~The Curse That Went Awry~
~Chapter Six: My Weft Knee~
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_I'm welcome?! Malfoy actually said I'm welcome?!_ These were Hermione's thoughts as she chomped on her filet mignon. Unfortunately, her hands were getting covered in the seasoning, since whoever had left the (probably poisoned) food out had not thought to give them any silverware. "We should look around this cottage," suggested Hermione, searching the table for a napkin. There was none. Just her luck. She was so wiping her hands off on Malfoy's robes when his back was turned.
"Yeah. There might be more food."
"And a bed…" said Hermione wistfully.
"Or two beds, Granger. Unless you want to sleep with me."
"Ew!"
"'Ew'? What do you mean, 'ew'?"
"I mean, don't talk about that while I'm eating."
"Well, you were the one who brought up beds."
Hermione said nothing, but continued to ingest her filet mignon.
"Besides, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm Hogwarts' most eligible bachelor!"
"Pff!" Hermione snorted out her laughter. "In your dreams!"
"No, in yours. At least, I assume so. I'm in everyone else's after all."
"You keep on thinking that, Malfoy."
"I will, then."
"Are we going to look around, or what?" Hermione had finished her filet mignon.
"We will, then." Malfoy got up from the table. Hermione wiped her hands on his robe. "See. I knew you couldn't resist me." This made Hermione snicker.
The first room beyond the entryway was…odd, to say the least. Even more odd angles than in the entryway, with lots of—mint green. Strange. In fact, there was so much green that Hermione thought for a second they had walked into a Muggle hospital, one of the really sickeningly sterilized ones. There were some oddly-shaped chairs, and what appeared to be a couch. They passed through this room quickly.
Hermione caught her breath in the next room. Everything was white with soft hues of blue, and seemed to glow from the inside out. Huge arched windows let in the shine of the gentle pink sunset. In the middle of the far wall stood an enormous fountain depicting a swooping likeness of a creature with a kangaroo's back feet, a rabbit's front paws, and the body and head of a doe. It was the most beautiful animal Hermione had ever seen. Malfoy was apparently attempting to ruin the effect.
"Too Victorian for my taste, but some people might think this is pretty, I guess."
Hermione hardly noticed, being too enthralled by the fountain. "What sort of a room is this?" she asked in hushed wonder.
"It's the sort of room people use to show off how rich they are, obviously. Though who they're going to show it off to, I have no idea, seeing as there's no one around for miles."
"I don't think that's what it is," she replied quietly, and she tore her eyes away. They moved on to the next room.
Hermione's awe in the white room matched her horror in the one that followed. All was deep reds and purples and blacks, with sharp edges on everything and swoopingly high backs of chairs. It was the sort of room she imagined the devil would use to entertain.
"This is hardly impressive," Malfoy said haughtily, striding forward only to bang his leg on a frightening, jagged coffee table. He immediately grabbed his knee and began to jump about in pain. "Ow! Ow ow ow! That reawy hurts a wot! OW!"
Hermione stared at him, biting back her laughter with difficulty. "Why are you talking that way?"
"Wew, it's an ancient (ow) curse of the nobwe Mawfoy bwood."
"So hitting your leg makes you talk funny?"
"Wew, onwy my weft knee, Granger," he groaned in pain, as though pointing out something completely obvious.
"You sound like Elmer Fudd."
"Who's Ewmer Fudd?"
"Ah… no one, Malfoy. Let's keep going."
The door led them back to the front room. Malfoy was limping as he complained. "Stupid curse, stupid tabwe, stupid weg," he muttered. "I can't beweave that Mawfoys have to suffer the compwete indignity of tawking wike this just for hitting our weft knees!!"
"Why'd you get cursed anyway, Malfoy?"
"My great-grandfather insuwted someone for wiggwing their ears--not deserving of a curse, reawy. Peopwe overreact so much sometimes. Wike you. You have to woosen up a widdwe."
He was still clutching his knee as he sank into a chair. As much as she hated to ask, "Are you all right?"
"I don't know, my knee stiw hurts. This should have cweared up by now."
"Let me see," she sighed.
"You just want an excuse to see my weg," Malfoy accused.
"You are incredibly self-deluded. Now let me see, or shut up." Scoffing, Malfoy raised his left pant-leg, allowing her to lean in an see that— "Oh, jeez, Malfoy. This is really bad."
"That's what I've been tewwing you!"
"Shut up. Hmm, we need some cloth or something. And we can't use my handkerchief, that's already disgusting."
"Why do we need cwoth? Am I bweeding?" He looked down. "Ahh! I'm bweeding! Not again! I'm going to suffer from bwood woss or something! This can't be heawthy, wosing this much bwood in—hey, what are you doing?"
Tearing off a strip of cloth from her robes, Hermione pressed it to Malfoy's knee. "Hold this here while I go look for something, will you?"
There was a door they hadn't gone through. Hermione opened it and discovered a bathroom, and dug through the drawers by the sink—thank goodness that was normal—as she half-paid attention to Malfoy's constant complaining.
"I have the worst wuck in the worwd! Honestwy, Mawfoys shouwd never have to put up with this sort of thing, we've suffered enough! Have I ever towd you about my great-uncwe Warry? Wew, his name wasn't actuawy Warry, we just cawed him that because it was easier. Anyway, one day he was just wawking down the street, minding his own business, when something came and ate him. Or he ate it, I can never reawy remember. Anyway, it was horribwe."
Hermione ran some water (running water? In the middle of nowhere?) over the washcloth she'd found and headed back out to her complaining charge. Taking the cloth from her robes away from his knee, she applied the damp washcloth, mopping up the blood gently.
Glancing up, Hermione saw him give a wince, and, smiling, she went back to cleaning up his knee. Then she took the gauze which had conveniently been in a drawer in the bathroom, she wound it around his leg and pulled his pantleg back down over it.
Finished with her work, she looked up at him to see the oddest expression on his face. "Thanks," he said quietly.
"Welcome," she said, just as quietly.
"Where'd you learn how to do that, anyway?" Malfoy's speech problem seemed to have disappeared.
"My brother used to scrape his knees a lot. He was the 'football champion,'" said Hermione, getting up and sitting on a chair nearby.
"Football. Isn't that the sport that tries to be Quidditch?"
"Seeing as Muggles don't know about Quidditch, it's just the sport that's trying to be football. And I was always the one cleaning him up afterwards—my parents were always busy with work."
"Mine too. At least, my father's always away doing—work. Well, more like a hobby, really. An obsessive kind of hobby. An obsessive, demented kind of hobby. And my mom's always off being the busy socialite. But I don't have a younger brother. You know."
"Malfoy. Are you trying to empathize with me?"
"That's crazy-talk, Granger! I don't appreciate that sentiment!"
"Sure, Malfoy. Okay. Whatever you say."
"Well, maybe…a little. But you'd better not tell anyone I did, or there'll be hell to pay!"
"All right. Thank you, Malfoy."
He paused, then said, "My pleasure, Granger."
Hermione was just about to crack a smile at him when there was a clank at the door, and it began to creak open…
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A/N: Bwahahahahahahaha…Evil Cliffhanger of Doom ™! We are very evil, yes. And, before you ask, we find it extremely amusing when Draco talks differently. Know why? 'Cause he's still arrogant and pratly, that's why! Ha! Glowing, white balloon animals to anyone who reviews.