A.N.: This started out as a little writers block-breaker, but it just keeps going. I wasn't going to post this until it was completely finished with it, but I'm bored and wanted to. So there. Tell me if you like it, please. I'm review-deprived. If you like it, I'll continue. If you don't, I will anyway, but you wont know because, er, you wont read it. Moving on.
Disclaimer: I hold no claims to any of the Harry Potter characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling. Now that I'm done with the part that no one reads anyway, let's get on with it.
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SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1 Hermione was unaware of the many benefits that the Ministry of Magic held to raise money until someone had roped her into participating in one. She lifted a strap that had slipped from her shoulder and grumbled. How had she been talked into this?
***********
"C'mon, Hermione, it wont be so bad," Ron pleaded. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Well, okay, it will be bad. It's a Ministry event, after all. But help me out! How will it look?"
"Well, it wont make it look like Hermione Granger is a cheap tramp."
"But we know you're not a cheap tramp."
"Give me one good reason why I should."
"Because you love me and it means a terrible amount to my career," Ron said solemnly. Hermione toed the ground.
"Give me another good reason." Ron grinned and pounced.
************
Oh, she thought with a grin. Now she remembered. What a night that had been. She idly fingered the small necklace around her neck. A present from Ron for being so cooperative. She continued to daydream about her boyfriend, not caring that she must have looked incredibly dim, tugging at her necklace with a big dopey grin.
This was a stupid benefit anyway. It was archaic and sexist and so very rich. Really, who did this anymore? Hermione was standing with a group of other girls on a small stage while a crowd of intrigued looking men stood, flashing the girls arrogant smiles. A fast talking man stood at a podium to the side and auctioned off the girls one by one. For a dance, mind you, but auctioning all the same.
How barbarically civilized. She decided that this was an unworthy topic to be thinking about and set her thoughts on how she would have Ron make this up to her. She heard the auctioning through a fog. Only when it came to her and a man called out a ridiculous amount of money.
Hermione blinked. A bid. A bid for her. Oh, this wasn't going to work. She was seriously contemplating bolting for the door until her thoughts were interrupted as a pair of strong arms tugged her to the dance floor. She looked up and almost fell over. The man grinned.
"You're not breathing," he pointed out, clearly amused. He put his hands on her hips and pulled her close. Hermione choked. "Were you expecting someone else?"
"M-Malfoy?" She almost shrieked.
"I'm paying for a dance, you know. I think I should keep you longer if we're just going to stand here." Hermione glared up at him, but began moving grudgingly with the music. After a moment of tense silence she turned her head to him, looking angrier than before with confusion and uncertainty thrown in for good measure.
"Why did you buy me?" Draco's grin widened. Hermione blushed and immediately hated herself for doing so. This was Malfoy. Malfoy was not blush-worthy. Although, his eyes did have that incredible way of sparkling, and his hair was the most interesting color she'd even seen, and - no! No, stop it this instant, Hermione Anne Granger!
Draco tilted his head down and gave her an odd look. She, however, saw none of it, too busy screaming at herself for admitting that - for admitting nothing. There was nothing to say about Draco Malfoy. He was completely boring and plain, and Hermione had never spoken to someone so dull.
Now. If only it were true.
"Your middle name is Anne?" Draco said, slight smirk in place. Hermione's head shot up.
"So what if it is? Anne is a wonderful name. I am very pro– how did you know my middle name is Anne?"
"You were talking to yourself. At first I thought you were telling me to stop. But it seems you just have more issues than I'd originally thought. Which wouldn't surprise me in the slightest, you know, because it's been said that mudbloods have shown a trend of insanity. It's really quite interesting, the statistics you come across when you're growing up in a highly placed family, and I'm going to stop talking now because you're glaring at me and I fear the insanity is contagious." Hermione restrained herself from slapping him. She pushed his hands from her body and began to turn on her heel. He caught her hand.
