THE TENDER TRAP
(I realized I've been forgetting a…)
Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't sue. Please and Thanks. And the song that was in last chapter is from the musical, KISS ME KATE
Pairing: Hermione/Draco
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"Hermione! Hey, Hermione!" A voice called down the hall. Hermione heard feet running toward her.
She slowed her pace as Ron and Harry came bolting up beside her, both slightly out of breath. Ron's red hair was disheveled, and his blue eyes were alive with mischief, a trait he had picked up from his older twin brothers.
Hermione smiled. "Good morning to you, too," she said, grinning. And it was a good morning, a lovely September Sunday morning.
Harry stopped and gave Hermione a hug. "Aren't we chipper this morning?" Harry asked. Hermione grinned at her friend.
Since the War had ended in their sixth year, Hermione had never seen Harry happier. Ever morning he greeted her with an embrace, and the three of them would laugh and joke all the way through breakfast. The trio took delight in quiet days spent by the Lake and late nights chatting by the fire; the simple things they hadn't had time for during the War.
Ron too had gotten a lot better since the War's sudden end. He had once confessed to Hermione that he was enormously relieved to not always be running around finding clues or looking over his shoulder to make sure his best friends weren't seriously endangered. Hermione has wholeheartedly agreed.
"What've you two been up to so early?" Hermione asked, curious at the boy's flushed cheeks and lively countenance.
Ron snorted. "We were trying to catch up with you! Who knew you walked so fast in the morning?" He asked playfully, grinning.
"Running in the Hallways, Ron?" Harry asked in mock horror, sounding suspiciously like Percy Weasley. "How could you do such a thing?" He brought his hand dramatically to his forehead, sending Hermione into giggles.
"And you, letting him, Harry," she said, shaking her head. It was all in good fun, anyway, she knew.
Hermione sighed inwardly. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, she knew that days like these were numbered. It was, after all, their last year at Hogwarts. After graduation day, they would be released into the real world, with jobs and responsibilities and maybe even families.
I'm not ready to leave! Hermione though suddenly, as the boys began to talk of this afternoon's upcoming Quidditch practice. And it was the truth—for seven years, she's taken this place for granted, been annoyed with the boy's talks of Quidditch and buried in her work.
And for what? She wondered silently to herself as the three of them passed into the Great Hall for breakfast. She was nearly seventeen, for Chrissake's, with only impressive study habits to her name. Her parents, of course, had always wanted her to become a lawyer, to work for her uncle Jonas's firm, but she had really thrown that option out the window by becoming a witch.
Sighing, she settled herself at the Gryffindor table on Harry's left, next to an empty chair. Pouring herself a cup of tea, Hermione allowed her thoughts to wander for a while.
*********
Draco sauntered into the Great Hall on Sunday morning at a quarter past eight, just as he had every weekend morning since the age of eleven. While he prided himself on spontaneity, there were some rules that just could not be broken.
Pansy Parkinson at the Slytherin table spotted Draco and waved him over. He shrugged, indifferent to whom he sat with, and chose a seat at the end of the table, on the opposite end as Pansy. Too early for headaches, anyway, Draco thought to himself, grabbing a blueberry scone off of one of the platters. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Pansy sulking. He merely sipped at his orange juice.
Draco scanned the room with his sharp, blue eyes, looking over the students and staff. Nothing out of the ordinary…just another Sunday morning.
And there's the Famous Trio, Draco thought, sneering, as his gaze settled at the Gryffindor table. It appeared Potter and Weasley were deep in conversation, and…
Draco's attention was once again diverted, but this time, to the brunette witch seated on Potter's right. Hermione Granger was apparently deep in thought, staring into her cup as she traced last circles around the rim with her finger.
