Disclaimer: Yup. I keep dreaming every day that Harry Potter is my brain child and that Dramione is actually canon but... hasn't happened yet. Psst! Check out my former Beta's page- Mischief . Managed . 1998 - she has absolutely wonderful writing! This one goes out to you, lovely!
Malfoy stepped out from the fireplace in his foyer, where instantly his house elf greeted him.
"Master Malfoy!" Spiero squeaked, "Mistress is in the Green Room- do you need anything, sir?"
Handing his cloak to Spiero to be whisked away with a snap to one of the hundreds of closets in the Manor, Draco loosened his tie carelessly before replying, "No, thank you, Spiero. I'll just go see Mother now before heading up to my room. Could you have a bottle of Firewhiskey and a glass for me upstairs please?"
"Yes, of course sir!" the elf exclaimed eagerly before bowing and Apparating away to the kitchens.
Draco ran his fingers through his platinum blonde hair quickly before treading through the vast Manor to the Green Room. He ignored the steely gazes of his ancestors as he walked through the halls, knowing just what they were thinking. 'Blood traitor. Working against all the ideals the Malfoy name has been brought up to believe in. Accepting 'Mudblood filth' into magical society,' they all seemed to hiss at him silently. But Draco was used to the glares of his silent ancestors and whisked by them without a second glance, finally arriving at the Green Room.
"Draco?" he heard his mother call out.
"Yes, Mother," he replied, making his way over to the Lady of the Manor, who was sitting elegantly in a plush, deep green sofa with a book in her hand. Giving her a small smile, Draco kissed the top of her head and allowed her to squeeze his hand momentarily before pulling away to sit across from her in a chair that matched the sofa.
"You look tired," Narcissa Malfoy commented, her light blue eyes taking in his presence with the gaze only mothers could perfect.
"Well, you see Mother, I've just spent the whole day with the most frustrating bloody witch on the planet," Draco stated, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers and closing her eyes.
Instead of chiding him gently for his language like she usually would, Narcissa Malfoy raised her delicate blonde eyebrows and shut her book, her interest piqued.
"How did it go today?"
"She's bloody infuriating. We've made no leads on the case and all we managed to do today was to bicker our heads off," he grumbled.
"Hermione Granger's gotten quite pretty, hasn't she?" Narcissa asked teasingly, her eyes filled with amusement.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Mother, all traces of attractiveness disappear the instant she opens that bloody mouth of hers- and let's just say there isn't one moment where she can keep her loud mouth shut."
"Surely there's one moment where she's not talking? Is she pretty then?" the blonde witch prodded, curious.
Draco dropped his arm on the chair said exasperatedly, "Mother."
Narcissa's laugh rang out and filled the room as she held up her hands in sign of defeat. As much as Draco was annoyed by his mother, it warmed his heart to hear her laughter again. There was not much laughter when the Dark Lord reigned over his house and also for years after his father was sent to Azkaban. Only recently had Narcissa begun to change in small ways, such as laughing out loud or showing affection in her eyes, ridding herself of her stoic Lady of the Manor mask- and all of these changes, however small, meant the world to Draco. He had missed her laughter, the easy way that she smiled before showering him with kisses before the return of Lord Voldemort- and after nineteen years, signs of Narcissa Black were coming back slowly.
Rising from the chair, Draco made his way out of the room after placing another quick peck in his mother's blonde hair.
"So, does this mean I have to avoid the Daily Prophet so that I don't have to read about your tomfoolery with various women during your time in England?" Narcissa called out with a teasing voice as her son left the room.
"I make no promises, Mother, but I'll try my best to tone it down," Draco called back as he made his way down the East wing to his bedroom in the West wing.
Sighing and smiling softly before shaking her head to herself, she flipped open her book and returned to the fantasy world while mindlessly caressing the spot in her hair where her son had pressed his delicate lips on to.
..0.0.
Draco strew aside his button down and changed quickly into emerald green pajama pants. Throwing himself back on his bed, he felt the cool fabric underneath his body refresh him. Leaning up on one elbow, Malfoy reached out and poured himself a cup of Firewhiskey into a glass which was placed meticulously on the bedside table as promised by his house elf. Downing the glass in one gulp, he breathed in loudly and plopped back down on the bed, gripping his hair in his hands.
