The Bodyguard
(Rated PG-13 for coarse language, sexual references and mature themes)
Disclaimer: While I have no proper one, I'll give it a shot ... The characters Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy and all other people, things, etc affiliated with the world of Harry Potter do not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling. I am making no profits from this story. Shows like Hack and other entertainment programs, films, etc do not belong to me either, but to their creators, etc. Do not sue me. I own nothing (except for Tammy Harding - she's mine).
Summary: She was the successful, intelligent and hard-working Ministry official. He was the partying, rich and gorgeous playboy. But when Hermione Granger is unwittingly hired a bodyguard in the form of Draco Malfoy, the people who believe that opposites attract even say that they themselves are wrong ...
Right?
A/N: MY HUGEST APOLOGIES FOR THE EXTREME DELAY BETWEEN CHAPTERS! Read the Author's Note at the end for more insight.
Chapter 9 – Dinner and Dessert
Too conservative.
Too red.
Too yellow.
Too bleugh.
Too slutty.
Hermione Granger paced around her bedroom. This was crazy! She was picking out an outfit for the date she had that very night with Tom, the nice-guy-clerk-from-Flourish-and-Blotts-who-was-absolutely-wonderful. It was already 7.30pm and Hermione was racing around like a headless Hippogriff. She held up random articles of clothing and wondered if she should wear the obviously-outrageously-priced necklace. Eventually she collapsed onto her bed which was strewn with practically her entire wardrobe.
"Argh!" she said, covering her face with her hands. "Why don't I have an outfit for a date?"
'Because you've never had a date before,' the mean voice popped up. 'And whenever you went shopping you probably figured that you'd never have one ever.'
'Don't be daft; she's had plenty of dates!' the nice voice defended. 'What about the Yule Ball, and those Hogsmeade outings?'
'They're not counted! That was during school with adult supervision. Do tell me if there has been any other date after that.' the mean voice retaliated.
Silence from the nice voice.
'Ha!' the mean voice said triumphantly.
'Sorry, darling,' the nice voice said.
"Could you PLEASE shut up?" Hermione pleaded. The two voices fell silent (after the mean one let out a 'pff' noise) and Hermione stood up to servery what was on her bed.
Jeans? Too casual.
Gold dress? Too formal.
Sundress? Too summery.
Minidress? Too many screams of 'frostbite'.
Flowy pink skirt? Too ...
Hmm.
Hermione picked up the pink creation and held it against her waist. That was nice - casual, yet formal at the same time. She pulled it on and scavenged around through her tops. There were mostly work outfits in there – blouses, sensible polyester work skirts, beige, ironed pants and flat leather points. Hardly anything in there classified as wearable outside the office.
Finally, after much deliberation, Hermione pulled on her pair of ridiculously high heeled black heels and a blue wrap around top. She clipped up her hair and then entered her bathroom.
The clock on the sink said that it was already 7:50pm. She was going to be late! Hermione grabbed her 'Pure Paradise: for the gorgeous woman inside to indulge in' lipstick from Tammy and ran out of her room. She found Draco once again on the couch and watching a cartoon show featuring people with yellow skin. Odd.
"Where are you going?" he asked, fixing his eyes onto her after tearing them away from a woman with ludicrously large blue hair.
"Out," Hermione replied vacuously. This was her first proper date and there was no way that she would let Draco in on it.
"Where to?" he asked.
"Out," she repeated. Hermione searched through her handbag for something non-existent in a bid to prove that she wasn't going to be idle while Draco played 20 Questions with her.
"Well that's awfully descriptive," Draco drawled, his head turning back to watch a yellow skin-toned baby sucking on a pacifier. "If I burn down the house, then I guess that I could always go to 'out' myself and tell you."
"Oh, don't worry, I'll trust that you will burn the house down," Hermione said, pretending to be relieved that she had found her 'Pure Paradise' lipstick. "What with you and your brain capacity,"
"Well my brain capacity is fine where it is," Draco said, still watching the television. "And it's still bigger than yours."
"I'm having a vague recollection of an argument that we had similar to this one," Hermione said flatly. She looked at the clock that was above the TV. "Argh, I'm going to be late …" she said more to herself than anybody else.
