Chapter Four: Simple Kind of Life
Hermione rolled over expecting to find a furry lump next to her, but the bed was empty. She blinked a few times, and her eyes wandered around the room as she came back to consciousness. Crookshanks always slept with her. Where was he? Malfoy. Hermione felt frantically around her bed for the cat, then jumped up and searched the room, but Crookshanks wasn't there. Oh lord, what if Malfoy's done something to my cat? Is he that sick?
Hermione made to open the bedroom door, but it was stuck. She yanked on it hard, and the force of it smacked her in the forehead. "Crap!" she swore, rubbing her temple. The Colloportus spell! She heaved a sigh of relief. "I locked him out!" Crookshanks was probably fine. but why hadn't he at least scratched on the door to come in? What if Malfoy really had done something to him?
Hermione crept down the hall to the guest room. The door was only half closed. Apparently Malfoy has no worries about me attacking him in his sleep, she thought bitterly. Hermione was taken aback when, instead of finding Malfoy in the midst of some evil act involving her cat, she saw him sound asleep, looking absolutely innocent in Weasley-esque paisley pajamas, with a completely unharmed and content Crookshanks curled in his arms.
The floorboard creaked slightly as Hermione retreated, bewildered, to say the least. Draco lazily opened his eyes to the sight two large, brown eyes peering at him from underneath a tangle of untamed hair. A man could lose a hand in that mess, his groggy mind thought as he closed his eyes, absent mindedly stroking the large, furry pillow snuggled next to him. Furry pillow? His sleepy mind wondered. No, it's the hand-eating hair pillow. Mmm. soft. What? The pillow, which was now purring, had wandered to the foot of the bed and was licking Draco's toes.
"Gerroff you mangy cat!" Draco mumbled, kicking his left leg half- heartedly. "It tickles!"
Crookshanks did not appreciate being jostled, and bit into Draco's big toe. Draco yelped, and roughly grabbed the cat, preparing to drop him unceremoniously onto the floor. But then Crookshanks let out a pitiful mew, and Draco put him back down on the bed. The cat proceeded to lick Draco's toe in apology. Draco settled back into his pillow.
He decided the cat must be evil to have such an effect on him. As he dressed, he vowed to be as stony as possible as long he was in the cat's vicinity. He couldn't afford to show weakness. Draco would not play by Granger's rules.
****
Hermione was almost pleasant when Malfoy demanded his breakfast. She quickly learned this was a mistake.
"I thought I'd show you how to make scrambled eggs, since they're easy," she said.
"You expect me to cook? That's servant stuff," he bitched. He had clearly not matured much since first year.
"Well unfortunately for you Malfoy, most Muggles, and most Wizards for that matter, have to cook for themselves. Some people even enjoy it."
Draco sneered, but joined Hermione by the stove. "Cooking's a lot like Potions," she said as she expertly cracked an egg. "You have to measure correctly, make sure you have the right ingredients and temperature.
"But it's a little more flexible. You can play around with the recipe, and you just sort of develop a feel for it."
She handed him an egg. He underestimated its fragility and crushed it in his hand. Yolk oozed through Malfoy's fingers, and bits of shell joined Hermione's egg in the frying pan.
Hermione laughed. "Obviously you're better at Potions. Oh, well, we'll just start over."
Draco looked at her expectantly. "Aren't you going to get rid of it?" he asked.
"It's your mess, you clean it," she replied.
"I can't do the Evanesco spell, remember?"
"So do it the Muggle way. The sink's right there."
Draco, of course, used too much soap, and was much less amused by the abundance of bubbles than Hermione. He had been cleaning for at least five minutes, and his arm was starting to get sore.
"Can we eat yet?" he whined.
Forty minutes later, there were two more frying pans in the sink, bubbles on the floor, and two plates of the best scrambled eggs Draco had ever tasted on the table.
Feeling quite satisfied with himself, he leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "I guess I am a natural," he said with a cocky grin.
"Good. Now you can mop the floor," she said, and happily watched his grin disappear.
****
Malfoy had never so much as seen a mop before, so Hermione ended up doing most of the job herself, as Malfoy insisted he learned better by observation. She was instructing him how to properly ring out the mop when she looked up from her task and realized Malfoy was no longer present. Sighing, she finished the floor with a wave of her wand and stalked out of the kitchen.
"Malfoy!" she called. "We're going job hunting. Stop playing
with the cat and get your shoes on." Hermione paused in her journey
through the living room, stunned at how much she sounded like her
mother.
"Hermione, you sound like your mother," a voice said. But it
wasn't Malfoy's. "Actually, you sound like my mother."
