CHAPTER SIX
"I know what I'm doing, Hermione!"
Draco's tone was upset for a number of reasons:
1: Hermione interrupted him on his trip to his baths, his temporary sanctuary since his room had been invaded, once again, by his troop: Harry, Blaise, and Hermione. Proof of his interrupted trip was the green robe he wore, tied carelessly around his waist and the fine blonde hair, tugged back out of his face by a thin piece of silk.
2: Hermione was accusing him of being a an imbecile – no, an idiotic cretin. Now, why would she say something like that? Because he, apparently, embarrassed both himself and his mother in front of those snotty royals.
3: Hermione was reminding him of the possible folly he just committed – that his mother might get so upset at this embarrassment that she wouldn't give her blessings.
I think it's safe to say that, at the moment, Draco wasn't very happy with Hermione.
She didn't seem to care, however – oh, quite the contrary! She seemed to act as a mother would when ignoring a child throwing a tantrum: silently embarrassed, but refusing to say anything except what needed to be said.
"All right then, Draco," she said as calmly as she could. It seemed to take a lot of effort. "Since you know what you're doing, then I'll just – "
"Don't be a fool!" there was a touch of desperation to the edge of his tone. Only people who knew Draco really well would be able to notice such a stir, however, so Hermione wasn't moved. Her expression stayed nearly completely blank.
"Understand that I don't have anytime to play around with you, Draco. I could be working on my essays, researching – "
"Your research isn't as important as this!"
"Oh?"
Even Harry could tell that Draco was heading into dangerous waters.
"Yes! This – all of this – affects the future of this entire province!"
"So researching and gathering information for your father doesn't?"
"Not as much as my own marriage, no. Besides, you're a female slave – you have no choice but to listen to me."
Blaise and Harry exchanged glances.
"No, wait! Hermione, don't go out of that door – DAMN IT!"
Okay, so not all mothers could contain themselves. There's always a boiling point, after all.
Draco nearly ran after Hermione, but he stopped himself. Running after a female slave, even if she was his tutor, would've made him lose face, after all.
Blaise and Harry, who were sitting on a couch as far away from Draco and the former presence of Hermione as possible, stayed as silent as possible. Suddenly, as if Blaise only then remembered his duties as a servant, he swiftly got off the couch but moved edgily towards Draco. "Do you need anything?" he probed cautiously.
Draco was standing with one hand gripping his hip, another massaging the bridge of his nose. He was still cursing under his breath. He obviously needed Hermione for whatever the next step of his plan was, though he would never admit that.
"Do you need me to go get her – ?"
"No," he snapped, and continued to say something about not needing her. Harry snorted. He always found states of denial amusing.
"You shouldn't have upset her," Harry said, standing up off of the couch himself. He was wearing one of Draco's older, more comfortable outfits: a plain white shirt, used for sleeping in, and a pair of shorts to help fight off the heat of the day. Being a foreign princess, he had to get himself away from the toxic slave rags he wore before and become more familiar with riches, even if it was only plain and simple clothing. That was Blaise's reasoning, anyway, and he convinced Draco that he was right.
"Oh, shut up," Draco retorted to Harry with a snarl. "She's an absolute bitch anyway, couldn't stand her around – "
Harry rolled his eyes and strolled over, down the three stairs. Blaise was eyeing him as if he didn't think Harry had the right to approach Draco when he was obviously fretting.
"But you shouldn't have," Harry shrugged. "I've only been with her a few weeks, and I've realized that she's useless when she's angry. I'm surprised you didn't realize this yourself. How long has she been with you, and you still haven't figured that out?"
"You're not being very useful yourself," Blaise bit, but Harry only shrugged.
"I'm only saying the truth."
"No one asked you to – "
"Shut up, I said, both of you," Draco glared steel in both of their directions. Blaise silenced himself immediately, but Harry rolled his eyes again. "Blaise, go fix my bath. Make it as cold as possible."
