'Arrogant, narrow-minded, horrible, horrible boy! Who does he think he is assuming he knows me?' Hermione cursed as she rifled through the walk-in closet for an outfit.
Scowling, she recalled his stormy blue eyes as he rolled them way back up into his head when talking to her. He could roll them so far Hermione wondered if he could practically see his rugged rebellious locks of blonde hair sprawled across his forehead.
"'Of course you'd like anything muggle'" she mimicked, examining a little green dress then tossing it aside and examining another, "Pretentious asshole," she muttered, critiquing the way he stood in her doorway.
She could see it all in her mind, his thickly proportioned arms crossed against his chest as he leered at her, 'It's just so unbelievable,' she continued to think, 'the horridness of some people. Of all the stuck up…My god what an amazing dress,' her attention was quickly drawn from how much she disliked Draco to how fabulous the outfits actually were in her closet.
Narcissa must have gone to Paris or Milan for such ensembles on the behalf of having 'presentable' clothes for her to wear. Hermione thought it was ridiculous to blow so much money on petty material things, but…being female after all, she was weak. And she caved. She just couldn't believe the beauty and expense of some of the clothing, each trendy, one of a kind and completely alluring.
She held one from Gladrags Wizardwear up to herself, stuck out her round hip, which appeared to have returned after a few good meals, and pouted. Feeling silly, she watched the reflection in the full length mirror of herself crack a smile. One good thing about having to eat dinner with Draco was that she that she would get to wear things she could only dream of otherwise; at least she'd have the private fun of feeling like some posh French super model. How often did she get the chance to go out to a fancy restaurant in wizard London dressed like royalty? She could only hope Draco wouldn't ruin it too bad by being the ass that he is…
… … …
Draco closed his eyes as the hot water hit his face, washing away the sweat and dirt he had earned from playing some quidditch with the boys. Behind his eye lids was the image of Hermione frowning at him from the mat she had been dancing on, her long golden brown hair twirling around her.
"She's so damn weird," he thought, "and terribly annoying…" He was honestly surprised they hadn't had a more significant fight yet.
Back at Hogwarts they got into terrible spats. Sure they all started because of potty and the weasel, but it didn't take too long for her to chime in like some armored defender. She on many occasions beat him at his own game with her razor wit, crucial argumentative points and fitting insults, trying to embarrass him horribly in front of his peers.
They name called and threatened, hell, she had made him so close to drawing his wand on her with her smartass remarks so many times… Their hallway arguments got so heated that it was truly lucky a teacher came along to eventually stop them, punishment or no punishment.
Perhaps they were both too busy wallowing in their own misery to turn on each other. As much as Draco disliked her, he knew this whole thing wasn't her idea, nor her fault. But it's not like he could dare come out and say he was against the whole thing and that he wouldn't go through with it to the real owner of the plan… obviously no one was stupid enough to go against Voldemort's wishes. And without being able to speak out against the source of his problem, he already knew it would only be a matter of time before he started taking it out on Hermione.
Especially if she continued to be the hotheaded girl who had the nerve to talk back to him that she was at Hogwarts. One would think with all she had to loose she'd shut up and behave out of fear of torture or death. It boggled Draco's mind that she still attempted to stick up for herself.
'Oh well…'he sighed to himself. He did enjoy a night out of the house very much, he could only hope Hermione wouldn't ruin it by being a bitch…
… … …
The heels of Hermione's shoes clicked on the marble floor as she walked into the huge entryway.
"Let's go," said Draco, emerging from a side parlor room, pulling down the sleeves of his blue button up shirt and fastening the buttons. He didn't even look at her; he just heard her coming and headed for the door.
Hermione walked a step behind him down the walkway to a shiny black car. Hermione was staring down at his brown shoes and khaki pants when Draco abruptly stopped, causing her to almost bump into him.
He turned to look at her in annoyance, "Walk much…" he started to say as Hermione raised her eyes up. She didn't respond and Draco was thankful, because he doubted he could speak again if he needed to.
She looked like she did last night at dinner, only more so. She had on a deep red silky dress with thin straps, but it wasn't so much the fashionably acclaimed dress that caught his eye, but just how good she happened to look in it. When he turned to yell at her he was taken back by her exposed skin.
Hermione didn't really know what to make of his behavior as Draco's mouth stopped moving and he just looked at her. Somehow, he managed to open the car door, his whole reason for stopping anyway, and allowed her to get in. Hermione accepted the gesture and Draco's eye followed behind her, finding the skin of her shoulders and back to be just as smooth and creamy as the skin of her neck and chest.
His eyes lowered down to her slender waist line, curvaceous hips and butt as she climbed in. Situating herself in the seat, her skirt hiked up higher on her thighs and Draco observed the length and smoothness of her legs as she crossed them. He closed the car door and his face morphed into disbelief. Had she always been so pretty? How had he not noticed? …Maybe, he had.
