Disclaimer: Anything HP is not mine.
I don't think I wrote this as well as I really could have, but I'm tired. I think the first half was okay, but I kind of ran out of steam for the second half. So I let it sit for a real long time. My apologies! And thanks to all you reviewers, I really appreciate it.
Changing Leaves (4?)
"Is Draco Malfoy here?"
"Do you know where Malfoy is?"
"Do you know where I can find Draco Malfoy?"
"Have you seen Malfoy?"
Hermione went to his office – he wasn't there. She went to his lab bench – he wasn't there. She asked everyone in her department; she asked everyone she passed in every other department. By the time she reached the Fifth Floor, the Visitor's Tearoom and Hospital Shop, Hermione was feeling very frustrated and peeved off. He knew she would be looking for him, and he purposefully bolted before she could respond and decided to play this impromptu "game" of hide-and-go-seek.
Setting one foot on the stairwell up to the final level of St. Mungo's, Hermione suddenly turned back around. 'He's not going to be in the Tearoom,' she thought to herself. But then she stopped and turned back toward the stairs. 'I am here, after all. But why am I even chasing after him? He obviously wants to tell me what he knows, otherwise he wouldn't have mentioned anything at all. Why do I have to go after him? And what the hell did he mean by, 'of course the whole 'I'm a wanker' deal and the broken nose might've been my own personal touches'?' And so Hermione stayed in the stairwell for a few minutes, literally spinning in circles as she debated whether or not she should even bother with checking the Tearoom.
"Ugh, I might as well go up there. I am here, after all," she grumbled before ascending the steps.
There were a few people in the Tearoom; friends and family of other patients. Hermione glanced around before finding Draco in the corner, leaning back in his chair, his feet propped up on another, and his arms crossed over his chest. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.
All Draco did was smirk in response before lightly tapping the face of his watch.
"Malfoy, may I please speak to you outside for just a moment?" Hermione asked through clenched teeth with a pained expression on her face.
"I'm really very surprised that it took you this long. And I thought you were supposed to be a quick worker."
"Outside. Now. Please," she gritted out.
Draco sighed and moved as though he were about to get up. But instead, he leaned forward in his seat, propped his elbows on the table, and took a long sip from his cup of tea.
Hermione rolled her eyes while waiting for the annoying prat to take a sip of tea, assuming that he was just taking his merry ole time.
But Draco settled back into his chair, propping his feet back up.
Hermione's jaw dropped. With a huff, she pursed her lips and strode over to where Draco was comfortably sitting. She glared at him for a moment before swiftly reaching out and yanking him by the arm so that he stumbled out of his chair, knocking one over in the process. Without taking a glance at their small audience, she pulled him out into the stairwell.
Once the door shut behind them, Hermione turned to face Draco and punched him as hard as she could on his upper arm.
"Fuck, Granger. What the bloody hell was that for?" Draco said loudly as he gingerly rubbed his arm.
Hermione gave a cheeky grin; happy that she had inflicted pain on him. But her face quickly fell back into a scowl. "That was for forcing me to cause a scene in front of those people in there." She paused for a moment, and as soon as he lowered his arm she punched him again in the exact same spot.
"Fuck, Granger. What the bloody hell was that one for?"
"That one," Hermione said slowly, "was for the flower and the card."
"Damn, Granger, most women usually give thanks for flowers; not abuse," Draco said angrily as he rubbed his arm again.
"What do you know about what Harry's got?" Hermione asked tersely after crossing her arms over her chest, as if she were accusing him of something.
Draco matched her stance. "I'm not sure I want to tell you anymore."
Hermione's eyes narrowed and she moved to punch him again, but Draco caught her wrist in time and twisted her arm behind her back. He kept her in the awkward and painful hold despite her pained yelps.
"Let me go, Ferret!"
"No, I don't think I'll do that either," Draco said calmly. "I was planning on giving you the antidote, you know. But after receiving a punch for a flower and a card, I don't think I really want to know what I'll get for curing your… ex-fiancée. And to think, I actually did all of this for your benefit."
Hermione struggled against Draco's hold, but he was much too strong. "What are you talking about, Malfoy?" she spat.
"You know what?" Draco whispered in her ear. "I don't think I'll tell you that either." And with that, he released her with a push.
Draco stood his ground angrily as he watched Hermione stumbled before catching herself on the opposite wall. All he wanted was to give her a chance to cause Harry some pain, knowing that she would never bring it upon herself to do it of her own accord. But she always had to make everything so difficult!