"Ron," she said firmly into the fireplace. "What are you
doing?"
"I've come to admire your knees, obviously."
Hermione shot him a nasty look, but plopped cross-legged onto
the floor in front of the fireplace.
"Now," she said. "What do you want, Ron?" But she already knew
the answer.
"I came to help you find your mind since you've clearly lost it,
Hermione!"
"Ron, I-"
"Malfoy, Hermione! He's evil, remember? That little tattoo
doesn't say 'Mum' if I recall!"
"Actually, it says 'Molly'," Malfoy said languidly behind
Hermione.
Ron's eyes flashed dangerously while Hermione hurriedly jumped
to her feet.
"I'm ready to join the working world," he mocked.
Hermione set her eyes on him for a moment then maintained her no-
nonsense gaze as she turned back to the fireplace.
"Not another word," she threatened.
Ron disappeared.
Much to her disappointment, Malfoy stayed.
****
They wandered the streets of London in silence for a while,
which made Draco a bit uncomfortable. He baited Hermione by being as
obnoxious as he could.
"Oi, Her-mi-one!" he said loudly enough to make a few passersby
turn. "There's a postbox. Didn't we have some mail we needed to send
by post, Hermione?"
Hermione did her best to ignore him and began walking a few
paces ahead until he came across a condom wrapper on the ground, and
raised his voice to get her attention.
"Her-mi-oneeee! Look what I found! A condom wrapper. Where do
you reckon the condom went? I haven't had a condom in a while, you
know. I sure have a craving! Is there a market nearby where we could
purchase more condoms?"
Now everyone on both sides of the street was staring at them.
One woman grabbed her child by the arm and dragged him away so quickly
his trainers left little tracks on the pavement.
Hermione whipped around, and Draco found that she was stronger
than he anticipated.
"Malfoy!" she spat. "I know you think you're being clever, but
that was completely out of line!"
It was the first time Draco had ever been called 'clever' in a
negative connotation.
"A condom is a Muggle prophylactic and civilized people do not
go around shouting about their sexual cravings in public!"
Hermione looked as if she was only beginning to berate him, but
Draco was much more interested in condoms now that he knew they were
sexual.
"Granger," he said, reverting to her surname to indicate he was
done being childish, "that package is pretty small. Do Muggles have
smaller. *parts* than Wizards? How exactly does a condom work?"
Hermione, however, was not about to give Draco Malfoy sex ed
lessons in the middle of the street. She stalked off, turning only
once to make sure he was following.
Sighing, Draco ran to catch up with her. He had promised to
play nicely, after all, and if there was one thing a Malfoy was good
for, it was his word. Er, maybe not. But Draco was too lazy to find
another option.
"So about this job thing," Draco broached. "How exactly
am I supposed to get one?"
"Well I checked the paper this morning and found a few
that don't require prior experience or long-term comittment," she
replied, handing him a few pages of the paper that she had marked up.
"Stock boy, cashier, cinema concessions," he read. All
these jobs sounded incredibly menial to Draco.
"Couldn't you come up with anything a little more
challenging for me, Granger? Or at least something that requires more
than half a brain cell?"
"What did you have in mind, Malfoy? A member of
Parliament? I thought the stock boy job looked pretty promising. At
least you wouldn't have to deal with customers."
"Malfoys don't do manual labor," he sneered.
"I hate to break it to you, Mr. Malfoy," she said with a
mock bow, "but you don't have a National Identity Number or driver's
license or any sort of proof of your identity. As far as England is
concerned, you don't exist. And it's just a little difficult trying
to get a respectable job without existing, so you need to get your ego
in check."
Draco glared at her. She had a nasty habit of being
insubordinate, and he was close to snapping.
Malfoy tensed, and Hermione knew she was treading on thin
ice. Much to her chagrin, she knew she had to make peace. They were
only a couple of blocks from Valentine, a hip new restaurant/bar that
Hermione had wanted to try. But there had been planning Harry and
Luna's wedding, helping Ginny prepare for first year Auror exams and
dealing with Ron. well, you really just couldn't take Ron out in
public anymore since he'd been signed by the Cannons. It looked like
the only way she was going to Valentine was with Malfoy. so be it.
"Come on, Malfoy," she said, making her voice as light as
possible. "Let me buy you a drink."
****
Valentine was two stories. The bottom floor was full of
tables and had black and white photographs on the red walls. There
were two bars: one on the lower level for the diners and one upstairs.
The top level was an open dance floor with a bar lining two walls.