A whirlwind of memory resulted as he recalled the piggish comments of what certain Slytherin boys said they would like to do to the hot nerdy mudblood in Gryffindor house.
In fact, by 5th year her simple yet genuine good looks were more famous than he had ever realized, no longer having any doubt that every single Slytherin boy would renounce his famous prejudices if she in fact had ever showed remote interest in them in an attempt of winning a chance with her, rendering the perverse comments as just being typical locker room trash talk to show off in front of the other guys.
And it wasn't just her natural beauty that was attractive, but her apparent lack of effort to look appealing and the fact that she appeared to be so unaware of her prettiness, giving her an aura of innocence and friendliness. No wonder a celebrity like Viktor Krum, who would be constantly bombarded by egotistical buxom females, would be attracted to someone who was just as beautiful, yet intelligent and down to earth.
But damn, how could Draco not remember this? Had his incredible dislike for Harry and Ron really forced him to ignore it all?
Bitterness engulfed him as he finally made his way around the back of the car and into his own seat.
"Cyrus's Circus please," he told the chauffer, sitting back, avoiding another glance at Hermione, although he really wanted to. 'Her being pretty just makes her horrid personality that much worse…' he thought, daydreaming about how nice it would have been if the sorting hat placed upon her head saw only pureblood and ruthlessness and thereby cried out Slytherin instead of Gryffindor. He sighed, 'At least this will give me a little more creditability when everyone hears we're getting married," he thought, wondering if Voldemort himself knew how attractive she was, planning it that way.
Hermione, whose thoughts had moved past Draco's odd behavior already, was excited about the chance to go to Cyrus's Circus, a block of wizard London's finest shops and restaurants and smiled a little to herself.
Ron said he'd be sure to take her there once, she remembered. He'd save all his money and buy her a fancy dinner, then take her to the opera. They said they'd do it to celebrate graduation, their new found freedom as adult wizards. Of course this was all well before Ginny and Harry had broken up, slightly because of her…
"We're here," Draco said as the car came to a slow stop. Hermione stepped out of the car and looked around in awe.
The nighttime streets were filled with colorful lights and flashing signs. Restaurant after restaurant could be seen all along the boulevard with the occasional club, theatre or art gallery, and the sidewalks were filled with couples out walking, dressed in fine clothes and smiling softly, most likely enjoying a date, as well as pantomimes and glamorous clowns parading around on stilts, blowing fire. The clamor of chit chat and soft laughter could be heard from balconies were people were dining outside on the lovely moonlit evening. It reminded Hermione of New York City mixed with Circe de Sole, she absolutely loved the bohemian atmosphere and desperately wished she could run off and explore every inch of the district.
But then she thought better of it. Surely such a place was more fun with company, even if the said company was appalling. Besides, he probably knew his way around, this being an obvious place for the cool rich kids to run amok. Not too mention the little problem with that whole binding charm thing.
She turned to look at Draco who was coming around from the car, looking at her as well. He cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets.
"I'm supposed to take you to Compagnie Délicate," he said nodding towards a stuffy looking French restaurant, the host turning down an angry looking couple because the man wasn't dressed up enough. The news caused Hermione's shoulders to slump. Although the food was guaranteed to be fine gourmet cuisine, she had been hoping for a place that was a little more laid back. "However," Draco went on, "I'm kind of tired of the place, so I was thinking, if you wouldn't tell anyone, we could go to this really good Italian place down the street called Casa de Amore."
Hermione looked down to where Draco was pointing, a building filled with people. Music and laughter seemed to be pouring from it and it was decorated with all kinds of antique vintage Italian signs and lights.
"Ok," said Hermione, trying to stifle her excitement.
… … …
"Young Mr. Malfoy!" cried the host graciously, "What a pleasure! Don't you look strapping! Dressed up for a romantic date are we? And what a fine lady she is, absolutely gorgeous, touché Mr. Malfoy, touché!"
"Uh… yes," said Draco awkwardly, "…just here for dinner."
"Of course," responded the host, "Here, let me take you to the lava room, it's quite full of the young and beautiful such as yourselves…"
"Oh, uh, no thanks, not tonight" said Draco hurriedly, recalling how desperate his peers were to get into the exclusive restaurant, "a quiet table for two should suffice."
The host smiled mischievously, "But of course, right this way then."
The host led them upstairs to a calmer floor, although it was far from empty. And it did little good according to Draco, noticing how the levels of the restaurant were split and all sections were practically visible from everywhere else.
Hermione didn't notice though, and as they sat, saying nothing to each other and looking over the menu, Hermione's eyes wandered everywhere, admiring the colorful personalities of the servers and the unique décor. The tables truly were filled with the rich and beautiful and everyone slyly eyed everyone else. Hermione had no doubt that this is where all the powerful and image obsessed wished to be seen.
