Read Me - Disclamer: These characters (the lovely Hermione and the devilishly good looking Draco) do not belong to me, but the ingenius J. K. Rowlings and persistant Warner Brothers Company, only because WB will sue me (for the love of the moon goddess Selene, the sue "innocent" children) for not insisting this disclaimer is placed, informing everybody (who already knows Harry Potter is a trademark of Warner Brothers), that HP certainly does. Even though the real owner of this book series belongs to the true sorceress of words J.K Rowlings. But all the other crappy stuff belongs to me! Enjoy and don't sue.

Chapter Two - To Our Securities

H.G. POV -
Fluffy pillows.

Those two words was the first thoughts that came through my mind when I woke up on a dim autumn night.

From my surroundings I could tell that I was placed in my room once again, and hopefully, my night in shining armor was the one who carried me there. When I realized that hopeful thought of my night in shining armor was the imfamous Draco Malfoy, I gave a groan.

A few hours ago was more than a nightmare than a glorious reverie, as I seeled the deal with my tears and a kiss. I gasped. The clock showed the time was 12:30! Somehow I wished that it was an earlier time, for I feared a punishment from Draco, worst yet, another lustful event.

Quickly, I dressed in the proper attire, that was not at all proper and slipped my hair in its usual uneventful style of a bun. Through the empty, moonlit corridors, a light pacing was heard and nothing more. Then on the fair regions of the west wing, a brisk knocking was present, but not needed.

For the door was opened and the room deserted. Where was Draco? And yes, in my thoughts I come to the conclusion to call him Draco, for that was his name and not Malfoy, like the imbecile of a father he had. Only in my thoughts however.

It was deserted like the classrooms of Hogwarts during the glorious Christmas break, no trace of that familiar scent of pine or a single blond hair in sight.

Just the glamorous room of a very enigmatic man. My attention was leaning towards the open window, letting in the cool seasonal wind, dancing with the almost tranlusent silk drapes.

Amazing. How a particularly cold man like Draco Malfoy has fine taste in drapes, saving they were very feminine. But Draco was always someone with fine tastes. Then why would he pick me? I was an uptown ordinary Jane, muggle- born, and not much to look at.

At times like these, I seek the comfort of my best friend, Harry (the- boy-now-man-who-lived) who always has advice, whether bad ones or good. So it would be a habit to call out in the middle of thin air for the help of your savior.

I thought it was Harry, then it traveled to Draco, and back to Harry. Sooner later my savior would be my little dragon. Repeat as needed.

And when trouble brews (no pun intended) and confusion arises with my relationship with the imfamous, rich and sinfully handsome, not to mention drop dead sexy eligable bachelor of the wizarding year, Draco Xavier Malfoy, who else to call then runner up?

"Harry, I wish you were here. Maybe you can solve my problems like you always do with your comforting smile." No one was here, so why bother be so secretive, when you can think outloud. How very wrong I was.

D.M. POV -
Retched Potter. Does everything always has to be his? Can he just settle for second best? Perfect Potter with his perfect life with fame and popularity and now, he takes away the one thing that should be mine. Her. Hemione Granger.

I'll teach that blinded girl and stupid Scarface what belongs to whom. She will be mine. A Malfoy always gets what he wants, that's a promise.

With a malice smirk and a seducive manner, I walked in my room, invisible by the potion a dear professor brewed for a handy Christmas present.

I stopped to look at the celestial sight in front of me. In all my years living, never have I seen anything that could take my breath away the way I catch sight of Hermione Granger. Upon my bedside, she sat, with the billowing, yet very sexy robe that my beautiful mother worn nicely, but the way it clung against her, it was as if it was made for such an angel of neither heaven or hell.

However her face lacked the certain vigor she always possesed, replacing it with an expression of lonliness and regret. Why was she acting like this? Didn't we agree on this little affair so that emptiness would disappear, even for a short period of time?

Well, at least I will do my part, to make her moan in pain and pleasure, and say his name in the most affectionate way, forgetting about the rat who doesn't deserve her love and only one person, him. Rage and jealous brought the menacing mind of Draco Malfoy and the poor victim will be a most unfortunate, Hermione Granger.