"Glad to see you go," Draco said. Hermione snorted.
"And I thought that Malfoys didn't have emotions." She remarked.
"And I thought that you were a mudblood," Draco shot back, "oh wait, you still are one."
Hermione's temper flared and for a slip second she had a longing to shove the 'Pure Paradise' lipstick up Draco's nicely shaped nose. It seemed cruel that someone so evil was so good looking.
'Oh, God, I did not just think that,' Hermione panicked inwardly.
'You just did!' the two voices chorused in an annoying sing-song tone.
Hermione started to beat herself up internally. Draco had just called her a mudblood right to her face when he was watching her TV on her couch in her house and yet Hermione hadn't even gotten her verbal revenge so far and was thinking that he was good looking!
"You may say that, Malfoy, but you live in my house and I'm your boss." She said.
"Not after hours," Draco replied. The yellow skin-toned cartoon show was ending and the yellow fonted credits were rolling on a black background. "After hours, I'm just a guest in your house."
"Trust me, Malfoy; you are definitely not a guest." Hermione said. "You're a parasite that clung onto me and refused to let go."
"And yet you still haven't worn me out," Draco turned to give Hermione a deceivingly charming smile. It was a betrayal of personality.
"Yes, well it's amazing what things can get worn out. My couch –" Hermione pointed to the creamy coloured furniture Draco was currently reclining on, "- the remote; welcomes …"
"Oh I'm sure that you'll survive," Draco gave her another smile. "After all, you did survive hanging around Pothead the entire time at Hogwarts, and you're still surviving now when you're 'working' with him,"
"You won't survive if you keep on talking," Hermione snapped. She really didn't have time for this.
"Ooh, tough response. I can hardly think of anything to retaliate with," Draco said. He picked up the remote and flicked to another channel and started watching some ads.
"Yeah well have fun sitting in my house trying to think of retaliation. I'm going out." Hermione scowled at Draco then looked at the clock. "And now I'm late – thanks a lot, you jerk."
"Happy to be of service," Draco grinned as another program came on the television.
Hermione growled to herself in anger of the fact that she had let Draco distract her for long enough that she was late for her date. She hated him; she really did hate him.
'Sure,' the evil voice said, 'of course you hate him. He's just gorgeous and smart and witty and sharp. I can see how it would be so hard to like him.'
'He is not any of those things.' The good voice defended. 'He's a stuck-up, pureblood nancy who lives off his diabolical father's dirty money in order to bed as many women as the world contains.'
'Would one of those women be Hermione?' the evil voice asked.
'Now, really, that was hardly appropriate! You've been keeping yourself in Malfoy's head for too long,' the good voice objected, horrified at such an up-front attitude.
'So you're not denying that he does?' the evil voice pressed onwards.
'I definitely know that Hermione dear isn't going to; but as for the works of Draco Malfoy, I'm not sure. But I know you are, from all the probing and poking that you've made so far.' The good voice said.
'Oh, enough, you two; I think we've already established the fact that Malfoy is a giant git with nothing to do with his spare time than be a crappy bodyguard, and that I'm the victim in all of this,' Hermione thought.
'Yes, but you're not necessarily the innocent victim, are you?' the evil voice said slyly. 'After all, you do pack a mean verbal punch.'
'I am the innocent victim,' Hermione persisted. 'No quiet – both of you – I'm going to Apparate.'
And with a crack, Hermione disappeared from her house in London to the Leaky Cauldron.
The Leaky Cauldron held its usual smoky background with the wide range of odd magical creatures in darkly lit corners, eating their unusual array of food. Tom the bartender was behind the counter, polishing some glasses and smiling at random customers as he served them Firewhisky.
Hermione looked at the clock above Tom's head and saw that she was ten minutes late.
'Oh, crap,' she thought as she scanned the room for any signs of her date.
'Don't worry; he's not going to be here yet. Ten minutes is hardly something you should be fretting over,' the nice voice reassured.
'Are you kidding?' the other voice scoffed. 'I'll be surprised if he hasn't found another woman yet.'
'Shut up, shut up,' Hermione repeated in her head to make the voices stop. Did this mean that she was crazy?