"Let go of me," she said between grit teeth. To tell the truth, the term had never really built up enough momentum to be thoroughly offensive. She knew that if Ron were here, he'd curse the life out of Draco Malfoy the second the word left his mouth, and Harry as well (but simply because he knew it was an insult, and no one insulted Hermione in his presence). Honestly, she was only looking for an excuse to flee, and she was an opportunist if there ever was one.
"I paid for a dance," he said calmly, before yanking her arm back roughly and holding her in place. "Dance with me." Now Hermione was just the teensy bit intimidated. Maybe a little more than a teensy bit. Where the hell was Ron? She wanted to scan the crowd, but held Draco's gaze. If she broke the gaze, she'd lose. She promised herself when she was eleven that she'd never lose to a Malfoy.
Unfortunately, Draco was showing no signs of fighting the same inner battle that she was. His cool grey eyes bore into her own, completely unreadable. They were nothing like Ron's eyes. She wondered briefly what kind of life this man had lived, but she quickly reminded herself that this was Draco Malfoy, the spoilt little rich boy who got everything - and everyone - he wanted. This man wasn't worth her time. Ron, she told herself. You're in love with Ron.
"I find it bothersome that you keep muttering to yourself," Draco said softly. She woke from her revery and glared at him.
"So leave me." He grinned.
"I bought you."
The music ended and the dance floor began to empty. Hermione let out a relieved breath and quickly dropped her arms from his shoulders. Draco smirked as she stormed off the floor, desperately searching for her boyfriend and leaving him alone.
Good, she thought. I hope he looks like a fool. Ron was at her side in an instant.
"That prat," he growled. "Who does he think he is, anyway? Buying my girlfriend. That prat." Harry appeared by his side.
"Want us to hex him, Hermione?" he asked cheerfully, big smile in place.
"No," she said firmly. Harry's face fell.
"Aww," he whined. "But I know this really cool one. He'd be quacking like a duck and trying to fly away all night."
"Maybe later." Harry grinned again.
Before she could blink, Hermione was on the stage again. She cursed.
********
This time, it was Harry who bought her dance, mostly because she was shaking and he didn't want to subject her to the horror that was Draco Malfoy any more. She was greatly thankful and had a wonderful time. Until, that is, Draco popped up next to Harry.
"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry said lightly, dancing happily with Hermione.
"I'd like to buy this dance."
"What are you playing at?" Hermione questioned.
"Mental trauma, if I play my cards right."
"I thought I told you to sod off."
Draco offered an incredible amount of money.
"She's all yours." Harry skipped off the dance floor. Hermione was appalled. Harry had never cared about money. He was probably just as well off as the Malfoys. And why in the hell was he skipping?
"Some bloody friend you are, Harry James Potter!" she yelled after him.
"Come now. Am I really that bad? Most girls would be melting into puddles of nostalgic goo if they were in your place."
"I'm not most girls," she said stubbornly. Though, he did have that way of looking at her. And in the rare event of a real smile, the effect was startling. He was looking at her oddly again.
"Every time I see you, you look like you're waging a war against yourself."
"Oh, what would you know?"
"Father's favorite phrase was 'know thine enemy.'"
"Am I your enemy?"
"You know, your eyes put all of your emotion right out there for the world to see." The corners of his mouths showed a slight quirk.
"And yours show nothing. There is something to be said for showing emotion."
"Weakness," Draco said simply.
"Bravery," Hermione challenged.
"Malfoy," came Ron's voice. Hermione blinked. Oh yeah, she was supposed to be waiting for him. She didn't look over at him. Neither did Draco. They were staring at each other again. Draco's expression was cool and indifferent. Hermione's was full of hostile fury.
"Weasley," Draco said in acknowledgment.
"Get off of my girlfriend."
"But I bought her," he almost whined. Malfoys didn't whine. Ron grabbed Hermione's hand tightly.