With footsteps lighter than air, I was closing the extended gap, until I was mere inches from her, seeing a slight shiver.
Was it the brisk cold air or the warm body heat of two persons? Did she know I was there, only a gap away?

Pulling off the tiger lily hair ornament, that grasped her locks in a McGonangall bun, almost as if it was really her, hiding away the careless browns. Down the browns flew, to the bottom, like a chocolate cascade.
Hmmm. A fragrant mix of chocolates and roses. How divine she smelled and soon after, tasted. Under the waterfall of hair, lay her swan-like neck, clean and porceline, tempting my tongue. Sensing her eyes was drawn shut from sexual pleasures, Hermione was indeed enjoying this.

Tongues never really did have any self-control, it was an instrument of love making and passion. Tasting. So that was it did.

My breath summoned some fleshy goosebumps if her neck, as the tongue and skin collided. In a very wet kiss. Instantly, the little witch drew back, as if the touch was death, a endlessly painful one.

Now the sight was quite different, the eyes that were closed, now was two snake-like, very Slytherin, brown eyes, seething with anger, and a hidden tint of pain. "You have no right to do that."

I was drawn to her, like a magnet. My footsteps were hardly heard, as I was mere inches away from her again. It was like I couldn't seperate her, a bond was connecting us, as if we were star-crossed lovers.

The most unlikely of myths.

As I came closer, that look of uncountable anger was turned into a pool of fear. With the back of my knuckles, I trailed my hand across her face, everywhere, mesmerized by her beauty and the persistant fire that burned.

Whispering ever so softly. "I will not be played a fool, Granger. I know that there is something between you and Potter boy, but in my house, as my mistress, you are mine. Everything mine is not allowed by anyone, but me." Thinking this was just a speech to scare the frightened conejo, it was the real, factual truth.

She was mine, and I intend to keep that way. But Hermione had a more different approach to this unfortunate and fortunate situation.

"I am no one's possesion, not yours and not Harry's. I can do what I want, I am a human and not some . . . some . . . thing!!!" Some way with words.

Closer and closer, I came when I am suddenly in front of ear, lingering with the scent of my angel, my Hermione. "You are not Harry's. But soon, you will be mine, and you won't regret it. No one can touch you, but me."

A shiver and a failed runaway. As she started to make her escape, I caught her arm, complimenting my fast reflexes, in a firm, but gentle grip. Still gaining a wince, I sworn that the grip won't hurt her, until the robe slid of her shoulder, revealing a grousome scar, destroying the white sheen of her shin.

I was at a rage. Who dare hurt his angel? In a voice so menacing that even Voldemort himself would run away scared, angry at the assailant of his glass doll, he threatened her, accidently.

"Who hurt you, Hermione? Who gave you this scar? I swear I will hurt him so badly that you would hear his screams of pain." I didn't come to notice that I was shaking her with so much vigor, it brought tears to her eyes.

"It's nothing. I fell off a tree when I was younger."

Another lie.

My hand brushed against her neck, and suddenly I pulled her robe down, revealing even more scars, probably from continuing whips, again and again, this brought so many memories.

Wincing, she tried to escape once again, and both my arms surrounded the wall, as Hermione was pushed unto the green painted wall, trapped like a rabbit should be.

"Now, Hermione, dear. I always take care of my possesions. And when they are mistreated in any sort of way, I get disfigured. When a Malfoy wants something, they get it. I want you, and when you are mine, I take care of my things. I really don't want this pretty, soft skin to be scarred, so why don't you tell Master Draco whom gave you these and everything will be alright."

I sounded desperate, I sounded strange, but all I wanted to do right now is hurt whoever did this to my Hermione. My Hermione? Sound right, sounds perfect.

Whimpering, she slid to her knees, bringing me down with her. "No, no. I can't tell you. If I do, they're going to tell Harry all about what's happening in the Malfoy Manor. I can't risk that, it's my life, my reputation. Don't you understand, I could lose hi- I mean, my friends."

So this is what this is all about, I knew she didn't want to lose her perfect Potter. I hate him, I hate him. I could only mutter under my breath, seething with hatred for Scarface and maybe, Hermione. No, I could never hate her, even if I tried.