The other two walls had couches and squashy chairs in different shades
of velvet. The waitress seated them at a table by the window in the
restaurant. The upstairs bar didn't open until 9:30. Draco perused
the wine list while Hermione prattled on about finding him a job.
"I guess we'll just have to wing it. We'll walk around
and see who's hiring. Hopefully we'll find something to suit you,"
she said.
"We're just going to walk around?" Draco inquired
incredulously. "How are we supposed to know who's hiring? I suppose
they have little signs that say "Positions Available" or "Help Wanted"
or the like," he snorted. He was being sarcastic.
Hermione just gave him a little smile. Draco caught
himself smiling back and immediately became enthralled with the drinks
menu.
"They offer sex on the beach? What is this, a brothel?"
Hermione smiled again. Just as Draco was contemplating
the oddity of this act, the waitress came by. She was tall, thin and
blonde. Draco's first thought was that she reminded him of his
mother. Except the waitress was smiling.
Hermione wished she looked like that. Malfoy suddenly had
this stupid grin on his face. Hermione, who had been planning on just
having a soda, suddenly felt the need for something stronger.
"I'd like a fuzzy navel, please," she told the waitress
matter-of-factly. "Heavy on the Schnapps."
Draco raised an eyebrow at her, then turned to the
waitress. "What would you recommend?"
"A Swedish Blowjob," she said with a smirk.
Draco tried not to think of his mother. "Are you
Swedish?" he asked.
Hermione gagged.
The waitress laughed. "No. It's our newest drink.
Bailey's, Kahlua and banana liqueur."
Bailey's what? He wondered. "Right," he said, with a hint
of sarcasm that only Hermione picked up on. "I think I made something
similar in Potions once."
The waitress looked at him excitedly. "You worked at the
Potions Lounge?"
Draco glanced quizzically at Hermione.
"The Potions Lounge in New York, yeah," she covered. "He
studied there for a year."
"That's so cool!" the waitress squealed.
Hermione and Draco both rolled their eyes. Then Hermione
thought of something.
"He's only just got back," she said. "I don't suppose
you're in need of a bartender?"
The waitress eyed Draco approvingly. "Actually, I think
we are. The pay's crap, but I bet you could make some decent tips."
Hermione gave the waitress a genuine smile. "Great. He
can start tonight."
The waitress gave him another leering glance. "Come by
around 8," she said. "I'll train you myself."
Hermione rolled over expecting to find a furry lump next to her, but the bed was empty. She blinked a few times, and her eyes wandered around the room as she came back to consciousness. Crookshanks always slept with her. Where was he? Malfoy. Hermione felt frantically around her bed for the cat, then jumped up and searched the room, but Crookshanks wasn't there. Oh lord, what if Malfoy's done something to my cat? Is he that sick?
Hermione made to open the bedroom door, but it was stuck. She yanked on it hard, and the force of it smacked her in the forehead. "Crap!" she swore, rubbing her temple. The Colloportus spell! She heaved a sigh of relief. "I locked him out!" Crookshanks was probably fine. but why hadn't he at least scratched on the door to come in? What if Malfoy really had done something to him?
Hermione crept down the hall to the guest room. The door was only half closed. Apparently Malfoy has no worries about me attacking him in his sleep, she thought bitterly. Hermione was taken aback when, instead of finding Malfoy in the midst of some evil act involving her cat, she saw him sound asleep, looking absolutely innocent in Weasley-esque paisley pajamas, with a completely unharmed and content Crookshanks curled in his arms.
The floorboard creaked slightly as Hermione retreated, bewildered, to say the least. Draco lazily opened his eyes to the sight two large, brown eyes peering at him from underneath a tangle of untamed hair. A man could lose a hand in that mess, his groggy mind thought as he closed his eyes, absent mindedly stroking the large, furry pillow snuggled next to him. Furry pillow? His sleepy mind wondered. No, it's the hand-eating hair pillow. Mmm. soft. What? The pillow, which was now purring, had wandered to the foot of the bed and was licking Draco's toes.
"Gerroff you mangy cat!" Draco mumbled, kicking his left leg half- heartedly. "It tickles!"
Crookshanks did not appreciate being jostled, and bit into Draco's big toe. Draco yelped, and roughly grabbed the cat, preparing to drop him unceremoniously onto the floor. But then Crookshanks let out a pitiful mew, and Draco put him back down on the bed. The cat proceeded to lick Draco's toe in apology. Draco settled back into his pillow.
He decided the cat must be evil to have such an effect on him. As he dressed, he vowed to be as stony as possible as long he was in the cat's vicinity. He couldn't afford to show weakness. Draco would not play by Granger's rules.