She grimaced as she tried to move her shoulder. "Ow," she gasped.
Draco groaned. "Come here, Granger."
Hermione glared at him with pure hatred.
"Get your ass over here, now," Draco growled.
It startled Hermione and Draco saw a flicker of fear in her eyes as his voice reverberated off the walls of the empty stairwell. He sighed, feeling guilty. He hadn't meant to hurt her, or make her fear him. But he did have the sometimes or usually (depending on who you were asking) unpredictable Malfoy temper and it was always extra sensitive in matters that concerned or involved Hermione. He closed the space between them and Hermione suddenly felt claustrophobic in the small stairwell. She braced herself for what was to come, but all that came were the gentle rolling movements of Draco's fingers over her shoulder as he massaged the muscles and manipulated the joint. With the expert technique more common in Healers, her shoulder soon gave a soft pop as the joint realigned.
"I dislocated it once before, during the summer," Hermione explained for no reason fathomable to her.
"I – I'm – Just let me know if it, if it hurts you," Draco stammered uncharacteristically before walking away, presumably back to his office.
Hermione held onto her shoulder as she stared down the stairwell, wondering if Draco had been about to apologize, as she suspected. She vaguely speculated as to whether or not Draco Malfoy really had the capacity to apologize; a real apology. She sighed, deciding that she had best get back to her own office to continue her research since it didn't seemed like she was going to be getting the antidote any time soon.
But when Hermione opened the door to her office, she found a something unexpected on her desk. In a clear vase were a dozen white lilies; the same as the one she had received at her new flat. Next to it was a small vial that contained clear green liquid, and underneath that was an envelope with her name written in elegant script. She set the vial aside and picked up the envelope. Inside, in neat and controlled handwriting, Draco wrote that the vial was for Harry. He also gave the two incantations required to reverse the verbal afflictions. The part that caught Hermione's attention was the second part of the letter.
I want you to know that I want to apologize; not just for earlier today. But I don't apologize very often; never, in fact. So I would like to do this the right way. Please meet with me, and I don't mean in your office or my office, or in the corridor. I would like for us to meet for dinner this Friday evening, at Lola's. I hope you'll accept and I hope you like the flowers.
Hermione plopped down in her chair and put the letter down, staring at the flowers in front of her. She was finding it very difficult to believe that Draco wanted to have dinner with her at a high-class restaurant so that he could apologize to her, and 'not just for earlier today.' Hermione just sat there staring at her flowers, not really able to wrap herself around what Draco had said in the letter. All she could think about was how beautiful the flowers were and how Draco even came to know that they were her favorite.
"I don't know, Harry," Hermione said gravely a couple of days later, "I haven't tested the antidote yet. This is Malfoy, after all. Who knows, it could be a fake, or it could make you worse," she finished dramatically.
Harry, still looking as bad as the day he was admitted, sans the broken nose and bruises, shot upright from his reclined position, grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill off the bedside table, and began scribbling furiously.
Hermione took the parchment from his outstretched hand and squinted at the messy, almost illegible scrawl.
I don't care if you got the bloody antidote from Trelawney! Just give me the damn thing! I'm a wanker!
Not bothering to hide the grin on her face from seeing the last sentence in especially spastic, jagged handwriting, Hermione handed the parchment back to Harry. "I'm very sorry, Harry, but you understand that I can't risk the integrity and reputation of my career by possibly worsening your current condition. I promise that as soon as I'm positive that what I have is indeed the antidote, I'll let Healer Mills administer it. But for now, I really do have to run. I'm due to meet Malfoy, actually, in a couple of hours at Lola and I want to have enough time to get out of these St. Mungo's robes."
"Lola – you're – Malfoy – meeting at! I'm a wanker!"
"Really, Harry. I am in a hurry right now. I can't stay here and play your word scramble game and listen to your 'wanker' affirmation," Hermione said through a smirk, even though she had no difficulties deciphering what he was trying to say. "Good night, Harry," she said over her shoulder cheerfully.
As the door swung shut, Hermione heard Harry's anguished and tormented groan and couldn't help but feel just a little bit better. But when the door clicked, she was sharply brought back to reality. Letting out a deep breath, she leaned back against the wall of the corridor and lightly knocked her head against it a few times. Suddenly going to dinner with Draco didn't seem like such a light-hearted topic that she could use capriciously just to watch Harry squirm.
