Author's Note: Whee, after a very successful chapter three (an assumption I made from the positive responses) I'm rather intrigued to write this fourth chapter. It might take rather longer than initially hoped (mainly because of my father having to go to bed early because of work), but I hope it's worth the wait!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the settings, save for the ones I've created (felt I should mention that, as I have created quite a few characters and settings in this!). This magical world is property of J.K. Rowling, with her incredible mind. I just own the plot!
Chapter Four - An Old Enemy
"Sometimes I think that
I'm not any good at all
Sometimes I wonder why
I'm even here at all
But then you assure me
I'm a little more than useless"
- "More Than Useless" by Relient K
"That's right," Draco replied, in that drawl that Hermione dreaded ever hearing again. Although he looked initially revolted at her being there, now his expression seemed emotionless, that cold glare that haunted her vision constantly during her seven years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "And what exactly are you doing here, Granger?"
Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, one that caused strands of her light brown hair to float upwards and drift back slowly to her slightly-tanned skin, obscuring her vision. "If you must know, Malfoy, I'm supposed to be doing a report on the seeker of the Falmouth Falcons. Have you seen him or her anywhere?" Now that Hermione had accepted the fact that she once again met up with someone that she hoped never to see again, she prayed to the gods that the person who she was searching for wouldn't be him. Unfortunately --
"You're looking right at him," the ex-Slytherin answered, cocking a sly eyebrow upwards. He licked his lips softly, his almost luscious tongue seeming to be forked like a snake's. "Like what you see?"
Letting out a disgusted scoff, Hermione let her eyes drift downwards, towards his chest which was covered with a lush green turtleneck until she kept her gaze fixed firmly onto the ground. 'What a day,' Hermione thought to herself. Meeting up with Oliver Wood as a keeper was one thing, but Draco Malfoy as a seeker for another? Hermione was an employee for the Daily Prophet, why didn't she ever read who the top players in Quidditch were? 'Mainly because you have no fascination in the sport and you were too focused on politic-related writings,' Hermione reminded herself. At this point, as an awkward, almost eerie silence filled up between the two previous Hogwarts students, the brunette witch resorted to biting her bottom lip nervously once again.
"You should leave that lip alone, y'know," Draco suddenly spoke up.
At last, Hermione's gaze drifted upwards towards that too familiar face, his cheekbones set in exactly the right spot, somewhat managing to highlight his incredibly pale face. "Pardon?" she asked, wholeheartedly confused.
"You're gnawing it down with all that biting," he went on, his grey eyes focusing onto her pale but glossed lips. Hermione raised her eyebrows quizzically - was Draco actually showing some inclination of having some sort of normal conversation? "You're probably speechless, aren't you? Didn't expect me to be so incredibly handsome after all these years, am I correct?"
Scoffing again, Hermione softly shook her head. "You haven't changed a bit," she muttered underneath her breath. "If you must know, Malfoy," Hermione repeated, in a more clear tone of voice, "I'm actually biting my lip to prevent myself from throwing up all over you. I'm afraid the sight of you has made me feel quite ill, a feeling that I will dread for the next few weeks."
"Oh, I'm positively sure that you'll grow accustomed to this nauseating feeling whenever you gaze upon me, and soon those feelings will not make you feel ill, but arouse you in ... many ways," Malfoy said smoothly, cocking up an eyebrow softly as though suggesting something. Outstretching his arm, he rested his hand upon the wall, leaning softly against it. "Now, do you have anything important to say, Granger? I've only got a practise I've got to go to that's commencing in three minutes, so I suggest you hurry with whatever you're going to say."
Resorting to a sigh was the only way that Hermione could contain her frustrated groans. His cockiness made her feel incredibly exasperated, and overlooking the fact that he was quite handsome, Hermione could see that his character had not changed at all since their days at Hogwarts. Pulling out a notepad and her favourite feathered quill, Hermione said in a rush, "Would you like to set up a time for the interview so I can get to know you?"
"My, my, my, Granger," Draco gasped out, raising his eyebrows in mock amusement as he clicked his tongue. "Is that a pick-up line? I'm sure it works well on your other interviewees, but I can't say it works magic on me."
"So I can get to know you for - the - article," Hermione added, through gritted teeth.
"How about Friday, around noon?" the blonde responded, holding his hand out in front of him as though the sight of his hand was far more attractive than Hermione. This notion simply infuriated Hermione, although she noticed that his grey eyes flickered up and down her body as she casually flipped through her notepad.
"I'm afraid that position has already been filled," Hermione replied. "How about two o'clock?"
"Already been filled?" Draco cried out, amused by her comment. "Already been filled? Who could possibly be more important than myself?"
Swallowing her comment of, 'How about any other witch or wizard on the planet - and, oh yeah, let's include any Muggle too', Hermione shortly said, "By a fellow Quidditch player that I also have to interview." Hermione gazed at her watch, an action that caused Malfoy to look quite offended, much to her delight.
