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Chapter 9 –
He admitted to waiting for her at the chapel. He hadn't planned to tell her that. He hadn't planned any of this. Maybe that's why it felt so right, so good, because it was all spontaneous.
Here he had wanted nothing more today than to see her face, make her smile, and walk away from this with a new friend, with hope for a future encounter, maybe lunch or dinner next week. Now, he felt they had already moved through all those awkward stages in the beginning of a relationship. For one thing, they already knew each other. That made things a lot easier. Two, they already found each other attractive, apparently. Three, the 'tread carefully' part of early dating, saying the right thing, false modesty, white lies, were a moot point with them. Four, and most importantly, the flirting part of an early relationship were already in full swing. Hell, they had even already kissed. In Malfoy's estimation, they were already on the equivalent of a fifth or sixth date.
The wedding was at 11:00 am, over by noon, they arrived at the reception by 1:00 pm, and now it was almost four o'clock. This was the epitome of speed dating. Five hours equals five dates. If they stayed until nightfall, they would be practically engaged. He smiled to himself.
He held her hand, and swayed back and forth, still thinking over his theory. He was brought back to his senses when she said, "The song is over, Malfoy."
"Oh, right," he said. He took her hand and led her back to the table.
"Why are you grinning?" she asked him.
Should he tell her? He decided he must. He reached for two champagne flutes that were on the buffet table and handed one to her. He steered her over to a table. They sat down, and he smiled again and told her his theory. Five hours equaled five dates. He went through the list with her, one – familiarization, two – mutual attractiveness, three – proper etiquette, four – flirting and signs of affection, or in their case kissing.
She marveled at his premise of their relationship, and said, "If this is our fifth date, then what usually happens on the fifth date?"
"Sex, and lots of it," he said unabashed.
She said, "Right here on the table, or shall we go back out in the field?"
"The table would be fine," he said, taking her bait.
"I find it hard to believe you wait until the fifth date for sex," she commented.
"It's different for each woman I date," he said truthfully.
"So, let me get this straight. If you pay the woman, for example, a prostitute, you sleep with her on the first date, right?" she joked.
"But of course," he said. "But she need not be a prostitute. I spend a lot of money on women who aren't prostitutes, too. And I might wait for the second date to expect sex."
"So, if you spent a lot of money on a woman, wining and dining her, take her to a show, and buy her a present, you expect sex on the second date, is that about right?" she jested.
"You can read me like a book," he said.
"Third date sex would probably come about because you wined and dined her, plus you took her to a show or something, but you haven't bought her the present yet," she said, really thinking about this.
"Hmmm," he hummed.
"A fourth date sex would constitute the exchange of money, wining, dining, a show, but maybe a little bit of respect, and admiration. You would wait for the fourth date for someone you liked and respected, right?" she bartered.
"What's respect?" he asked, taking two more flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. He handed another one to her.
"So, if this is our fifth date, then what will it take to sleep with me. You haven't paid me, you didn't really wined and dined me, since you neither a.) Paid for the food, or b.) Paid for the wine. The only 'show' we saw was the monstrosity of Ron and Pansy on the dance floor earlier and I didn't want to see that, so we are left with only the 'respect' part, which you claim not to know the meaning of…I think that covers it," she finished.
"Does that mean no sex on the table?" he asked.
"Or in the field," she added.
"When do you usually sleep with a bloke?" he asked, seriously.
"It differs. I dated other before Ron, all the times we broke up, and a couple after him, and I have to say, there's no set pattern. I have to care about them a lot, and I have to believe they care for me," she said. She suddenly seemed sad. She put her head on the table.
"What's wrong, Granger?" he asked, rubbing her back.
"No one cares for me," she said, morosely.
He took her champagne from her and emptied the bubbly liquid on the ground. He said, "No more alcohol. You aren't a fun drunk, Granger."
All of the sudden Harry Potter stood up at the long bridal party table and cleared his throat. He held up a glass of champagne and said, "It's time to toast the happy couple."
Hermione moaned and stood up. She said, "I'm going to the loo." She headed toward the house. He followed shortly after. He didn't want to hear the bloody toast either. He walked up the stairs and knocked on the bathroom door. He heard a man's voice say, "Just a moment."
He was shocked to hear a man's voice. He started back down the hall toward the stairs, when he saw her sitting on the side of a bed in one of the many bedrooms. He knocked on the open door and said, "This isn't the loo."
"It's occupied," she said.
"I know," he said.
"I didn't really have to go," she confessed.
"I know," he said again.
"How did you know?" She laughed.
"You're a terrible liar. I'm a wonderful liar. That's how I knew," he said.
"That's probably true," she agreed, "but let's test your theory. I will tell either a lie or a truth, and you have to ascertain which my statement is."
