The Promise
Hermione awoke the next morning to a blinding pain in her temples, and she groaned into her pillow as she recognized a hangover. 'Drunk?' her mind yelled at her. 'You were embarrassingly drunk last night!' The pain became only worse when she rolled over and faced her bedside table. There, next to a small vial, was a note with her name on it, the handwriting unmistakable. She leaned over and grabbed it, determined to read whatever he had to say before she passed out again.
She found herself laughing in spite of the waves it created in her stomach as she reviewed the note.
Granger,
Drink this; it's a hangover relief potion. I would have given it to you last night, but you were heavily involved with your pillow. I take back what I said last night, you are nothing like Pansy at the Yule Ball (a rather unfortunate event which I try not to remember). So, drink this and a lot of water, as soon as you wake. If I meet you today by some chance and you are at all surly, I shall not be blamed for you lack of attention to your own hangovers.
-DM
She could practically feel the sarcasm emitted from the note, but she was grateful for the potion. Soon after drinking it, the waves of nausea passed, the only thing upsetting her stomach now was the mental image of Malfoy and Pansy engaged in acts of adolescent lust.
As her mind cleared, the memories of last night came to the forefront of her thoughts. She wondered if she had indeed had a miserable evening, caused by one Malfoy? He may have eased her pain this morning, but he also caused her to drink like a fish, ruined her dress, and, to cap the evening off, provoked her into a long awaited lecture on his treatment of her. It might have been an eventful evening, but it certainly wasn't the pleasurable New Years it could have been without him.
As she mulled this over, she realized suddenly his note and the vial alluded to him being the one to bring her home. That was decidedly odd. She would have expected him to dump her at the feet of Harry and say goodnight. She wondered if he had secreted her away and told everyone she left early, or had chosen to parade her passed out body to the other guests. The latter seemed the most likely. As she rose from the bed, her face burned when she realized that she was only in her undergarments. Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed to any god that existed that her state of dress had been taken care of by her, long after Malfoy had left her apartment.
Pulling on a robe, she entered her kitchen to prepare tea. She was pouring the water when a voice called her name from the living room.
"I'm in here," she answered, and took out a second cup as she waited for Ginny to meet her.
"Hello, Hermione," Ginny greeted her, and flashed Hermione a large smile. "So…how are we feeling this morning?"
Hermione grimaced, and gave her friend a half smile in return.
"I'm alright, actually. I suppose you know that Malfoy must have brought me back. He left a hangover potion for me by my bed." She paused. "Comes prepared to parties, then, does he?"
Ginny gave her a mysterious smile. "No, he didn't have it with him, actually, when he flooed you here. He came back to the party after putting you to bed, and asked me if I had any. I didn't, so he went back to his own flat, and said he would bring it to your apartment after he left the party. Awfully nice of him, don't you think?" She winked at her astonished friend.
Hermione did think it was awfully nice of him, which caused another annoying tingle at in her stomach. "He did that? Just so I would be comfortable in the morning? Ginny- do you think I should have taken it? I didn't even think about it, I just drank it. What if it's a trick?"
Ginny laughed and hit Hermione on the arm. "Of course it isn't a trick, you dolt. Everyone knew he gave it to you, he told Harry and I before he left to get it. He wouldn't do that to you, and even if he would he certainly wouldn't tell us about it."
Hermione decided that it had not been nearly long enough since she had woken up to dissect this piece of news. She opted to just concentrate on her drink, and ask Ginny what brought her over.
"Well, I wanted to finalize our little bet. We're meeting Ron later for dinner, and Draco might be there. So, I wanted to invite you, but I had to find out whether or not you had a miserable time, before tricking you into seeing him during your free two weeks if you did." The last part of her statement was laden with sarcasm.
"Well, Gin. I don't want to miss being with you all if I don't want to see Malfoy. I didn't think about that. And, yes, I think he did make my evening quite unbearable. He dumped champagne on my dress Ginny! And no, don't give me that look, it wasn't an accident. It was measured, and intentional, and I couldn't clean it either! It has a big stain now." She frowned again as she remembered the state of her nicest dress.
"Oh, but Ginny, wait until you hear what I did. I told him off, the way I have been saying I would for years. It was brilliant!" Hermione proceeded to relate her tirade to Ginny, as her friends eyes widened, and also the comments she remembered him making in response before she passed out.