Crossing his arms around his rather muscular chest (a detail which Hermione chose not to take into account as she noticed this), he took a few steps forward, leaning in so that his cold breath stung against Hermione's cheek. "Is that so?" he whispered heavily, almost sounding as though he was out of breath. "Enlighten me. Who is this fellow Quidditch player you speak of?"
"I'd rather not enlighten you, Malfoy," Hermione said, her eyelids sliding over her eyes as her glance drifted towards the ground. "Now, does Friday at two o'clock seem alright? Here, at Sarquin Stadium? Or would you rather postpone?" The brunette let out a tiny whimper as she felt a thumb and forefinger coming to rest upon her chin, forcing her head upwards so that her gaze was nearly parallel with the seeker's.
"I'd rather you look at me when you're speaking to me, Granger," Draco said, his face dangerously close to Hermione's. His icy touch frightened Hermione, and although aware that this was the first situation where she was ever in such close proximity with the ex-Slytherin, she did nothing to prevent it and only willed in her mind that his fingers would release her chin. Gulping slightly, a prickling feeling arising in the back of her eyes, she found his grip to be only tighter as she wished him to release her. "Two o'clock sounds just dandy." The tips of his nails embedded faint red scratches along her jaw line as his fingers scratched their way away from her. Releasing a tiny, relieved gasp as warmth crept towards her chin once more, she took a step back so that she would no longer be in his reach.
"Pleasure seeing you again, Malfoy," Hermione said, in the enthusiasm that a reporter would be expected to have, although a dull monotone somewhat tainted this statement. "Looking forward to becoming reacquainted this Friday at two o'clock." With a curt nod of the head, Hermione gave a brief smile that showed no emotion before a loud CRACK! echoed throughout the main hallway of the Quidditch stadium and she had Disapparated.
Still gazing at the spot where Hermione had stood, Draco heaved a sigh. "And a pleasure seeing you as well, Hermione. How you've grown," he added, a faint expression of awe mingled with his pale face.
"A butterbeer I presume, Miss Granger?"
Nodding gratefully at Tom's words, Hermione sat herself down on a stool, snapping her notepad shut and shoving her quill behind her ear which immediately became lost in her mass of slightly bushy brown hair. She propped her chin upon her interlaced hands, the indentations of where Draco's fingers were still evident upon her jawline. Exhaling deeply, she shook her head (which caused the feathers of her quill to lightly hit her face) to rid of the haunting yet "arousing" images of Draco Malfoy, and in complete disbelief of the whirlwind that she was the eyewitness of since being "promoted".
A dull clunk which alerted her of a mug of Butterbeer being set in front of her made her jump slightly in alarm, and with a polite and acknowledging smile to Tom the bartender she polish off the mug in four loud chugs. As the thick yet soothing liquid of the drink eased down her throat, Hermione was left with the strongest desire to Apparate to her apartment and collapse onto her bed. It felt as though it was the only solution to the turmoil she had to behold - coming face-to-face with Draco Malfoy after all these years was not something Hermione expected, nor would it become something she would look back on and think, "Oh, I remember that lovely day, where Draco practically harassed me and I felt absolutely nauseous but that's okay!" Swallowing with some difficulty, Hermione knew she also couldn't give up - showing signs of weakness was not something she would easily succumb to, and she wasn't about to start now.
Heaving herself up, she forced a wave of nausea to cascade down, then dropped a few sickles onto the countertop. Once she had called after Tom with a, "Have a good day!" she went through the standard process of entering Daily Prophet, and tried to summon up a positive attitude that she severely lacked at the moment. Stumbling over her feet, she made contact with an elder witch who merely sniffed at Hermione's feeble apology, and she only gave a half-hearted greeting to Fred and George as she passed them outside of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.
Once she went through the grueling process of announcing her name to the secretary when she had miraculously made it into the Daily Prophet in her state, she made her way to the elevator, caught between a crowd of several other witches and wizards. Shuffling towards the back of the elevator, she was almost terrified that someone may not have pressed the button to reach the second floor (where she would be working for the next several weeks), but realized this was a very foolish thought, as a little more than half of the reporters of the Daily Prophet worked on that floor.
"Hermione? Hermione Granger?" a somewhat excited voice asked.
Looking around bewildered, Hermione half-expected the faces of Agnes or Clara to come into view, but instead a young woman with long black hair that brushed slightly past her shoulders and wide, almond-shaped eyes greeted her, a small smile on her tanned face. "Jessica, Jessica Lee," the girl greeted, extending a hand to welcome a handshake. As Hermione smiled in response, she followed suit and extended her hair and once they embraced in a friendly handshake, she looked down upon their hands, seeing an eye-popping silver ring which was almost diamond-shaped, an 'S' in the middle of the diamond. Jessica giggled as she saw Hermione notice this. "Sorry, people ask about that all the time, it's --"
"Superman," Hermione replied simply, nodding in acknowledgment of this ring. "I see it on the telly all the time when I visit my parents."