"Get out. Get out of my bedroom. Go back to your bedroom. Out now!" The last sentence was said in a horrredous shout, I could see her jump in surprise and confusion. Staring into those big browns, I could see confusion and hurt, and I almost regreted it.

Almost.

With no last words, she fled the room, naked, cold and confused, and even more scarred in her heart. Bam! My fist and the picturesque wall met, forming a cracked dent and a bleeding heart.

"Somethings are more bleeding than others." Referring to my heart, it bled and bled, more than my childhood days when all I yearn for was the affection and pride in my father.

Then a chestnut mane was visible at the doorway, as she stared shocked at my hand.

Rushing quickly, the little rabbit feld to my side, trying to find it in my stormy grey eyes why I did it. With a simple touch of her hand on mine, I drew my injured hand away, until she grabbed it, with I sat imobile, with no expression.

A whisper. "Why'd you do it? Why did you hurt yourself just for me? I'm not special, I'm a thing, remember?" A smile crept on her kissable mouth, as she attempted a joke that wasn't even funny at all, it was wrong.

Slowly she healed me hand, with her wand that was hidden in the pocket of the robe. How clever.

"You're wrong, you are special. I was jealous, something I would never admit to anyone. Of Potter. He claims your heart, and I could see your love for him. All through my life all I wanted was a friend like you, that would love me unconditionally. I could see that you would even risk yourself for Potter, and all I wanted was for you to be mine, so you could pretend to love me for the short amount of time you were here. I care less if you had a thousand lovers in the past, but for the present, you are mine and no one else. As I said, what is mine, I will take responsibility of. Now who did this to you."

I couldn't look into her eyes when I said this, maybe I was too afraid to look into those beautiful browns and see rejection, a Malfoy afraid, what will my father say if he saw a Malfoy going soft? Screw him.

"Pansy. While you were gone, she took me as her personal slave and punished me for the most excuseable reasons and even if there were no reasons at all. Blackmailing me that she will tell Harry about what is going on here, and I was afraid."

A fire burned in me, something more than passion, past the ordinary anger, was it rage? That terrible bitchy slut, how dare she do this to such my Hermione?!? All those scars, the tears that was falling down her face this instant. "It was horrible."

Merely a whisper, she didn't face me, looking rather ashamed. With a finger, I lifted her dainty chin, so I could see the chocolate eyes, glistening with salty waters of the ocean.

There, I kissed all her tears away, every tiny droplet was washed away by a tiny butterfly kiss, until no tears were present, only irresistable moist skin, that fled for miles.

Then she did something that completely blew my mind off course and sent my emotions astir. Raising my injured, but almost healed hand, Hermione kissed it, a chaste kiss, as a mother would be asked to kiss a boo boo. Not even my mother did this for me.

As she stood up, edging for the door, I stood up, grabbed her face softly, pulling her into yet another essetiable kiss. I couldn't face my emotions, for fear I would drown in them, so I distracted them with a kiss. But all that did was drown me more, submerging me until all I could think of was one thing, or rather one person.

Hermione Granger. My little conejo, perfect, innocent, and a vixen.

As if it was our wedding night, I carried her to the bed, still kissing her, and we did absoulutely nothing.

Norcotic and drowsy, simple dreamland and an impatient sandman approached us. With a last thought, I could only hear her say.

"Sweet dreams, Draco." Draco, she called me Draco.

I would dream sweet dreams of her, my Hermionella that was being mistreated by the evil Slytherin Queen and I, her knight in shining armor saved her. How cliche. In that dream, she said she loved me.

Did I?

***

Elizabeth Malfoy's POV -
As usual I crept to Auntie 'Mione's bed chambers for the usual, lovely morning wake-up calls - bouncing irrationably on the bed - to wake up Sleeping Beauty to find that she wasn't there.

"Curious, very curious." As my friend, Mr. Ollivander, would say at a time like this. I decided this would be a perfect time to use my thinking cap - something I picked up from muggle veletision, or whatever it's called.
My thinking cap says sing a song!

"Oh where, oh where has my little Herm gone? Oh where, oh where can she be? With her hair so long and her mouth so big, oh where, oh where can she be!" My "wonderful" voice rang through the halls, as I found that many of the maids were awake, with a rather distaught scowl on their face.
I wonder why?

