With a Flourish, A Short Story

PG-13

One day, a familiar Slytherin meets an equally familiar Gryffindor in Flourish and Blotts. It was only a passing meeting, yet that passing meeting brought them closer together.

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She signed her name with a flourish. That was the first thing he noticed. She looked happier, healthier somehow. That was the second thing he noticed.

He shut the book with a flourish. That was the second thing that she noticed. The first thing she noticed was that he was here, watching her.

"Here you are miss, your order," a young wizard- he must have been about fifteen- smiled at her kindly. She thanked him and took them off his hands.

"Do you need help?" the current manager of the store asked him. He shook his head, and the manager backed off. With a slight turn of his head, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw she was heading to the door. He smirked and moved closer, as if browsing. She had opened the door when he said, "Hello Hermione Granger."

She jumped at first, and her mind instantly flew to an old school professor she had. Then, she realized it was him. "Malfoy!" she gasped.

Both of them stood staring at the other. They finally moved when someone shouted, "You're holding up the door!"

He sent the offender a murderous glare, put his book aside, and took her arm, "Let's go somewhere more enjoyable."

She allowed him to lead her- she wanted to call it dragging, but he wasn't forcing her-, dodging the odd witch, wizard, hag, and goblin from Gringotts on lunch break that got in their way. He let go of her when they arrived outside of a trendy, inexpensive café. The name, Trooleigh's Strudel and Tea Shoppe, barely registered in her mind as they were immediately seated at a table for two.

"Two teas," Malfoy arrogantly slotted in to the witchress.

"Lemon, sweetened," Hermione added.

"One unsweetened," Draco continued. He looked at her with his I-wasn't-finished-and-who-are-you-to-interrupt look.

Silence settled in between the two. "Alright, so who's the guy?" came the droll question.

"I don't know what you mean," came the snotty answer.

Malfoy suddenly started laughing. "Okay, I can safely rule out that it isn't Potter or Weasley?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. Finnigan?"

"No."

"Longbottom?"

"No."

"Thomas?"

"Again, no."

"Creevey?"

"Which one?"

"The older one."

"No."

"Well then, what house?"

"Not from Gryffindor, I can assure you Malfoy."

"Please, call me Draco Hermione." At her look of astonishment he added, "Yes I do know your christian name. Hufflepuff?"

"No."

"Ravenclaw?"

"Another no."

"Oh, finally a bad girl I see? Nice, next thing you know, I'll have you in my bedroom wearing a pink and lacey corset with a matching thong dancing around a pole. Of course, that's in an alternate reality in which I'm not a stuck-up, blood-obsessed ass." He smiled at her facial expression. "What are you thinking about? You've been awful silent."

"I'm picturing me in that pink lacey corset with the matching thong dancing around the pole in your room in that alternate reality."

"Like the image?" Draco smirked.

"Depends; I'm not a fan of pink."

"Then we'll make it see-through white," he waved it off easily.

"Yet another mistake; white's too… revealing."

"Hell, Hermione, you're in a corset that's made of lace except for bits, and a thong. You do know what a thong is don't you? How can you say that it's too revealing?"

"I was going to say too innocent, but then I thought about how the most experience I've had was one good snog. And white would be revealing way too much."

"How about black?"

"Nah, too sultry."

"Red?"

"No, too lustful."

His brow furrowed in a way that Hermione almost considered was endearing. "How can red be more lustful than black?"

"I do not know."

"Periwinkle blue. That's the color." Lord, he sounded so sure of himself.

"What makes you so sure about periwinkle?" she asked.

"You would look good in it. Besides, it means inspiration and wisdom."

Hermione smiled softly and nodded in the same fashion. Draco smiled a genuine smile in return. "I have to go. I want to see you again."

"Do you want to see the stuck up, blood-obsessed ass, or the Draco you saw again today?"

"The one I saw today." She got up and picked the books up as well. Hermione turned to go, but then hesitated and turned around again. "The guy was Blaise Zambini."

"'Was Blaise Zambini'?"

"We are over."

Draco nodded in understanding, and watched as she left. It was only then that he noticed that she blew him a kiss, and waved her hand with a flourish.

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This was written for Flourish and Blotts, found at http : www . geocities . com / viper katorse / flourishv1 . 4 . html. Just take out the spaces and that last period, and it'll take you to it. Hopefully this is well within the PG-13 limit for posting there. I think it is, since there's nothing graphic, only mentions of sexual moments. Of course, it's also rated as such for language.

..::DISCLAIMER- ONLY J.K.ROWLING OWN THE CHARACTERS AND FLOURISH AND BLOTTS BOOKSTORE. I OWN TROOLEIGH'S STRUDEL AND TEA SHOPPE::..

One more thing (well, it's a poll) before I go.

Should I write a companion to this about Hermione's relationship with Blaise and why she was so quiet?

A. yes

B. no