She saw a wave of a hand and looked at it. It was Tom (her date, not the bartender), and he had obviously managed to nab some good seats. Hermione smiled, relieved, and took a seat next to him.
"Hi, sorry I'm late," she said as she sat down.
"Oh no, it's fine." Tom smiled. "I just got off work, so I was hoping I wouldn't be late, either."
"How was work?" Hermione asked. Suddenly, she felt like she was married to him and she was asking the typical housewife question.
"Great, I sold a brilliant copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide to Arithmacy today, but I don't think you'd want to talk about my selling books …"
"Are you kidding? I love that book! Isn't it amazing how Phyllis manages to incorporate all the difficult languages and terms of Arithmacy into such an entertaining way?" Now this was getting less nagging-marriage like.
"I know! It's fantastic, how he uses so many expressions to his advantage, and twists them into little humorous passages …"
Hermione smiled and nodded before invoking more conversation. Her thoughts of Draco were pushed out of her mind and all she could think about was the decent and thought provoking conversation about Arithmacy she couldn't find with any other guy.
.·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·.
':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:'
Draco scoffed to himself. Nobody goes 'out' and doesn't say where, unless it involved somebody of the opposite sex.
Granger had a date.
Granger.
It was almost too unbelievable to comprehend.
Draco started at the wall above the television. What was more unbelievable – the fact that she got a date in the first place, or that he didn't have one before she did? Draco didn't know.
There was a smudge on the wall.
Stuff Granger and her stupid date. Who cared who Granger was scoring free dinner off?
He certainly didn't.
It wasn't as if he even liked her, or even began to like her. She was Granger, of all people. There wasn't anything remotely special to her. She didn't have a gorgeous body, she didn't have huge eyelashes, she didn't have an interesting personality … there was nothing attractive to her. All she had were books and her best friends.
Draco stared at the smudge absent-mindedly.
Why would he like Granger? She was boring, straight laced, stuck up and always acting so know-it-all. She was his complete opposite.
Draco's stomach grumbled and he went off in search of food.
That's right; there were no feelings of affection of any kind towards her.
Draco pulled out a cereal box from the pantry. He wondered who she was out with …
But it wasn't as if he cared or anything … He just wanted to know what poor idiot actually asked her out.
Was he poor, rich, dumb, smart, boring, funny, ugly, good-looking? For some reason he thought ofher when he listed off the last possible characteristic.
'What am I doing? I don't like Granger!' he thought to himself as he watched his hand stop reaching into the cereal box. 'She's probably the most annoying, uppity little … thing that I've ever come across.'
He shook his head and started eating more cereal.
But no matter what he did, ate or thought for the rest of the day, Draco couldn't help but feel that his thoughts were more trying to convince him instead of justify him. And for the tiniest amount of time in the world, Draco sulked over the fact that Hermione found someone …
And it wasn't him.
.·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·.
':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:'
When Hermione got home that night, she was floating. She had obviously forgotten how good it felt to go on a date.
Hermione sighed as she slid the key into the lock her front door. Tom was probably one of the smartest, funniest, nicest, most wonderful people she had ever known. And the fact that he looked really, really, really, really good helped along too.
She let go of the key.
Was this what it felt like to be in love?
Nah.
Hermione opened the door and stepped inside her apartment before flicking on the light. It was unusually dark before. There didn't seem to be any moonlight streaming in through the window. It was almost eerie.
She nearly screamed.
Everything was TIDY.
'DEAR GOD!' she yelled internally. Had Draco been kidnapped by house elves before they cleaned the house?
Hermione took time to survey the scene.
There weren't any dirty dishes on the table, which was usually covered by ants at this time of night when Draco left them out.
The TV was turned off, and the remote control was placed on the coffee table.
Random The Daily Prophet pages were no longer sighted scattered around the house.
The cushions were nicely fluffed and arranged neatly on the couch, looking as new as the day Hermione spied them at a local muggle furniture store.
Hermione stopped.
If the cushions were nicely fluffed on the empty couch … the where was Draco?
Hermione pulled out her wand. Suddenly the idea of kidnapper house elves didn't seem so ridiculous.