As I passed Dracie's bed room, I stopped moving, singing, which was rather a shame for my audience, the maids, heck, I stopped breathing.
There, on my brother's bed, lay Sleeping Beauty and my silver dragon of a brother sleeping in a rather loving and embracing position. Oh, my stupid brother finally got the girl.

"I'm getting a sister, and Draco is gonna be a Mister!" In my pink unicorn pajamas that were bewitched to move, I pranced and danced around with a gleeful smile, and then was occupied with a devious grin.

"Oh, I think Mr. and Mrs. Dracie needs to wake up!" In an instant, I was on the bed, doing my usual thing for a wake-up call. Bouncing up and down I went, until . . . "Elizabeth Arabella Malfoy! You are grounded until you are a very, very, and I mean, very old witch!!!"

My dear brother's baritone voice rang out so loud, I swear I bet good ol' Dumbledore could have heard it.

Then another voice broke the ice. "Come on, Malfoy. She does it to me all the time and I don't go grounding her." Oh, Hermione: 1, Draco: 0.

"It's back to Malfoy now, is it? What happened to "Sweet dreams, Draco?" Oh, Hermione: 1, Draco: 2. "Well, Draco." Saying his name in a syrupy drawl. "When are you going to use my name. I do have a first name you know. It's not like my name is Granger Granger."

Wow, what I love more, to see two adults fighting when it's so obvious they both like each other. "Fine, Hermione." Here they go again. "Thank you, Draco." Now I got to break this up.

"As much as I love to hear this lover's quarrel and your honeymoon, do I have to remind you, big brother, that on Friday, you are hosting a Du Aire Chrisitian Christmas Ball for this year. A lot of people are going to be there. Prince Christian is going to be there, the heir of the oldest wizarding royalty, the Baudelaires. I, I mean, you have to make a big impression. What will he say when the supposed ball celebrating the 100th dynasty of the Baudelaires is a total mess? Seriously, I know that you want to suck faces with your girlfriend here, no offense, Auntie 'Mione ("None taken" was heard from a shocked conejo), but we have to do some serious butt kissing to the royal family."

The dragon raised one of his blond eyebrows, as if I didn't realize that his hand was on hers.

"You are only ten years old, and you want to be the boss of me. Heck, I don't even think you are old enough to like boys." Ouch, that was a soft spot.

"I am old enough. Now tell me, Dracie. (Another wince, when he heard his "beloved" nickname) Who was the seven- year old brat who cried all night just because our cousin said that you had no chance with one of the Wierd Sisters, does Miranda ring a bell?" In my hand appeared a Kodak Magic moment of a very depressed blond-headed little wizard holding a Miranda Barbie doll.

Like a little child who got her Christmas present early, Hermione's face lit up with so much happiness and glow I was afraid she'd blow up in content.

"How sweet, Wait until Rena Skeeter (Rena, not Rita. Rena is the daughter following in her "precious" footsteps.) look at this picture. I can see it now, Malfoy Brat, No Chance, but So Much Hope." Quickly, she grabbed it and tried to escape, but was caught in the waist by a very red blushing Draco.

Until all the commotion cause them to fall from the bed, under mountains of fabric. One medium slim Draco was on top of a petite miss Hermione, with giggles on the side and two smiling faces in love. Or that's what it looked like.

"Surrender the humiliating Kodak Hell moment, or face the wrath of Master Draco." Ohh, witty. "Nunco." said a flustered Latina conejo, speaking a fluent Spanish accent. I think she said something concerning nuts or nuns.

"Oh, so you are going all foreign language on me, mi conejo pequeno. Never is not an answer."

Okay, maybe I was wrong, it had nothing to do with nuts or nuns.
Neither did what was going to happen next.

Their lips met in a disgusting kiss, like how the cliche romantic novels always have it, how crappy. But somehow it was something beautiful. I was happy that Draco finally found someone who can make him happy. Even if it was just a distraction for their meaningless, single life.

I'm on a role today.

While they were snogging, I saw my brother's dirty trick in slithering pass and snatching the photo. That was a two in one, a kiss and avoiding a big blackmail incident.

