I'll post the next chapter tomorrow-I'm too exhausted to edit any more tonight and I want to make sure I do a good job before I post! Here we go:
Hermione was walking on clouds all day. She was extra cheerful with the customers, she wore a smile all day long, and she kept absently fingering Draco's sapphire necklace, which she still hadn't taken off. Florence eyed her knowingly throughout the day and Hermione knew that the first moment of downtime they had, Florence would pounce.
It was nearing closing time and Hermione was counting the cash in the register when Florence finally caught her. She moved in for the questioning, and Hermione knew she was stuck now as Florence informed her that she was humming to herself.
"Oh," she replied, pausing in her counting. "I didn't notice. Sorry."
"Don't apologize! Humming to yourself, smiling, staring off in space… You don't have to be sorry for being in love," Florence said with a laugh.
Hermione snorted. "I never said I was in love."
Florence made a disbelieving humming noise as she reached up to pull her dark hair into a ponytail. "You don't need to say it, it's written all over your face."
Hermione ducked her head shyly, her dark locks falling over her face as she placed the counted money into a bag and zipped it.
"It hasn't escaped my notice that you're wearing a very nice set of new jewelry, either. Courtesy of your new boyfriend, I'm assuming?"
Hermione's cheeks began to warm and she subconsciously reached up to place her hand over the small glinting sapphire that hung around her neck. "He's not… He isn't my boyfriend."
Florence raised her eyebrows. "And why not?"
Hermione shrugged, a small smile curving up over her face. "Maybe he is, I don't actually know," she admitted.
"You spend virtually all your time together, he takes you on vacation with him, buys you jewelry…I think it's safe to assume that he is your boyfriend. But anyway, enough about labels and more about this weekend!"
"What about it?" she asked bemusedly.
Florence gave her an exasperated look. "Oh come on! Tell me all about it! What did you do in Paris?"
Hermione found herself smiling as she leaned back against the counter. "Alright, alright. So we checked into the hotel, and then—"
"Was it nice?"
"Yes," she answered dreamily. "Yes, it was so nice," she said with a smile. "We went to lunch at this tiny café down the road, and it was delicious! All the food there was delicious, Florence, it was amazing. We went to la Musée d'Orsay, and the Museum of Natural History, we went ice skating—"
"Ice skating!" Florence exclaimed, her eyes taking a faraway look. "I bet Draco was a great ice skater, wasn't he?"
Hermione laughed long and hard at the memory of him falling down. She shook her head. "No, he was quite horrid at it!"
Florence looked surprised. "What?"
"He was a terrible skater! He fell down in the first minute, pulling me down with him."
She continued telling Florence about their weekend, surprised to find that she was very happy to share her stories with her. Florence laughed heartily when she told her about the asparagus at dinner.
"But the client signed with Draco that evening, so it must have been alright after all. Just…awkward for me. On Sunday we went to a wine tasting, and we walked around the Marais until it got too cold to be outside. Then we went back to the suite and ordered room service." She looked away at the last part, blushing as she recalled that the room service had consisted mostly of chocolate covered strawberries, and the chocolate covered strawberries had led to…other things.
Florence watched Hermione fondly. "It sounds like you had a very fun time," she told her. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."
By the time she finished summarizing her weekend, Marion was ready to lock up.
"Any plans for tonight?" Marion asked as she led them to the front door. "Dinner for the lovebirds maybe?"
Hermione grinned. "We are having dinner, actually. Draco is determined to cook for some reason. I'm not convinced that he actually possesses the capability, to be honest."
She stepped outside and scanned the streets for Draco's car—it wasn't there. Hmm…he must be running late, she thought as she tightened her coat around her. She turned back to Marion and Florence, who had followed her out the door. "Last weekend he bought take out from Brasserie la Regence and tried to pass it off as his own cooking."
Florence laughed and Marion shook her head as she locked the door. "Men," she said with a sigh. "Why they think they can get away with things like that, I will never understand."
They stood outside the shop for a moment, laughing together.
"Well ladies, I will see you tomorrow," Marion told them. "This old woman is ready for her beauty sleep."
"Goodnight, Grandmere," Florence said, kissing her cheek.
"Goodnight!" Hermione called after the woman as she began to make her way around the corner to her apartment just down the street.
Florence turned to Hermione expectantly. "So is he late?"
Hermione tore her eyes away from the street where she was watching for Draco's car. "What?"
"Your eyes are wandering, so I'm going to go out on a limb and say that Draco is supposed to be here, and he's not."
Hermione sighed, glancing at the watch she wore on her left wrist. "Yes, it appears he is running late."
Florence shrugged. "I'll wait with you," she decided.
Hermione's eyes widened. "You don't have to do that," she insisted.
"Non," Florence dismissed her. "That is what friends are for." She leaned back against the brick wall of the shop and put her hands in her coat pockets for warmth.
Hermione smiled happily and settled next to her, wrapping her scarf tighter around her neck. "So what's new with you?" she asked. "How is your sister's new baby doing?"
