Dictionary
'Escape verb (-ping) - 1. get free. 2. leak. 3. avoid punishment etc. 4. get free of. 5. elude, avoid.'
Chapter Six
Oh Merlin. One more minute of this purgatory and she was going to have to kill herself. Well…maybe that was a little bit drastic. After all was spending time with her friends supposed to make her want to commit suicide? Somehow she doubted it. She should be happy, content and…not nearly so uncomfortable as she was at that exact moment.
Looking back at the chain of events leading up to this moment, Hermione wondered where the fault was that led her to feel so retched. When Katie Weasley had owled her with a proposal for dinner everything had seemed hunky-dory. Firstly she wouldn't have to hunt the supermarkets for a frozen meal and a tin of cat food, which would make a change from her usual monotonous routine. Then there was the chance of meeting up with all her friends and having a good chat. It was a chance to catch up on all the latest news. Was Bill going to pop the question to Fleur? Did Molly really want to move to Spain to catch more sun? Who had left their laundry in the oven that one time a couple of years ago?!
Oh and there was the added bonus of getting to spend time with Fred.
Having instantly accepted Hermione then spent half an hour reorganising the bookshelves in the shop, whilst convincing herself that she wasn't selfish enough to only be going for precious moments with Fred. It was terrible feeling guilty about having an ulterior to dine with some old friends. They were practically her family, for Merlin's sake! She shouldn't need to be making excuses to herself. It shouldn't need to be done.
This had then be followed by three frustrating hours stood in front of her wardrobe trying to find something to wear. It had to be attractive, yet look like she wasn't trying at the same time. It also had to be smart, as she was a guest to dinner, and yet casual at the same time because she was around old friends. Agonising, was the only word that Hermione could use to sum up the way she was feeling. That and perhaps shameful. It never used to be in her nature to spend so long labouring over what she was going to wear. Her philosophy used to be that people would see her and not what she was wearing - her personality was far superior to any form of fashionable design. Unfortunately that thought had abandoned her. When it came to Fred, her brain didn't appear to function correctly.
There had been a time when Hermione had considered herself to be above such fussing. She had been practical, hard working and professional. To a certain degree this was still true, but it was when she thought she'd be seeing Fred that it all started to tumble down. He made all her insecurities seem magnified to the point of paranoia. Dizzying thoughts would cram into her head; what if he finally noticed her? It made her hate herself for being so foolish about one man. Clothes could not change how one person felt about you.
Fred had never showed any signs of interest. In his eyes she was her brothers friend from school. Someone who spent time in the house, but was ultimately just a guest…a passing phase. Nothing she did seemed enough to draw his attention. Of course there was the banter…
Hope was possibly one of the most crushing things. There was never any signs that he did not like her. He never seemed repulsed by her presence, or avoided conversing with her whenever possibly. They would talk at length about all kinds of things, from the length of Ron's hair to the state of the economic structure of the wizarding industries. He would smile and flirt with her on occasion, but it was always more friendly then romantic. Yet it gave her a glimpse of their imaginary future together. They would stay up late at night with mugs of hot chocolate, and talk about the universe whilst snuggling together in front of the fire. Then they would go to bed and waste the night in maximum sin.
Sinning with Fred was a thought that made Hermione tingle all over. It was this feeling that drove her to changing her clothes several times before settling on the first thing she'd tried on - a black knee-length dress, with a v-shaped neckline, that was elegant yet casual enough. It was another thing that had always seemed banal to Hermione, yet it seemed to be a recurring pattern.
Whilst looking at her reflection in the mirror and deliberating on whether to wear her hair up or leave it loose, there was a loud knock on the door. Glancing at her watch she had wondered why on earth Fred would turn up this early. It was only when she reached the door that she realised not everyone who came to visit would be Fred.
'I really have to stop this!' she had scolded herself as she unlocked the door.
On the doorstep stood a downtrodden looking Ginny. At the time she had smiled at the thought of how close she'd been to guessing who was at the door. Same gene pool!