Too bad my mock sister-in-law is years smarter than him, she is, after all, a witch, using her supernatural powers, there were duplicates of the blackmail evidence that could last a lifetime of laughs.

With a defeated look on his face, I could tell me brother didn't care if she blackmailed the world on him, as long as she was by his side doing it, I actually think my brother is falling in love with the eccentric Miss Hermione Granger, only problem is Dracie's fat pride.

At this rate, he is never going to get married. With my help, in a year, they're going to be engaged. Matchmaker Elle Malfoy, reporting for duty, matchmaking hopeless, proud idiots like my brother, the late Master Draco Malfoy.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

Now, I need him to get really jealous like that time before he left to do some ministry business, something about when I said about Auntie 'Mione's boyfriend, the imfamous Harry Potter! Harry Potter! Oh yes, I got a plan. . .

Watch out world, Elle Arabella Malfoy is going to hook my brother up!!! I hope this doesn't backfire, like that last time with my fifth cousin who needed to hook up with her crush, she ended up getting divorce at age 14.

And the other time . . . let's not get into that right now.

He is going to owe me, he is going to owe me, he is going to owe me. That same mantra came to my head and through my mouth, as I said to my brother, in a misty Seer voice. "You are going to owe me, dear brother. Oh yes, you are."

And I started dancing and singing my way out of his room, leaving a bewildered dragon with his love bunny.

Oh, parting is such sweet sorrow, as the great wizard poet once said, that Shakespeare guy, that always like poisoning himself to fake his death, after spending a night with his fair Juliet. (Will Shakespeare was a wizard, but wrote muggle versions of his best work, like Romeo and Juliet, Much Ado About Nothing, The Taming of the Shrew, Hamlet, and a Midsummer Night's Dream. The muggles love them.)

Adieu, adieu, adieu. . . for now that is.

***

D.M. POV -
Once my annoying brat sister left the room, I sighed.

"Finally, my brat sister is gone, more snogging I guess." As I bent lower to kiss her, a hand blocked my face.

"Hey, what happened to my "baby" sister? She is not a brat, Elle is actually quite sweet, sometimes. And like she said, you have a ball to plan in less than five days, so you better get up and going." Like always, the responsible one always spoils my fun, but Hermione Granger never stopped me from doing my daily mischief in Hogwarts, why should she start now?

Cause she's a woman, duh!

I stood up, dusting imaginary dust off my green dragon pj's, and offered a hand to Hermione.

"If I'm doing this planning, you are going to do it with me, Professor McGonagall. A little wizard like me can't do all the work, I need a hefty, strong woman to help me. Lose some pounds, would ya." She laughed.

All I could say right then was she laughed, cause I was completely distracted from the real world, everything was that beautiful string of music. God, I loved her laugh. After she stopped and I jumped out of la la land, another witty comment came.

"Hey, I resent that. I'm not fat like Professor McGonagall. I mean she really needs to lose weight." I stopped walking and stared at her in mock shock. (Hey, that rhymes. I'm a poet, and don't even know it.)

"I never thought I'd see they day, when McGonagall's prized student will be dissing her off." Her dainty eyebrow raised like Mt. Rushmore. "When did you start saying muggle slang? Oh, I know. The new Draco Malfoy. Interesting."

I shrugged. "Maybe I visted muggle America too many times."

Stoking her kissable chin (every part of her is kissable) as if she was a over paid muggle shrink, Hermione nodded and walked her way. Confused I followed her. Big mistake. "Hey, where are you going?"

"A girl needs to dress, Malfoy. Opps, I mean Draco." (Here comes one of my prized jokes in my latest bestseller 101 phrases you shouldn't say to a girl unless you want to be hexed to China. Only for 10 galleons, 17 sickles, and 5 knuts.)

"I wouldn't mind watching you get dress. It's not like I didn't see anything last night."

Next thing I know, I'm on the ceiling, wearing a horribly designed polka dotted dress and my beautiful blond hair turned pink, with unmatching shoes. Click, went another Kodak Hell moment, and another blackmail evidence to ruin my reputation. Thanks.

With a vengeful smirk, the devious witch walked away, with her pink bunny slippers and a very interesting edition to the scrapbook.

"You could have at least matched the shoes!" Her figure was miles away, but I could sense a growing smile on her face, and I knew she heard me.

