Breakfast at Hermione's

Chapter Two

The sun was glaring; Hermione slipped on her sunglasses as she strolled down the street. Her new neighbour seemed a nice enough person, and he was fairly attractive, too: tall, self-assured, hair so blonde it hurt your eyes. She hadn't inspected him closely, but he appeared to have a permanent scowl on his face. Well, Hermione decided, perhaps she could change that.

Drake had reminded her of someone she'd once known – but she couldn't place who. The thought nagged at her as she made her way through the cobbled lanes. At the crosswalk Hermione stood in place for a few seconds, pondering her next move. She glanced idly at her watch, a gift from an admiring member of the Beauxbatons faculty, and started in realization, nearly jumping into traffic. "Oh no! I'm late!" she exclaimed, and hurried towards her destination.

Draco shook his head to wake himself from his stunned stupor. Hermione Granger – of all the people in the world – was to become his neighbour. Unbelievable. He would never have thought he'd set eyes on that malicious Mudblood again once they'd graduated from Hogwarts. Now, they were living next door to one another.

Draco was curious as to why Hermione had just left him in her apartment. Wasn't she worried that he could be a burglar, or some raving lunatic, or a spy for the Ministry? She had changed, that was undeniable, but he found it hard to believe she had changed somuch. She must have installed some sort of enchantment around the flat; he'd heard that just about everyone who lived at Astaire had wards and charms and curses on just about every inch, for appearance's sake if for no other reason. He was intrigued as to which ones she had used, since he couldn't imagine her not using them.

She certainly knew how to dress, and with class, which was more than he could have said about her back at Hogwarts. Her clothes weren't cheap either; they had the distinctive style Draco recognized from his mother's own wardrobe. And no one could fault either Narcissa Malfoy's taste or her budget. Some of Hermione's dresses were even marked with the emblem of his mother's favourite designer; she had several wardrobes full of Samunair Vientoi's garments.

Taking an interesting-looking book off the nearest bookshelf, he found it had been autographed by the author, a prominent lecturer in theoretical magic. "Glad to see you could keep up with my theories," he had written, "and I wish I could have kept up with your…"

Before he could decipher the last scribbled word, Draco felt the cat's claws sink into his leg. He angrily shook off the beast, drew his wand, and was about to spell it into a pot roast when the cat gave a low throaty growl, utterly unafraid of the wand.

That figures, he thought as he put up his wand; a Kneazle, one of the best Dark detectors and burglar alarms in the wizarding world. He looked back at the inscription:

"…kept up with your explications."

Draco had no idea what the word meant, and smirked, wondering if it was as filthy as it sounded.

Poking about the apartment, he later discovered she also had a full library as well as the several bookcases in each room. No surprise, really; the Hogwarts faculty were all always going on about how Granger was the brightest witch in her Year, possibly in the history of the school – rubbish! Looking again at the dedication, he proceeded out the front door.

"Oof!" he exclaimed as the book socked him in the stomach, knocking him to the floor and leaving him winded as it came flying back into her apartment. Groaning, he stumbled back into the carpeted foyer. Trust Granger to use a Theft Barrier spell, he thought. Only she'd use one of the most advanced ones out there – but then, she always was rather violent when offended. He grunted as he stood up, remembering the time she had assaulted him in their third year.

He glanced around the flat. Rolling his eyes at the mess, he thought back to her comments - they could barely have been called a conversation. It was just so typical of her to believe in freedom for house elves. Potter must have really rubbed off on her, the way he stole Dobby. Draco frowned as the memory came back to him – his father had been in a rage all that week over the loss of his house elf. Draco hadn't seen his father so upset since his grandfather had died when he was nine years old. It wasn't the old reprobate dying that upset Lucius Malfoy, but leaving most of his vast fortune to Draco's aunt. Cassius Malfoy had cursed Lucius, saying that he was a waste of magic and a disgrace to the Malfoy name, having served Lord Voldemort. "We don't take orders," the old wizard shouted, "we give them!" Then, Cassius had proceeded to give all his possessions to one of his daughters, Carina – the daughter who, ironically, had cut ties with her family, denouncing their long association with Dark Magic. At the end of his life, old Cassius himself had changed his way of thinking, and in an unexpected move, cut Lucius' inheritance completely. It was a good thing that his mother had inherited a vast amount of wealth from her parents otherwise they could have been facing the idea of being poor! Draco shook his head in disgust at the thought. Being poor was only for those who were blood-traitors and had more children than they could afford, namely the Weasleys.

