First, my eternal gratitude to my darling Magzillasaurus, for her beta work. She gives this that extra tweak.
Second, I'm taking a week off vacay, to a place with wifi but unreliable. Meaning that I possibly can't update next week. Don't worry, I'm three chapters ahead, at the moment, will be able to write and a new fic is coming as well. Nothing else than good right?
Enjoy and share your joy with me!
Kudos to all of you.
Ruthy
Chapter Sixteen
Hermione was giving her house a good cleaning on Monday morning as Pansy's voice sounded through her Floo. "Hey, Herms, do you want to gather with the girls and have lunch?"
"Give me thirty minutes, and I'm yours." The dryer was just finishing with her last load, a chore she still preferred to do in Muggle fashion, she used it to have the room to think. Pansy's face disappeared from the flames, but the witch herself entered her home.
"Can we talk?" Pansy followed the brunette's movements, as Hermione folded socks and other garments neatly in piles. Pansy sat down at the table, first fumbling with her fingers, but soon picking up a jumper and folding it distracted. "Ron told me about your little talk during yesterday's brunch."
Hermione took care of three pieces at the same speed it took Pansy to do one, someone was apparently not used to do laundry. "Let me guess, about how Molly expects you to join them?"
"Yes." Folding the nightgown was a hard task, by the looks, Pansy restarted three or four times. Maybe the lack of focus was to blame, "This feels comfy." She gave it up, and Hermione took over that last piece of her pile. "Did she mean it?"
"Molly is not one to say things in vain, Pansy. Draco also had trouble coping." Laundry flew into the basket, which got levitated and was brought into the bedroom. Pansy followed Hermione. "Pansy, what is your real problem?"
"Our family always treated the Weasley's as blood traitors. Now, they are inviting me into their home? I feel uncomfortable."
"Could that also be Draco's problem, perhaps?"
"For him its a tad worse, his father never let an opportunity go by without rubbing it in Arthur's face how much wealthier the Malfoys were, and still are." Pansy sought a place to sit on the bed, from where she could see Hermione best. The infamous drawer of lingerie was on display. "Bloody hell, you have more knickers than I. Has Draco seen this already?"
"He told me he's going to enlarge his suite and buy me more dresses to go with all of it."
Pansy giggled, shaking her head, "Let him spend his galleons on you." Hermione waved her off, money was never her focus. "All the fun aside. How can I accept the hospitality, knowing the history of our families?"
"I'm telling you what I told Draco. If you feel you did them an injustice, ask for forgiveness. Molly has adopted Harry and me from day one; that woman's heart is always expanding. Her words were the son is not to blame for the father's sins."
"You are scaring me more."
"Why is that?" Hermione chose a top to go with her denim, but Pansy changed it into something more fitting. She agreed with the suggestion.
"You are used to cooking, being homey, to enjoying the little things. I'm taught to sit properly, not get my nails dirty and every wish of mine was granted by house-elves." Distracted, she started to braid Hermione's hair. "I'm the complete opposite of who you are."
"The Weasleys will accept you if you don't make them feel inferior at every turn." She handed her a rubber band to tie the ends. "Be gentle, like you are now with me. Things will be fine, no one will judge you if you don't give them a reason to." Playing with her braid, she pushed the girl, who was easily becoming a good friend, out of her room thinking. "Where are we going now?"
"Fortescue's, lunch in the shape of huge ice cream."
"Healthy, very healthy." Her bag was whisked in a second, "Let's go and be irresponsible."
-oOo-
"Girls, we need to flock together and work out a strategy for the pageant." Ginny laid out her plans halfway through her treat. "We should give our men the moment of their lifetimes." Nothing but nodding heads. "Do you all have sexy beachwear to wear Sunday?"
"Yes!" Mutual agreement.
"I brought with me some pictures of what Muggle pageants are like. They walk seductively on high heels, in bathing suits and evening gowns." Hermione opened her folder, she had worked it out a few days ago, thinking on an opportunity like this one.
"Do we need to do more shopping?" Daphne looked forward to the prospect. "I don't have a wedding dress."
"Why that outfit? Do you want all the other women to see your wedding gown? No, thank you. I think more in terms of a piece from Madam Malkin's and high heels." Pansy gave her opinion that resonated with the entire gang.
"We can also transfigure something for the occasion. Plus we must think on cushion charms for the heels, or after ten minutes we will complain about our feet. Now about an act?"
"On such short notice?" Daphne panicked.
"You could read something?" Hermione had already an idea in her head but didn't want it to be copied, so she kept it wisely to herself. "A poem? Or an excerpt of a story you love? Dance something of your earlier ballet choreography?"
Luna answered dreamily, "I'll sing my own composition."
"I'm skipping that part, unless I give a chaser demonstration, but that's not such a big deal."
"Harry will love it, Ginny. It's for him you're doing it, not for the rest."
"What will you do?" The red-haired girl was curious.
"I'm playing with a few options, not yet certain of what to do."
Ginny didn't buy it, but let it pass, understanding what went unsaid.
