Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 12-The Two Week Anniversary
By Marmalade Fever
"Hey Ginny, I don't really feel like going out tonight," Hermione said, carefully balanced over her hearth.
"I'm not surprised," the red-head replied. "We'll do something next week."
"Thanks a million. My neck is starting to hurt now. See you?"
"Yeah, sure. Just owl me with when and where. And Hermione?"
"Yeah?"
"You better give me all the details."
"Bye Ginny," Hermione said, pulling her head out and watching the world spinning around her for a minute. She put the lid back on her canister of floo powder and brushed the soot off of herself. No sooner had she done so than another head came popping into her own fireplace. "Malfoy!" Hermione said, gasping from surprise.
"Call me Draco," he said with a wink.
"Okay, Draco... What do you want?" Hermione asked. It was about half past four and she hadn't seen him since ten that morning.
"Couple things. First, Mother wants to know if she can meet with you about the shower on Saturday, that okay?"
"That's fine, just give me a time," Hermione said, sitting down cross-legged on the hearth.
"Eleven at the manor, she wants to have tea..." Draco said, making a small face.
"And what's wrong with tea?"
"Nothing, if you're a girl. Also, I would like to schedule a dinner appointment with you tomorrow night. Say, sevenish at my house?"
"Hold on, I better write this all down," Hermione said, standing up and grabbing a pencil and a pad of paper. "Okay, so eleven at your parents' house on Saturday and seven at your house tomorrow," she said, scribbling away. "Are you making dinner?" she asked, suddenly curious.
"Maybe yes, maybe no," he said, winking again.
"You know, for someone I used to think of as an arrogant snob, you're very romantic, aren't you?" she said, smirking.
"Ah, so you don't think of me as being that way anymore, eh? And yes, the romantic part is true, very true," he said, smiling slyly.
"See you tomorrow night then," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Bye Hermione," he said with a final wink, and he disappeared from her fireplace again. Hermione sat down on her couch with a book. Despite the situation, she really was starting to enjoy having a boyfriend again... even if it was Malfoy. It was also pretty nice to get to see another side of his personality. If it hadn't been for the contract, she'd never have seen it. If it hadn't been for the contract, they would never have gotten together. What's more, she was actually starting to like him-scary thought.
She set her book aside. She couldn't concentrate. Instead she closed her eyes. She smiled. There they were at the bowling alley and Draco's eyes were lit up with panic from Nathan's question about playing with their future children. The image of a little blonde girl wafted into her mind again. Of course they would have to have children. That seemed to be the main purpose for having the Malfoy Marriage Contract--to ensure the continuation of the family name. That probably meant that they would have to have a son at some point. Hermione's eyes snapped open. What if her children ended up in Slytherin? Or would they? They wouldn't be purebloods, after all... Well, she would just have to be sure to raise them properly and far, far away from their grandfather.
Malfoy had said that his mother wanted to discuss the wedding shower on Saturday. Maybe she could get Ginny to go with her? She hated the idea of being stuck in the Malfoy Manor with just Lucius and Narcissa. True, Mrs. Malfoy wasn't nearly as bad as her husband, but she still wasn't chummy with her. Yes, she'd have to remember to ask if Ginny could come along. After all, it was more of a responsibility of the bridesmaids than of the bride.
The night passed uneventfully and Hermione went to work in the morning, determined to stay the whole day. Strangely enough, there wasn't a single member of the press there. Actually, there was one reporter, but he was covering a piece about reading materials and didn't seem to know a thing about the wedding. She went home after work, changed into a skirt and blouse, and Apparated onto Malfoy's front step. She'd never asked whether she was supposed to meet him here or not, but as she found a note on the door, it seemed that she had guessed well.
Dear Hermione,
Please let yourself in. I needed to run a quick errand. I'll be back in a few minutes.
Love,
Draco
Marveling at the word "love," she opened the door and, with some difficulty, found her way to the living room. The house seemed completely devoid of house elves. She sat down on a sofa and gazed about the room. There were half a dozen candles floating near the ceiling, and there was a soft tinkle of music coming from somewhere. Straining her ears, she almost snorted with laughter. "She's in love with me and I feel fine." Somehow, the fact that Malfoy liked the Beatles was hilarious. Actually, the fact that Malfoy liked any song, muggle or not, that had the word love in it, was downright entertaining. She got up to search for the source of the music and found a phonograph playing a record. Oh, this was too good! Malfoy owned a muggle antique!