There was a strange silence as Hermione walked through her house. She could hear her own heart beating rapidly as she slowly shuffled to the kitchen.
"Lumos maximus," she said, ready to fire any other spells.
The kitchen lit up and Hermione looked around.
Everything was tidy as well. Gone were the coffee cups left on the table. Gone were the splatters of water through untidy washing. The tea towels were hung up properly and the fridge was humming. All the other appliances were neatly lined up; nothing was tilted or broken. The little paintings on the walls were also weren't tilted.
OK, so there was nothing in the kitchen. So where was Draco?
Hermione scoffed internally at her theory that Draco was hiding in the kitchen. She guessed she naturally assumed that he would be stuck in the kitchen if he wasn't sleeping.
She headed for the bedroom. Maybe he was taking a shower.
'Really would want to walk in on him then, eh?' the second voice piped up. She could almost see it winking suggestively.
'Shut up,' she said, rolling her eyes.
Pointing her wand forwards, she walked towards her room.
The same eeriness before hit her again and she let her imagination run free. She saw shadows that she hadn't before, when she wasn't scared of her own surroundings. She imagined all the wild circumstances that could engulf her as she walked closer to the room.
She cleared her throat slightly in a bid to stop the thoughts. The bedroom lit up from the light coming out of her wand.
In her bed; sleeping, was Draco.
'Asshole,' she thought, along with a wider array of swear words.
How dare he scare her like that in her own house! Honestly, she could literally hear the tense, foreboding music as she approached her room. She could have sworn that she would have heart failure if there was a slight noise; all this because stupid, bloody Draco wanted to sleep in her bed for once.
Eurgh. That sounded odd.
Wait a minute … it was odd.
What the hell was Draco doing sleeping in her bed?
She saw a note on the bed and grabbed it.
Granger –
Hope you screwed up whatever you did when you were at 'out'.
Taken the bed. (Hermione snorted when she read this … Draco always had a talent for pointing out the obvious)
The bodyguard needs to spring up comfortably to protect its cargo.
Try the couch. You'll find it unsurprisingly uncomfortable.
Hermione scowled at the note and set it back on the table. She folded her arms and glared at Draco as she watched him sleep.
He was such a jerk.
And the note about her couch – she found it ironical that he complained about it, even though he spent half the day on it, watching muggle television.
She knew that he liked television, and she knew that he would have rather kissed Harry than to admit it. But Hermione, being the nice, kind person she was, never actually used that to her advantage. But she knew that she could always use it when she was losing an argument.
Making a face, she went back to the living room and looked at the couch. It wasn't often that she got kicked out of her own bedroom by her worst enemy.
Sighing, she took off her black heels and moved some of the cushions out of the way. Hermione couldn't believe that she had nearly stunned a potential kidnapper when she was wearing ridiculously high black heels.
She crashed onto the couch, hoping her skirt wouldn't crumple. She couldn't remember how much, but she had paid a lot of money for it. Hermione blinked.
Did sleeping on the couch make you superficial?
She turned off the lamp like light coming from her wand and then closed her eyes.
.·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·.
':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:'
The next day, Hermione woke up to the noise of tapping. Opening her eyes, she blearily looked out of the window behind her. A snowy owl was tapping the glass. Hedwig!
Hedwig.
Harry.
What day was it today?
Hermione shot straight up from the couch so quickly that for a moment her vision started looking like one of those television channels with no reception – little white and grey dots taking up the spaces of the usual coloured dots. (A/N: Do you know what I mean? Like you get up too suddenly after sleeping and your vision goes weird …)
She shook her head and the dots eventually merged back to their normal colour.
What day was it today?
Hermione looked at the calendar above the mantle place. Today was …
Thursday.
What time was it?
It was 11am.
'Oh crap!' Hermione lifted her wand put a charm on her hair to stop it frizzing.
She was supposed to have a brunch date with Harry today at 10.30am so that she could give him his late Christmas present. They had organized to meet up at the Leaky Cauldron and then move on from there.
And she had slept in!
Hermione Granger, the queen of the organized and orderly, was late for something she planned days in advance. This never happened to her. Was she going crazy?
