Chapter 3
"I'll listen to it. Doesn't mean I'll take pleasure in it, Granger. I'd love to see you're idea of depressing!" He said sarcasm evident. "They're probably a bunch of stupid 30 year old, though trying to be 21, muggles prancing around leather pants and tight shirts singing, and I play it fast and loose with that term, 'Ode to my shag of the week who left me for some hot number because I wasn't good enough in the sack.'"
Hermione couldn't help but smile at his analogy. "For your information, I would rather be eaten alive by starving hippogriffs than listen to that kind of music, and I play it fast and loose with that term," she explained, one hand on her hip, the other outstretched, mocking him ever so slightly.
Draco raised an eyebrow at her in a very Malfoy like fashion, slightly surprised at her choice of words. He reached in the basket and picked out the CD, hesitating a moment before he handed it to her.
"Good boy. Now sit and let me get set up for our session."
"Alright, Granger," he resigned, heading to the chair and sitting in a regal fashion. "But let it be known that I do not like to be ordered about like a common house elf. And if I here even one 'Oh, baby' or 'Yeah, girl' I might have to go medieval on your arse."
Hermione laughed lightly and started toward the boom box, taking the disk out of its case as she went.
Draco watched intently, or as well as he could with her in the way, as she pressed buttons and adjusted knobs on something that looked vaguely like a Wizard Wireless. Soon the first chords of a song were ringing through the room. It didn't sound like prance-y boy-band music to him, it actually sounded half decent.
"Hmm... punk-rock, Granger? I never would have thought," He admitted, nodding his head with the music, causing his blonde hair to flop helplessly, which Hermione didn't fail to notice.
"Well, well, Malfoy. I see we decided to ditch the stuck-up prat look for something a little more casual?" She asked not even bothering to try to ignore the fact that, yes- he was quite attractive without a look of disgust on his face. He may be an arse, but he was a good-looking arse and there was no use denying it.
"Ha-ha-ha! Just to let you know, I've 'ditched the stuck-up prat look' because I am now broke. I have no extra money to spend on frivolous, unnecessary products. Besides, I think it makes me look quite," he paused to flip his hair and send her a wink, "roguish."
She shook her head and made her way over to the stool she had sat on earlier. "So, why don't we get started? First off, your parent's deaths... How does that make you feel?"
"You know, Granger, for a muggle-born, you aren't that bad looking... If only you would do something with that rat's nest you call hair." Truthfully, her hair had calmed down a bit, but as she said: 'Once a frizz- ball, always a frizz-ball'
"Damn, Malfoy. Don't avoid the subject," she berated through her blushing cheeks. "Now, the deaths, Malfoy, tell me about the deaths."
"But really Granger, sixth year was good to you," he said not cloaking the innuendo that was left hanging in the air.
"Alright so I can see you're uncomfortable talking about you parents, what about your friends? Tell me about them."
"C'mon, Granger, do you seriously think that I or any of these people are actually going to tell you anything true!? Don't be blind! These kids see you as the enemy. And if you think otherwise... give me a fucking break."
"I'll listen to it. Doesn't mean I'll take pleasure in it, Granger. I'd love to see you're idea of depressing!" He said sarcasm evident. "They're probably a bunch of stupid 30 year old, though trying to be 21, muggles prancing around leather pants and tight shirts singing, and I play it fast and loose with that term, 'Ode to my shag of the week who left me for some hot number because I wasn't good enough in the sack.'"
Hermione couldn't help but smile at his analogy. "For your information, I would rather be eaten alive by starving hippogriffs than listen to that kind of music, and I play it fast and loose with that term," she explained, one hand on her hip, the other outstretched, mocking him ever so slightly.
Draco raised an eyebrow at her in a very Malfoy like fashion, slightly surprised at her choice of words. He reached in the basket and picked out the CD, hesitating a moment before he handed it to her.
"Good boy. Now sit and let me get set up for our session."
"Alright, Granger," he resigned, heading to the chair and sitting in a regal fashion. "But let it be known that I do not like to be ordered about like a common house elf. And if I here even one 'Oh, baby' or 'Yeah, girl' I might have to go medieval on your arse."
Hermione laughed lightly and started toward the boom box, taking the disk out of its case as she went.
Draco watched intently, or as well as he could with her in the way, as she pressed buttons and adjusted knobs on something that looked vaguely like a Wizard Wireless. Soon the first chords of a song were ringing through the room. It didn't sound like prance-y boy-band music to him, it actually sounded half decent.
"Hmm... punk-rock, Granger? I never would have thought," He admitted, nodding his head with the music, causing his blonde hair to flop helplessly, which Hermione didn't fail to notice.
"Well, well, Malfoy. I see we decided to ditch the stuck-up prat look for something a little more casual?" She asked not even bothering to try to ignore the fact that, yes- he was quite attractive without a look of disgust on his face. He may be an arse, but he was a good-looking arse and there was no use denying it.
"Ha-ha-ha! Just to let you know, I've 'ditched the stuck-up prat look' because I am now broke. I have no extra money to spend on frivolous, unnecessary products. Besides, I think it makes me look quite," he paused to flip his hair and send her a wink, "roguish."
She shook her head and made her way over to the stool she had sat on earlier. "So, why don't we get started? First off, your parent's deaths... How does that make you feel?"
"You know, Granger, for a muggle-born, you aren't that bad looking... If only you would do something with that rat's nest you call hair." Truthfully, her hair had calmed down a bit, but as she said: 'Once a frizz- ball, always a frizz-ball'
"Damn, Malfoy. Don't avoid the subject," she berated through her blushing cheeks. "Now, the deaths, Malfoy, tell me about the deaths."
"But really Granger, sixth year was good to you," he said not cloaking the innuendo that was left hanging in the air.
"Alright so I can see you're uncomfortable talking about you parents, what about your friends? Tell me about them."
"C'mon, Granger, do you seriously think that I or any of these people are actually going to tell you anything true!? Don't be blind! These kids see you as the enemy. And if you think otherwise... give me a fucking break."