"Yeah, I'm a bit obsessed, I have to say," Jessica admitted, though no traces of a blush followed this statement.
"More than obsessed," a voice said behind her. "She has a shrine devoted to this Superman in her cubicle. I mean, really, he's not as super as a wizard, is he? Even if those tights do manage to show him off well."
"Hm, maybe you're right!" Jessica suddenly exclaimed, quickly followed by, "Shut up, will you, Terrance?"
Hermione peered over Jessica's shoulder and saw a blonde-haired man with hair slightly drooping past his chin, giving Hermione a wink. "My name's Terrance, how do you do -- Hermione, is it?"
Nodding, the sudden halt of the lift began a shuffle onto the second floor. "So, tell me," Jessica began, pressing Hermione gently on the small of her back, leading her through the crowd of wizards and witches, walking past various cubicles where different groups of people were chatting animatedly amongst themselves. "What was it like meeting the handsome Oliver Wood and the simply yet not-so-simply gorgeous Draco Malfoy?"
"Yes, do tell," Terrance exclaimed, somehow ending up behind Jessica again. Bewildered, Hermione stifled a giggle as she wondered if some sort of magnetic jinx was linked between Jessica and Terrance.
"Uh -- it was -- good?"
"GOOD?!" Jessica gasped out in an appalled tone, a look of utter horror on her face. "Just GOOD?! You've written such fantastic articles - and I've followed your works, mind you - and the only word you can use to summarize meeting the present-day gods of Quidditch is good?"
Momentarily taken aback by her speech, Hermione smiled sheepishly. "Well, I'm quite sure you already know that it was much more than good," Hermione stated apologetically. "I was more surprised than anything else, considering that one used to be a fellow Gryffindor and the other a ... uh ... fellow student." By the time Hermione had spoken this, both Jessica and Terrance's jaws dropped at alarming rates, inaudible gasps released from each of them. Terrance gave himself a very noticeable pinch as though to inform him he was not indeed dreaming, and Jessica's eyes widened more than Hermione would think possible.
"Are -- you -- kidding?"
Giving a feeble chuckle, Hermione shook her head. "I regret to inform you, that I am not. And I shall give you all the lovely details after I've reached my cubicle? Or perhaps a little later?" she suggested, with a tiny hint of annoyance in her voice. Nodding in agreement, to which Hermione gave a smile of immense relief that they weren't going to pressure her for special details at the moment, they resorted to pushing her back towards the end of the floor, where a large banner hung reading, 'QUIDDITCH DEPARTMENT'. Huge notice-boards hung towards the back, containing the lists of the top ten Quidditch teams in the league as well as the scores of the most recent games. The energy was a great buzz, full of excitement, and Hermione found it to be so contagious that she momentarily forgot about her depressed state which initiated from meeting Draco Malfoy and instead concentrated on putting on a positive attitude for her first day 'in office'.
As Jessica guided her underneath the large banner and into an area that contained fifteen cubicles, she gave a vague tour. "Coffer's office, but he's a bit daft and hopelessly obsessed with the Chudley Cannons, and there's point trying to persuade him otherwise." Hermione grinned, immediately getting the thought that this Coffer, whose head just peeked over the cubicle wall, would make a great new friend for Ron. "Fawcett, she's usually away reporting on games, so her cubicle's quite empty. Terrance's office --" Hermione was alarmed as she saw dozens of blinking images of a grinning Oliver and a smirking Malfoy peering at her as she walked by, "-- my office --" Hermione gave a grin, seeing just how obsessed Jessica was with Superman, as motionless images stared at her, "Darien's office, he's a bit of a flirty bloke, you may want to mind him. If you want to know who the rest are, give me a shout, but here's your office! And - whoa! You've already gotten mail?"
Furrowing her eyebrows in utter confusion, Hermione crossed her arms over her chest as she glanced at the three notes that were posted on her wall,each oneaddressed to Hermione Granger. The cubicle was empty save for the boxes that contained all her possessions from her previous cubicle, and it felt dull and hollow without the pictures and articles hung up. "I guess so!" she exclaimed, deciding not to make a big deal out of it. Proceeding towards the notes, as Jessica and Terrance watched her every move, Hermione decided that casual conversation would be best in order to make acquaintances with her new co-workers. "So, Jess, which Chaser and Beater are you interviewing?"
"Ah, the chaser is Juliet Harpstring from Appleby Arrows, all the boys fawn over her - save for Terrance, here, of course," Jessica added in, nudging Terrance playfully in the side. He let out a playful giggle and Hermione gave a weak smile in response to their mildly nauseating antics. "And the beater is Martin Close from the Montrose Magpies. Quite handsome, though hit in the head with a bit too many bludgers, if you ask me."