'Hey Hermione,' Ginny said with a half-hearted smile. 'You look nice tonight. Mind if I come in for a little while? I promise I won't be too long…It's just I really need someone to talk to. I feel like I'm going to implode and…'
'Come in,' Hermione grinned, cutting her friend off.
The instant Ginny had walked into Hermione's flat, her eyes widened. The entire space was open plan due to Hermione's fear of being attacked. A lot of things had happened during her time at Hogwarts and though she denied being paranoid, there were times when she couldn't keep the thoughts at bay. The deep sense that someone was watching her, poised with a wand, often woke her late at night. Her greatest fear was that she wouldn't see it coming. The knife would be between her shoulder blades before she could even scream… Then she would die alone.
'Don't tell me,' Ginny said with a sideways glance. 'You tried on everything in your wardrobe and decided on the first thing you had tried? From this I can deduce one thing. This is often an error made by those who are about to meet someone of the opposite sex. I can only think that you, Miss Granger, have a very important date tonight. From this mess, and my background research on you, I can also deduce that there is only one man you would make the…effort for.'
'I don't know what you're talking about!' Hermione's face flushed several shades of red.
'My lazy brother is not worth it, you know? If he hasn't already seen you for the fantastic, amazing, talented witch you are…well he needs a good slap for starters,' Ginny whispered the last bit, her face looking tired. At the time Hermione had thought nothing of it, but reflecting back it were as if she was talking about herself.
Ginny turned to face her and smiled. 'I'm sorry. It's just I've not had the greatest of days. I really needed someone to talk to, but I can see that you're busy.'
'No! It's fine. All I'm doing is trying to fix my hair… Katie invited me round for dinner, and Fred is supposed to be picking me up in 40 minutes, which leaves us plenty of time to get to the bottom of this problem.'
'Who said it was a problem?' Ginny defensively demanded.
'Now, Ginny, let's be rational. People don't normally come over looking upset and asking to talk, if there isn't a problem. You should know by now from all the times I've come round,' Hermione laughed, running a hand through her hair and checking the clock on the wall. 'So what's wrong?'
'I think my lodger made an advance upon me.'
Hermione's eyes widened slightly and she gave her friend a concerned look. 'Malfoy?'
'Yes. My lodger.'
'I take it we're not using his name?'
'I just…' Ginny paused and fiddled with the corner of her jumper. 'I just didn't want to say it out loud in case I misunderstood the situation. I wouldn't want you to jump off the deep end and go accusing him, for him to turn around and give you a dirty look.'
'Malfoy always gives dirty looks to me, Ginny. Did he…' Hermione's forehead creased in thought. 'Did he do anything you didn't want him to?'
'When I said "advances" I didn't mean assault. He simply suggested that he wanted to sleep with me. At least I think that's what he suggested…'
There was a silence. Ginny seemed unable to make eye contact with Hermione, who stepped closer and put an arm around her shoulders. 'I hope you told him where to get off,' she said softly.
'That's not really the problem. The problem is…well…I think I might have, just for a split second, wanted to…well you know…with him,' Ginny said as she closed her eyes. 'Just for one moment he was everything I wanted.'
At the time Hermione hadn't quite understood how anyone could find Malfoy attractive, in the heat of the moment or otherwise. She'd offered a couple of comforting thoughts but it seemed that Ginny was more upset about her own reaction to the proposal. It wasn't that Malfoy had done anything she saw as indecent, but because she'd wanted to, for a split second, take him up on the offer she was confused. Hermione was just relieved that Ginny had decided it had been a mistake. She had decided that this was simply a passing crush that wouldn't survive through to morning.
With that behind her, and Ginny out the front door, Hermione had set about pulling and pushing at bits of hair, finally deciding to leave it down. There was no need to make a fuss over dinner after all. A dinner with friends. Just because you happen to be madly in lust with one of them doesn't change anything, she reassured herself.
'Oi Granger!' a voice had hollered from outside. 'I'm starving! Come on!'
