"He had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty: he had looked at her without admiration at the ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes."
The next morning Hermione woke just after sunrise and went straight to check on Harry again. He was pale and sleeping so soundly that she didn't like to disturb him. Besides, the grounds beckoned.
She set out in the morning mist with a purposeful stride and a large mug of coffee provided by a friendly house elf. She walked for a few miles through carefully tended gardens closer to the house and less tame groves and woods further out. It was all delightful; obviously the product of years of careful tending by an army of experienced groundskeepers.
She had walked her fill and swung around back toward the house, intending to go in and clean up before heading into the village, when she heard a distinctive 'thunk...thunk…" sound in the near distance. "Oooh, target practice!" she thought as she hurried toward the sound. Rounding a bend out of the woods cautiously, she came to a large meadow where an archery course had been set up. Blaise and Theo were loosing arrows with practised ease, Theo a bit better of a shot, but both skilled. Theo caught sight of her and waved his arm.
"Good morning! Fancy a go?" he called, gesturing with his bow. She jogged over.
"I'd love to," she said as she approached them. "It's been ages, but I used to be keen. I didn't realise this was a wizarding sport too!"
"Yes, it's one of the few approved recreational activities that seem to cross magical and muggle lines," said Theo. "Another is fencing. I'm not sure why, but I suspect it has something to do with both activities being related to elements of combat that are useful in wizarding battle as well as muggle. Perhaps we learned them in ancient times to be effective if disarmed? There's actually an interesting book on this very thing in the library at the house."
Hermione had been nodding along, fascinated. At the mention of the library her pulse quickened. "Ohh yes, your library. Would it be ok if I took a look in there?"
Theo grinned and nodded while Blaise snorted. "Swot," Blaise said, but with no sting. He then notched another arrow and let it loose. It hit the board with a thunk, feathers quivering, then extracted itself and whizzed back to the basket next to Theo.
"Guilty," Hermione shrugged. "But, I would never forgive myself if I wasted my chance to peruse the library at Nott House."
"Your chance?" said Theo with raised brows. "You make it sound so final! I was going to invite you and Harry back for my Solstice party next month. "It's an annual celebration and I'd love for you both to come."
"That's so kind of you," she said, her mind automatically looking for a way to gracefully decline the invitation. She might be tolerating this crowd for Harry's sake, but she wasn't truly keen on furthering the relationship beyond friendly acquaintances.
Blaise, whom she had noticed was extremely socially perceptive, seemed to take her measure in a glance. "It's really an astounding do, Granger. The Nott House Summer Solstice Party? Haven't you heard of it? It's infamous. You'd be meeting all sorts of interesting people. Not just the posh toff crowd you're stuck with this weekend. And if Potter really hopes to make a success of a Quidditch team in London, he couldn't find a better set of contacts. PR influencers, regulatory heads, investors, suppliers—they'll all be here."
Hermione took the hint and shot Blaise a covert look of thanks mixed with resignation. He smirked and she took a deep breath, "I'd love to come, Theo, and I know Harry will too. In fact, he's extremely upset and embarrassed at what's happened this weekend—part of him asking me to come here was to convey that to you and to make sure you don't lose interest in the Quidditch investment just because he's a dolt who showed up on your doorstep and promptly vomited." She punctuated the last sentence with a rueful laugh, hoping to soften the mercenary tone of her statement.
"Of course his illness doesn't affect my interest in the scheme!" said Theo as he helped Hermione shoulder the bow. "I'm going to read over the proposal document this afternoon and then I'll make sure to set another meeting time with him before he goes. I haven't wanted to disturb him, but I'll definitely look in on him this afternoon."
"Thanks so much, Theo. I'm sure that news will speed his recovery." Hermione turned to sight the target and make her shot. The arrow went true and embedded itself respectably close to the bullseye.
"Nice one!" shouted Theo, patting Hermione on the back. "You know, I'm very sorry that Harry got sick, but the silver lining is that it's allowing me to get to know you better, which has been delightful." He took her hand and executed a little bow over it.
Hermione laughed. "Likewise," she said with her own bow.
~oOo~
Later, Hermione returned to the house and ate a quick lunch. She then ran up the stairs to Harry's room to peek in on him. He was awake and sipping a thin broth with the help of a house elf.
"Hullo," he said, his eyes downcast as he slurped at a spoonful of the unappetising-looking liquid.