Did going on dates mean that she had to sacrifice her organized state of mind for Tom? If that was true, did that in turn mean that she had to pick between love and work? Hermione already knew the answer to that – she had previously faced that decision, and last time she had picked work. Did that mean that she had to pick work again, or did this time did she have to pick love?
'Who said it was love?' Hermione thought in a desperate attempt to rationalize her argument. 'It's more … like than love.' Oh, honestly, even she thought that that sounded rather stupid.
Realising that she had left Hedwig to keep tapping at the glass, Hermione quickly opened the window after snapping out her thoughts. The owl flew in and landed on the couch before sticking out her leg.
"Hey, Hedwig," she said, stroking the bird's smooth coat. Hedwig hooted and shook her outstretched leg a little.
Hermione took the letter and opened.
Hermione --
Since you missed brunch, how about lunch?
-- Harry
Despite her anguish over the fact that she had kept Harry waiting for so long, Hermione smiled. He always managed to make things feel better, and that her mistakes didn't really matter. She turned to Hedwig.
"Does he want an immediate answer?" she asked her. Hedwig hooted once – Hermione knew the code: one hoot meant no, two hoots meant yes. "OK then. Hold on, I think I have some owl treats somewhere …"
Hermione started digging around the kitchen for the treats. But as Hedwig was Harry's bird, and Harry was, let's face it, kind of rich, Hedwig had already flown off. Harry had taught her not to accept treats; that she didn't need any more food if he provided all that she needed and wanted.
When she came out of the kitchen, Hermione discovered that Hedwig had already flown out the open window and that Draco was looking at her with an incredulous look.
"Are you really that hungry?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Just a little peckish," Hermione rolled her eyes at her lame attempt at a joke and then went to her room to grab her present for Harry.
Her room was bright; sunlight was bucketing itself in from the open window. Her bed was messy and unmade; the sheets crinkled as if Draco had done some serious kicking in an effort to piss her off.
Success.
As soon as she had stepped into her room, she noticed that it seemed hotter than usual. Draco had just taken a shower, and had let the steam waft into her room. The bathroom was even more filled with steam. The peach tiled floor was covered in water. A towel was draped over the bathtub as if it were just thrown there.
But knowing Draco, it probably had just been thrown there.
Grunting to herself (she promised that she'd make Draco clean up when she was gone), Hermione opened the bottom drawer if her nightstand and then pulled out a small box (red) that was wrapped in ribbon with a bow on top (gold). She put it in her handbag.
Should she change?
'There's no time, you don't want to keep Harry waiting any longer,' the first voice said.
'Who cares? He's been waiting for half an hour, he can wait another five minutes,' the second voice said.
"Red and gold?" Draco asked from the doorframe of the bedroom. "Seriously, did you ever stop being a part of the Pothead club?"
"First of all, the name is Gryffindor, not the Pothead club. Second of all, I'd rather be in Gryffindor than end up homicidal and inane like a Slytherin." Hermione retaliated.
A streak passed through Draco's eyes, like a storm was about to erupt.
"And you're saying that Gryffindor is perfect, are you? That nobody ends up homicidal and inane from Gryffindor?" Draco asked, rounding on her.
"I-"
"Oh dear, I've managed to find a dumb spot in Hermione Granger, the girl who never forgets her best friends. The girl who's best friend ended up being homicidal and is still inane!"
"Harry didn't have a choice -"
"Of course he did. He just took the wrong one."
"The wrong one? Harry did it to save the world, you jerkass!
"In your opinion,"
Hermione never felt so angry in her entire life. All at once she felt like punching, slapping, jabbing … doing anything to Draco that would make him experience all the pain that Harry had gone through during and after the death of Voldemort. She wanted him to realize that Harry had no other choice than to kill him, and that he didn't come off normal either. Harry had been plagued by nightmares ever since, not to mention all other forms of terrors.
SLAP!
"What is wrong with you?" she yelled at him. "Don't you have a soul?"
"I used to," he said. He had hardly moved when she slapped him.
What had gotten into him? Draco never usually went crazy when they argued over their Hogwarts houses; but this time things just seemed more … odd.
"Clean this up," Hermione said wearily. "I'm going out."