Eventually Hermione made it back to her flat, but now she was going out of her mind tearing through her closet. Lola was the swankiest and highest class restaurant in all of wizarding Europe. How was she supposed to fit in with the socialites that were born into the world of luxury and riches, organza and silk, crystals and diamonds? Clothes were strewn all over the place – robes, shirts, jeans, bras, panties, sweats, pyjamas everywhere. Finally reaching the last garment, which was contained in a zippered garment bag, Hermione reached for it and pulled it out; her bridesmaid dress for the Lovegood-Weasley wedding; the only thing she owned that came close enough to being passable as acceptable to those kind of people. She groaned as she remembered that Draco had also been at the wedding. 'Maybe he won't remember the dress,' she thought, 'it's not as if he were paying attention to me, anyways. The last thing I need is for him to make some inane comment that I'm not classy enough to know the ridiculous rule that women aren't supposed to be seen in the same dress on more than one occasion.'
Hermione didn't really know why she wanted to go through such lengths to impress Draco and other hoity-toity witches and wizards. But nevertheless, she took the dress out of its protective bag, found the matching shoes, and even went through the trouble of putting on a set of frilly undergarments, which consisted of a barely-there panty and cleavage-creating bra. Nervously, she stood in front of her full-length mirror. The dress was a soft powder-blue color. It was strapless and the soft outer layer of the dress was gathered at the top-left of the gown where the rest of the fabric cascaded down in waves. It was reminiscent of the garments worn during the age of ancient Greece and Rome, which was why Hermione had chosen the dress in the first place for the wedding. Her hair was gathered half up-half down at the nape of her neck, the rest tumbling down in thick waves. Hermione groaned. To her, it was blatantly obvious that she was trying way too hard. She was sure that Draco would endlessly criticize her for not being able to pull off the graceful and beautiful look. No, to her, she looked and felt like a Barbie Doll; stiff and fake.
But it was almost six o'clock, if she didn't leave soon she would be late. Deciding that the mess in her bedroom would have to wait, Hermione ran around grabbing anything she needed and stuffing them in her clutch before Apparating to the Apparation Point in Lola's.
Inside the dimly lit room, a stuffy man in black formal robes greeted Hermione and offered an arm to her before leading her into the restaurant to her table, where Draco was already waiting. Hermione nervously smoothed her hair as Draco stood to greet her. It just wasn't normal to be so dressed up, in such a swanky restaurant, with Draco Malfoy, who was actually looking very nice in his black and white formal robes.
Draco stood from his seat, pleasantly surprised that an ethereal being was being lead straight to his table. "You look stunning tonight. I'm glad that you came," he said softly after signaling to the host that he could leave.
Hermione cleared her throat. "Thank you, Malfoy," she said in a very business-like tone as Draco pulled her seat out for her.
"Come on, Granger. Loosen up a little. Take in the ambiance, drink some wine."
And instantly, a waiter appeared at their table with a bottle of white wine. Hermione picked up her glass and took the tiniest of sips before placing the glass back on the table and letting her hands circle the stem.
The whole of dinner passed in a sort of haze for Hermione; she half expected to wake up and have a good laugh at a hallucinatory dream. The two of them talked about work, co-workers, current events in wizarding society, and they even did a little reminiscing about their Hogwarts' days. Actually, Draco did a lot of the talking; a great difference since they were usually fighting to get a word in. All in all, it was very surreal and drinking alcohol did nothing to help clarify anything.
"It's a nice evening out, what would you say to a walk?" Draco asked as their dessert plates were cleared away.
Hermione didn't look at his face as she tried to ignore the heat in her cheeks from their wine and other various mixed alcoholic drinks. "It's getting late. I think it might be better if I went home."
"Oh, alright," Draco responded, not bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice. "I suppose you're right. But let me walk you back to your flat. I'm sure you don't want to risk any Apparating after all this alcohol, and it is dark, after all."
"Malfoy, I'll be fine. I'm a big girl and I'm fully capable of taking care of myself. Besides, I know you're only being so pleasant because of the alcohol, so I'll save you the trouble of having to deal with sobering reality later on."
"Have I told you that you look beautiful?" Draco asked in a husky voice, ignoring Hermione's response.
"Yes, you have, numerous times actually. But thank you again," she replied, trying to regain her business-like tone and also trying to hide her deepening blush.