"Anything else?"
"No. Oh, hold on – Harry, do you want anything?"
Harry shrugged. "Some food would be nice."
"Get him something from the kitchen. Some pie and juice or something. Actually, make it enough for two, and three if you plan on joining us. Take your time; I'm going to spend a while."
"Should I send in someone from the harem, or a massager?"
Draco didn't even hesitate in saying, "No."
Blaise nodded and turned swiftly on his heel, through the open doorway and into the baths to prepare them.
"What're we going to do now?" Harry asked, breaking a short silence.
Draco sighed heavily and sat on the edge of his shiny oak desk. "I don't know… I'm thinking."
Harry smirked. But Gods, it was so painfully obvious that Draco needed Hermione! He might've been brilliant at making plans, but Hermione was a genius with psychology. She would be able to tell Draco what mattered to Lady Malfoy, what she would base the interview on, etc. They needed Hermione to tell them what they as "lovers" would need to know and say in order to impress Lady Malfoy.
This between you and me, if Hermione were here and Draco hadn't pissed her off, she would've sat down calmly at his desk and said, "Well, Lady Malfoy's main concern will be how well the two of you know each other."
Indeed. If Draco ever had an ounce of romance in his being, he would've inherited it from his mother. If his mother were an average woman in our world, she would spend hours on end in the local bookstore in the romance aisle, staring at the 10 cent paperbacks with men with large muscles on the cover as if they were gold.
She fit the stereotype of a romantic mother with a son she loved very much and fought for but never received much thanks; but was also married to a husband she probably detested but had no choice but to put up with him. And as every mother such as her would, she thinks that there are three main keys to a successful relationship:
1. The amount of love between the lovers must reach a peak so that they can't live without each other unless they plan on breaking down and being locked up into mental institutions. Their hearts must gallop whenever they catch sight of each other, their souls must be – fused, in a sense.
2. The sex must be so passionate that every night – or almost every night – both people in the relationship are tangled together in their sheets… or whatever fabric may be near the place they made love.
3. You must know your lover like the back of your hand – or something more familiar, for those who don't spend hours on end staring at the back of their hands.
But of course, though Hermione would, Draco wouldn't – couldn't – realize this. Maybe it had something to do with being a man, or his thinking there was only one key to a successful relationship:
1. Lady Malfoy's #2.
Just to note, this is rather ironic, if I do say so myself. For at the very beginning of Draco and Hermione's argument, at the moment Harry decided he would be safer on the couch beside Blaise, Draco yelled at Hermione that he knew his mother better than she did. He understood that she wanted him to choose Harry over her. It would be proof of strong affection. It was the first step to getting her blessings, he thought.
Hermione obviously disagreed. She thought that Lady Malfoy already figured that Draco was deeply in love – he had to be to act like such a fool, after all. She thought Lady Malfoy was literally testing Draco to see if he still found room in his heart for her.
Who was right?
Well, since Hermione was the genius, I would have to say she was.
Draco sat in a stupor until Blaise returned. He let himself wander to the baths – Blaise assured him they were ice cold – as if he was a lost child, deep in contemplation. He closed the drapes behind him, making it clear that he wished to be left alone to think.
The moment the blonde stepped out of the room, Blaise turned with a suspicious glare at Harry, who stood there like a filthy statue covered in bird crap that was blocking his path.
"What?" Harry raised an eyebrow in questioning at Blaise. Frankly, he was surprised at Blaise's glare. They got along well enough on the couch moments ago.
Blaise continued to glare at Harry as if he was bursting to say something rude, nasty, and whip Harry with his tongue… but he didn't. He shrugged after a moment. "It was a pie you wanted, no?" and he left a second later.
Leaving Harry to feel wary – and, well, weary. Physically, yes, but emotionally also. He was getting used to it, but it was at moments like those when he felt terribly homesick.