"Wow," Ginny said. "I can't believe you finally said all that. Wow." Ginny slowly stirred the spoon in her tea and shrugged. "I guess it's not surprising then, that he took you home."
Hermione crinkled her brow and questioned her friend. "What do you mean, Ginny? I mean, yes, his last statements to me were quite surprising, but I still would have expected him to just dump me off the porch rather than take any sort of responsibility towards me."
"I mean, Hermione, that his last words to you before you passed out prove what I've been guessing for a long time." Ginny gave Hermione one last appraising glance and an amused smirk before dropping her figurative bombshell. "What I mean is that I think he enjoys you just as much as you enjoy him, though you are both to proud, stubborn, and scared to admit it."
Hermione, for her part, did not take this announcement lightly. Instead, she sputtered, gasped, turned red, and then burst into indignant laughter.
"Malfoy! Malfoy! You think Malfoy 'enjoys' me. Gin, he hates me. There's no use denying it. He even said so last night. His words make sense if you think about them. Ron and Harry just give him a hard time back, but in a very plebian way. I 'rise to the occasion'. He enjoys torturing me because I bite back. That's what he enjoys about me. No romantic inclinations there."
Hermione leaned back against her counter and pushed a few strands of hair back from her face. "Honestly, can you imagine? Imagine him ever liking me? Even if it were to happen, he would never, never admit it. There's no hope in thinking like that."
"No hope? Were you hoping that it could be true?" Ginny teased.
Once again Hermione turned red, and she quickly moved to her sink to rinse out her mug.
"No, that's not what I meant at all. What I meant was- well- I don't know. Never mind. All you need to know is that yes, I had a horrible time because of him last night. And, yes, I want two weeks free. And, yes, I will meet you tonight, Draco- Malfoy- or no Malfoy," she turned back to her friend who trying, unsuccessfully to hide her grin.
"Oh, Ginny, I can't help it sometimes, with all of you running around and saying his first name like he deserves it. Two weeks will start tomorrow, then, alright?"
"Point taken, Hermione. So meet us at Ron's, around seven. I've got to go now and make sure that Harry isn't making a mess of the house."
Hermione followed Ginny out into the living room to say goodbye before she flooed back. "Yes, I'll see you then. Bye, Gin!"
Left alone in her apartment, Hermione decided to take a bath and engage in some serious introspective thinking that she so wildly needed. Immersed in the warm water, her thoughts turned to Ginny's outlandish claim. It was ridiculous that Malfoy could feel anything for her other than the well worn irritation and dislike that they both expressed so easily. But that very suggestion caused a bought of fluttering feelings in her stomach which made Hermione very uncomfortable.
It seemed so sudden, so out of the blue, this idea. But, she had to admit to herself, that while the idea of Malfoy's feelings being radically different than originally perceived may have come as a shock to her, her own feelings did not. She had been fighting, for many years, as early as the end of sixth year, really, a growing attraction to him. And she was good at it, very good at ignoring how she felt. And he made it much easier for her, with his arrogance and smirks, and his attitude towards her. But to have Ginny waltz in and declare it all to be a façade was rattling Hermione's well built shell of denial, and she wasn't sure she was at all able to cope with the confusing feelings and questions that were leaking out through the cracks.
*******
Ron's flat was vastly different from Harry's home. There was no doubt that a man lived there, and that he was single. Where Harry's home was spacious, clean, and light, Ron's was cramped, colorful, and, for lack of a better term, rowdy. But everything about it screamed Ron, and because of this fact, Hermione was as comfortable there as she was at Harry's.
"Hello, Ron," Hermione greeted her old friend. She draped herself on to one of his large recliners, and fiddled with her braid. "Sorry I'm late, I couldn't find Crookshanks, and I was afraid he might have gotten out. I had to look for him before I could leave."
Ron grinned back at her. "It's alright, really, Harry and Draco are just in my room looking at this new poster I got of the Bulgarian team, and Gin's in the washroom."
"A new poster, hmm? I would never have guessed after the fourth year debacle that you would be such a fan of Victor's team." Hermione smiled back at him good-naturedly. She looked up as she heard the two other men coming closer to the sitting room.