With that, she Apparated with a crack, and left Draco staring at the empty bedroom.
.·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·.
':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:'
"Hey, sorry I'm late," Hermione said when she saw Harry waiting expectantly at the bar.
"No it's alright," Harry smiled. "Lunch time now?"
"Yeah, let's go,"
As they stepped through the magical porthole, Hermione couldn't help thinking about what Draco had said. She knew that Harry had done the right thing and she knew that Draco would say anything that would go against Harry, but she was more strung on the fact that Draco seemed to have realized that he was missing a part of himself.
But after what?
Endless amounts of school time teasing and dirty remarks hardly accounted for having a whole chunk omitted from yourself. Was there something else that she didn't know …?
"Are you alright?" Harry asked. He poked Hermione in the side and she jumped. Harry had always done this during Hogwarts and Hermione always found it thoroughly annoying. He only did it to annoy her, and it worked quite well.
"Nice to see good habits stand," she quipped. Harry gave her a goofy grin.
"Are you alright?" he asked again.
"Oh, I'm fine …" Hermione gave him a vague smile. "I'm just –"
"- Thinking." Harry finished for her. "You're always thinking; don't you want to give your brain some relaxation time sometimes?"
"I'd rather think than be inane." She told him, and immediately her thoughts went back to the argument.
"Come on, Hermione! You know I have less brain power than you. Let's just talk about mindless sports and eat today," Harry begged.
"Isn't that what you do everyday?" Hermione asked him, playfully raising a suspicious eyebrow at him.
"Yes, well it's more special today," Harry gave her a toothy smile.
"Is it because I'm here?" Hermione asked as they continued walking.
"Well, actually, I was thinking more of the fact that I get to eat out … But I guess having you here is kind of like a bonus," Harry said. She hit his shoulder and he laughed. "How about we try this place?"
He pointed towards the Sparks Will Fly restaurant and Hermione paled.
"Oh, Harry, I don't know …"
"It's been a while, don't worry! They would have forgotten about us already."
"Is that a fact or are you just hoping?"
"A little more of the latter," Harry replied. "Come on, Hermione; let's just go again this time."
"Fine, fine …" she grumbled as Harry pulled her in.
Hermione was once again enveloped by the warm and welcoming haze of the restaurant. Everybody was enjoying their nice, early lunches and there was a nice atmosphere to the place. When they entered the woman at the register saw them and immediately ducked underneath the table. Hermione took this as a warning sign and gave Harry a 'Are you still sure?' look. He nodded and they went to a table on the veranda outside that was sheltered underneath a giant shade cloth.
They ordered their meals (Harry – steak, Hermione – chicken, both with salad. Harry had told her that ever since he moved to his own apartment with only Hedwig as company, he had been put off of chicken, or any other bird that could be eaten) and sat around talking until they had been delivered.
"Where did you go last night?" Harry asked her.
"What makes you think that?" Hermione asked.
"Well your top's all crumpled and your skirt's on backwards." Harry muttered to her.
"What?" she asked. "Why didn't you tell me before?"
"I enjoyed the view," he smirked.
"Harry!" Hermione protested. "That was so … Malfoy like of you!" Harry's smirk disappeared and he looked shocked and angry.
"That was a low blow, Hermione," he said.
"Well I'm sorry Harry, but you started it," she replied.
"I always admired the maturity you held." Harry commented.
"Why, thank you." Hermione smiled.
There was a whooshing noise, and their lunch flew over to their table.
"Did somebody order a steak and salad and a chicken and salad?" The napkin that came with the plates asked.
"I've got the steak," Harry said. The plate hovered just over the table in front of Harry before the charm finished, and then just plopped down. The other plate did the same in front of Hermione.
"Enjoy your meal," the napkin said before floating lifelessly down onto the table.
"This is marvellous chicken," Hermione teased, deliberately taking a large bite out of a chunk of meat. Harry replied with hooting noises.
"It's 'marvellous', is it?" Harry asked after a few more hoots. "This isn't an English tea party, Hermione,"
She snorted.
"I always loved the warthog look on you," he smiled.
They finished the rest of their lunch in silence.