"We're leaving. Now," he growled and strode off the floor, dragging Hermione with him. Draco watched in amusement. He may have hated Hermione, but he knew her as well as someone could know a person. Well. He knew the angry side of Hermione as well as someone could know a person. And, boy, it wasn't pretty. He grinned, hoping against hope that Ron experienced the beating of a lifetime tonight.
*********
Once outside the Hall doors, Hermione stopped short, yanking her hand out of Ron's grasp and fixing him with a cold glare.
"What the hell was that?" She asked. Ron looked confused. He made a few broad gestures.
"Malfoy. He – you – dancing – thought you – didn't you..? – I didn't – Hatred!" he finished loudly. "Hatred!"
"Thank you, Ron, for that wonderful explanation, but I am perfectly capable of figuring out who I hate and how to deal with them. What were you thinking, pulling that chauvinistic shit back there? I demand an apology." She said this in one breath. Ron was looking at her blankly.
"I'm sorry." Hermione shook her head.
"A public apology." The horror.
*********
Draco had never had so much fun in his life. As soon as he saw - or rather heard - the Hall doors slam open and a determined looking Hermione Granger stomp in, pulling a nearly kicking and screaming Ron Weasley, he bumped, pushed, and cursed his way to the front of the room for a good seat. Whatever Hermione was determined to do, he didn't want to miss it.
Hermione literally threw her boyfriend onto the small stage and grabbed the microphone from the podium, where a small, balding man was auctioning off another batch of saps.
"And the lovely Andrea is up next. How much will the gentleman pay for this di~ Young woman, that is my microphone! I don't care if it's important, it's mine!" Hermione leaned in real close. The man quieted and tilted his head to hear what she would said. Hermione rolled her eyes and gave him a mighty shove. Fortunately, when he tripped off the stage he fell into a group young girls and no one was injured. Unfortunately, his face landed in a rather private area, and the girls gathered into a pack and threatened to kill him. He ran. They ran. It was a mess. Hermione rolled her eyes again, crossed her arms, and glared at Ron, who was tugging at his collar nervously and shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.
"Say it." Ron looked over the crowd.
"Hermione asked me to apologize." He looked to Hermione, who shook her head impatiently. "She asked me to apologize because I was a big jerk," he said hopefully. No good. "She asked me to apologize because I'm a man and can't do anything right." Nope. "She didn't ask me," he said quickly. "She didn't say anything at all." His voice was higher than usual. "I'm apologizing completely of my own free will and do not fear any bodily harm." A glare. Ron made the most interesting sound. "Did I say harm?"
The small man flailed by.
Ron fainted.
Draco was biting his lip so hard, it bled.
Hermione stomped out of the hall.
The crowd stood silently.
********
Hermione sat at her friend's kitchen table, slowly sipping a cup of coffee. Ginny Weasley drudged into the room wearing black drawstring pants and a tank top. She lit a cigarette and collapsed into a chair.
"Gin, it's two in the afternoon," Hermione said gently. Ginny looked up, eyebrows raised in silent question. "And you just woke up fifteen minutes ago. And you're smoking again. I thought you'd quit." Ginny shook her head.
"So I hear a man was mauled at the benefit last night. I hear he'll be coming out of that coma any day now. I hear it was your fault." Hermione looked offended.
"That is a vicious lie. It was not my fault at all. Those girls were itching for a fight."
"It was a charity event. They were training to be nuns, Sweetie," Ginny said gently.
"It was built up resentment, that's what it was." She stared blankly at her friend.
"I've never known anyone to accuse a bunch of nuns of a savage beating." Ginny had heard the whole story, of course, from various reliable sources. Ginny Weasley was the gossip center of England. As Hermione opened her mouth to say something, Harry sauntered into the kitchen, dropping a kiss on Ginny's forehead and grabbing a beer from the fridge.
"Hiya, Hermione," he said happily. "Mr. Jonavahn should be out of intensive care soon." Hermione scowled.