After the incident, Draco's father had forbidden him to ever have contact with his Aunt Carina after she had forsworn the name of Malfoy – at his sixth birthday party; that argument certainly proved more engrossing than that afternoon's game of Pin the Tail on the Dragon. A few days later, Draco awoke to find a package on his bed from his aunt. She had written a letter apologising for ruining his birthday, saying she hoped her gift was enough to make up for it. Inside the layers of luxurious wrapping paper was a limited edition of his favourite storybook, complete with gold-edged pages and hand-painted illustrations. Draco had treasured that gift far above his others on that birthday, and even now it was one thing from his childhood he had never gotten rid of. He had never shown it to his father or his mother, for fear they would confiscate it. His Aunt Carina had always been his favourite; while he'd been spoiled by all of his various rich relatives, never at a loss for expensive gifts, he had received very few that were given genuinely from the heart, including his gifts from his parents. Carina's absence from his life had been too early on to hurt very deeply, but he had felt the void all his life.

A car honked loudly outside, startling Draco from his reverie. He peered out the apartment's window to see who it was. Narcissa Malfoy stood on the footpath, elaborately dressed in luxurious silk robes, in a whirlwind of tropical colours, her mouth moving constantly while Draco was mercifully unable to hear what she was saying. Beside her was George, their family chauffeur, no doubt responding to his employer's chattering in his usual hypocritically respectful tones. Draco made his way downstairs to greet his mother.

"Draco darling," she cooed. "How are you? Have you settled in yet? Did you see that gorgeously dressed woman who just walked down the street? She was wearing a green Vientoi dress – one of his newest creations! I've been planning on getting one myself," she declared.

Draco nearly choked on his saliva when his mother announced Hermione as a "gorgeously dressed woman". His mother would faint if she realised that Hermione was, in fact, a Muggle-born. He didn't think she would ever be able to comprehend that a Mudblood could possibly know anything about wizarding designer wear.

"No, I didn't see that woman," he lied. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"To see how my darling son is, of course!" she said, planting moist kisses on both of Draco's cheeks. "You are still coming to the Charity Ball tonight, aren't you? You promised me, Draco."

"Yes, Mother. I am."

"Your father will not be able to attend. He has business affairs," she said briskly.

Draco wasn't sure if she meant "business affairs" as in business, or if she was singling out the latter word. It was common knowledge to him that both his parents had affairs. They both apparently loved one another, but from time to time would seem to get caught up in some dalliance or other. Draco couldn't understand their casual approach to infidelity; screams, hexes, and thrown pieces of art he could understand, but not watching his parents stay together year after year and indiscretion after indiscretion, as if the new paramour was just another designer robe to be sampled, shown off, and then banished to a closet. In any case, Draco had vowed long ago never to have an extramarital affair. He wasn't quite sure he believed in the fairy-tale, swept-off-their-feet, passionate and last-a-lifetime marriage, or even if he believed in love. Lust, he knew, existed; knew it better than most, and not just by watching his parents. However, marriage seemed more of a bond of companionship than of love…

"I should go and get ready then. I have an appointment in…" Narcissa glanced at her diamond-studded watch, "half and hour. See you at eight o'clock sharp. Don't be late," she warned, caressing her son's cheek with a puffskien-skin glove that still felt like sandpaper on Draco's cheek.

George stepped round the limousine and opened the door for his mistress. Narcissa glided inside and opened the window. "Draco? Could you wear that exquisite tux I bought you at Christmas? I'll have it sent over. There's someone I want you to meet tonight."

"Oh, Mother," Draco groaned.

"Now, Draco – you're twenty-four years old. The prospect of marriage is looming over your head and your father and I can't have you marry just anyone. We have a list of those select few – the right bloodlines, you know – and you'll meet the first girl tonight. She's a stunner, I promise. You won't be disappointed." She closed her window without waiting for a response, and the limousine sped off.

Draco watched the car travel further and further away until it was a tiny speck in the distance. I guess I'd better get ready, then. His previous thoughts of Hermione Granger were almost forgotten as he walked up the steps to his new home. Crookshanks had made a deeper impression on him than the Mudblood had.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A hundred kisses and hugs to my first reviewers: SerenBunny, Kichou, the girl trapped in a dream, MIDNIGHT-PIXIE, Michele, and Greetings From Hell. This chapter is for you guys because you totally rocked and made my day! Even though I know it doesn't answer all your questions especially about the character shifts! I promise they will come! Enjoy in the mean time!

- The name of Draco's aunt, Carina, is taken from one of the constellations. Carina was originally part of the large constellation Argo Navis. The Argo Navis has now been split into four parts and Carina is the keel. The others include Vela (the sail), Puppis (the poop) and Pyxis (the compass).

- Cassius Malfoy, Draco's grandfather, was invented by Fatima, during the process of her checking and adding tibits to my story to improve it.

- As you can tell, I have substituted the role of Tooley (Paul Varjack's older girlfriend) for Narcissa Malfoy.