And then I remembered. My wand was hidden in the ocean of comforters and blankets in my room! Great, of all times. "Help! Help! Help me, somebody!" Yells were heard throughout the Malfoy Manor, and suddenly, an amused Narcissus Malfoy stood upside down, or was it because I was standing on the ceiling, and I was upside down.

"Oh dear son, I don't even think You-Know-Who himself could make you wear thar rather amusing attire. Who's the vixen who did this to you? And don't tell me your sweet, innocent sister did this."

Sweet? Innocent? Elle, sweet and innocent? Yeah right.

Fortunately for her, it wasn't her doing this time, but the notorious book worm, Hermione Granger. "The au pair of Elle, Miss Hermione Granger. She used to be in Hogwarts as a schoolmate. We are currently, uh, friends."

Friends. That word rolled in my tongue unbearably slowly, and its presence still lingered. I never had real friends before, unless you count Elle, which doesn't count.

My mother's raven eyebrow raised, like Hermione's earlier before the incident I stupidly caused. A smile crept through her face, and instantly, she glowed. My mother rarely glowed. "I like her already. If she had the nerve to do this to you, I think I like her."

My mother liked Hermione! Imposible! Possible! But somehow, my little rabbit always had something that draws people near her, like a gift of animal magnetism. "Mommy, can you get me down? I'm getting really dizzy."

I said in a sickly sweet voice. "No, I think I'll leave you up there." My mother was always the sarcastic one, but seriously leave me up here, I'm her son.

Then a familiar voice joined our little conversation. "Dracie, how'd you get up there. Let me guess, Auntie 'Mione did this to you. You must have really done something to provoke her. Your loss." Another sarcasic one, my sister is.

Wait a minute.

"Auntie 'Mione?!?" Both my mother and I called. When did my brat of a sister start calling her "Auntie 'Mione"? "Yeah. I thought sooner or later, she is going to be my sister-in-law, so I should start welcoming her to the family. But I couldn't call her Sister 'Mione, 'cause then, she'd sound like a nun. She is too old to be a Grandma, so Auntie was the only thing that sounded right. I couldn't call her Uncle 'Mione, now would I?"

Welcoming her into the family? Sister-in-law?

Wait one moment, who said Hermione Granger was going to be my wife? Who said she was going to be Mrs. Hermione Malfoy? That sounded so right, her being all mine, not one man alive could touch her except me. Not even Potter.

Hermione Amelia Minaette Victoria Granger Malfoy.

Long, but nice. As I went into a state of la la land, both my mother and retched sister tried to pull me out of my reverie state, but failed.

Until a certain rumbling in my tummy caused me to turn as scarlet as a ripened tomato. (Sounds like Winnie the Pooh)

With two apparent smiles on their faces, my mother undid the spell, and I fell flat on my face, hard on the finally sculpted white marble floors. "You could have at least let me down softly, Mother."

But, then I realized I was the only one there, left in this riducles attire and a hungry stomach, calling "Feed Me". A delightful, savory smell came to my senses, as it called out "Breakfast, you stupid oaf!"

Once I dressed the way I normally do, going for the whole devilishly hot, rich, and eligable bachelor deal, I stormed to the enormous ballroom dining, famous for its size and the instant awe given to you by its beauty and enigmatic glow. It amazes me every time I come to this room, it always left me in a state of amazement and pleasure, as if it was my first time. Again and again.

"I see someone got you off the ceiling, impressive. Now who is the dumb oaf who did that?" Dumb oaf? My mother? Certainly, but I won't be the first one to admit that.

"Oh, I see you already managed to insult my mother before you actually met her. Impressive, Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor." Awarding points to Gryffindor wasn't the usual Slytherin style of insulting, but the look on my dear rabbit's face was something that deserves a Kodak Magic moment.

Revenge is a dish best served cold, or sarcastically.

"Your mother? I'm so sorry, Draco. I didn't mean to insult your mother. I was just -" Interrupting, my dumb oaf or a mother sauntered in, with my gossip queen of a sister. Sounds like a picture perfect pair.

"Draco, dear. Introduce me to your lovely friend, here." As if she highlighted lovely with a neon yellow marker, my mother surely made it clear that lovely was quite the opposite of the invinsable Granger Granger.