"Good evening, my name is Alexander and I shall be your server for the evening…"
"Very good," Draco interrupted, "I'll have the chef's ravioli and sirloin, medium please, and she'll have a Caesar salad …"
"Yes," Hermione interrupted this time, "Caesar salad with a chef's ravioli as well, I'll take my sirloin medium too thanks."
Draco stared at her with wide eyes. A girl who actually ate. None of his other dates had actually ordered a real meal before. They always got a silly salad to appear health conscious and then begrudgingly ate off his plate asking him if he thought they were fat.
"And can you tell me what "pelle della patata" is?"
"Certainly Miss," said the server, "It is an appetizer of potato skin halves, fried, with cheeses, sour cream, bits of bacon and Italian seasoning on top."
"Mmmm," said Hermione, "One of those too please."
"Coming right up," said the server, flipping his notepad closed and walking away.
Draco stared at her curiously, wondering if she was trying to anger him by racking up the bill, as if any price was an inconvenience. The truth is, Hermione figured as much, and she'd probably never be in Casa de Amore again, so she might as well enjoy it.
The server returned with their pelle della patata. Hermione smiled, forgetting how fast wizard restaurants were. Draco, secretly pleased Hermione had ordered them as the tasty smell filled his nose, looked about the section of the restaurant they were dining in and couldn't help but feel like everyone was glancing at their table. Were people wising up to the absurdity of the couple? 'It is quite an odd match,' Draco thought, about to look back at Hermione, who was taking a bite of the appetizer.
"What in heavens name did you just dip that into?" asked Draco.
"Ranch," answered Hermione matter-of-factly, enjoying the delicious food.
"What?" cried Draco.
"Ranch," Hermione repeated, dipping again and taking another bite as Draco watched, "I dip practically everything in ranch. Bread, French fries, pizza…"
Draco just stared at her apprehensively. "Pizza? That's so…"
"Oh shut up," she interrupted, "you've never even tried it. Not that I'm surprised, you're obviously the type set in his ways…"
"And what does that mean?" asked Draco defensively.
"Just that no one would ever expect you to try anything new is all," she said, "You like things predictable and the same…"
"So boring and safe basically?" Draco said
"Well, yeah." Hermione answered.
"So you're an expert on who I am are you?" he said angrily.
"Well I'm no psychologist but I'm pretty sure you can't possibly be that complicated."
Draco glared at her, inspiring Hermione to rise to the challenge.
"So you're saying you're not old fashioned, your mind isn't closed off to any new concepts or ideas?" she inquired coyly, "That you are in fact an accepting, tolerant person, eager to experience new things?"
"As far as you know, yes," said Draco.
Hermione laughed, "You're mad."
"Am not!" spat Draco
"No, not mad as in bonkers, but mad mad. You're angry with me."
"Well only because you are quite snotty and presumptuous," said Draco with a sneer.
"Oh really?" she said, looking smug, "Would you mind explaining the difference to me then, of me being presumptuous about you when you can so easily dismiss me as someone who automatically favors muggle-culture?"
Draco glared at her again, realizing her point. He reached across the table, picking up a pelle della patata and dipped it into Hermione's ranch and shoved a bite into his mouth as if dramatically proving his own point.
'Bloody hell,' he thought as he chewed, 'it's quite good.'
"Well?" asked Hermione impatiently.
"It's alright," said Draco causing Hermione to laugh softly as he attempted a blank face.
The sight of Hermione laughing, some of her long wavy hair resting on her shoulders bouncing gently due to its lightness and volume, made him feel slightly uncomfortable. Following the long beautiful hair with his eyes to its ends led to the low collar the dress, Hermione's round figure filling out the top.
He looked off over Hermione's shoulder as to stop his ridiculous behavior of staring at her. A woman at another table had been looking right at them. How long had she been staring? She smiled smugly when Draco's eyes met hers and then she appeared to excuse herself from her table and walk off towards the restrooms. Draco thought nothing more of her as the server brought out their food.
"You're not going to dunk your ravioli in ranch are you?" asked Draco, taking a bite of the deliciously prepared cuisine.
Hermione laughed softly again, laying her napkin across her lap, "No, not ravioli…"
"Well that's good," said Draco, "I do hope you plan on refraining from doing that at our wedding dinner."
Hermione suddenly lowered her fork, as if thinking something over. She looked up at him with a serious expression, "There doesn't need to be a wedding you know," she whispered firmly, "You could just let me go right now, and this whole thing will be over."
Draco looked at her intensely. "You've got some guts," he finally said, "to speak so freely like that to me."
Hermione slightly rolled her eyes, "I have nothing to worry about, I know you hate this just as much as I do."