"Okay, but for this to work, we have to look in each other's eyes, and I have to hold your hands," he decided.
"Why?" she asked.
"Your eyes are the windows to your soul, Granger, and a person's hands can tell a lot about them," he told her, although he really just wanted to hold her hands. "Now, sit up on the bed here, and face me."
She kicked off her shoes, as did he. They both sat with their legs crossed in front of them, facing the other, on the bed. He took both her hands in his. His hands were slightly sweaty. He said, "Sorry," and wiped them on his slacks.
She said, "I don't mind," and took his hands again.
"You go first, Miss Granger," he urged.
She thought for a long moment and then said, "I have only slept with five men my entire life."
He looked deeply in her eyes. They held no lie as far as he could see. Her breathing was still steady, her gaze had not left his, and her hands were relaxed in his. Could that really be the truth? He said, "Truth."
"Good for you, Malfoy," she said.
"My turn," he said. He looked deeply in her eyes and said, "I secretly had a crush on you since I was 14 years old."
She examined his face. He wasn't smiling, his eyes held hers, and his hands were no longer sweating. Still, he did say he was good at lying. She said, "That's a lie."
"You're right, geesh, Granger, you aren't half bad at this," he said. She wasn't sure she was happy that was a lie. He could tell, so he said, "Yes, the truth is I've had a crush on you since 13, the day you slapped my face."
"Right," she said in disbelief, "now you're lying."
"Believe what you may, your turn," he continued.
She thought long and hard once again, and said, "I'm still in love with Ron."
He wanted to believe that was a lie, but something told him it was slightly the truth. Her face suddenly turned from happy to sad. He let go of her hands and instead of saying a word, he grabbed her upper arms and brought her over to his side, and wrapped his arms tightly around her. She started to cry. He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing at all.
After a many seconds, she lifted her head and she had the largest grin on her face. She said, "I am too a good liar!"
"You aren't right in the head!" he said in anger, pushing her. He pushed her so hard she landed on the floor.
She was laughing for all she was worth and said, "You even believed the tears!"
"I don't want to play with you anymore," he said, and he stood up, stormed out the room, and slammed the door shut.
She remained on the floor, laughing. A second later, he opened the door and said, "You didn't even believe my indignation?"
"A bit over the top, really," she said, sitting up on the floor, "Overacting, melodramatic, and all."
"I hate you, Granger," he said, with no expression. She looked up at him from her place on the floor. She struggled to stand, feeling a bit woozy from too much champagne and the head rush of a good laugh. She stood beside him and looked deeply in his eyes.
She said, "I think that's a lie, Malfoy."
"It's the truth," he said again.
"Do you want me to fake cry again?" she asked. "Boo-hoo, Malfoy hates me. I've spent most of my life reconciled with that fact, so if that is indeed the truth, I suppose I would live."
The mood in the room suddenly turned serious. He turned, she assumed to leave again, but it was to shut the door once more, this time quietly. He walked back up to her, and positioned one hand on her cheek, and the other one on her back. He leaned in slowly, kissed her lips gently, and asked, "Is this a lie?" He looked at her. She planted her hands on his shoulders.
"I can't tell, do it again," she teased.
He smiled and leaned in and gave her another kiss, this one a tad longer, and with more pressure. He said, "Truth or lie?"
"I still don't have enough data to make an educated guess. I need more evidence," she proclaimed.
This time he put both hands on her back and pressed her body flush against his. He kissed her with a long, opened mouth kiss, teasing her lips, first the top, then the bottom, then both together, no tongue, just gloriously sweet, gentle and long. He brought his head up and said, "Enough evidence?"
She took a deep ragged breath and said, "Yes, for now."
"What's your verdict," he asked in a low voice, full of passion. He was still holding her close.
She said, "That was certainly not a lie. Neither was your proclamation of hate earlier. Oh, you may have hated me at one time in your life, when we were children, but not anymore, and certainly not right here, right now." She set a hand to his face and put her thumb on his lip. He took that hand from his face and kissed it, on her palm. He looked at her hand in his, and got a sudden flash of his future. Wow.
He kissed her palm a second time, letting his lips linger on her exposed flesh.
She said, "This was a nice fifth date."
He let her go, but only slightly. He held on to the hand he had just kissed. He said, "Still no sex, though, woe is me."
"You're funny," she said, without hesitation.
He looked at her strangely, as he guided them to the door. He said, "Funny, ha ha, or funny strange?"
"Both, I guess, but that could be said about me, too," she said to him.
"Oh, I've said that so many times about you," he remarked.
"Now that better be a lie," she said, as they walked back to the hall. He just smiled to himself. No, it wasn't a lie, but it didn't matter. Nothing about the way he felt for her was a lie, and for Draco Malfoy, finally facing the truth was a very big deal.
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