Draco tried to look elsewhere, but for some reason unbeknownst to man, he couldn't break away. For some reason, today, at this instant, Granger, Mudblood-Know-It-All Granger, was interesting, entrancing even, to him. Perhaps it was something about the way her curly hair was knotted at the back of her head, or the slight frown puckering her face as she wandered in thought. It was almost…
Almost beautiful, he thought suddenly. How was it he had never noticed her before? Draco had noticed her for her intelligence, but never her beauty, her grace…
Wait a second.
"Beauty and Grace?" Where in all the seven Hells did that come from?
Draco looked up suddenly to find that one, his mouth was wide-open, and two, Blaise was smirking at him. Draco quickly looked at his goblet of orange juice, and realization hit him.
"Oy, Zabini, what the Hell was that?" Draco hissed as Blaise took the seat across from Draco, chuckling. Draco scowled.
Still laughing merrily, Blaise pulled out a small, translucent silver bottle from the pocket of his robes. The contents were a pale red liquid that sloshed around as Blaise's laughter shook the vial.
"This, Malfoy," Blaise said, still highly amused, "is a Black Market potion." He swished the red liquid around in its container again. Draco frowned at the bottle.
"Well, what's it do? And why did you spike my orange juice?" Draco hissed, disgruntled. Usually he kept his guard high, so things like this didn't happen. He'd have to be more careful next time!
Father would have been so disappointed, Draco thought sardonically.
"Well, as you could tell me, it sort of…controls one's thoughts, and of course," Blaise said, procuring yet another tiny flask out of his robes, "I took one to let me have insight to what you were thinking. I've got to hand it to you," Zabini swept his dark gaze over to the Gryffindor table, "those were some pretty thoughts." He chuckled.
Draco frowned. "You…read my thoughts?" He asked. "Merlin, Zabini, that's a really odd habit to get into."
Blaise merely chuckled, taking a sip out of his own, heavily guarded goblet of juice.
Draco stared warily at his own goblet. A new Black Market potion…of course, it must have been very hard to get a hold of. Even for someone like Blaise, for whom money was no problem. Not that it was for Draco, for that matter. He was, after all, the heir to the Malfoy family fortune.
That was one of the pluses to having a War-torn family, Draco mused, still staring at the goblet. Lucius gets hauled off to Azkaban and I escape with a slap on the wrist and the key to his Gringotts vault!
This potion though…he really ought to have some of it in his arsenal. It couldn't hurt, either, as long as Draco kept it a secret. In fact…
It may even help in the Granger case! Draco's mind reeled. If all of Blaise's plans failed dramatically, Draco could always slip a little of the Potion into her drink…and voila! Instant attraction!
Draco stood up from the table hurriedly. Blaise looked up at him in confusion as Draco leapt off the bench and made for the exit, leaving his unfinished scone and orange juice behind.
"Oy, Malfoy, where are you going?" Blaise yelled after him.
"I have some…homework to do," Draco tossed over his shoulder, striding out the doors.
**********
"Oh come on, Hermione, please?"
Hermione sighed as she pushed an unruly lock of hair out of her face. "No, no, and for the last time, no, Ron, I will not come and watch your Quidditch practice! Isn't it enough I come to all of the games?" she asked as she, Harry, and Ron entered the Gryffindor Common Room.
Ron threw Harry an exasperated look. Harry merely shrugged.
"Ron, come on, we've got to be out there in ten minutes," Harry urged, polishing his glasses on a fistful of t-shirt. "Leave Hermione be."
Hermione heaved another sigh. "Thank you, Harry!" Ron made a noise of hurt. She rounded on him. "Look, Ron, I've already told you I have to go to the Library today, and—"
"Look, I'm sure the Library won't be upset if you don't visit it one day, Hermione!" Ron said strongly. Harry snickered but fell silent at the Look that Hermione gave him.
"I'll go get my broom, shall I?" Harry said, trying to cover his laugh with a cough. He ran a hand through his raven hair and hurried up the boy's dormitories staircase, out of sight and leaving Ron and Hermione in the Common Room.