It was obvious by the way Miss Granger Granger looked that she wasn't something you'd see in Witch Weekly's Top Ten Witches With Wicked Wands for Wicked Looks (I subscribed for a two year contract for Witch Weekly. I could hear Scarface and Weasel laughing already).

With a plain wardrobe of black, black, and black robes, like the simple attires of Hogwart's students, required for an au pair in any sense and no makeup found on her face, Hermione Granger was an ordinary Jane, with a nice face hidden in layers and layers of chocolatey curls.

An ordinary Jane with a natural beauty, if any, and a stunning figure, yet again hidden in the many articles of clothing unnessisarily worn. But I couldn't forget the goddess I found in that Jane last night, something that ordinary could never compete with.

Indeed, somewhere in that naive, little rabbit was a beautiful woman that was not ordinary, nor ugly. That woman was something else. And my sister thought that as well.

"Mother, this is the notorious Miss Hermione Granger, au pair of Elle. Miss Granger, this is my mother, Mrs. Narcissus Malfoy." At the word "notorious", Hermione raised one of her cute brown eyebrows, which I simply love and detest at the same time, I love it because it was so adorably wonderful on her, and detest it because I love it, and I knew a Malfoy never loved things, nor people.

But Miss Hermione Granger was climbing the charts already.

"Auntie 'Mione, we have to go shopping for a dress for you to wear on Friday night. WE need you to look wonderful." We, referring to me, as usual. Bloody sister, too bad I can't hex her. But I wouldn't mind seeing Granger at her best, so bring it on. (A muggle movie Draco loves to watch. *smile*)

However, Hermione being her modest and boring self said. "Oh, no. I'm not planning to go to the ball, plus I'm a nanny, I'm not supposed to wear nice robes and such. And, I don't have any money to spend on the expenses."

"Why, you scared? I promise you it won't be a room filled with death eaters." At this comment, my mother stared gravely at me. She was always scared of the things that associated with my loathed father, afraid to dare speak the words "death eaters" or "Voldemort". But practically all of wizarding world was scared as well.

The look of challenge in Granger Granger's face showed the Gryffindor colors in her. How heroic.

"Is that a challenge, Mr. Malfoy? Because a Gryffindor never backs out of a challenge, and almost always wins. So beware." Doing this witchy wave with her hands, pardon the pun, and the "boo" sounds, that was unsuccessful trying to make me a bit afraid of the challenge I just bestode, but the most it did was make me laugh, it seems I do this thing called "laughing" more often since she moved in.

Humbug. I was just laughing at how dumb she looked. At times like these, I wish I had a camera.

"Tsk. Tsk. Granger, you don't know what you're getting in."

"I don't know what I'm getting in? I didn't know what I was getting in when I became Elle's au pair, but did that stop me? No. Because I'm a bloody Gryffindor."

While we argued some more, my sister and mother sat there enjoying the view as if it was a bloody movie. For Merlin's sake, they had popcorn.

How corny can my family get?

"Oh, Hermione. I will make you so drop dead gorgeous that even Dracie here won't have anything to say."

Why did I ask?

"Yah right. The day Draco Malfoy won't have anything to say, is the day I'll fall in love with him, which will be never." Yah it won't be never, because I always have something to say.

"Be careful on what you wish for, it might come true." With that, Granger followed Elle the wicked witch out the the ballroom, which I love adoringly, saying the last Granger phrase of the day. "I didn't wish for your chauvenistic pig of a brother to fall in love with, I was merely stating that would be the least likely thing to happen."
"Whatever you say, but the wish might come true." Said the Elle.

"But that wasn't a wish!" Said the Granger.

And poof they went, to spend my money on worthless crap to try to make Granger look less Gryffindor and bookwormish than she really is. Let me see the magic, pardon the pun.

Then my mother spoke, after a long while. Breaking the thin layer of coversation ice.

"Well, at least I can say the girl could give you the run for your money with verbal abuse. She's different from the other prostitutes you call girlfriends." Prostitutes? Blaise? Surely that is a light way to say it.

"Maybe because she's not a prostitute. Granger is a bloody Gryffindor."