Diamonds Part 6

Prompt (1)Then he had run into Hermione one day, and her reserved civility had goaded him into asking her to dinner. Honestly, he had wanted to see if that would be the thing that would make her shrink away from him. But she had raised her chin with defiance he should have known to look for, and accepted. - I NEED you to include a Diamond prequel chapter that fleshes these three sentences out!
for WizMonCruWil

Prompt (2) Can you please do a Diamonds prequel, in which Draco asks Hermione out to dinner and she definitely says Yes, as you so wonderfully put it? I would love to see that fleshed out!
for Anon

A/N: and yes, that is a Jane Eyre reference you spy in here… though Draco is no Rochester and Hermione is CERTAINLY no Jane, I just liked the idea of him thinking along the lines of her unbreakable sense of self, and that story crept in for a moment.

Draco adjusted his scarf as he walked down one of the quieter sub streets off Diagon Alley. He pulled the thick green material up out of the top of his jacket until it was covering his face from the nose down. A little voice inside his head scolded that as he hadn't bothered to do anything to disguise his distinctive hair, the effort was for nothing. Draco ignored it. He had considered magically changing his hair colour many times; he'd even considered using Muggle dye once or twice, but he never had. When he pulled up his scarf, he could pretend he wasn't hiding. It would have been harder to sell the pretence if he actually started altering his appearance before leaving the house.

It was October, and the weather had finally realised it was no longer Summer and was attempting to make up for its tardiness with two weeks of icy rain and grey skies.

Draco didn't want to be out at all, but he had promised Daphne he would meet her at a cafe, she apparently had news she couldn't share by owl. Draco had responded with predictable disinterest but had nevertheless pledged to go. Daphne was no fool. She would have seen through him in an instant. While he might have willingly cut himself off from the rest of the world, Draco took a perverse kind of pleasure in hearing the latest gossip concerning his former classmates. Even when, more often than not, it became clear that whatever their myriad failings, they were all somehow prospering - succeeding, and leaving him further and further behind.

Draco slid his hands into his pockets and wished he'd brought his gloves. His fingers instinctively rooted around until they gripped around the wand he had stashed there and instantly, Draco felt safer. It was silly to have come this way. He could have apparated straight there, avoiding such a long walk and all of the potential dangers that came with it.

Draco didn't care for being out on his own, not since the war. If he had one of his friends with him, he found it rather easy to slip his familiar sneer in place and act as if nothing bothered him, but when he was alone, it wouldn't stay long enough to be convincing. He felt too vulnerable, too exposed. His shoulders would hunch, and his frame would bend, crouched ready for an attack. It did not make for a comfortable stroll in the autumn winds.

Draco checked his watch as he turned the final corner, about to congratulate himself on a journey without incident, when it all came crashing down. Dead in front of him, mere inches from his longed-for sanctuary, a shop door opened, and veritable golden girl Hermione Granger stepped out of the rickety-looking greengrocers and onto the small swathe of pavement in front of him. Of course, she would shop in that sort of place, Draco thought snidely. One where the awning was fading and the vegetables were arranged with no discernible system.

Draco saw the very moment the smile she'd had melted away, she tried to reconstruct it afterwards, but it was a poor imitation of the one she had been throwing over her shoulder, at the man who had gallantly held the door for her. Draco wished the man hadn't bothered, it might have slowed her down for a couple of seconds, allowing him to pass and both of them to be oblivious to what would have been a near-miss.

Granger cleared her throat a few times and managed a quiet, "Malfoy," before rearranging her bags with the awkward kind of shuffling Draco had always despaired of when they were at school. He realised that he'd never seen her with anything less than a gigantic shoulder bag since she was eleven years old. It was a wonder that she hadn't become lopsided. He asked himself if she even owned a clutch? If she ever went anywhere that would make such a thing a necessary purchase.

"How are you?" She asked when he didn't make an effort to respond. "It's been… a long time."

Draco wanted to scoff, but the derogatory exhale of breath wouldn't form. It had indeed been some time since he had seen the sainted Hermione Granger, at least in the flesh, but he wasn't sure when she imagined they had last caught up over tea and crumpets. He hated her for the insinuation that somehow they had once been inside each other's circles and not pacing around outside of them ready to pounce. Social niceties might have demanded it of her, but that made him even crosser.

He'd seen her on the battlefield, blood-smeared and full of fear and anger and then again later, crumpled and small. He thought he might have seen her at his trial, but Draco had half-convinced himself he had imagined it, after all, it was only ever a swish of a sea-green skirt and a curl or two that he'd seen at the corner of his eye.

"Don't pretend you care, Granger," he spat with a dismissive wave of his hand and yet he didn't walk away. They both just continued to stand there, like the proverbial lemons, daring each other to back away first.

Draco didn't know why he was playing this game with her, Granger's stubbornness was legendary as was her bravery, she was in every way the epitome of the school house he had raised to loathe since he was an infant.

She might have been a lioness, all-powerful and cunning with a brute strength that only came from years of honing your skills but Draco wasn't intimidated. If she was a big cat, he was a hyena, and though he may never have got glory in his role, he always knew, instinctively, when his opponent had met their end.