Nodding, and giving an appreciative smile for Jessica's kindness, Hermione decided to wrap things up so she could busy herself with decorating her cubicle and reading the notes she received and so she asked a final question of, "And what do you do, Terrance?"
Terrance grinned. "Quidditch Photographer."
"A position that I initially wanted, before Terrance got it here," Jessica explained unnecessarily. "Now, we're what you could call a team. I'm the reporter, and he takes the shots."
"And I take major close-ups of the gorgeous ones!"
"Now, anything else you request, Miss Granger? Or shall I be on my way to eat some cheese?" Jessica inquired.
"Uh --" Hermione's attempt at a sentence faltered as she tried to understand her question, and after a few seconds of drifting out of space, Hermione shook her head. "Uh - no, I'm fine, thanks. But thank you for giving me that tour! I'll - see you around, hmm?"
The 'team' nodded simultaneously, and with an odd wave, departed. Giving a content sigh, their departure allowed her to read the notes in peace, though depressing thoughts of having to interview Draco Malfoy for a few weeks crept into her mind now that the distractions of Jessica and Terrance were absent. Seeing that the firsttwo noteswere from the Daily Prophet, Hermione skipped over them knowing she could get to them later and instead grasped onto a golden envelope, that looked almost too fancy for Hermione's tastes. Tearing it open as delicately as she could manage, Hermione gazed down at the calligraphy, written in bronze ink:
"INVITATION FOR HERMIONE GRANGER
Agnes DeMontagne, Clara Heartworth, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley request that you meet them for dinner at 7 o'clock at Chateau Fwooper in order to fully celebrate your promotion.
Hope to see you there, and congratulations! Directions and location noted on back.
Sincerely, Chateau Fwooper."
A great smile formed on her face, and she felt grateful that she would have friends who would want to celebrate her achievements. With that, she ripped open the first Daily Prophet letter, glimpsing over it carelessly in her state of ecstasy and only digesting the facts that it was from Shirley and that she was thrilled that Hermione was enjoying the job so far and that she couldn't hear what she would be up to in the coming days. Finally, Hermione reached over to the third note, and looked down upon the shortest letter she had ever received.
"Miss Granger, come to my office as soon as possible.
Eric Wanston."
Putting the letter down upon her empty desk (save for the two boxes) and gazing at the four walls surrounding her, with a tiny moan of longing for them to be covered in the precious articles and photographs that were contained in the boxes, Hermione promised her new cubicle that she would get around to decorating as soon as she had her 'meeting' with new boss. Though hesitant, Hermione stepped out into the hallway, only just managing to not trip a man who walked by with several broomsticks in his arms before coming to the humiliating realization that she wasn't sure where Eric's office was. Looking around hopelessly for some sign of where his office may be, she saw (to her great relief) Jessica's head poke out from her cubicle and give a great smile, pointing to a door next to the large notice-board. Giving a wave of thanks, Hermione headed towards that direction, not bothering to form some sort of theory as to how Jessica knew where she wanted to go.
Politely knocking twice on the door, she obediently twisted the doorknob as the same deep voice she had heard yesterday exclaimed, "Come on in!" and stepped into Eric's office. Immediately, she was blinded by the thousands of pictures that were plastered upon the walls - hundreds of articles and dozens upon dozens of official Quidditch team posters - and was feeling slightly intimidated at all the Quidditch players, male and female, gazed at her. "Ah, Miss Granger!" a voice cried out, and Hermione winced slightly in panic, her eyes not yet glancing over the desk where Eric sat at, nor the two chairs that were positioned near them. "Please, take a seat."
After sitting herself down upon a slightly uncomfortable chair and placing her hands on her lap, she kindly declined Eric's offer for tea and an eerie silence filled the room before Eric cleared his throat, glancing at Hermione curiously and giving her a polite if not strange smile. "I guess you've found out by now that you'll be concentrating on the dashing Quidditch players Oliver Wood and Draco Malfoy, hmm?" he asked, almost rhetorically. Once Hermione had given a polite nod and a smile, he decided to continue, clearing his throat once more. "I know that taking on these two tasks will prove to be of a high magnitude, but I was curious if you would be interested, or if you wouldn't mind, writing any other articles besides these --"
"Of course!" Hermione immediately volunteered, practically bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "I-I mean ... yes, I wouldn't mind at all, I'm terribly interested."
"Marvelous!" Eric exclaimed, giving her a brief wink. "Now; I know it's only your second day, so I'm not going to be giving you any difficult work yet. Just wanted to know how things have been going so far, how the change has been, whether you've met any new people."
Trying to progress these subtle questions and work them into a thorough answer she responded with, "Things so far since this promotion have been ... a little hard to handle, only because I'm still in an initial state of shock. But, it's been a good change. Of course, change is always difficult at first and although I had to leave my friends, Agnes and Clara, behind on the fifth floor, I know they understand. And I've definitely met new people! So far, it's only been Jessica and Terrance whom I've become really acquainted with, and --"
"Splendid!" Eric said, interrupting her. "Good job, Hermione. I'm very pleased. Now, a more personal question. What do you think of having a 'casual day' in the office? You know, throw off the robes and seeing what's underneath. What do you think?"