"OK, let's see …" Harry picked up the menu again after finishing the last of his salad. Hermione was still eating.
"You're ordering more?" she asked incredulously.
"Yes well from lunch onwards, dessert is necessary." He raised his arm and a waiter came to their table.
"Yes, sir?" the waiter pulled out his wand.
"For dessert, I would like a bowl of vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce," Harry said. Hermione snorted. Harry had always liked the boring ice cream.
The waiter, noticing Hermione's momentary lapse of politeness, turned to her.
"And the lady?" he asked pointedly.
"The lady will have a bowl of strawberries and whipped cream." Harry ordered for Hermione, who didn't think she would survive after lunch from all the food being stuffed in her.
"Very well, sir," the waiter bowed and then flicked his wand. Different sparkles arose from it and then headed for the back, which Hermione presumed was the kitchen. "Your dessert will arrive shortly."
"I don't know how you can manage more food." Hermione remarked when the waiter had left.
"There's always room for dessert." Harry winked.
"And mine too, it seems." Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know I prefer chocolate sauce over whipped cream."
"Well it's just lucky that I ordered chocolate sauce on my ice cream then, isn't it?" Hermione grunted. "Now finish your salad."
"Yes, father," Hermione said obediently as she stuffed a tomato in her mouth.
Their dessert arrived the same way their lunch did and just as Harry was about to spoon some ice cream into his mouth, Hermione told him to stop.
"Is there a bug in it?" he asked, looking at it.
"Like that would stop you," Hermione laughed. "No, it's because I have something for you." She pulled out the box from her handbag.
"What's this?" Harry asked, abandoning his ice cream.
"Merry Belated Christmas." She said.
Harry pulled off the (gold) ribbon and opened the (red) lid. Inside was a cushiony fabric, which held a silver watch. He pulled it out of the box.
"Your old watch never started working after the fourth year." Hermione explained as he pulled it on. "And you're always wondering what the time is, so now you can just look at your wrist."
"Thanks, Hermione." Harry said genuinely. It looked perfect on his wrist.
"You're quite welcome." She smiled. Harry leant over and gave her a huge hug.
"YOU!" a shrill voice yelled from Quality Quidditch Supplies as they were hugging.
'Me?' Hermione thought. She jerked her eyes open. Right there, carrying a bag stamped You shopped at: Quality Quidditch Supplies and stomping towards the veranda she and Harry were sitting on, was Olivia.
"I knew you were just crawling to get to Harry!" Harry opened his eyes too. They stopped hugging and sat back down.
"Olivia, this isn't what you think –" Harry tried.
"I wasn't talking to you!" Olivia snapped. She turned to Hermione. "Look, honey, just because you can't get a man of your own does not mean that you can take my one!"
"Excuse me, but I'm not taking Harry away from you! I just gave him a present and –"
"Strawberries? Chocolate sauce? Whipped cream?" By now Olivia had dropped the bags onto the ground. The entire restaurant seemed to have stopped eating and was watching their private little dramatic performance.
"We were just having lunch and we decided to order dessert!" Harry explained.
"Yeah, well how can I be sure that you're not calling this … this ... tramp, dessert?" Olivia shrieked.
'She may as well have called me a scarlet woman.' Hermione thought.
"Because I am Harry's best friend and I would never even contemplate the thought of doing something with Harry." Hermione explained.
"Why should I believe you?" Olivia asked. She didn't allow time for Hermione to reply, however, and instead verbally attacked Harry.
"I've given you love, I've given you companionship, I've given you happiness. I even went to give you some Quidditch supplies, for goodness' sake! I never like sport shops, you know that! And what do you do? You go out and have an affair with a … floozy!" By this time Olivia had turned red.
'Floozy!' both the voices and Hermione's thoughts were clouded together.
'It's not as if we're in 1920s Chicago here.' Hermione thought.
"You know what, Harry?" Olivia seemed to be building up to a gigantic climax of the argument now. "It's over! You can have your stupid Quidditch supplies."
Harry stared wide-eyed at the retreating back of Olivia.
"Olivia, wait!" Harry got up from the table. He pulled out pouch and slammed some gold onto the table. "Wait, Olivia, come back!" And he sped off, in a vain attempt to repair his now non-existent relationship with Olivia.