Florence's face immediately lit up. "Oh, she is such a precious little baby, Joan! She is so tiny, so perfect…"
Florence continued to tell update her on how her family was doing, and after they finished that conversation, they moved on to other subjects. Soon over twenty minutes had passed and the cold night air was beginning to nip at them through their warm winter coats. As Florence continued speaking, Hermione watched the cars and buses pass by in the streets and she grew more and more agitated.
Where was Draco? Why was he so late? She glanced at her watch again. The sun was sinking behind the horizon—only its fading pink light could be seen in the sky now. Soon it would be dark.
"How much later do you want to wait?" Florence asked, kicking a pebble onto the street.
Hermione sighed. "Actually, I think I'm going to go home and call him. Maybe he's stuck in some kind of late business meeting or he's on a call or something."
Florence bumped Hermione with her shoulder. "Hey, I'm sure he has a pretty good excuse. He cares for you—that much is obvious." She smiled. "If you're going home, then I will head home as well."
She nodded. "Thank you for waiting with me."
Florence shrugged. "No problem at all." She started to walk backwards in the direction that she lived. "Try not to be too hard on him when he shows up!" she called to Hermione.
Hermione laughed. "I'm not promising anything!" she called back.
Florence's laughter faded behind her and she made her way down the street.
By the time Hermione arrived home, she was a nervous wreck. Draco wouldn't just forget, would he? Certainly he cared too much to do that, didn't he? Why hadn't he called and informed her he was going to be late? The least he could have done was called.
She stormed into her apartment, making a beeline for her landline. She picked it up with shaking hands and dialed Draco's mobile.
It went straight to a generic voicemail message. Hermione blinked in surprise. His phone was off?
That was when the doubt set in.
Was he upset at her?
Had she done something wrong?
Did he change his mind about never getting sick of her?
She sat on the couch, not bothering to remove her coat and scarf, quickly spiraling into full state of panic.
What if something was wrong?
She made herself a cup of tea, lifted her masking spell, and removed her jacket and scarf as she settled in on her couch once more. She attempted to read the shop's newest book release, but it was a fruitless effort. The clock had never ticked so loudly. She couldn't focus. She reread the same chapter three times before making a frustrated sound and putting the book down on the couch beside her.
Marching over to her coat rack, she donned her jacket and scarf, then she picked up her wand, cursing Draco for forcing her to do this.
Closing her eyes and focusing on the picture of Draco's living room in her mind, she disapparated with a small pop.
She was extremely disoriented when her feet landed on hard ground and she stumbled onto all fours. She opened her eyes, willing the dizzy sensation to stop. Her stomach lurched. Something was not right. She slowly stood and looked around—this wasn't Draco's living room. This was…where was she?
She was standing in the middle of a dirt road. There was darkness all around her. She turned in a circle, taking in her surroundings. She could see the city of Claremont in the distance. Okay, then where was…
Up a hill in the opposite direction, she could see the faint light of a house—a rather large house. Was that?
Yes! That was Draco's house. He must have anti-apparating wards on the house. Why on earth would he have his house warded against apparition? And how?
Just another question for her to ask him when she saw him.
She brushed the dirt off her knees and began her journey up the dirt road. She grew angrier and angrier with every step. It was a good long walk to his house, and by the time she arrived at his driveway, she was cold and furious. She didn't bother with a warming spell—the cold was helping to fuel her anger.
His car was parked and motionless on the driveway in front of his door. So he was home then. What the bloody hell was he doing here, keeping her waiting all the way in the city, after telling her he would meet her at six?
She stormed up to the front door and gave six firm knocks on the wooden door. She waited—nothing.
She knocked again, and again, but he didn't come to the door.
Finally, she decided she'd had enough. She reached for the handle, which turned easily. This didn't sit right with her for some reason. Why was his door unlocked? That was incredibly un-Malfoy-like behavior. She pushed open the door and stepped inside.
"Draco!" she shouted as she entered the house. "Where the hell have you…" Her voice trailed off at the sight before her.
The house was a mess. It was absolutely destroyed. Draco's belongings were strewn about all over the place. The couch cushions were thrown haphazardly all over the living room. There wasn't a single drawer in its proper slot, his DVD collection lay scattered across the floor, his books as well. The coffee table was a broken splintered mess of glass and wood and...
Her heart stopped in her chest and a cold horror washed over her as she noticed what were undeniably blood stains on the carpet.
"Draco?" she called brokenly, holding her wand out before her. This scene was like something out of a nightmare. It reminded her of the war. His home had been ransacked. The impending feeling of danger set in. Her defenses went up, her senses sharpened, and she took careful steps through the room.
She walked carefully but quickly to the kitchen—all the cupboards were open, there were broken cups and dishes on the floor. Pots and pans laid about on the counters and floor as well. There was no sign of the blonde in question. She swallowed, making her way back into the living room and starting down the hall.