'You're just like your slimy father, doing whatever possible to save your ferrety self from trouble because you're a coward.' Her nauseating voice infiltrated Draco's mind, repeating over and over again. 'I am nothing like my father,' he reminded himself in efforts to calm himself down, 'I will never become like my father.' Somewhere, from the dark recesses of his mind cajoled Lucius Malfoy's malicious drawl, 'Oh but Draco- just like me; you do not know how to love. But what do you need that for? Love is for cowards. Control- power. That's what we Malfoy men like.'
Draco gripped his head with both his hands, trying to block out his father's voice from his mind. 'No. I will never manipulate and control for my own gain- I will never kill for the pleasure of it,' he whispered. Damn Granger. Damn her to the darkest pits of Hell. Just as he regained control of his mind from the evil grip of Lucius Malfoy that had infiltrated it- just as the nightmares of war had stopped haunting him, those simple words from the brunette witch had triggered the terror that consumed his mind ever since the end of the war all over again.
As the effect of the Firewhiskey began to spread through his body, sleep pulled Draco under, where he relived the screams of the faces that begged him for help- the nightmares that he would never forget.
..0.
Hermione awoke from a long, fitful slumber with a start. 'It's a dream. It's a dream,' she thought to herself in efforts to calm her flying heartbeat. Staring at the Muggle digital clock next to her bed, she realized that it was almost time to get up. Pushing her hair back from her face, she wondered for a moment why she had such a dreaded feeling in her chest and suddenly remembered exactly why she was felt that way- 'I have to tell Malfoy to be my fake boyfriend.' Groaning to herself, Hermione made her way into the bathroom and robotically went through her morning routine, her mind otherwise occupied.
When her feet hit the first floor, Hermione was greeted with the aroma of French toast swirling through the living room from the kitchen. She treaded mindlessly to the kitchen where Ginny whirled around in a cheery yellow apron tied over her jeans and soft pink tank top to greet good morning.
"Morning, sleepy head!" the redhead chirped.
Hermione looked around the kitchen, still consumed in her thoughts when it registered in her mind that Ginny had said 'good morning'. With a start Hermione replied, "Oh! Good morning, Gin!"
After quickly scooping the French toast from the pan onto pristine white dishes with blue decorating, Ginny wiped her hands on her apron before eyeing Hermione suspiciously. "You didn't sleep well."
Hermione laughed at how well Ginny knew her. "Oh Gin. Never miss a thing, do you?"
Throwing Hermione a sly smile the other witch replied, "Of course. I'm the daughter of Molly Weasley- the woman who raised seven children and is still alive to tell the tale."
Shaking her head affectionately, Hermione walked over and set the table, pouring pumpkin juice in both her and Ginny's glasses. After the two young women were seated at the table working on their breakfast, Ginny spoke out, "So. What is it?"
Hermione stopped mid-fork and looked at Ginny questioningly. "What's what?"
Ginny narrowed her eyes and set her fork down. "You know exactly what. The thing that made you not sleep well." She took a sip from her pumpkin juice. "Is it… is it nightmares about the war again?" she asked, her face forming into a worried frown.
Hermione tried her best to act normal under Ginny's careful scrutiny. "It's nothing," she said, taking another bite of her French toast and acting nonchalant.
When Ginny continued to fix Hermione under her stare, Hermione laughed, "What, can't a girl have a good old fashioned nightmare once in a while?"
"Alright, alright," Ginny conceded before returning to her French toast.
Hermione finished up the last bits of her food on her plate, swiping the extra maple syrup off the plate with her last piece of bread and putting it in her mouth before getting up from the table. As Hermione reached into her pocket secretly behind Ginny's back to cast the washing dishes spell, the redhead spoke out, "Don't even think about it, Hermione Jean Granger."
Hermione smiled before protesting, "But Gin! You make me breakfast every morning and don't even let me help- washing the dishes is just one simple flick of a wand!"
"It just makes me feel efficient, 'Mione. I need to get up, cook, and do the dishes to feel really awake. It's my way of starting the day," Ginny explained, also rising from the table.