Granger's eyes flared, and then she huffed, she actually huffed. He'd forgotten how easy to rile she was. That had been the beauty of her and her little band of misfits when they had all been a school together, how responsive they were. Draco had spent most of his mid-teens powerless to alter the course of his life as if his efforts were little more than screams in the wind. But with them, the golden trio, he would only ever have to give the tiniest little nudge, and they went toppling over.

"I was only trying to be pleasant, Malfoy," she retorted, drawing herself up and standing on her tiptoes. "Lord knows you must recognise manners, even if you don't pretend to use them."

Draco sneered. "As if you have any idea of what constitutes manners, given how you were dragged up."

"Given my filthy Muggle relations, you mean?" she replied with her pert little nose stuck up in the air. "I think it's time you got some new material, Malfoy. This act is as tired as the bags under your eyes."

Draco licked the outside of his teeth to stop himself from a rash, careless response. "Why aren't we being personal, little miss goody two shoes? No need to comment on your appearance, your hair is as ghastly as ever."

She stepped forward and prodded him in the chest as her eyes retracted to slits, and Draco stopped himself from reaching to seize her wrist. That was the thing about Granger; you could be fooled into thinking she was tougher than she was. Considering her personality, she was actually quite dainty, and oh so breakable. He could break her body, even without meaning too, even as cowardly as he was, but he could never break her irrepressible spirit — the damn woman.

But Merlin, it felt good to spar again. Draco's friends were too frightened to push him too far. He'd not reacted well at the end of the war, years of unresolved tensions all coming to ahead in a moment.

She'd gotten on to some laboured point about inbreeding when suddenly another person appeared on the little street heading past them and presumably on to their decidedly less complicated life and immediately, Granger shrunk back. Draco flexed his hand as he realised the gulf that had appeared between them and the fire in his chest turned to ice.

"What's the matter, Granger, worried someone might see you with me?" Draco seethed, as angry as he'd ever been. The bloody hypocrite. Always going on about the rights of the downtrodden and she didn't even have the sense of humanity to stand next to him on a public street.

"No-"

He took a step closer, bearing his teeth. "We wouldn't want you to ruin your perfect golden image by being seen associating with the riff-raff."

"That's not what I-"

"Please do tell?" Draco spat, "what possible justification can you invent for yourself so you can keep your precious moral high ground?"

She practically hissed at him, and for a moment, he would have sworn her hair swelled. That was the bit he would remember in the most detail, hours later, when contemplating exactly what he had gotten himself into. Her cheeks were pink, and her shopping bags were on the floor wholly forgotten. The look in her eyes was so furious Draco instinctively checked her hands for her wand.

"I was moving out of the way, okay, your highness? The path is narrow. I was moving so they'd have room and not be blocked by the most awkward run-in I have ever encountered. You wouldn't recognise the notion because your too full of yourself to think of someone else's needs at all, let alone ahead of your own. You self important, self-pitying prick!"

For a few moments, there was silence. Draco had the impression Hermione had wanted to tell him off for a very long time. The hair barb probably hadn't helped. She should probably know by now that he hadn't meant it, he never had really. But he was a hyena; he knew the weaknesses of everyone even if none of them were really his prey.

Their meeting seemed at an end, and yet neither of them moved. For himself, Draco didn't know what to say, Hermione still seemed to be calming herself down if breathing was anything to go by.

"So, you're not embarrassed?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"No."

She answered quickly, not too quickly, but fast and seemingly truthfully. Despite their relative heights, Draco felt small. The longer the silence continued after his question, the more exposed he felt. He felt the age-old need to regain the upper hand, to reclaim some of his dignity before he left the conversation, before he left her thinking of him as some whipped wounded animal.

"Well, if you're not embarrassed, why don't we continue this another time, catch up properly?" he said with a predatory smile.

It was a significant step-change to the rest of their encounter, and so he wasn't surprised that Hermione looked so startled. It made him feel like he was back on solid ground, in charge, at least it did until she answered.

"If you like?" she said, seemingly without a care in the world and began to gather up her bags.

Draco was incensed by her easy acceptance, but he was far from done. He had never known when to quit. He took a step towards her until he was blocking her frame from the wind and making her hair look a shade darker in his shadow. "I would like," he said, "how about a date, Granger? What would you say to that?"

Draco waited, he waited for her to shudder in disgust or spit out her refusal, but neither came. She looked around for a moment as if expecting divine intervention before she shook out her curls and raised her head, meeting his gaze squarely.

"A date sounds wonderful, Malfoy," she replied, smiling more sweetly than he had thought her capable of. "Owl me with the details, I shall look forward to it."

She pulled the lapel of her coat over her throat and marched away before he could say anything in reply.

Draco was left staring after her. He had the distinct impression she knew precisely what he was about and was not about to be cowed or intimidated. He found himself grudgingly respecting her. He hated her for that too.

Finally, he got to the cafe, and he saw Daphne inside, picking at a seeded bun and looking nervous. At least he had something to say that would distract her from whatever had put her in an anxious mode. He was going on a date with Hermione Granger. In terms of gossip, it was likely to be the most unbelievable thing she heard all year.