"Hi," she greeted feebly as they entered the room. Mentally, she was cursing herself for how she sounded, the word caught in her throat as they walked through the doorway. 'Come on, Hermione! This isn't some silly schoolgirl crush! You've always retained some level of cool around him, unless you're lashing out at something you said! You can do this!'
Harry interrupted her inner monologue by crossing the room and rubbing her head affectionately. She wrinkled her nose up at him and laughed.
"Am I a dog, now, Harry?" She glanced over at Draco, who had not said a single thing yet, and noticed that he appeared to be looking away from her with a purposefulness that couldn't be ignored. His gaze was fixated on a picture of the Weasley twins outside their shop in Diagon Alley, and Hermione knew that he couldn't really be interested in that picture.
Ginny entered the room and surveyed the scene. "Oh, Hermione, we wondered where you were. We've all been here for ages!" She looked at Hermione, then Draco, and then back to Hermione, widening her eyes and shaking her head. Hermione sighed; she was not very good at lip reading, nor the body language which Ginny was quite fond of using. She rolled her eyes at Ginny and shrugged her shoulders, but Ginny was not to be deterred.
"Come on, Hermione, let's get you something to drink." Her body language was now focused on Harry, and her husband seemed to understand it much better than Hermione, as he promptly hoisted her up out of her comfortable seat, and gently pushed her towards her female friend.
"Alright, Ginny," Hermione said as they entered the kitchen, "What's going on?"
Ginny bit her lip, and quickly handed Hermione a glass of water. "Well, for some reason, two certain prats let our bet slip."
Hermione looked at Ginny as she drew in a sharp breath. "What do you mean, let our bet slip? As in they told Malfoy?" Hermione could feel a headache beginning to form at the edges of her temples.
"Well, yes, they did. And they feel awful about it now, I was able to express to them how rude it really is to Malfoy, the bet in general, and how it really would have been much better if he hadn't known."
Hermione agreed. "It- it, well, while it is marvelous for me, yes it is rude. I mean, how embarrassing it must be, for someone to dislike you so much that a prize in a bet for them is to get a break from you." She was pacing now, and her hands were fiddling with strands of hair which had come loose from her plait.
"Not that he didn't deserve it, that can't be debated. But, I mean I didn't want him to find out. He's going to absolutely detest me, if he doesn't already. His bloody pride!"
Throughout the rest of dinner, Hermione did indeed feel the effects of her friends spilling the beans. He was positively frigid to her the whole evening, and didn't say a single thing to her. If it had been twenty-four hours ago, she might have reveled in the unusual break from his constant teasing, but now, thanks to Ginny, having had openly admitted to herself that her feelings towards Mafloy were not as clear cut as she tried to make out, she was despondent in the lack of attention.
She knew that he was punishing her, and she also knew him well enough to guess that if he found it pleasing, he would continue this treatment far past the two weeks she won. And it was irritating! What Ginny had said last week was true, whether he was being cruel, funny, or sometimes even kind and civil, one thing Malfoy never did was ignore her. And now it was so cold, so blatant, and Hermione started to feel very sick.
She stood up from the table, surprising her friends, and quickly told them that she wasn't feeling well, and needed to leave. Ginny cast her a sympathetic glance as she said her goodbyes, and Malfoy remained stone faced and cold. Walking out to the hallway to collect her cloak, she could feel tears of anger and hurt pricking the back of her eyelids. She tried telling herself how stupid she was being, but it was all too much for her, far too confusing.
She gathered up her things, and grabbed her wand, preparing to apparate, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun around to find herself face to face with Malfoy, and jumped in surprise.
"Here," he said, his voice positively arctic. He handed her a long white box, and gave her a long look. "Have a nice two weeks, Granger." With that he turned around on his heel, and Hermione apparated into her bedroom.
She stared at the box with bewildered eyes, before opening it. Inside laid a black sheath dress, but much finer than her own. The dress was silk, and Hermione had never felt anything like it before. She fingered the material, and sighed deeply, wishing things could go back to the way they were. 'Ignorance is bliss', she thought.
****************************************
Augh, this chapter went crazy. This really isn't my fav. Chapter, I went crazy reworking it, and it came out kind of crappy. Oh, well. It just wasn't working the way it was originally set up, it really should have stopped after her bath, but it lacked something without the dinner, and there's a lack of D/H interaction.