"You're so weird," Hermione said lovingly before making her way to the Floo.
"Um. 'Mione?" Ginny called out.
"Yes?"
Ginny made her way over and quickly cast a spell on Hermione's blouse which tucked itself into her crisp black pants.
"Oops," Hermione blushed.
Raising her eyebrow as if to say 'that's not all', Ginny raised her wand once more and uttered a spell that made Hermione's earrings face the right direction, for the face of her earring was on the back of her earlobe.
"Something's really on your mind, Hermione," Ginny said accusingly, crossing her arms.
"It's probably just an off day," Hermione laughed nervously. With a wave and a 'thanks, Gin!' she threw the green powder in her hands at her feet, stating clearly 'Ministry of Magic, England!'
..0.
Hermione stepped off the lift when the soothing voice announced 'Level Nine, Department of Magical Law Enforcement'. Squaring her shoulders and briefly stopping outside the hallway of the Auror office to whisper words of encouragement to herself, she reached out an arm and opened the door, heading inside.
"Good morning!" she called to Tracy.
Tracy, who was scribbling over a pile of papers looked up sharply and knocked over the inkbottle in surprise when she saw Hermione. Blushing furiously at her clumsiness, Tracy stammered, "G-good morning, Auror Granger!"
Flashing a quick smile to the rumpled girl, Hermione strode into her office quickly and shut the door, thanking Merlin that Malfoy was not yet in. Placing her leather bag next to her desk, she began pacing in front of it, muttering to herself. 'Get yourself together, Hermione! Who cares if you hate the git. You're an Auror. You need to do anything to keep the Wizarding population safe.'
In Hermione's haste, she did not notice the blonde wizard who was leaning nonchalantly against her wall by her bookshelves with his hand in his black blazer pocket, looking like a picture straight out of a magazine. She only stopped her pacing and yelped in surprise when a cool, deep voice cut into her muttering- "Twenty six seconds late, Granger. Unacceptable. And not to mention the fact that you walked straight past me without even seeing me. Tell me you're one of the Heads of Department how?"
Hermione quickly regained her composure and straightened up, crossing her arms defiantly. "What are you doing in my office, Malfoy?" she hissed, her eyes flashing.
"Well, you see, unlike some people I was actually on time for work and I wanted to see if my lovely partner was in so we could actually get a lead on the case before another body shows up," he stated scathingly, his cool grey eyes impassive.
At his words, Hermione froze, all traces of defiance gone from her face. 'Do it, Hermione. Do it now!' she told herself as she turned around to face the wizard who was leaning against her wall comfortably as if it were his.
Draco raised a perfect eyebrow before saying, "You know, Granger, I find it rather irritating when some bushy haired beaver walks out of my office in a zombie like trance before even telling me what ideas she got from the case."
Hermione felt annoyance and the urge to scream at the over confident, pig headed, imbecile in her office- but then calmed herself, knowing that her proposition would only be put into action if both Malfoy and herself were at a state of relative calm. Draco silently watched Hermione's face contort into annoyance and then clear out into an impassive mask. He was surprised- Malfoy had expected the witch to retaliate with a nasty retort or flash him a hex. Instead, she remained silent, thinking to herself, tapping her fingers on her chin rhythmically.
After a few seconds, Malfoy could not take it any longer. He had to know what she was thinking, for he was almost certain that it was pertinent to the case. He opened his mouth to speak, "Grang-"
Before he could get her name out, Hermione took a deep breath and cut him off with the words that managed to silence him effectively.
"Malfoy- you need to be my new boyfriend."
Author's Note: SORRY FOR THE CLIFFY, LOVELIES! I really, really want to not leave a cliffy, but it's almost 7 and I've been writing since 5 and can't put off studying any longer. But it was a quick update, just like I promised! All the reviews really got me motivated, so please keep posting more feedback- I'm not lying when I say it motivates me to update faster. Again, thank you all so much for taking the time to read my Dramione- I feel so undeserving! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Hugs and kisses to all, and a virtual Tom Felton to all of you who've put me on your favorite author lists, favorite this story, put me on your Author Alerts, and/or put this story on Story Alerts!