Knowing Draco, the blonde would take a few hours in the baths. Who knew when Blaise would come back with the food?
Harry glanced around at the room. The balcony, the couch, the bed, the shelves… He should've been taking the time to work, to read the blonde's journal at the very least –
But damn, the bed looked so much more alluring.
Later, he told himself as he drifted towards the bed. He would read the journal later.
When he lied down, he felt like he was floating on air; he fell asleep nearly instantly. Though he wouldn't remember it when he woke up, he had a dream.
The bottoms of his feet were hard soles, used to the crushed rocks and stiff pine needles that assaulted them. He ran through the forest, towards the headquarters, but he couldn't find it. The forest was becoming thicker and thicker. A stream near by was growing, rushing, and suddenly became a roaring floor that swamped him. He tried to swim to the top of the forest, but his lungs were bursting. He saw Ron swim by and past him, as well and Fred, George, Ginny, everyone else from headquarters, and a familiar face, almost forgotten, the face of that pretty girl that lived on the edge of the forest… and suddenly, someone grabbed his arm. He was pulled out of the water.
His eyes snapped open. Lucius Malfoy was leaning over him, his icy blue eyes gazing down at him. But – no. He adjusted his glasses and squinted.
It was only Draco, staring down at him blankly. "You were having a bad dream," he muttered.
Harry impulsively shoved Draco away, who got off the bed, respecting the other man's personal space. Blaise tapped his foot impatiently not too far away. The fancy silver platter of food and drinks were set up on a tray on the edge of the bed.
Draco dismissed Harry's attempted explanation of why he was on the blonde's bed and apology with the wave of his hand and said eagerly, "I've figured it out."
He had, really and truly – about what they needed to know for Lady Malfoy's interview, anyway. At least, that's what he would've liked Harry to think, but it became clear what really happened as Hermione cleared her throat.
"If you don't need me anymore," she said, a touch angrily.
"Stay here, in case I do," Draco said stiffly.
Hermione huffed and sat down on the sofa, making it quite clear that she refused to say anything more that would aid Draco unless directly asked. Harry watched Blaise sit down on the edge of the bed, making the bed sink slightly, as did Draco.
Draco decided that, in order to get to know each other like the backs of their hands, they ought to tell each other about their childhoods and forced Harry to begin. Nervous at first, he uneasily began by saying he was an orphan – his parents… they died in a freak accident. He was raised by a kind woman along with her children, whom he dubbed: "his best friend," "the twins," "the little sister," "the coolest brother," "the animal trainer," and "Percy." Notice how he gave everyone else dubs for their own protection, but he let Percy's name slip by.
No, I'm joking!
He disliked Percy, but not that much. No, he dubbed Percy, "the annoying prick."
Hermione glanced over from time to time to listen to Harry's life story as a commoner; she was trying not to seem too curious, but she was failing horribly.
Of course, he didn't tell them about headquarters or the missions Bill, Kingsley, Fred and George, or Charlie went on.
He did, however, tell them about the childhood stories that warned him to run away whenever he saw a member of the royal guard; you know – stories similar to the Boogeyman, who comes out if you don't go to sleep, and the red-eyed-monster, who lives on the other side of the province walls. He was taught to run away not only because he was part of the Order, but because they often created havoc for no reason at all. There was the time when the royal guard came to collect the payments and he watched an older man get beat silly by them, just because he was a humpback. He told them about the weeks when they went without water because the well was dry; he and his friends had to travel out of the safety of the province's wall, despite the red-eyed monster, to collect water from a nearby river. He told them about his weekly chore of walking the two hour walk into town just to buy the loaves of bread. He even went into telling them about how he couldn't go to school because the walk was far too long. It was nearly five hours. Instead, he was schooled at home with his other friend – but he only told them this because Hermione asked.