Puzzled as to why Eric would be asking her this, she gave a brief shrug followed by, "Uh, sounds great?"
Rubbing his hands together eagerly as though knowing this would be her reply he told her, "Y'know, just to be able to see that lovely pink turtleneck you have underneath your robes. And ... perhaps ... more?" His voice almost carried a seductive tone, but Hermione easily ignored it with a polite smile and a nod. "Right. Well." Eric nervously cleared his throat again. "Off you go, I suppose! If you could, try to think of some questions you could ask Wood and Malfoy? Try to have a basic set-up for each, but with more ... personal questions to ask?"
"Will do!" Hermione assured him, and just as she was about to stand up, Eric interjected with a wave of his hand.
"Sure you don't want a cup of tea? Or to go out to dinner with me on Saturday?" he asked frantically, his words almost mumbled and terribly high-pitched.
Alarmed, Hermione widened her eyes. "I-I think I'll just go back to work." Deciding to ignore the confusion that was obscuring her vision, she abruptly (and clumsily) stood up from her chair, avoiding Eric's gaze although from the corner of her eye she noticed his face was going the shade of a beet red Bertie Bott Every-Flavoured Bean. "I'll-I'll get back to you on my progress." Quickly turning around and not bothering to see Eric's reaction she finished off politely with, "Have a good day, Mr. Wanston" and twisted the doorknob to exit the room of utter confusion and apprehension.
Shutting the door behind her, Hermione let out an uncomfortable sigh, trying to analyze what had just happened but not really coming up with any solution. 'The top student in Hogwarts, and I can't figure out why my boss just asked me out to dinner,' she thought miserably to herself. Sulking back to her cubicle, it emptiness and bare walls depressing her, she collapsed into her chair until she realized that another note had floated up before her. Wondering if it was perhaps from Jessica or another co-worker, Hermione opened it in a rush, somewhat flattered to be receiving so much mail.
Though all feelings of flattery vanished once she had read the letter.
" strike>Dear, Greetings, Hello, /strike> To: Granger,
Though as dandy as I originally felt about our two o'clock meeting, I feel that this introduction interview of ours must be postponed indefinitely until further notice.
Perhaps Saturday or Sunday would be a better day, but I already have an engagement on Friday that will preoccupy me all day. Hope you don't mind - not that you have a choice, of course.
strike>Yours, Sincerely, 'Till Next Time, /strike> From: Draco Malfoy."
Letting out an exasperated and frustrated groan, she threw the parchment upon her desk, wishing for it to burn, longing for embers to set it on fire. 'Calm down, calm down, he's not worth it,' she attempted to remind herself. Whatever these thoughts were trying to do, it didn't seem to work, for hundreds of reminders of her passionate hatred for Draco Malfoy swallowed her up like the crashing waves of the sea. She paced the tiny cubicle, her teeth gritted, her hands curled into balls of fists as her fingernails began to pierce her skin. How many times had he called her Mudblood? How many times had he teased herself, Harry, and Ron? How many times had he infuriated the trio? How many times had his snide comments gotten the worst out of her? How many --?
"Whoa, who shoved a wand up your arse?"
This familiar voice caught Hermione off-guard and she momentarily paused her pacing of rage as she looked upwards, seeing the comforting face of Agnes peering at her, looking slightly startled at the expression on Hermione's face. "You alright there, 'Mione?" she asked in a friendly manner. "New position upsetting you already? 'Cause, y'know, if it is, you can always return back to our floor! It's getting rather lonely ... even though there's about thirty wizards and witches who work there, but, y'know, it's getting emptier!"
Hermione released a soft laugh before shaking her head. "My apologies," she said sincerely. "It's just - well, look for me, won't you -"
She shoved the note underneath Agnes' nose, who had heard of Hermione's intense dislike for Malfoy in the 'good' old Hogwarts days. "You have to interview that scum? And how dare Malfoy write these kind of notes to you, for Skeeter's sake!" Agnes exclaimed, appalled as she threw the note down upon the desk in the same manner that Hermione did when she first read the note. "I mean --"
"Did I just hear the name Malfoy?" Jessica's head suddenly whipped itself around the corner, eyes widened with severe curiosity.
Letting out a weak chuckle, and upon Agnes' rather confused glance of who Jessica was, Hermione quickly introduced them. "Agnes, this is Jessica, a fellow co-worker who really likes Superman -"
"Who's Superman?"
"- And, I suppose, also really likes Malfoy. Jessica, this is Agnes. Agnes here is rather obsessed with politics -"
"What's politics? Heh, I'm only kidding, of course."