"Why do you spend so much time holed up in there anyway, Mione?" Ron asked running a hand through his own red hair. "You always used to come and watch us practice." Ron's blue-eyed gaze fell into her own, making Hermione feel a tad guilty.
She puffed herself up. "I did not ever used to watch your practices, and you know it. Now stop doing the puppy-eyes thing. We all know you practically invented the Guilt Trip," Hermione said, casting a gaze around the room in search of her bag.
Ron sighed again. Not wanting to look him in the eye, Hermione turned away and began to search for her school bag. She could feel his gaze on her even as she peeked around a chair. After a few moments of searching, Hermione finally found it tucked in a corner of the room near the bulletin board.
Ron broke through the uneasy silence. "You know, Hermione, I just want this to be enjoyable for everyone," he said quietly in his steady voice. Startled, Hermione turned to face the tall redhead. Ron shook his head and continued. "I mean, this is our last year. And now that—Voldemort---is finally gone…"he trailed off, glancing at her meaningfully.
She could feel herself grown sad at his words; the realization hit her like an oncoming train. Ron's words carried a lot of wisdom.
Hermione reached out a hand to put on Ron's arm. "I know," she said quietly, nodding. "But we can't be together all the time, Ron, and you know that. I'm not saying I don't want to be with you guys," she amended quickly, noticing Ron open his mouth to object. "But…we all need a little space some times."
Hermione looked at Ron, hopeful that he would understand where she was coming from. Ron merely shrugged, saying, "Yeah, alright, Mione."
Hermione sighed. "Ron, listen," she began, but Ron turned away and began to trudge up the staircase for his broom, clearly put out by Hermione's refusal to watch them practice.
Seconds after Ron slammed the door; Harry appeared from behind a chair, holding his Firebolt and looking displeased, although his green eyes struggled to stay neutral behind the round glasses.
Hermione jumped when she saw him. "So were you listening the whole time, Harry?" she hissed, thoroughly annoyed. Why can't anyone ever leave me alone? She wondered angrily. Hermione placed her hands on her hips and waiting for an answer.
Harry had the grace to look ashamed; Hermione could see his cheeks tinge pink for a slight second before his expression grew stormier.
"So what if I was, Hermione?" Harry asked, crossing in front of the chair and leaning on his broom, Quidditch robes swaying around his tall frame. "It's nothing I haven't heard before."
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked indignantly, crossing her arms. "And don't even start on the arguing business again. Is it honestly that big of a deal to you if I don't come to watch one of your Quidditch practices? Because if it is, may I suggest that you take your over-large head out of—"
"Hermione, will you let me speak?" Harry interrupted her.
Always when I'm just getting into my stride, Hermione thought. She glared at Harry but fell silent.
"Thank you," Harry said. He sighed. "I reckon Ron's right, you know. It's only the second week of school and you've already buried yourself in that bloody Library! It's not even that we mind you missing the practice—"
Hermione snorted indignantly. Harry scowled at her but continued. "But we do mind you running off on us all the time. We know that this year, we don't have as much to worry about—"
"Are you joking?" Hermione cut in, appalled. "We have N.E.W.T.s this year!"
Harry heaved a huge sigh and shook his head. Hermione still held a shocked look on her face as Harry shrugged to her indifferently. "See, that's your problem, isn't it?" he asked coolly, heading toward the portrait hole, apparently not willing to argue any longer. "It's always about the grades."
With that, Harry grabbed his Firebolt and left the Common Room, leaving a stunned Hermione behind.
Hermione's hands were shaking with suppressed anger. How dare they tell me how to prioritize my life, she thought angrily, as she turned to storm up the stairs to the girl's dormitories for her bag. Honestly!
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Authoress's Note: It's been…what, forever since I've updated? I've been out so much I have no time to sit down and write. (And this is supposed to be my summer vacation. Ai!)
Please review. I beg you. Yes, beg. I'm on my knees, people!!!!!!!!!! /gracious smile/
*MADame