Thank you, Friends, for reading and for leaving reviews! And now, for my favorite chapter...
Chapter Eleven:Dinner
Hermione settled on the dress that she had worn to the Sydney Opera House. Monica and Wendell Wilkins loved to bring guests to the Opera, hence her new dress. It was short, black, with a neckline that revealed some cleavage and ornamented by a bit of sparkle on the waist. She wore matching silver sandals and a sparkly silver clip to hold her massive amount of hair away from her face. The clip popped open from the weight of her hair, so she pulled out her wand and charmed it into place. Make-up... Hermione drew a blank. Ginny had helped with make up and hair for the Yule Ball, but Ginny was not around. Maybe Monica could help.
When Hermione arrived at the Sydney Seasons Wizard Hotel, she felt undeniably nervous and out of place, not because she was Muggleborn, but because wealth was flaunted here so abundantly. Hermione wore no jewels, nor did she own designer dress robes. Her hair was not magically styled. Her Muggle clothing looked out of place. She lifted her head and gritted her teeth.
Draco Malfoy rose from his chair near the floo in the luxurious lobby and stepped forward to greet Hermione Granger. She looked fantastic. He could finally see her face out from under all that hair. The dress was sleek, fitted to her curves... who knew Granger had such curves?...and it was very short. What is it with Muggles and bare skin? He glanced around the room to see various styles of dress...robes, gowns, suits ... no one was showing as much tanned leg or shoulder or...cleavage... as Granger, but no one looked as delectable as she did either.
His steps slowed, and he felt reluctant to meet her. Draco Malfoy was about to step into a new adventure; it was a moment of no turning back. He tore his eyes from Granger's and thought for a moment. Did he have the strength, the courage for this? Then he shook his head at himself. How hard could an attempt at friendship with Granger be?
He took another step. And remembered their last few encounters. Very hard indeed.
Hermione noticed his indecision and with irritation, compressed her lips. She reached Malfoy quickly and nodded coolly.
"Nice place."
He agreed and said stiffly, "Thank you for coming. We are taking the floo."
"Oh," Hermione said, surprised. "We aren't eating here?"
"Yes, we're eating on the top floor."
"This place must be huge if you have to take the floo to get from one floor to the next."
He shrugged.
Hermione drew a deep breath to steady her nerves- and calm her anger.
Malfoy took her arm and placed it on his, leading her to the floo, which definitely resembled an elevator more than a fireplace. Hermione shivered at his touch. She freed herself quickly when they arrived at the top floor. As they stepped out of the floo, she caught her breath. The entire outer wall of the restaurant was glass, and the view of Sydney was breathtaking. Now she understood why Malfoy had invited her so late in the evening. Summer solstice was approaching and sunset was after 9:30 PM. The view would be spectacular.
"I'm going to try to keep my temper, Malfoy," she murmured. He looked at her in surprise. "The view," she explained. "If I can keep my temper, I might be able to stick around for sunset."
His lips quirked. Then his slight smile vanished at the thought of being friendly to Hermione Granger for roughly three hours.
The maitre'd approached and asked for a word. Malfoy excused himself to Granger and she nodded, her attention captured by the Sydney skyline.
When he returned, his eyes were glittering with fury. Hermione raised her eyebrows at his dramatic change of mood.
"Is everything okay?" she asked.
"Fine," he replied tersely. But it wasn't fine. He had just been informed that the restaurant did not serve Muggles. And he had to let them know who Hermione Granger was, the very witch who had saved Britain from the Dark Lord along with Harry Potter. The maitre'd had not heard of Hermione Granger, but Harry Potter was a name that worked wonders. He burned at the bias against Granger. He was also furious that Potter's name was more effective down under than the name of Malfoy.
"Come this way, Mr. Malfoy, please," said the Maitre'd smoothly and ushered them to their seats, handing them two menus. Their small table faced the beautiful view.
"This is a perfect introduction to Sydney, Malfoy. The Aussies call the Harbor Bridge over there the Coat Hanger. The bridge is a popular walk. For the view, I think."
Malfoy raised his brow and gazed at the long beautifully constructed Muggle bridge. Hermione couldn't tell if he was impressed with Muggle engineering or not.
"The apartment building over there is called the Toaster." She glanced over at Malfoy who apparently did not catch the Muggle joke, so she continued, "See the white building that looks like a sailboat? That's the Opera House. I think you would like that place. I'll take you there if you are still around. How long are you staying?"
"I don't really know," he answered honestly.
"Are you here for business?"
"No, I'm here to see you."
That shook her. Their eyes met and her breath caught. He came all this way for her?