Hermione leaned back in her chair and let out a frustrated breath, throwing the napkin softly onto the table. Great; this was perfect. She had destroyed the relationship between snake woman and Harry. But for some reason, she didn't feel very bad. After all, Olivia wasn't the best type of girl to go after. She was snobby, stuck-up and a gold digger.
She picked up the gold that Harry left behind and combined it with her own to pay for the food.
Hermione walked out of the restaurant (which was now going back to normal after that violent Olivia outburst) and headed for the Leaky Cauldron. Maybe she would go drown herself in ice cream when she got home …
"Hermione!" a voice called out from behind. Oh God. She hoped it wasn't another Olivia attack. She turned around.
"Hermione!" Ready for another argument, Hermione was about to open her mouth to defend herself when she saw Tom walking to her.
"Hey!" she said gladly. She needed somebody to cheer her up after that.
"What are you doing here?" Tom asked her.
"Oh, I just had lunch with a friend." Hermione explained.
"Did you go home yesterday?" Tom asked.
"Why?"
"Well it's just that you're wearing the same clothes as yesterday …"
'CRAP!'
"Oh, I got kicked off my bed to the couch by my stupid bodyguard." Tom raised a perfectly sculptured eyebrow in genuine subtle shock.
"You have a bodyguard?" he asked.
"Well my job's a tiny bit dangerous … actually, not really, but my boss hired a bodyguard for me anyway."
"Then I guess your boss is a very smart man." Tom said.
"Why is that?" Hermione asked.
"Well we wouldn't want anything happening to you, know would we?" Tom smiled and Hermione had to look away from his face. She was sure she had found a new shade of deep red – her face was that colour.
"No, I guess not," she said.
"Look, my break is nearly over … but you do think that maybe one day we could go on another date, or something?" Tom asked.
"I'd love to!" Hermione smiled. Tom smiled back.
"I'll come back to Flourish and Blotts later and we can work it out then." Hermione offered.
"OK, then. Well … I've got to get back to work. See you around." Tom gave her a little wave before heading back to Flourish and Blotts.
Hermione smiled after him until he was back in the store before she went off to the Leaky Cauldron.
One relationship would have been destroyed today, but it looked like another was beginning to build.
.·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·.
':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:':·..·:'
A/N: I am so sorry for not updating in ages! I went back to a new year of school this year and everything is so much more packed with work and assignments and social problems and stuff. Even now, in the holidays, I've got 3 assignments to do in 2 weeks. So I am terribly, terribly, terribly sorry for not updating so much!
Review please and tell me your thoughts on the chapter (and even my lateness if your that passionate about it). Remember your reviews are the things that keep me going (plus gratuitous amounts of chocolate, Daniel Radcliffe and Benjamin McKenzie)
Now to the absolutely spiffing, corking, marvellous and amazing reviewers for the last chapter: thank you so very much for your wonderful comments and reviews – as a result for your wonderful acts of kindness, I shall compensate with what I promised you … A whole block of mud truffle chocolate!
So if you are one of the following people, please come and claim your prize: blonde-brain, Fiona McKinnon, xInfernal, Black Aliss, GatorGirl, alien726, BrownEyedQT715, SmilinStar, dizzydragon, Meg, The-Flame-Faerie, Sunflower18, Elizia, macbeaner, El Ci Aech Johnson, finally-defeated, mea, Caboodle, xOxOkIsSmYaSsXoXo, wandless, Kadoatie24, sweet-77-thang, BlACkCRoSs, Destiny, Badbunny, mya, Becka, The Dragon Sorceress, insanemaniac, ViolistObsessionist, Dragonsgirl, Tears-That-Fall, BIGHARRYFAN, kerry (who gets two!), NitenGale, Blue-Pia, Hippie1212, Christi-Lynn and seduction (who gets two!),
For this chapter, if you review, I shall give you … ooh I know! Parisian hot chocolate – which is literally melted chocolate. Yum …
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you will enjoy the next one (when it is put up).
Your devoted fanfiction writer,
-- Look at moiye, ploise! --
P.S. Hurrah, Fonge, the chapter is finished!