"Draco? Draco, are you here? Draco? Oh gods, oh please, please be—"
She threw open the door to his study and gave a great sigh of relief. "Draco!" she called, seeing him sitting passed out in his leather chair. As she came closer though, all her relief vanished. He was a mess! His face was bloody, the left side of his dress shirt was torn and almost soaked through with blood. She ran across the room and took his face in her hands.
"Draco? Please Draco, wake up!" She placed two fingers at his neck to feel for a pulse.
His eyes opened and he cringed. "Ow," he rasped before coughing violently.
Hermione immediately released him and stepped back. There was an abrupt sound of something rolling on the wooden floor and she looked behind her to see a bottle of whiskey. She picked it up—it was empty. She turned back to Draco, sniffing, and realized he reeked of alcohol.
"Are you drunk? What… What the hell happened here?" she shrieked, dropping the bottle. "What have you done to yourself?" Tears welled up in her eyes and she kneeled down to inspect him as she switched into healer mode. "You're bleeding! Where are you hurt?"
She took his hands gingerly in hers, looking over them. They were caked in places with blood, but she couldn't decipher where the injury was. She moved to his torso, where most of the blood seemed to be. She unbuttoned his shirt and tried to open it, but it was caked with dried blood and stuck to his skin. She stopped peeling the material away off his skin when he winced. Looking around in a panic, she reached back and picked up her wand from where she had set it on his desk. She held it to his shirt with shaking hands, blinking back the tears that threatened to pour over her eyes. "Sc—"
Draco jumped very suddenly, slapping the wand out of her hand, where it flew across the study and rolled over the wooden floors. "Are you trying to get me killed?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide. He winced at the sudden movement. "Sweet Merlin, that hurt," he groaned.
"What…What…" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Draco Malfoy, you explain yourself right this instant!"
He flinched. "Do you have to yell?" he asked, scrunching up his face in a pained expression. "No magic. McCoy will…take me to Azkaban." His eyes opened and he looked at her as if he was only just now seeing her for the first time since her arrival. "How are you here? What time is't?" He looked around the room.
Hermione stared at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. "It's…" She blinked out of her stupor and glanced at her wrist. "It's almost eight at night."
He nodded before his eyes started to lose focus and his head fell back onto the seat behind him.
"Oh no, you don't! Wake up right now! Draco! Draco! If you die, so help me, I will…I will…"
He came back to focus. "Who's dying?" he asked incoherently.
Hermione huffed. "You are unbelievable."
His lips turned up into a lazy smirk, although it looked strained. "Thank you."
"Not a compliment," she snapped. "Come on, get up."
He shook his head. "I'd rather not."
"Get up right this instant, Draco Lucius Malfoy, or so help me I will turn you into a ferret right here and now!"
Draco's eyes widened. "Alright, Granger, alright. Bloody hell, woman." He placed his hands on the armrests and began to stand up before cringing and releasing his grip on the leather. He held his hands out and inspected them, still sitting in his chair. "Ah," he said to himself. "That's right, there's glass."
"Glass?" Hermione took his hands in hers again, flipping them over, palms up. "How did you get glass in your palms?"
"McCoy," Draco growled. "He's a bastard."
She was reaching the end of her patience. She took a deep breath. "Who is McCoy?"
"He's my handler," he answered before shaking his head abruptly. "Wait, no. No he isn't. He's an Auror. I am not a criminal," he said firmly.
She shook her head. Aurors? Aurors had been here? That couldn't be right. Aurors wouldn't do…this!
"I don't know…what happened to you today because you're not making the least bit of sense, but you need immediate medical attention. I don't know much about Muggle first aid. Please, Draco, please, for the love of all that is holy, get up. We need to get out of here so I can treat you properly."
He looked up at her, his gray eyes unfocused and empty. He looked so old and worn down in that moment, it broke Hermione's heart.
"Alright," he said.
She reached for his elbows and helped pull him onto his feet. He immediately hunched over, favoring his left side and placing his hand against his ribs. Hermione ran over to pick up her wand before sticking it in the pocket of her jacket. Looping his right arm around her shoulders, she helped him out of the study. They left the house, and she brought him to the passenger side of the car.
"Where are your keys?" she asked him.
"In…the…the ignition," he said with a slight slurr. "I left them there so I could make a…an…emergency getaway. So the bastards couldn't kill me."
Growing more and more confused, she opened the passenger door for him and helped him into the car. He landed in his seat with a grunt.
She hurried over to her side and got in the car. Sliding the seat forward, she turned the keys in the ignition. The engine whirred to life. She swallowed, hoping she could drive this stupid thing. She could count on one hand the number of times she had operated a Muggle car in her life—and they had all been while her parents were in the car, giving her instructions. She put the car into reverse and glanced at Draco.
His head was bobbing down to his chest as if he was about to pass out.
"Draco, you stay awake! Do you hear me? Don't fall asleep. I don't know what injuries you have. Do not fall asleep."
Draco grunted. "I'm not going to die Granger, I'm fine. I'm just…very, very, very drunk."
She shook her head angrily and she began to back out of his driveway. "If you're still alive when we get to my flat, I'm going to kill you."