Her eyes softened, and he saw a vulnerability -and loneliness- in them that he had never seen before. If anyone had asked, he would have said that Hermione Granger was a hard, cold, little witch with a biting tongue. Passionate about her views, true, but unbending. Perhaps he had been wrong about her. Perhaps...she had always kept herself safely concealed from Draco Malfoy.
"Don't you have obligations in England? In Wiltshire?" She couldn't quite bring herself to mention Malfoy Manor.
"Not really."
"What about your mother? Your family business? Have you thought about furthering your education?"
Malfoy shrugged. Family business, he smirked to himself. That sounded so quaint. Their multiple corporations ran themselves. Lucius had seen to that.
"Well, Malfoy, it is kind of you to come just to see me. And thank you for dinner. I'm sure it will be lovely. This view is spectacular."
"You're welcome. What do you feel like eating? Would you like some wine first?" The two perused the menu and politely discussed options. Their waiter gave some recommendations. Hermione selected grilled Angus steak and greens. Malfoy chose the slow cooked lamb. Menus were put away and wine was served.
Malfoy winced when Hermione reached for her glass. Her smooth, tanned forearm was marred by the ugly word Mudblood.
"Does it bother you?" he asked.
"Does what bother me?"
Malfoy gestured toward her bare arm with the ugly scar.
"Oh. No. Not much. It's too warm to wear long sleeves all the time. Nobody cares here anyway, so I usually forget about it." But now that he mentioned it, she felt self-conscious and rubbed the word engraved into her skin by that hateful witch. She shuddered and turned firmly away from the memory. Then she pulled out her wand and spoke a glamour charm over it to hide it from view.
"Does your Mark bother you?"
Malfoy raised his brow at her impertinence, but then remembered that he had asked first. Perhaps impertinence was permitted amongst people who were friendly.
"I don't like to see it. I don't like the reminder."
She nodded with understanding, but then said, "You can show it to me when we go to the beach tomorrow."
Malfoy wasn't sure that he wanted to go to the beach. Hermione read his thoughts.
"You came all this way, Malfoy. The beach by my parent's house is beautiful. You really must visit. If you don't want me to see your mark then glamour it."
He felt dizzy. That would mean seeing Hermione Granger again. He wasn't sure that he was ready for more Hermione Granger.
"Let's just get through tonight first," he murmured.
Granger gave him an understanding grin, and he realized with amazement that she felt the exact same way.
"Your parents' house?" he questioned after a moment. "Where do they live?"
"You were there today, Malfoy. You met my mother."
Malfoy frowned. "I thought her name was Wilkins."
"Yes. It is."
"Not Granger?"
"No." Hermione did not elaborate. Instead, she inquired about Malfoy's mother.
"She is recovering. She misses my father. She appreciated the gifts you sent."
Hermione raised her brow. Malfoy elaborated. "Potter always brought gifts when he visited. It took me awhile, but I figured out who sent them. I mean, Potter is not going knit shawls or bake cookies or send us Muggle books."
Hermione blushed. It felt very uncomfortable to be thanked. So she asked questions about Parkinson, Zabini, Nott, and any other former Slytherin she could remember.
"I hear that Millicent Bullstrode and Greg Goyle are getting married."
Malfoy looked shocked. "How would you possibly know that before me?"
"Millicent and I are writing. She's been updating me on the children. Did you know she wants to open a primary school? Meanwhile, she's heading up the Home for War Orphans."
"I knew about that, but not about Greg."
"Goyle wasn't doing well in Azkaban, you know. He was slipping away. Most of the younger children were more resilient than he was. After recovering, he teamed up with Millicent take care of the children at Hogwarts, and they fell in love." Hermione smiled happily at Malfoy.
He swallowed.
Next Hermione began reminiscing about all the cruel things Malfoy had said and done at Hogwarts. Malfoy was horrified at first and could barely eat a bite of food until he realized that Granger was wickedly funny. Soon he was smiling about events that were surely painful memories for her. His breath caught as he watched her lean forward to insist,
"No really. The beaver teeth were a blessing in disguise. I wouldn't have this lovely smile today if it weren't for you," she grinned at him, showing her perfect teeth.
Malfoy was taken aback once again at the strength and charm of this lovely witch. "You're amazing, Granger," he began, but had no words to continue.
"So tell me," she began tentatively. She really didn't want to ruin the progress they had made, but she needed to know. "Why did you come all this way to see me?"
Malfoy looked uncomfortable and frowned. "I told you; Potter asked me to come."
"Since when do you do what Harry asks?"
No answer. She tried again.
"Is it because you are beholden to either Harry or me?"
Malfoy shrugged.
"What does beholden even mean, Malfoy? Remember, I'm Muggleborn so I don't know these things. Most Muggle cultures don't chain people up like that. If I want to give you the gift of freedom from Azkaban, that's my choice. You do not owe me."