Shaking herself, Hermione realised that she had gone off into a little dream world of her own. The door was creaking under the blows of someone's fist and apparently he was hungry. It had taken her a couple of seconds, but eventually she realised that Fred was waiting for her. Grabbing her robes, she ran to the door and…
Now she was in a living nightmare. Squished in between Katie's older brother and Fred, Hermione felt like a spare part. On one hand she was nice and close to Fred but on the other she was equally close to Elliot, a man who made wrestlers look petite. It wasn't that he was fat in any way, it was that he was built like a shed. A very large shed. Wearing a tuxedo. The kind of shed that takes up the entire garden, and has the ability to loom above everything.
'So Hermione, what is it you do?' Elliot squeaked at her from a great height.
It also just happened to be sods law that Elliot was the campest man Hermione had ever met. His voice was so incredibly feminine that it even put her to shame, yet at the same time it appeared that he was being set up with her. Katie kept smiling over at them from the other side of the table in an encouraging way that was beginning to disturb Hermione. She did not want to be lumbered with Elliot, as nice as he seemed. It was just that she didn't go in for the…built type.
'Hermione owns a book shop,' George entered into the conversation. 'Lovely little place, you'd like it there. Lots of…well…books really!'
Katie had laughed as wives often do at their husbands, whilst giving him a pat that seemed to dismiss his comment. It was a pat that said "Forgive my husband, he doesn't get out much". From where Hermione sat it was definitely Katie who wore the trousers in this relationship. Which was saying a lot seeing as she was practically sitting knee to knee with the people opposite her.
Being newly wed, Katie and George didn't go in for furniture. It had cost them enough to acquire their own tiny little house, and now it was taking a fair bit to keep them financially afloat. With Katie out of work and George ploughing most of his profit back into the business, it seemed that luxuries such as furniture were unnecessary. After all, they had each other and that was enough.
The romantic part of Hermione couldn't help but smile, whilst the more cynical and realistic side was resentful at the lack of a decently sized table. If you're going to have guests over, she inwardly seethed, don't invite more than two other people for dinner! Not only was she uncomfortable physically, but the evident amount of matchmaking going on was making her unbelievably awkward. She couldn't talk to either Fred or Elliot without getting strange looks from the married couple. At least the food wasn't too bad…
''Mione?' Fred whispered in her ear, dragging her away from her vexations. 'Is it just me or is this the most frightfully dull time you've ever spent with twins, a psychopathic wife and a human wall?'
Covering her mouth with a hand, Hermione attempted to hide a smile.
'What'd you say that we grab the pudding and make an escape out the kitchen window?' he continued softly. 'By the time they notice we'll be over the fence and half way back to yours.'
There was something ever so tempting about this offer. Maybe it was because she was trying to eat noodles with a spoon. Maybe it was because her thigh had gone to sleep from the pressure of Elliot's gargantuan mass pressing against her in the small space. Maybe it was because if she had to make any more small talk her head would implode. Or maybe, and she had a sneaking suspicion that this was the real reason, it was because Fred was asking her to escape with him.
Leaning in close to Fred she could smell his cologne. It was earthy and filled her nostrils. All she wanted to do was stay close to that warm, relaxing scent and not have to listen to Elliot discussing how he really liked stars. 'Back garden. Three minutes,' she said under her breath.
'Excuse me Katie?' Hermione politely caught the attention of her hostess. 'Would you mind pointing me in the direction of your bathroom?'
Having been shown the way to the downstairs toilet, Hermione shut the door and locked it. Slumping against the wall she began to wonder why on earth she was about to run away from a party she'd been invited to. Ah yes. The boredom. Quickly she pulled her wand from her waistband and disapparated into the Weasley's back garden.
Outside the wind nipped at her skin like pin pricks, making her huddle in to her clothing. All around her were bits of turf that had yet to be assembled into an actual garden. Beings crept beneath the surface, giving the small patch of ground an eerie feel. Yet it was the cold that bothered her the most. The robe had had to be sacrificed for the greater good, so all she had between her and the elements was her dress. It was weather like this that reminded her she should have dressed for all occasions, rather than to impress. Slowly goose pimples were gathering on her arms. The soft rustle of the wind moving the leaves made her feel on edge. Night time was never a happy place for Hermione.
'Sorry it took me so long,' Fred's voice broke the silence of the moonlight. 'We'd better scram before they start wondering where we are. Heaven forbid Katie should find us together! She might set Elliot on me and woe, what would become of me?'