Hermione apprised him of her conversation with Theo. "Blimey, that's good news," he said with a weak grin, pushing away the rest of the broth and falling back on his pillow.
"Do you want to sleep some more?" Hermione asked with concern and a silent curse for Molly Weasley. He'd been sleeping an awful lot.
"Well it's better than lying here bored and counting the squares in the canopy," he said, gesturing to the checked fabric over his head.
"Oh god, of course you're bored," Hermione leaned down to fluff his pillow. "Well listen, I was planning on going into the village this afternoon. I'll pick you up some Quidditch magazines and have the house elves bring you a deck of cards in the meantime." Harry nodded his thanks. "And I'll have a look in the library and see if there are any interesting books I can bring to you."
"I can't believe you've been here 24 hours and haven't been to the library yet," remarked Harry with a slight grin.
"Oh, you're well enough to make jokes," she said, smiling back. "You must be feeling better!" He laughed faintly, but his eyelids were lowering. "Ok," she said. "I'm off. I'll come back in a bit with your stuff and I'll tell Theo to come in and chat if you're awake in a few hours."
~oOo~
This time Hermione apparated into the village. As suspected, the shops were charming and she enjoyed a couple of hours wandering. She returned to the manor with Harry's magazines, some new books, and two bottles of good single malt—one for herself and the other to thank Theo for his hospitality to an unexpected guest.
She entered the manor from the apparition point rather than the front door and walked a different way to the entry hall, her steps clicking pleasantly on the thick marble floor. She suddenly caught a whiff of fragrant smoke and stopped, looking around for the source. A thin plume unfurled from behind a half-closed velvet drape that covered the entrance to what looked like a small balcony. She stepped closer and pulled the curtain aside, revealing a graceful torso stretched over a balustrade and a fair head glinting in the last of the evening sun.
"Hello, Granger," Malfoy said over his shoulder before taking an elegant drag on his thin, brown cigarette.
She stepped onto the balcony, wondering how he knew it was her. "You know those things are bad for you."
He shrugged, which she noticed did interesting things to the interplay of muscle under his fine linen shirt.
"May I have one?"
He turned around, head tilted, then extracted his cigarette case and a silver lighter. He stepped closer, offering her a slim, brown cylinder, which she took and put to her lips. The lighter wicked to life and she inhaled deeply and with some enjoyment.
"All right, I admit I'm at least as shocked about this as you were about the car," he said, gazing down at her. She raised her eyebrows and took another long drag, trying to ignore that she continued to find him annoyingly attractive. It wasn't that she was attracted to Malfoy, she told herself—it was some instinct in the primal brain that responded to a tall, well-built man.
"I'm not a 16 year old schoolgirl anymore," was the brilliant thing her mouth said. For some reason her voice came out a bit husky and it sounded sort of like a come-on. She cringed inwardly.
His eyes went unfocused for a second and she could have sworn he glanced her mouth before they both suddenly turned to face out over the grounds.
"It is really ridiculously beautiful here," she said in an attempt to diffuse the awkwardness.
The mellow sunset light gilded pockets in the trees that turned to a deep, flame orange as they watched.
"The magic hour," he agreed.
"You know, right now I'm actually glad I came here," she said, smiling out at the view.
"Not so dismissive about what money can buy?"
"What? I never…"
"Oh don't lie. You've been judging us all as spoiled rotten toffs since you got here."
She looked at him open-mouthed. He continued to look out at the scenery as she struggled to make a response.
Then she closed her mouth and her lip quirked up. "It was actually since the networking party."
"What?"
"I haven't been judging you since I got here. It's been at least since the networking party," she clarified. "Probably longer. Actually I've thought you were spoiled rotten since I first met you."
He paused for a moment then laughed, a real, honest laugh that did something to her pulse— and accompanied it with a smile that did something to her insides. She tried very hard to rationalise these effects.
"Thanks for the interlude. Glad I could provide some comic relief," she said in a rush, as she stubbed out her cigarette. He glanced at her as she turned to go.
"You'll be happy to know that drinks are in the library tonight." Was he stalling her?
"How does everyone seem to know that about me?" she mused, seemingly willing to be detained. "But yes, I'm looking forward to seeing it. Do you think we'll need to dress nicely for dinner again? Will I need to change?" She gestured to her silk t-shirt, trousers and stylish sandals that would be fine for almost any late spring dinner party she could conceive of. For fuck's sake, was she fishing for a compliment?