"- And, I suppose, shares the same dislike of Malfoy."
This time, Jessica looked absolutely appalled. Staggering backwards she pointed at Hermione, then immediately realizing how rude that action was, released the pose and lowered her arm. "Y-you don't like Draco? Why couldn't they have given the seeker position to me?" she cried, in what one would feel to be an almost hysterical moment if it wasn't for the serious tone that her voice took the next second. "I demand an explanation as to why you have feelings of dislike towards this god of Quidditch later on, alright Granger?"
Taken aback, Hermione merely nodded before Jessica whisked away just as quickly as she came. Noticing that Agnes still had a rather confused look on her face, Hermione merely sighed and said sharply, "Just ... don't ask."
"Wasn't going to!" Agnes told her. "Just popped by onto this glamorous floor to wonder if you got the invitation and whether you accept or decline." Pausing for effect, she let a soft grin slip upon her face before adding, "So, you're coming, right?"
Managing a brief smile despite the twisted and tormented hatred thoughts that were relishing inside Hermione, she gave two quick, curt nods. "Wouldn't think otherwise!"
"You're a little late! And I thought the great Hermione Granger was always punctual!"
Heaving a heavy sigh, Hermione rolled her eyes before giving a great grin. "Oh, shove it, Ron - I'm allowed to be late every once in a while, aren't I? And besides, I showed up the same time that you did!"
The 'gang' of five stood outside Chateau Fwooper, each in his or her best. Hermione couldn't decide between two particular dresses, eventually settling for a deep blue one which had a somewhat scooping neckline and ended just below the knee. It seemed to be a rather posh restaurant, at least judging on one's initial perception of the outside of the building, and Hermione was both impressed and touched at the gratitude of her mates, even if Ron had decided to scold her for being somewhat late.
"I'm sure he just means you look beautiful, Hermione," Harry complimented, giving her a friendly kiss on the cheek as a greeting. "Oh, and I'm sure he also means to say congratulations, but, knowing Ron, he can't really speak for himself most of the time." Ron turned a deep shade of red at that moment, so that one wasn't able to distinguish whether he was simply embarrassed or angry at Harry's comments. Luckily, Harry broke the ice a few seconds later as he added, "I'm only joking, mate!"
Agnes and Clara stood only a few feet away, ogling at Harry and Ron. It was a well-known fact to Hermione that Agnes and Clara both fancied Harry and Ron, who were both, currently, on the 'market' so to speak. Harry and Ginny had just ended a year-long relationship on friendly terms, while Ron had been single for nearly three months now after he called things off with Padma Patil ("She said Wizard Chess was boring," Ron said incredulously, in a complete state of disbelief.) Once Hermione had beckoned them over, they exchanged excited greetings, each of them stating that they had never been here before, hoping that the food was good and that they didn't actually serve Fwooper.
"What's a Fwooper?" Ron asked curiously, as they prepared to walk inside to go to their table.
"Honestly, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "I do hope you're joking! A Fwooper is an African bird, that can be either yellow, orange, or lime green and although it sings beautifully at first, it's breathtaking song can drive people insane over a lengthier period of time!"
"I'll be sure to get Fred and George one of those for Christmas," Ron muttered to Harry as they walked through glass doors with a gold emblem of a Fwooper embroidered upon them. "To get back at them for what they got me for my birthday."
"Why, what did they get you for your birthday?" Clara asked, her tone of voice slightly higher than usual as she spoke to him.
"These really nice pair of trousers," Ron began. "I put them on, and I thought they looked rather good, until - until - they started shrinking like mad! They could barely fit me, I could hardly breathe, and then I heard all these voices, as if they were coming from inside the trousers, screaming at me, 'You better lose some weight, fatty!' and 'Oh, poor ickle boy, pants can barely fit him!' It was ... terrifying."
While Hermione and Harry attempted to stifle their laughter without much success, Clara put on a sympathetic look to Ron's traumatizing experience while Agnes mocked what Harry did, trying toprevent her laughter.
"Bonjour, and welcome to Chateau Fwooper!" a man with a highly noticeable French accent suddenly exclaimed. "Table for five, I imagine?"
Clearing his throat, Harry replied with, "Yes, under the name 'Potter'."
"Mr Pott-ar!" the maitre d'cried out, his eyes immediately scanning the lightning-bolt scar on Harry's forehead. "Vhy, of course. Velcome. Velcome!"
"Let's hope not all the waiters are this mental," Ron murmured out of the corner of his mouth, which resulted in Clara bursting out in laughter as though he had just told the joke of the century.
"Let me show you to your ... seats!" the waiter volunteered, leading the way. The five followed in single file, past the many tables of dining witches and wizards who seemed to be enjoying themselves and having fun experimenting with different delicacies on their plates. The maitre d' led them all the way towards the back of the restaurant, and as he did, Hermione took in the gorgeous scenery - a large water fountain was in the very center of the restaurant; it was a statue of a Fwooper, chiseled carefully in gold, water sprouting out of its open mouth. All around the restaurant, Hermione could see live Fwoopers, perched on tiny benches inside cages.