That was always something that Hermione found most attractive about Fred. He had this ability to make her smile even when the situation wasn't that funny. Ordinarily she'd be fretting about upsetting her hosts, who would find her leaving rude and insensitive. With Fred around though she could see the funny side. Neither of them had particularly wanted to be there and it united them in a common cause. Escape.
'I never thought I'd be asking you this,' Fred said with a half smile. His collar was turned up at one end, making him look handsomely squiffy, and Hermione itched to correct it. 'Your place or mine?'
'I'd say mine is probably safer,' she said without even thinking. 'I don't think your brother would dare look there.'
Fred smiled at her broadly. 'Your place it is!'
Something fluttered in the depths of her stomach. She was about to have Fred Weasley in her flat. Maybe saying that hadn't been such a bright idea. Was her house even clean enough for company? The place where she lived was about to contaminated with his scent, his fingerprints, his hair, his…
'Come on then!' He said impatiently, holding out a hand to her. 'I'm freezing my bollocks off here!'
Yep, she thought. They'd also be there.
xXx
'Where have you been?'
Draco wasn't at home with being concerned. It was normally something he left to other people, but on occasion he found it difficult to avoid. Such occasions were as follows; being unable to find a favourite piece of clothing, finding out that some evidence had been tampered with, discovering that Ginny is not yet home at midnight. Being uncertain of her whereabouts sent him into a world of worry. His line of job created a kind of fatalism towards the worst possible out come. Any change in habit meant something was wrong. This was something he certainly didn't want.
'Sorry Dad,' Ginny slurred sarcastically. 'I wasn't aware there was a curfew on my own home!'
'You're drunk,' Draco stated, looking her up and down a couple of times. 'Not only is your speech impended but you appear to have toilet paper hanging out from your trousers. Also there is sick in your hair.'
'Well done Inspector,' Ginny said defiantly, as she tugged the toilet paper out of her waistband and tried to make it look like she'd known it was there all along. 'I'm allowed to get sloshed if I like. It's my…my…what's that word?'
'Civil liberty?'
'That's the one! If I want to get pissed then I can! People have died so I have the right to get rat-arsed and vomit in my own hair. Blood has been spilt so I can…' Ginny continued to protest as she waved her arms around in the air.
'I get the picture. I'm sure millions of people haven't sacrificed their lives for you to get drunk, vomit in your hair and make a fool of yourself,' he drawled. 'Go to bed and sleep it off.'
Three hours Draco had been waiting in the kitchen for Ginny to come home. Three hours of worrying whether he should go out and look for her, but knowing she wouldn't appreciate it if he did. It hadn't mattered that all he wanted to know before he slept was that she was okay. He had put her feelings first in the knowledge that she didn't want her boss checking up on her out of hours. Yet every five minutes that'd passed he'd silently promised that if she wasn't back in that five minutes he would go find her.
'Why are you always so mean to me?' she whined scraping her hair back with a hand. 'All you ever do is tell me what to do and I'm tired of it! I'm not your slave!'
'I'm your boss and it's my job to tell you what to do. Now I'm in no mood to rationalise with a drunkard on anything. Go to bed.'
His eyes were killing from the strain of staying awake, and his head throbbed from sleep deprivation. All he wanted now was to go to bed, safe in the knowledge that everything was alright in the world. Well…maybe not the entire world. His own would suffice and at that point in time it meant making sure Ginny didn't leave the house again until morning.
'What are you doing up at this time anyway?! You can't lecture me at coming home at…'
'Two in the morning.'
'Yeah, when you're still in the kitchen looking at…at…at…porn!'
A sigh escaped his lips. Why did women have to be so difficult? Couldn't she see that he had been waiting for her to come home? Why on earth was he, Draco Malfoy, even bothering with such an ungrateful wench? She'd made it clear earlier, when he'd let his attraction get the better of him, that she wasn't interested and yet all he wanted to do was make her life easier. Somewhere along the way he'd forgotten about himself.
'Weasley, I'm reading the Wizarding Financial Times.'