Draco squinted his eyes, as though examining her. "No, not just tonight. You do look exceptionally beautiful tonight, but you always look beautiful, especially when you think no one's watching. That's when you're beauty is obvious; when you're natural, relaxed, confident; when a faint smile graces your lips when something clicks in that wondrous mind of yours." His gaze lingered on her pink, shimmering lips.
Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It was definitely time for her to get out of there and get home. She didn't think she could sit and listen to his intoxicated blabbering a minute longer; he obviously didn't know what he was saying.
"Let's get out of here," he whispered suggestively. "Let me take you home. Please."
Hermione didn't know if it was the alcohol, the ambiance, the tone of his voice; the deep, soothing yet exciting tenor; or if it was the effect of the simple word 'please,' but she didn't protest when they left together.
The air outside was pleasantly warm as a soft breeze stirred occasionally. The fresh air had a sobering effect on the both of them. As they made their way onto the Muggle streets of London, they were greeted by curious glances as people wondered where such an immaculately dressed couple was leaving from or going to.
"I'm sorry for everything, Granger," Draco said suddenly; the deep, husky voice gone. "I'm sorry for earlier today; I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry for everything before today. I wish I had a legitimate explanation, if only to make me feel better, but I don't. All I can do is say that I'm sorry, and hope that we both see tonight as a step in the right direction."
"I don't know what's making me say this, but the past is the past, Malfoy. Thank you, and I do believe that tonight was a big step in the right direction." Hermione paused. "I suppose I should really be thanking you for what you did to Harry; as wrong as it was, and as strange as this is to me, I think I understand you're intentions."
Draco smirked. "I do have to say that I am pleasantly surprised and particularly proud that you haven't given him the antidote yet."
The trip up to her flat was spent in silence. Hermione was feeling sleepy and exhausted, and a little bit confused at how pleasantly the evening had actually turned out. Draco just looked at her.
Hermione fished her keys out of her handbag and unlocked the door. Before fully opening the door, she turned around to find Draco standing very close to her. She looked up at him. "Er, thanks, Malfoy. Tonight was nice. Well, good-night, then," she said awkwardly.
But before she had a chance to turn away, Draco had brought his lips down to hers. Instantly, Hermione felt herself sober up completely as she tried to comprehend just exactly what was happening. His lips were soft; they were barely touching hers. But when he increased the pressure, Hermione made a halfheartedly muffled protest. He moved his lips slowly, as if coaxing hers to join. As if of their own accord, her lips moved against his. Their tongues danced together and all Hermione could focus on was the feel of his tongue against hers.
Feeling the smallest bit of her sensibility coming back to her, Hermione pushed on Draco's chest hard enough to let him know that she was trying to push him away. Hermione was practically panting; her breaths quick and shallow. Draco, however, was taking deep, calm breaths.
Draco's eyes were intense; dark and smoldering. His hands were still on Hermione; one low on her hip, the other cupping her cheek. And before she could act, he was leaning down towards her again.
"Malfoy!" Hermione gasped, this time pushing him away more forcefully. "What are you doing?"
"It's called kissing, Granger," Draco answered with a smirk while brushing his thumb over her pink lower lip.
Hermione ducked down from the confines of his arms and stood at the opposite wall, feeling very flustered. "No. You're not supposed to kiss me, and I'm not supposed to kiss you."
"Just because you think it's not supposed to happen, doesn't mean that it can't or won't happen. And you and I both know that we want this to happen."
Hermione suddenly felt very small compared to Draco's towering frame, which was quickly advancing on her.
"Malfoy," Hermione said nervously, "I don't really think either of us are in a state to make a decision like that. We've been drinking a lot, our minds aren't clear – you – you don't know what you're saying – or doing," she quickly finished.
"You're wrong. I do know what I'm saying, and I certainly know what I'm doing. But you're also right. We have been drinking a lot. And doesn't that make you want to feel reckless? To do something without analyzing everything? It's okay to feel, Hermione. Give your brain a break, and just feel. Don't you want to know what you've been missing all your life?" Never let it be said that Draco Malfoy didn't know how to get what he wanted.
Hermione couldn't have forced her brain to function even if she wanted to when Draco captured her lips for a second kiss. The slow, sensuous movements of his lips over her own, the alternating feather-light and needy movements of his hands over her body, the feel of his hair between her fingers, the intoxicating scent of him, and the welcoming warmth of his hard body deliciously filled her. As he maneuvered them into her flat, Hermione realized that she didn't want her brain to do anything at the moment; all she wanted right now was to experience the sensory overload that was Draco Malfoy.