"Won't their singing drive us insane?" Hermione asked slowly to Clara.
"Ah, non non non, Madam Hermione!" the waiter exclaimed, shaking his head. "Zese Fwoopers are specially trained, they vill only sing on command, and will stop ven you vish them too. Quite extraordinary, do not you think?"
Chuckling weakly at the man's poor use of English, she merely gave a nod as he ushered them to their seats once they had reached a table with five chairs around it. Nearby, a table was hidden behind a semi-transparent cloth that wrapped itself around the table. "Privacy," the waiter informed her as he noticed her peering at it oddly, before adding to all of them, "Now, vat shall you order?" Gesturing towards the menus as the waiter helped each one of them into their seats, Hermione noticed the waiter blush slightly as he helped Harry into his own seat.
"Wow, everything here sounds great!" Agnes exclaimed, looking at Harry in hopes that he would agree. "I'll have the pouple please, a Caesar salad, as well as a glass of Vilness Wine!"
"What on earth is pouple --?" Ron began, but his question was immediately answered as the order Agnes had placed suddenly appeared on her plate, and to Ron's disgust, beside the Caesar salad and glass of wine was a dead octopus. "Ugh!" he let out a moan of disgust, an action to which Hermione gave a look of disapproval.
Looking down upon his own menu, the boy who lived recited aloud, "Blanc de poulet, roasted potatoes, and ... Vilness Wine, too, I suppose!" As the chicken breast and roasted potatoes appeared on his plate, Harry looked around patiently at the rest to wait for them to order before digging in. It seemed the waiter didn't want to wait for them (which was something incredibly ironic, Hermione thought) as he suddenly rushed over to Harry's side, gazing at his scar admiringly.
"Mr Pott-ar," he acknowledged him. "Vould you like me to place your serviette upon your recouvrement?"
"Say what, mate?" Harry cried out, alarmed. The waiter did not reply, but instead took a golden napkin that had a large Fwooper drawn on it, and placed it tenderly upon Harry's lap, which made both the waiter and Harry blush furiously. "Err ... merci beaucoup," Harry thanked him, using the extent of his knowledge of the French language.
"Oh, anytime, Mr. Pott-ar," the waiter said, with a tiny bow. "You are velcome."
"Hear that, mate?" Ron said, elbowing Harry slightly in the ribs after Ron had ordered his own meal. "You are velcome, anytime. Mental."
Harry shot him a furious look which immediately made Ron shut up, and it was at that point that Hermione could hear a familiar drawl in the distance.
"So glad to get a bit of privacy, y'know?" the voice stated. "So many restaurants are inconsiderate of the fact that my fans simply fawn over me, y'know? Chateau Fwooper definitely knows what it's doing all right. And mmm -- this chicken is absolutely delicious."
Disregarding the fact that the voice sounded mysteriously like someone whom Hermione had already spoken with today, she looked back upon her menu before Clara nudged her slightly to get her attention. Figuring that Clara would want some sort of translation of what was on the menu, Hermione began to say, "Ham is jambon in French --" before Clara interrupted her.
"Look, photographers from Witch Weekly," she said, pointing out several interviewers and photographers that were creeping up on the hidden table, exchanging mischievous looks. A waiter had already noticed this and rushed over to the employees of Witch Weekly.
"Non," the waiter told the six photographers, twirling his long mustache around his forefinger as he spoke. "No photographers are velcome, you vill disturb our guests."
As Hermione ordered her meal (pork chops, pasta, and champagne), she kept a sharp ear as to what the waiter was saying, noticing that the photographers were getting rather agitated. Clara quickly ordered her meal (requesting the same thing as Hermione) and they all dug in at once, Ron looking especially hungry as he feasted on some chicken of his own.
"We just want one photograph and we'll leave!" one of the witches cried out, waving her camera as to show what she meant.
"I'm afraid not, Mademoiselle," the waiter stated. "You vill have to go."
"Let's just push him out of the way and be done with it!" a wizard conspired, to which the lot of them wholeheartedly agreed with. "Ready?"
Hermione and Clara had stopped eating completely; Ron and Harry continued to dig in to their meals, completely oblivious to what was going on, while Agnes and the waiter/maitre d' who was serving them kept staring at Harry.
"GO!" the photographers cried out. The photographers ran towards the waiter who had halted them, shoving him out of the way ("SACRE BLEU!" the waiter immediately cried out. "MERDE!") and tore off the cloth that was giving privacy towards the table.
"OI! What the bloody hell? I said no photographers!" a frustrated voice cried out.