'Yeah right!' Ginny walked across the kitchen waving an unsteady finger at him. 'It's pink! Answer that one, aye.'
Closing his eyes for a second, Draco took a deep breath. He'd been trying to remain calm. Trying to be her friend rather than the man who desperately wanted to kiss her every second of every day. He didn't want to be passionate and heated. All he wanted was for her to leave him alone before he really got angry with her.
'Firstly, well done on recognising a colour,' he clapped his hands tauntingly. 'Secondly, I can't answer a question you haven't asked.'
Ginny looked confused for a second before eyeing him suspiciously. 'There was something I was supposed to tell you…Let me think…'
'Don't. You'll hurt yourself.'
'I went somewhere…and…'
Draco eased himself off the kitchen chair and walked over to where she was stood. Grabbing her by the wrist he dragged her towards the door. He'd expected her to put up a fight, but instead she followed him looking slightly confused and trying not to fall over her own feet. Having made it to the door he managed to get her into the bathroom. Turning on the light, he turned to see the damage.
'Look at me,' he said coldly, grabbing her chin with his free hand and making her meet his eyes. 'We're going to start at the beginning and work out whether it's safe for you to sleep yet. Alright?'
Ginny nodded, a frown still creasing her forehead.
'Firstly where have you been?' Draco asked softly. He released her chin and started running water into the bath. 'Bar, pub, nightclub, friend?'
'Friend…' she whispered.
'Muggle or Wizard alcohol?' he kept his voice even, too tired to even attempt being indifferent.
'Muggle…'
Keeping hold of her wrist, Draco leant down and put the plug in place. He checked the temperature of the water and stood again to face Ginny. 'Right well I'm guessing you've had quite a bit. How many times have you been sick?'
Looking at her hand Ginny looked thoughtful. 'You want to sleep with me.'
Draco was silent for a moment. 'How many times have you been sick?'
'Once.'
'Good,' he said, trying to give her a reassuring smile. 'Did you mix your drinks?'
'I…There was something I had to tell you…' she looked up at him with her large brown eyes. He could feel parts of him thawing with that one look. All the anger at having been forced to feel so concerned seemed to evaporate for the time being. He resolved to be nice for a change; after all she wouldn't remember it in the morning.
He let go of her wrist and reached up to touch her hair. It wasn't the first time she'd been ill today and it was most likely the situation at Azkaban had made her need to take an escape route. Often he'd find himself with a bottle of whiskey trying desperately to forget what refused to leave him. Not that it ever helped in the long term.
Ginny's hair had always been something that had fascinated him. It was a colour he associated with hatred - he'd been able to spot a Weasley a mile off - and blood, two things he feared the most. Yet, when it such close proximity with her, all this was forgotten. It was now the colour of passion - not singular but varying in places and bold to the touch. He had imagined it to be feather soft and silky, now though it was greasy and stuck together.
'I'm going to wash this out of your hair before you go to sleep,' he murmured softly. 'Okay?'
'I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'I tried not to be an idiot…'
Tears were gathering in her eyes and she seemed to be unable to work out what was happening completely. Moving his hand across, he brushed the tear from her eye. 'It's alright. We all get drunk and puke up occasionally. You've had a bad day…I'm the one who should be sorry.'
'No,' she reached for his hand and held it in her own, rubbing her fingers over his knuckles gently. 'No.'
Reaching down Draco turned off the taps. He wasn't used to this…bonding. It was all a bit too surreal for him to comprehend. Not only was he apologising for something he felt he hadn't done, but Ginny seemed to be soothing him. Wasn't she the one who had got herself plastered and needed him to make sure she was alright? When had the roles turned?
As he turned to face her again, he realised that washing her hair was not going to be so easy. Maybe he should have just dunked her head in the sink and had done with it. He scratched his head and pursed his lips. The best idea would be to strip her down to her underwear and dunk her in. However that would mean seeing Ginny mostly naked. Drunk or not this was all too welcoming a sight. It would be like abusing the trust between them. Well this was going to be tricky.