"How can you be happy all of the time?" she asked moodily, immensely annoyed that the poor man continuously came up in her conversations. Harry sent her a sunny grin and took a swig from his beer. "Oh. You know, there are meetings for that sort of happiness." Harry gave her a look. "We support your decisions, Harry. We're here to help you."
"You know, just because you're mentally disturbed, it doesn't mean the rest of us have to be as cynical. I happen to be naturally optimistic."
"No one is naturally optimistic," Ginny said. "No one actually wants to positive." Harry flicked her in the forehead. She looked up, smiled sweetly, and blew a lung-full of smoke in his face. He frowned.
"You two are disgusting," Hermione spat. "I have to be somewhere." She was already putting her coat on.
"Where?" Harry said, looking up at her curiously.
"Somewhere. Preferably not here."
"We're not that bad. You and Ron are far worse." Hermione looked injured.
"We were drunk, okay?" She said defensively.
*********
It was her favorite place to come to work. It was quiet, it was homey, and it served up her daily dose of caffeine. She had all of her books piled by her feet and multiple notebooks spread across the table. She was writing frantically with her right hand and sipping her third Carmel Machiatto with her left. She was caught a bit off guard when the other chair to her table was flung out and a figure dropped down into it. She didn't look up.
"Look, I'm really busy," she said calmly. "Let's make this short. I'm taken."
"Did it hurt?" The man asked. Hermione thought the voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she rolled her eyes.
"When I fell from heaven? No. Us angels come fully equipped with wings."
"Nice to know. But I was going to say when you fell for me." Hermione choked on her coffee. The man grinned. "That stuff'll kill you."
"Malfoy?"
"Glad to see you haven't forgotten me."
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"My old nanny owns this place. Best blueberry muffins in London. The question is, why am I sitting at your table?"
"Do tell," she said with a strangled voice.
"You want me."
"Excuse me?" She scoffed. Inside, she was burning, her heart was hammering, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out why. This was Malfoy, the slimy little pug-faced git who made her school days a nightmare. Well. Technically, it was Voldemort who had made her school days a nightmare, but an added dish of Draco served cold was just too much to bear.
"You want me to be here, so I am. I aim to please."
"I want you to get up and walk out that door. This meeting never happened."
"You think I'm gorgeous."
"I think you're detestable."
"You want me bad."
And, oh, how she did..
What? No. No, she definitely did not want this callous, arrogant, unbelievably attractive waste of air anywhere near her. What? No. Attractive? Well..
"I guess I could get used to the mumbling," Draco said quietly. "Am I interrupting something?"
There.
Silence.
Say something, you daft git, Hermione yelled inside her head. Now. Tell him to piss off. Go. Now. You bitch!
"Mental debates now? You're an odd witch, 'Mione."
There her voice was. "Never," she said quietly. "Never call me that."
"You like 'Herm' better? Yeah, I like that one too."
"I am and forever will be 'Granger' to you, Malfoy."
"But that's so impersonal," he almost whined. "I mean, we can hardly call each other by our last names when there's little Malfoys running around. It'll confuse them." She was speechless.
"L-Little Malfoys?" He grinned.
"When I said that you wanted me, I~"
"Everything alright, Drakey?" A kind looking old woman in a white apron had approached their table. She smiled warmly at them. He smiled sunnily up at her.
"Perfect, Nan." She frowned.
"Where's your muffin, Muffin?"
"Ate before I came, sadly. Maybe next time."
"Oh, no! Not my Drakey. No, you'll have one of Nanny Marie's muffins. You're too thin anyway!" She bustled into the back, no doubt to make a fresh batch for her, ahem, Drakey-Muffin.
Hermione was biting her lip.
"That was cute."
"She practically raised me."
"So polite, Drakey."
"Bite your tongue," he darkened. "Never call me that." Hermione shrugged.
"We can hardly call each other by our last names." She was grinning. "Think of the children, Muffin." He glared the worst glare he could muster.