"As true as that is Granger," he began to drawl, "I would be punished severely if I were to lose you."
Hermione stared at him for a long moment, then sat back in her chair angrily, "Why are you loyal to someone who asks such things of you?" she finally uttered cruelly.
For the first time since being reintroduced to Draco did Hermione feel frightened, simply because of the look of malice on Draco's face as she said what she did.
It was an expression of utmost loathing, as if she crossed some terribly taboo and forbidden line and would be punished extensively for it. He did not answer her question. and she, for once, did not push it any further.
"Fine," she whispered softly, "Don't release me right now… just one more free meal till I escape I suppose…" and she picked her fork back up and began to eat her dinner.
…The woman who had been staring at Draco sat down in front of a public communicator. She flicked her wand at the device and said a name. A man's gruff face appeared as a floating orb in front of the women's.
"Rita!" cried the man, "How many times do I have to tell you not to call here anymore? You're fired, alright!"
"Oh yeah," she said coyly, "I forgot… that's so tragic too, because I have quite the story…"
… … …
Draco found himself once again staring against his will at Hermione's legs as she curled them up onto the back of the plush leather seats.
She was looking out the window as the car drove at wizard speed back to Malfoy Manor, both with their bellies full and neither saying a word.
She already missed Cyrus's Circus and the joys of going out to actually enjoy an evening. After a brief taste of a normal life, she was craving freedom so much then, recalling how she had just expected it after school was done…
She'd be an adult and a legal wizard, free to travel between both worlds, pursuing the life of her dreams. Going to places like London and Cyrus's Circus whenever she pleased with whoever she pleased, living her life to the fullest. And she'd earned it too, after numerous long years of working her arse off at school.
All those dreams and expectations had to be put on hold of course, after the seriousness of 5th year.
She made a decision, and that was to leave Hogwarts and work with the Order until the Dark Lord was no longer a threat.
The call of her happy adult life would have to wait, its rite of passage no longer graduation, but the defeat of Voldemort.
It was ironic then, that she came upon a completely different form of imprisonment than Hogwarts when she was captured by death eaters that dreadful night at Karkaroff's. And now here she was a captive once more.
Her heart yearned for freedom and she knew she needed to figure out a way to escape; she just had to.
Draco finally managed to pull his eyes away from her as they neared his house, suddenly feeling very angry but not knowing why.
He walked quickly back into the house, Hermione once again keeping up at his heels.
Once inside the foyer Draco immediately headed for the elongated curved staircase to the right. Without so much as a goodbye or goodnight he disappeared up the stairs, no doubt needing to tell Lucius that everything went smoothly. Hermione made the long walk back to her room by herself.
She unclasped the dress and let it fall to the ground. She hastily pulled on a t-shirt and climbed into the huge fluffy bed. She realized she had taken it for granted the night before.
First she completely ignored its existence as she suffered what was almost a nervous breakdown after being caught trying to escape by Lucius.
The pain of almost suffocating outside of charm's boundaries had left her weak and exhausted. And then to return to her quarters only to see artifacts and photos of her childhood home, it was too much to bear. It was no wonder she never even made it into the bed. Memories of the past had flooded into her mind and then she collapsed onto her bedroom floor, where she had begun to cry hysterically.
Out of one jail and into another, her mind was flooded with horrible thoughts. Still dying to know how she had been captured in the first place, and why none of her friends had come to rescue her, then having to deal with the fact that she had just spent an evening with the Dark Lord, the man they had been searching so tirelessly for, and had no way to kill him, she wept uncontrollably for hours.
And then there was the dazed and unexpected experience with Draco, who thought she was crying because of her parents. True as it was, it was only a fraction of it. She was thinking of her parents yes, but also everyone else she missed, and the overhanging terrible feeling that she may in actuality be forced to marry Draco.
After Draco's incredibly surprising act of mercy up in the owlery, Hermione returned to her room emotionally and physically exhausted beyond words, where she just fell into the bed and slept deeply till morning.
Now, a day later, she was tired once again, but this time aware enough to realize that she lay in the most comfortable bed she had ever known. She snuggled up to a down pillow and Crookshanks and then closed her eyes, not wanting to cry again that night.
Although sleep came peacefully to Hermione at first, it was not so kind to Draco. After returning from giving his parents a report of the evening, he laid wide awake in his bed. He hated to close his eyes, because the image of her was always there.
He didn't understand, he had been with plenty of attractive girls, but none of them ever clung to his thoughts like this. They were had and forgotten, and if for whatever unlikely reason he was unable to have a certain one, there was always another to take her place, the first never thought of again.
Why would she of all people cloud his mind? Her good looks were now annoying him and he tossed and turned angrily all night. But then again, so did Hermione eventually. Falling asleep may have been pleasant, but her dreams were something she still wished to do without.