Hermione tried to look closely at what was going on, as more and more diners around the restaurant peered over in that direction, but the mass of photographers blocked the man from sight, who was clearly fuming. Craning her head this way and that, she thought she saw a glimpse of a brunette before realizing that this particular "brunette" was really a chocolate parfait which swooped in the air, heading towards Agnes' head. Landing in her gorgeous hair, the cream plastered her face, leaving her with a horrified and appalled look on her face.
"CURSE A DUNGBOMB!" Agnes exclaimed, her odd use of cursing causing several witches and wizards to turn her way. Meanwhile, towards the moshpit of photographers, the person who had desired the privacy was now revolting against the intruders, throwing various foods at them with tragic aim.
Shaking furiously, Agnes scooped up a rather large piece of octopus on her fork as their waiter hurriedly whipped out his wand, muttering a spell so that the chocolate parfait immediately vanished, no traces of the chocolate in her hair.
"Mademoiselle, I am so terribly sorry, it's horrible, horrible," the waiter began to apologize, but his apologies were interrupted as Agnes flung her fork over her shoulder, the octopus flying through the air. As the waiter cried out, "MAD - EM - OIS - ELLE!" the photographers, as if on cue, flung to the sides as the octopus soared towards the table, hitting Draco Malfoy smack dab in the face.
"FOOD FIGHT!" Ron cried out, the squawks of many Fwoopers following Ron's realization. Immediately afterwards, dozens of food items flew, swooped, twirled, flung, soared, pelted, and hit several diners, including the infuriated Draco Malfoy.
"All I wanted was a bit of privacy!" Malfoy exclaimed to the elegant lady who sat beside him, who at the moment was considering to seek refuge underneath their table, and then did so. The Witch Weekly photographers had become frantically excited by the current state of chaos, flashing their cameras madly as they captured the action - Hermione with her head in her hands; Clara trying to enjoy her meal despite the catastrophic situation; Ron with his arm outstretched, about to throw a handful of roasted potatoes towards the general direction of Draco; and Agnes, Harry, and several waiters trying to restrain Ron from doing so.
"Congratulations!" Clara called over to Hermione over the distraught cries of the waiters. "You've got a promotion and you've witnessed a five-start restaurant food fight!"
"SOD OFF!" Draco roared at the photographers, who were snapping away like madmen. "Leave me alone, you bastards!"
It was with this comment that Hermione stood up, without warning, dodging a tiramasu cake thrown by a chubby fellow as she headed towards Draco's table.
He had little time to react (and no time at all to explain anything to the lady he had been dining with) as she pushed the annoying photographers out of the way, crossing over to Draco and grasping onto his hand, thrusting him forwards. Whipping out her wand as Draco followed (probably unwillingly at that), Hermione muttered several spells and the cameras in the photographers' hands vanished, leaving them standing there with aghast expressions on their faces.
Pulling him towards the kitchen, Hermione noticed Harry looking apprehensively at the pair but after she gave him an encouragin smile to inform him everything was alright, Hermione found herself in the kitchen with the man she detested the most.
"Geroff me, Granger!" Draco cried, pulling his hand out of her grasp, which immediately went to his hair to make sure not a strand was out of place.
"Considering I just saved you from a very embarrassing cover picture on Witch Weekly, I should think you would show me a bit of courtesy, Draco," Hermione said sharply.
"Did you just call me Dr--?"
"If you're not going to thank me and provide me with an in-depth interview right now, I'll gladly return the cameras that I 'confiscated' to their rightful owners."
"Er - thank you," Draco said quickly, nearly stammering over his words. "But, an interview--?"
"COME ON!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed, grabbing onto his arm again. "Looks like the photographers aren't through with us yet!"
Author's Note: Whoot, finally finished after ... a little over two weeks of no updates! Wow, that was ten pages long. Definitely my longest chapter in a while, lemme tell you. Thank you so much to everyone who left a review, hope that this one satisfies as well since I finally introduced the simply yet not-so-simply gorgeous Draco! I'll try to get the fifth chapter in as soon as possible, hopefully by Thursday or earlier next week by the ... latest. lol
fionger: Yay, you're proud! Feel rather special, that I do. beams I'll definitely try to keep up the 'fantastic' work you claim I do!
RosaFinch: Thank you! I wasn't quite sure if it was a good concept, or if it had been done before, so I'm very appreciative of you saying that! And I'll definitely have a go at reading your fics, and judging by the mass amount of reviews you've received they're incredibly good!
Yokai Cesia and Chi: Hmm, I'll keep your liking for Draco/Hermione in mind, and I hope I served that shipping a little bit of justice with this chapter. Whoot, looooove triangle. Tee-hee.
Callie: Ha haa, I definitely agree. Tom Felton is reaaaaally hot. As is Sean Biggerstaff. Yummers. Err. I'm not superficial. -coughs- Of course not. And whee, I've updated! Hope you enjoy!
Review and be lovely, my sweets!
Err .. yes. And bienevu to Chateau Fwoop-ar!
Aurevoir!