"It's a life debt. You gave me my life back, so now I must give my life to you."
Hermione frowned at his words. "That's not a debt. That's slavery." she scoffed.
Malfoy's silver eyes flashed angrily. She took a breath.
"Okay, let's start with the life debt. Say that you owe me. How do you pay up? How many trips to Australia and dinners out will it take? Will you have to kill me to get free of it?"
He looked away. She was silent and shuddered at the thought of Malfoy murdering her. Would he attack her with his bare hands or use the killing curse? Maybe that comment was inappropriate. It certainly didn't fit with the purpose of a life debt. She shook her head to rid herself of Malfoy murdering her and began again.
"What about all the other people Harry and I set free from Azkaban? Are they beholden to us as well?"
He considered his answer carefully. "Yes. Because you would not accept payment, they are now beholden to you."
"So what I meant for good, to give freely as a gift, has backfired, and now they owe me?"
Malfoy was confused by her words and looked curiously at Hermione. Who would do that? Everyone has a price or at least something they want from someone else.
"What about Harry? Do you owe a life debt to Harry?"
Malfoy shook his head, No.
"Why ever not? He saved you from the Fiendfyre, remember?"
Malfoy shuddered, and Hermione closed her own eyes at the memory of her own strong desire to leave him there to die.
"Potter was righting the attempt he made to kill me with the Septumsepra curse, so I wasn't beholden to him at that point. And technically, I am not beholden to him now since by defending me during my trial, he was returning the favor to my mother for lying to Voldemort that he was dead."
"It all sounds very mathematical. Do you keep a book of accounts received and accounts payable? With profit and loss columns? Beholden Accounting 101: Freshman Class offered at Sydney College for Wizards."
The corners of Malfoy's mouth twitched.
"So you are here, not because you are beholden to Harry, but because you are beholden to me?"
Malfoy met her eyes but was reluctant to respond.
"And if I take you up on your gift of galleons, say...to fund Millicent's Home for War Orphans...would you be free?"
He shook his head slowly. "I'm already contributing."
"I need to know how to end this, Malfoy. I don't want you beholden to me."
Malfoy grew still and his faint smile faded. He was not about to say a word more.
She decided to change the subject as dessert was served.
"Malfoy," she began suddenly over her roasted meringue and fruit, "you should go to the University with me tomorrow."
He glanced up in alarm. "Muggle University?"
"Yes, lots of witches and wizards attend Muggle University here. There isn't the huge separation between the two worlds here that we have in Britain. I haven't seen as much prejudice against Muggleborns here because Wizards interact more freely with Muggles."
Malfoy raised his eyebrow with unbelief. He had, after all, witnessed prejudice against Muggles that very night at the very restaurant in which they were dining.
"I'm in a dual program, Malfoy. Half my classes are at the Muggle University and half are at the Wizarding College. I'll look up business classes for you to sit in on tomorrow. Or you can join me in my class. Then I'll take you to the beach."
Malfoy was still silent. Hermione grinned. "Come on, Malfoy. You'll be safe with me."
Malfoy shook his head.
"Life debt, Malfoy. You are beholden to me, right? So now I get to bring you to University!" she teased with a twinkle in her eye. "And the beach!"
Malfoy smiled faintly. Then he replied, "Not tomorrow. Maybe Wednesday."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. Then she smirked. Two days in a row would be too much Hermione Granger, eh?
"Fair enough," she agreed.
They finished dessert. The two stared at one another, trying to determine what the other was thinking. Hermione leaned forward and whispered,
"Malfoy, we have at least thirty minutes until sunset. What are we going to do until then? I absolutely cannot eat another bite. And I shouldn't have any more wine. I have an early class tomorrow morning."
Malfoy's eyes shifted to the dance floor toward the inner wall of the restaurant. An orchestra was tuning up. "We could dance," he suggested impassively.
Hermione looked horrified. Malfoy laughed at her expression.
"I know you dance, Granger. I watched you dance at the Yule Ball."
She frowned. "You watched me?" She asked suspiciously.
"Everyone was watching you at the Yule Ball, Granger," he drawled.
Hermione blushed and looked away. She frowned at the thought of Malfoy touching her and shuddered. No, dancing with Malfoy was out of the question. She shook her head and frowned. When her eyes returned reluctantly to Malfoy, she was surprised to see Malfoy's eyes cold, his face blank, very different from the laughing Malfoy she had just joked with.
"On second thought, I believe it's inappropriate for a Malfoy to dance with a Mudblood," he said harshly.
Hermione's jaw dropped. How dare he! Her eyes blazed with fury. She hissed, "You vile creature. You slimy...ferret. Why would you start this... rot... again?"
