mouth.

"Well it was bloody third year," he said. "It's not like I'm saying you still have a crush on me."

"Hmm," was her only reply. "Now please, that broken glass in the kitchen over there isn't going to sweep itself up, and since you're the one who caused it to shatter in the first place…" she gestured with her hands, "it's only fitting that you'd be the one to do the honors."

He smirked. "All right." He watched as she looked genuinely surprised at his answer. "But… you had better cook one exceptionally bloody good meal."

"Fine," she said, and he followed her into the kitchen. "Oh, and by the way, I offered to help you before you hugged me." Draco could feel her smirk radiating off of her, and he flushed.

A.N.: I am feeling so uninspired with this fic right now. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve, but not much. Sorry I didn't update last week. I was busy writing an eight-page research essay. (So not fun!)