Draco tried his best not to seem guilty or show any emotion other than polite interest, and he nearly succeeded. There was the slight air about him, though, and the hesitant pause when he was to tell Harry about his childhood of comfort, his summers in other provinces and castles, his banquets and elegant parties and ignorance to what was happening outside of his home – oh, and the academy, of course. He went into how he absolutely detested Pansy as a child, as a result to Blaise's sarcastic comment: "He was so captivating, even lesbians fell in love with him."
Harry just had to ask: "What's wrong with Pansy, anyway?"
"You wear glasses and you still don't know the answer to that question?"
"Blaise, shut up," Draco snapped; he was tired of being interrupted. He glanced at Harry and answered matter-of-factly, "She's a beast."
Hermione glared. "She is not!"
"Hermione, my Aunt Dunderhill is prettier than her."
"All right, so she isn't the prettiest girl in the world, but physical appearance shouldn't be the only qualifying matter!"
"Oh, that's not the only reason why I refuse to marry her," Draco muttered.
"He prefers men," Blaise spoke up once again as he picked up his glass for a sip.
Draco gave him a hard look. "If I'm not mistaken, I do believe I just told you to be quiet. Besides, you're wrong. I don't prefer men over women."
"Then you prefer women over men." It was Harry that spoke up this time.
"I didn't say that either."
Hermione interrupted Blaise, Harry, and Draco's conversation with a seething glaze over her eyes. "That's the problem with you men – or, supposed men, really – all of you still have the minds of boys! Sex isn't the only matter of importance in relationships."
"I beg to differ."
"Draco, if Harry were truly to be your bride-to-be you would have to spend the rest of your life with him!"
"Your point?"
Harry vaguely remembered Blaise calling Draco "romantic." Perhaps they had different definitions of the word.
Hermione took a deep breath. Closed her eyes. She counted from one to two, three, four, five. Opened her eyes. And she turned with a very large smile to Harry. "Harry, have you ever – er – been romantic with someone?" She had obviously heard enough of Draco's stories – hell, voice – for the day.
He furrowed his eyebrows in thought. The closest he'd ever been to having a lover was when he was twelve and Ginny was ten. They would take walks in the forest, blushing from the twins' teasing. Did that count? He had a crush on Tonks, once, but that was clearly unrequited. That definitely didn't count. There was Cho Chang, the pretty girl that once had a crush on him. She lived on the edge of the forest. But other than that…
"Er – no," he said, looking back from his pondering.
Hermione hesitated in her breathing. Draco stared at Harry blankly, as if he couldn't understand the concept of a person that was a virgin to any type of romance. Harry could even feel Blaise's gaze tearing through him.
"So you've never had sex?"
"Blaise!" Hermione snapped. "That's none of your business."
"I disagree," Draco smirked. "After all, we're trying to build a relationship. A relationship without sex – even a discussion of it – is bound to fail."
Harry was quick to excuse himself from such a topic. Hermione seemed to back him up.
In his defense, he said hastily, "How am I supposed to talk about something if I've never done – er – it?"
"I can find him someone from the harem," Blaise suggested.
"No!" Harry and Hermione shouted.
"Can we change to another topic, please?" Harry seemed close to begging Hermione.
"So that you can sit there and stare at me while I talk? I don't think so." Draco seemed to be enjoying himself.
"I practically gave my life story earlier!"
"And I'm now asking to hear more."
"Well, you're not going to get more!"
"And that's that," Hermione snapped, signaling Draco to end his advances. He seemed ready to retort, but let it go with a shrug.
After a moment, Hermione said, "Well!" She cleared her throat and racked her mind for another topic, but before she could say another word, Draco shifted and pushed himself off of his bed.
"I think that's enough bonding for one night, and I personally have a lot to get done."
Harry gratefully stood up himself. "I'm tired."
Hermione's expression was wary as she watched them, but she relented and left a few moments later, telling them she would return tomorrow before dinner for more preparation. By that time, she had obviously gotten over Draco's earlier extreme rudeness.