Malfoy smirked.
"I should have known you would never change." She meant to sound cutting, but instead her voice was filled with despair.
She pushed back her chair, searched for her purse, and stood up to leave. She ought to thank him for dinner, but didn't think she could do it without spitting. Her chest heaved, and she glared at Malfoy. As she turned to march off, his hand grabbed her wrist. She swung around.
"Sit down," Malfoy bit out.
"Do not tell me what to do," Hermione said furiously. Her voice was beginning to rise.
"Sit down."
"Let go of me, or I will scream."
"You. Have. Twenty-eight minutes. Until. Sunset," he ground out with ice cold eyes.
As if she cared. Hermione glanced at the glass wall; the city skyline rosy with the late evening sun. The sky was darkening. Deep blue water sparkled in the distance. Sailboats were out en mass. The restaurant was quickly filling up with people looking for tables. She would likely never eat here again.
She sat down.
Her jaw was clenched and she gazed out the window, fighting tears of rage. They had just stepped back in time to the verbal onslaught of Hogwarts Days, only this time she had not had her shields up.
The full force of those glittering narrow cruel eyes took her back to her torture at Malfoy Manor. She struggled to breathe steadily and was afraid she might might cry. But not in front of Malfoy. Never in front of Malfoy.
The scene before her gradually calmed her distraught emotions. Her temper steadied, and Hermione began to think furiously. She did not really believe that Draco Malfoy would harm her physically, but why had he turned cruel? He had turned from date to Death Eater in minutes. She glanced over at Malfoy who looked weary. His hair flopped over his eyes as he stared at his hands. Hermione took a deep shaky breath and turned thoughtfully back to the view.
They had been talking about the Yule Ball. He had teased her. Then he had turned mean. Cruel and hateful. His face had become cold...like...a statue...like...a mask. Hermione whipped her head around and stared intently into Malfoy's eyes. He turned away. She searched for the reason for his behavior...and then she had it.
Malfoy attacked when he feared rejection.
She had to know if her suspicion was correct, so she said tentatively, "Malfoy, I'd be happy to dance with you."
He swallowed. Then glared. "Too late. I don't want to dance and neither do you."
"Are you...are you... afraid of me?"
Malfoy looked insulted. "Hardly. The Dark Lord and Bellatrix LeStrange lived in my house. You are not in their league, Granger. I should hardly call you threatening."
"Well, thank you for the compliment," she replied somewhat saucily. "but I believe that you are afraid. You are afraid that I might humiliate you one way or another. To prevent it from happening, you go on the offense and humiliate me first."
Malfoy was astounded. He began to deny her words, but then paused and thought them over. This witch was not only smart; she was insightful. He was frankly surprised that she was more aware of his motivations than he himself was.
"Really, Malfoy, it's time for us to grow up. Let's try to be more mature. I really don't care whether we dance or not, but at least we can agree to not verbally attack each other."
"All right. I will hold you to that promise," Malfoy spoke softly and locked eyes with Hermione.
"And I will hold you to the same promise," Hermione intensified her gaze, refusing to be intimidated by his stare.
Malfoy stood and held out his hand. She placed her hand in his, surprised at its firm warmth. Malfoy pulled her to her feet and over to the dance floor, then faced her, holding her stiffly, but not meeting her eyes. She was uncomfortable, very uncomfortable. They circled stiffly on the dance floor for an entire song. She began to tremble. But she had to know if she could trust him, so when the music slowed, she moved closer and rested her head on his chest. It was a daring move, but she wanted to test him to see how he really felt about dancing with a Mudblood. She nuzzled in closer with a wicked grin, waiting for the push away.
And... he didn't push her away. She rubbed her cheek against his silky dress robes. She could hear the steady thrum of his heart and could smell Malfoy's clothing. It was a heady smell, making her dizzy. Her wicked grin faded away.
She hadn't danced like this since dancing with Harry in the tent when they had been searching for horocruxes. That memory brought so many emotions to the surface and she was already feeling ragged. So much had happened in the past year. Deaths of dear friends, losses of friendships, loss of her parents' memories, homesickness, the stress of the trials. And so much had happened in the last few hours. Anger, hatred, struggling to be congenial to Malfoy, feeling accepted then rejected. Her lips trembled at the heavy sorrow in her heart, and she sniffed, blinking away tears.
He pulled her close. His arms were strong and comforting. His hand on her back held her tightly against him. When his hand drifted upward to lightly caress her bare skin, she melted into him. His arms tightened and felt him drop a kiss on the top of her head. While they moved to the music, Hermione marveled that she was in the arms of Draco Malfoy. And it felt right. A bit of the hardness in her heart melted away.
Hermione Granger was on the road toward forgiveness.