****
Hermione was almost pleasant when Malfoy demanded his breakfast. She quickly learned this was a mistake.
"I thought I'd show you how to make scrambled eggs, since they're easy," she said.
"You expect me to cook? That's servant stuff," he bitched. He had clearly not matured much since first year.
"Well unfortunately for you Malfoy, most Muggles, and most Wizards for that matter, have to cook for themselves. Some people even enjoy it."
Draco sneered, but joined Hermione by the stove. "Cooking's a lot like Potions," she said as she expertly cracked an egg. "You have to measure correctly, make sure you have the right ingredients and temperature.
"But it's a little more flexible. You can play around with the recipe, and you just sort of develop a feel for it."
She handed him an egg. He underestimated its fragility and crushed it in his hand. Yolk oozed through Malfoy's fingers, and bits of shell joined Hermione's egg in the frying pan.
Hermione laughed. "Obviously you're better at Potions. Oh, well, we'll just start over."
Draco looked at her expectantly. "Aren't you going to get rid of it?" he asked.
"It's your mess, you clean it," she replied.
"I can't do the Evanesco spell, remember?"
"So do it the Muggle way. The sink's right there."
Draco, of course, used too much soap, and was much less amused by the abundance of bubbles than Hermione. He had been cleaning for at least five minutes, and his arm was starting to get sore.
"Can we eat yet?" he whined.
Forty minutes later, there were two more frying pans in the sink, bubbles on the floor, and two plates of the best scrambled eggs Draco had ever tasted on the table.
Feeling quite satisfied with himself, he leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "I guess I am a natural," he said with a cocky grin.
"Good. Now you can mop the floor," she said, and happily watched his grin disappear.
****
Malfoy had never so much as seen a mop before, so Hermione ended up doing most of the job herself, as Malfoy insisted he learned better by observation. She was instructing him how to properly ring out the mop when she looked up from her task and realized Malfoy was no longer present. Sighing, she finished the floor with a wave of her wand and stalked out of the kitchen.
"Malfoy!" she called. "We're going job hunting. Stop playing
with the cat and get your shoes on." Hermione paused in her journey
through the living room, stunned at how much she sounded like her
mother.
"Hermione, you sound like your mother," a voice said. But it
wasn't Malfoy's. "Actually, you sound like my mother."
"Ron," she said firmly into the fireplace. "What are you
doing?"
"I've come to admire your knees, obviously."
Hermione shot him a nasty look, but plopped cross-legged onto
the floor in front of the fireplace.
"Now," she said. "What do you want, Ron?" But she already knew
the answer.
"I came to help you find your mind since you've clearly lost it,
Hermione!"
"Ron, I-"
"Malfoy, Hermione! He's evil, remember? That little tattoo
doesn't say 'Mum' if I recall!"
"Actually, it says 'Molly'," Malfoy said languidly behind
Hermione.
Ron's eyes flashed dangerously while Hermione hurriedly jumped
to her feet.
"I'm ready to join the working world," he mocked.
Hermione set her eyes on him for a moment then maintained her no-
nonsense gaze as she turned back to the fireplace.
"Not another word," she threatened.
Ron disappeared.
Much to her disappointment, Malfoy stayed.
****
They wandered the streets of London in silence for a while,
which made Draco a bit uncomfortable. He baited Hermione by being as
obnoxious as he could.
"Oi, Her-mi-one!" he said loudly enough to make a few passersby
turn. "There's a postbox. Didn't we have some mail we needed to send
by post, Hermione?"
Hermione did her best to ignore him and began walking a few
paces ahead until he came across a condom wrapper on the ground, and
raised his voice to get her attention.
"Her-mi-oneeee! Look what I found! A condom wrapper. Where do
you reckon the condom went? I haven't had a condom in a while, you
know. I sure have a craving! Is there a market nearby where we could
purchase more condoms?"
Now everyone on both sides of the street was staring at them.
One woman grabbed her child by the arm and dragged him away so quickly
his trainers left little tracks on the pavement.
Hermione whipped around, and Draco found that she was stronger
than he anticipated.
"Malfoy!" she spat. "I know you think you're being clever, but
that was completely out of line!"
It was the first time Draco had ever been called 'clever' in a
negative connotation.
"A condom is a Muggle prophylactic and civilized people do not
go around shouting about their sexual cravings in public!"
Hermione looked as if she was only beginning to berate him, but
Draco was much more interested in condoms now that he knew they were
sexual.
"Granger," he said, reverting to her surname to indicate he was
done being childish, "that package is pretty small. Do Muggles have
smaller. *parts* than Wizards? How exactly does a condom work?"