Slowly he placed both of his hands at the button to her robe and undid it. His fingers were steady and determined not to make his actions appear like they had another motive, as he pushed the robes off her shoulders. All the while she watched him, her eyes dark and knowing. Next he had to undo her shirt. Starting at the top, he slowly unbuttoned one at a time until he reached the bottom. Taking a deep breath he moved his hands up her body and gently pushed it off her shoulders and down her arms, until it dropped to the floor.
Her skin was pale in the flickering light of the bathroom, seeming to glow with a hidden warmth. Freckles were scattered across her abdomen, chest and arms like a fine layer of sand. The tiny curve of her waist and the swell of her breasts made her seem all the more feminine to Draco. All that covered her was a simple black bra. She was enchanting and yet he could not bring himself to look at her. A goddess too pure to gaze upon by a mere mortal. Turning his head away, he looked out the window to the dirty night. Even though he wasn't looking at her, he was aware she was watching him and moving closer. So close he was finding it hard to breath. Then suddenly he felt her arms around his waist, the weight of her body pressing against him and the tickle of her hair at his neck, where her head was now cradled.
'Ginny,' he breathed gently. 'I can't…'
She was moving away now, looking up at him with those large eyes, but it wasn't far enough make him feel safe. Her hands cautiously rose and she mimicked him, unbuttoning his shirt one at a time. He could feel her skin through the widening gap as she laboured over undressing him. It was chilled and yet made him warm all over. All his senses seemed to jump as she ran her hands up his abdomen and aggressively removed the offending shirt. With this barrier now gone he could see her eyeing his flesh and felt conscious of how wrong this really was.
'Take off your trousers and climb into the bath,' he instructed her in a hoarse voice, grabbing her hands to ensure he was the one in control. 'The sooner we get this out of your hair, the sooner you can sleep.'
'I don't want to sleep,' she stated slowly.
'Well I do,' Draco said as firmly as he could muster. 'You're always telling me how much I need my beauty sleep.'
'Why are you doing this?' she asked moving forward. 'I know this is what you want.'
'Is this what you want?' he asked, anger beginning to rise at his own confusion. He shook her roughly. 'To have a quick shag with me in the bathroom, whilst you're drunk? For me to take advantage of you? Because if that's what you want…'
'Ouch,' she pulled away from him, rubbing her arms.
'I'm…' he closed his eyes and let out a breath.
Draco could feel himself getting more and more wound up as Ginny continued to stand in his presence. It had been a bad idea to allow himself to be… He didn't know who he was being. Perhaps it was the man he wanted to be when she was around - the kind of man she went for. As it was he was Draco Malfoy and because of that he could never allow himself to be someone else. It wasn't in his nature to be caring. It wasn't in his nature to even care. There was no point in changing a habit of a life time.
'You're drunk. I like my women to remember when they're having the best,' he arrogantly tossed back. 'So as far as this is concerned, no. I don't want you anymore.'
The hurt on her face made Draco want to take it back. All he wanted to do was to stop for one second and comfort her. Just to hold her would be enough. No, he thought, it would never be enough. He'd not only just ruined their friendship, but also any chance of him having what he wanted. Ginny was off limits. She was a taboo.
It was then that he noticed something. Her body was beginning to sway slightly, and she was clutching her stomach with both hands. Stepping forward to stop her from falling, he steadied her and sat her down on the edge of the bath. 'Are you alright?'
'I have something to tell you…' Ginny said with a pained expression on her face. 'I was at Blaise's. That's where I was. And I told him what happened. We got pissed. I was sick on his desk…'
'This can wait until later,' Draco said tightly. He should have known Blaise was involved in getting her into this state. 'I think we'll have to leave your hair for now.'
He looked around and found an elastic band on the side of the bath. Grabbing it, he started to sweep her hair up onto the top of her head. When he'd managed to fist it all into one hand he tied it. Then he slipped one arm around her back and the other under her knees and lifted her.
'You will have to say sorry in the morning,' she said softly. 'For rejecting me, making me feel like dirt and being overly nice. Oh and for being an arrogant pig who thinks he can have any woman he wants.'
'And will you forgive me?'
'Depends.'
'On?'
'Whether or not I remember any of what happened.'
xXx