But before Harry could go with her, Draco told him to stay the night. No one would know that the precious princess wasn't in her room, and besides, it was more risky for him to be traveling between both rooms anyway, Draco insisted when Harry seemed hesitant. After Harry yielded, Blaise of course wanted to stay and promised he wouldn't get in the way, but Draco dismissed him. He sat down at his desk after Blaise left with a pout. He was flipping through his books.
Harry was getting comfortable in the small corner he thought he'd never have to sleep in again. He wasn't really tired – hell no, it was way too early to be sleepy – but it wasn't as if he had a pile of "What To Do" lists.
Truthfully, he was happy to stay with Draco. At least then, there would be another person around and about. It was too lonely in his cramped chambers. He felt claustrophobic when he was in there and homesick because it reminded him of the stuffiness of his former bedroom, the one he shared with Fred and George and Ron.
The floor was hard and cold. It smelled moldy when his face was pressed up directly next to it.
"Harry," Draco called over. Harry sat up in a split second, shocked that his name was being called. When he realized that it was only Draco (who else would it be?) he pressed his lips tightly together and pretended to be bothered.
"What?"
"Come over here."
Harry took a second or two before getting to his feet and ambling over, down the three stairs, pass the sofa, and to the desk that was beside the shelves of epics. Somewhere in there was the journal. He would read it again tonight, after Draco fell asleep, he decided. No excuses. Lately, he'd been slacking in his mission. He needed to be prepared to give information, seeing that someone from headquarters could arrive at any moment.
"What?" he asked when he arrived next to the blonde.
Draco was holding a book out to Harry. He took it and looked it over. It had a blue covering and had a picture of an ugly man on it with lines and creases and scars all along his face. The pages were ratty and moldy. Harry tried to read it once, during the days when he nearly jumped off the balcony from boredom, but it was far too wordy for his liking.
"Did you happen to read it?"
Draco was asking Harry this because he caught Harry reading his books at the desk. His initial reaction was to be angry and selfish, but Hermione snapped some sense into him, and he was too tired to stay angry, so he let it go. Harry could read his books, Draco declared, as long as he didn't destroy any of them.
As if Harry went out of his way to destroy books.
Harry wondered if Draco suddenly decided to be angry again, but he didn't seem very upset. He hesitated, then said, "I tried to read it once."
"This is my favorite book."
Harry viewed the ratty cover book. "If it's your favorite, then why don't you get a new one?"
"I've had this book since I was ten," Draco replied, as if that would explain everything.
"Oh." Harry blinked. Why was Draco telling him this?
"Anyway, I want you to finish it."
"Why?"
"Because I told you to."
"I don't want to."
"If you liked 'The Impediment,' you'll enjoy this one. It's just that it's slow at first, that's all. It gets better once Sethus escapes from the dungeon." 'The Impediment' was the book Harry had been so unconditionally engrossed in when Draco caught him reading.
: Sarcasm.
Harry took the book with the blue covering from Draco and flipped it open. "You know, I don't really like reading all so much. I was only reading because there was nothing else to do."
"And if you're going to be married to me, you're going to have to change that." There was an air of humor in his voice. Harry glanced up, almost surprised, and smirked, flipping through the pages.
From there, they had a small chat about 'The Impediment' – nothing much, just a small discussion where they analyzed the feelings of the main characters, which quickly became a miniscule argument that Hermione would've rolled her eyes at if she were there to listen to it.
Just to let you know, after the two were finished talking, Harry spent most of the night reading the blue book instead of the blonde's golden journal. He promised himself he would read the journal the next night, after the dinner party.
TBC…
AN: Wow. At this point, I know it must seem that this story is going NOWHERE. But that's not true, I swear it! And the next chapter is a lot better! I know because it's already written. XP Please review, just to let me know what you think, what I should work on, what I should change… I tried to work on my voice a little more in this one. Did you notice?