Hermione, however, was not about to give Draco Malfoy sex ed
lessons in the middle of the street. She stalked off, turning only
once to make sure he was following.
Sighing, Draco ran to catch up with her. He had promised to
play nicely, after all, and if there was one thing a Malfoy was good
for, it was his word. Er, maybe not. But Draco was too lazy to find
another option.
"So about this job thing," Draco broached. "How exactly
am I supposed to get one?"
"Well I checked the paper this morning and found a few
that don't require prior experience or long-term comittment," she
replied, handing him a few pages of the paper that she had marked up.
"Stock boy, cashier, cinema concessions," he read. All
these jobs sounded incredibly menial to Draco.
"Couldn't you come up with anything a little more
challenging for me, Granger? Or at least something that requires more
than half a brain cell?"
"What did you have in mind, Malfoy? A member of
Parliament? I thought the stock boy job looked pretty promising. At
least you wouldn't have to deal with customers."
"Malfoys don't do manual labor," he sneered.
"I hate to break it to you, Mr. Malfoy," she said with a
mock bow, "but you don't have a National Identity Number or driver's
license or any sort of proof of your identity. As far as England is
concerned, you don't exist. And it's just a little difficult trying
to get a respectable job without existing, so you need to get your ego
in check."
Draco glared at her. She had a nasty habit of being
insubordinate, and he was close to snapping.
Malfoy tensed, and Hermione knew she was treading on thin
ice. Much to her chagrin, she knew she had to make peace. They were
only a couple of blocks from Valentine, a hip new restaurant/bar that
Hermione had wanted to try. But there had been planning Harry and
Luna's wedding, helping Ginny prepare for first year Auror exams and
dealing with Ron. well, you really just couldn't take Ron out in
public anymore since he'd been signed by the Cannons. It looked like
the only way she was going to Valentine was with Malfoy. so be it.
"Come on, Malfoy," she said, making her voice as light as
possible. "Let me buy you a drink."
****
Valentine was two stories. The bottom floor was full of
tables and had black and white photographs on the red walls. There
were two bars: one on the lower level for the diners and one upstairs.
The top level was an open dance floor with a bar lining two walls.
The other two walls had couches and squashy chairs in different shades
of velvet. The waitress seated them at a table by the window in the
restaurant. The upstairs bar didn't open until 9:30. Draco perused
the wine list while Hermione prattled on about finding him a job.
"I guess we'll just have to wing it. We'll walk around
and see who's hiring. Hopefully we'll find something to suit you,"
she said.
"We're just going to walk around?" Draco inquired
incredulously. "How are we supposed to know who's hiring? I suppose
they have little signs that say "Positions Available" or "Help Wanted"
or the like," he snorted. He was being sarcastic.
Hermione just gave him a little smile. Draco caught
himself smiling back and immediately became enthralled with the drinks
menu.
"They offer sex on the beach? What is this, a brothel?"
Hermione smiled again. Just as Draco was contemplating
the oddity of this act, the waitress came by. She was tall, thin and
blonde. Draco's first thought was that she reminded him of his
mother. Except the waitress was smiling.
Hermione wished she looked like that. Malfoy suddenly had
this stupid grin on his face. Hermione, who had been planning on just
having a soda, suddenly felt the need for something stronger.
"I'd like a fuzzy navel, please," she told the waitress
matter-of-factly. "Heavy on the Schnapps."
Draco raised an eyebrow at her, then turned to the
waitress. "What would you recommend?"
"A Swedish Blowjob," she said with a smirk.
Draco tried not to think of his mother. "Are you
Swedish?" he asked.
Hermione gagged.
The waitress laughed. "No. It's our newest drink.
Bailey's, Kahlua and banana liqueur."
Bailey's what? He wondered. "Right," he said, with a hint
of sarcasm that only Hermione picked up on. "I think I made something
similar in Potions once."
The waitress looked at him excitedly. "You worked at the
Potions Lounge?"
Draco glanced quizzically at Hermione.
"The Potions Lounge in New York, yeah," she covered. "He
studied there for a year."
"That's so cool!" the waitress squealed.
Hermione and Draco both rolled their eyes. Then Hermione
thought of something.
"He's only just got back," she said. "I don't suppose
you're in need of a bartender?"
The waitress eyed Draco approvingly. "Actually, I think
we are. The pay's crap, but I bet you could make some decent tips."
Hermione gave the waitress a genuine smile. "Great. He
can start tonight."
The waitress gave him another leering glance. "Come by
around 8," she said. "I'll train you myself."