Malfoy surveyed her and exhaled, looking like the dragon of his namesake, then flicked his glance away. "Yes, you'll need to change, Granger. It's a formal dinner at Nott House, not a curry takeaway or that pile the Weasley's live in. You'll need to make an effort. Just like last night."
She rolled her eyes. That's what she got for forgetting what a total prat he could be. "I just find it tedious to select and change clothes multiple times a day."
"Is it, though?" he said. "I'd have said your high street fashion is more tedious, anytime." His lip curled and he turned back around. For a moment she longed to smack the back of his platinum head.
She contained her violent urges and gave his back a flat stare before spinning on her heel, whispering, "arse," under her breath. She was so intent on her exit, she missed the grin that transformed his face as she left.
~oOo~
Draco's smile faded and he kept his eyes firmly trained on the garden as he heard her light steps trip away across the entry hall, then up the carpeted stair. He exhaled, not realizing he'd been holding his breath. She was a surprise, that's all, a surprise. He wasn't going to let his reaction to her shake him. He'd known her since he was eleven, for fuck's sake. It wasn't like she'd exploded on his consciousness out of nowhere. But her company this weekend had been … refreshing? Interesting? Stimulating. Yes, stimulating. In more ways than one.
He'd actually noticed her at that ridiculous investor event—partly because it was her and partly because he'd caught her looking as bored and unhappy as he'd felt. She had also been wearing a distinctly sexy black dress—nothing trashy, but well-cut and showing off her slim build. If he was being totally honest, he'd always found her pretty—even when he was being a shit to her at school.
When he'd spotted her walking up to the manor yesterday, he'd been a bit startled by the strength of his response. He'd known it was her immediately and told himself not to stop, but his body hadn't listened to his brain. And then her reaction to the car—he huffed a soft laugh—that had been a surprise. He had been expecting her to be stiff and rude and had instead gotten an intriguing little conversation.
Their exchange in the car and again on the terrace last night. Just now. He was affected by her. Noticing the dusting of golden freckles across her nose and the dark wings of her expressive eyebrows. Her pretty mouth. He'd mocked her clothes because he absolutely couldn't say what he'd really been thinking. And then she'd called him an arse. Priceless. He grinned again. He was obviously too used to girls who fawned over him. The one that insulted him gave him a hard-on.
Maybe he needed to seek out Pansy tonight. It had been too long since he'd been with anyone. But the thought didn't appeal. Was Granger getting under his skin that badly? Fuck. He'd need to do something about this. Luckily they only had tonight and then would all be going their separate ways in the morning. He'd put her out of his mind—he'd always been good at compartmentalising.
Draco reached for his cigarettes and lit another—he almost never smoked more than one a day, but this was clearly a special circumstance. Maybe he'd follow it with a cold shower.
The smoke relaxed him and his mind wandered, picturing her walking across the garden to the house just now. Long, swinging strides and deep breaths. He could see her tits bouncing under her top and he'd stared like a fucking teenager. And then she'd come up to the balcony and he could smell her—the scent she'd left in his car.
Bollocks, maybe he should just pursue her—fuck her and get her out of his system. But no, he was almost sure she wouldn't go for a fling. He didn't think she was a prude per-se, but she was self-possessed. He couldn't see her standing for his shit. He realised with surprise that she wouldn't settle for him—or at least what he would offer her. She'd expect more.
More. He snorted as he thought of the reaction if he brought Granger home in her boots and muggle attire to Narcissa. The war had driven anti-muggle sentiment underground, but it still coursed through the pureblood community—especially the older generations. Muggles might be tolerated to work with or live next to, but not to marry or—horrors!— create half-blood children with. Draco himself no longer held these opinions, but he also didn't really intend to rock that particular boat when the time came. Marriages were alliances and he would make a good one. As long as his future spouse was undemanding (this requirement excluded Pansy) and could produce the requisite heir, they'd rub along just fine. His mother had been pestering him more intensely lately to settle down, with a proper girl, but he wasn't remotely ready.
No, Granger may be intriguing—clever and interesting, beautiful in a way that distracted him, but he was not interested in a misalliance. He could make it one more night and once this weekend was over he'd simply put her out of his mind.