She looked around the room a little more and found a few other muggle artifacts that she would never have guessed that he would own. Living here might not be as bad as all that. She had just bent over to examine a music box when she realized that Malfoy had walked into the room, one hand behind his back.
"This," he said, moving his hand in front of him to reveal a bouquet, "is for you."
Hermione moved forward to take the flowers from him, noticing that his eyes were sparkling. She shifted. "Thank you, Draco."
"Now, if you'll follow me, Mademoiselle, I'll lead you to the dining room." He extended his arm, and, with slight hesitation, she took it. He led her down the hall and into a very large room with a very small table for two. He pulled a chair out for her, waited for her to sit down, took her napkin off her plate, and placed it on her lap for her. "Would you care for some champagne?" he asked, holding up a bottle.
"Only a little," she said, trying not to look like she was overly embarrassed by the attention he was giving her. He poured some into a champagne flute and sat down across from her. "This is very, er, nice," she commented. There were more of the same candles floating over the table, but otherwise the room was fairly dark.
"I'm glad you think so," he said, pouring champagne into his own glass. He then reached into the inside of his robes and pulled out his wand. "Watch this," he said. He tapped a silver dome on the table and lifted it. Inside were a variety of appetizers, two of each. "Here, have a quiche."
Hermione took it, trying to ignore the memories of all the corny jokes she'd heard over the years about quiche sound vaguely like kiss, and ate it. When the appetizers were finished, Malfoy tapped the silver dome again and two plates of salad appeared.
"So," he said, after swallowing a piece of tomato, "you found my note alright?"
"Just fine," Hermione said. Her mind had been drifting off to her own kitchen, where there may or may not have been several very old heads of lettuce in her refrigerator. She couldn't remember if she had thrown them away or not. "Did you get your errand done?" she asked.
"Yes, I did. I'm afraid I left your bouquet to the last minute."
"So... is this our two week anniversary celebration?" she asked, stabbing an olive with her fork and popping it into her mouth.
"Yes it is," he said, smiling and setting down his fork, having finished his salad.
"And have you planned out our three week anniversary?" she asked, finishing her own salad.
"No, not yet. I figure that I have all week to do so." He set their plates inside the dome, tapped it, and revealed the main course of lobster.
"Well, I've got to tell you, I'm liking the two week a lot more than the one week," Hermione said, examining her lobster.
"Does that mean that I'm forgiven?" he asked, dipping a piece of his lobster into a pool of melted butter and sticking it in his mouth.
Hermione shrugged in answer.
"Good enough," he said. "Oh, and you'll want to leave room for pudding, too." The rest of the lobster and a slice of lemon cheesecake later, and Hermione was stuffed. Malfoy put the dishes under the dome and tapped it. "Would you like to accompany me to the living room, m' lady?" he asked.
Hermione nodded and he extended his arm for her again and led her back to the living room where the record had started over again. They sat down on the sofa. "I have something for you," he said. Hermione was starting to feel very sleepy from eating so much and only smiled at him in response. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small ring box that he had scared her with the week before. "You left the restaurant so quickly that you didn't take this with you," he said. He carefully picked up her hand and slipped the ring onto her finger. "Hermione," he said, and she was surprised by the sincerity in his face, "I know I've already asked you this, but it seems like I've never gotten an honest answer. Sure, you said yes... but I don't want us just to be legally married. I want you to feel like... I don't know. I want you to know that I'm not just doing this to save my own skin. You know?"
Hermione sighed. "Yeah, I know. But--" she had been about to say, but you would never have asked me if it hadn't been to save your own skin, but instead she stopped short. He had begun to lean in a little closer than she was comfortable with. He was getting closer and closer until their noses could have touched. Being this close was making her cross-eyed, and the second she closed her eyes, she wished she hadn't. He had leaned in the rest of the way and was kissing her. What surprised her most was the fact that she was kissing him back. A girlish giddiness swept through her. Old as she was, the truth was that this, not counting the one the week before, was her first kiss. It only lasted maybe three seconds, but it felt like longer. When they broke away and opened their eyes, they didn't say anything. He held her hand in his for a few minutes, admiring the effect the ring had on it. "Good night, Draco," Hermione said at last and Apparated back to her own home.