-oOo-
It was late in the afternoon as they parted ways. This whole circus, as Harry called it, had brought people together who would otherwise have stayed inside their tiny circle; had they not been forced to come out. The Slytherin girls were fun to have around. More prudish than Hermione expected them to be, but on other aspects more forward and honest.
The days at Hogwarts would have been so different if the figurative walls hadn't been there from the start. The house's stereotypes setting them up against each other before the first hello was said. Imagine the mischief. Imagine the nights hunkering down in one of the dorms, the sleepovers, the hairdressing and makeup moments. Imagine the gossip about the wizards, who was hot and who was not. Life at Hogwarts would have been the complete opposite.
Hermione lingered on her way home. Unsure of her destination. Her heart wanted to satisfy the curiosity about a specific penthouse, her mind rationalised that they were going too fast and she should use her day off to ponder her decision.
There's no decision to make, it's already decided.
She recalled all her previous moments with other wizards, and even before the foreboding of Draco's presence entered her mind, not one other man woke up her spirit, as number eighty-four did. There had been some pleasant exchanges, but none lingered in her mind as Draco had, since that very first session.
By the second round, she was so focused on him to show up, that she barely registered the others. He admitted being relieved to hear her voice during that following round; the truth was Hermione also looked forward to it, in a sense, she felt freed when his drawl filled the room. He was not what she expected. If she had seen him approach her booth, chances were big that he would have been hexed from here to Tokyo in a blink of an eye.
The curtain blinded her and forced her to open up unknowingly to whom it was on the other side of the fabric. She discovered a man who made her smile, who aroused her, with whom she could talk, knowing he understood her words. Who, in fact, didn't look down on her passion for reading, nor the babbling. She discovered what her mum once described, your other half.
Accepting him out in the open was a different beast. He had the talent to push her buttons, to draw her out. Bringing out her self-defense mechanism to bite back. They duelled verbally, and it had felt good. Draco gave her a run for her money, that much she knew. But gradually she mingled the image of her mystery man with the git she knew, and she saw him differently.
Seeing him fumble in that cooking test was a sweet memory. He accepted the challenge and embraced it without curling his lip at any moment. Hermione was confident that he even enjoyed a few aspects. The picture was evident in her head, being all homey, cooking together - on the naughty days even interrupting the process for a quick shag on the table because they kept taunting each other.
Draco had slithered himself inside her mind, his presence soothed her. Her heart won. She headed to the nearest Floo and decided to pay a certain ferret a visit. Check out his lair, as Draco had with hers.
-oOo-
Hermione landed to a view that melted her into a puddle of jelly, upon arrival.
The chime of the Floo startled him between the push-ups, and he barely got on his feet, as Hermione entered the living room; sofa shoved to the side as usual when he worked out. His red face brightened up, while he took a towel to dry the sweat off of his skin. "Hermione, you're here."
She enjoyed the sight of his chest, drops of sweat sliding down, disappearing into the waistline of his lounge shorts. Hermione flashed him the cheekiest of smiles while paying double attention to the toned abdomen.
"Like what you see, love?" After drying his neck, he threw the burden away, pacing barefoot like a predator with its prey.
She backed against the door, "Are you flexing on purpose, Prince Charming?"
"Everything for my girl." He drawled.
"I've read somewhere that kissing burns six point four calories a minute. Want to work out a little more?" He consumed her last word, hoisting her up and pacing back to the sofa, lowering her until her back met the cushion.
"I was halfway through my workout, witch. We'll have to do quite a lot of kissing to reach my quota." Nestling between her legs, he kissed her heatedly, while she rubbed his spine up and down, caressing, scratching, legs pushing him tighter to her. His shorts couldn't hide his excitement, and he rubbed against her core. "I forbid you to wear trousers, love. I don't have the easy access I need right now."
"I didn't come for a shag. I came for a tour of the house, check out the premises."
"You want to sightsee in your future home?" He bit in her neck, playfully. Jumping on his feet with feline grace, he pulled her off the sofa. "I see it already before me, Hermione. This is my kitchen. It has all the room for any extra appliances you might need; I'll be your humble assistant."
What he left out, was the fantastic view from his kitchen windows with the Thames in the background. He had chosen the best penthouse you could find between Muggle and Wizard London.
Adjacent to the kitchen, the ample living room, tastefully decorated in a surprising combination of warm and inviting tones. The Slytherin house colours present just here and there without clashing. Prominently on display, was a bookcase with several tomes, which she submitted to an inquiry.
"Muggle writers?"
"Wizards."
"Excuse me, Shakespeare is no Wizard."
"According to whom, exactly?"
"To the Hermionopedia! He was no wizard, but a really talented writer."
"I bet he was a Squib."
"Alright, how much do you want to make a bet?" Immediately, she came up with multiple possibilities in case of winning. "If I win, you go all muggle and go trick or treating with me during Halloween. Dressed up as a Count Dracula."
"I'm not even worried about who the bloke might be. I'm winning. As a prize, I want you to go fly with me."
"On a broomstick? Not in a million years."
"It's your bet, it's my victory, and you'll have to comply." She didn't like the idea any longer… "I still have more rooms to show you." With her hand firmly in his, he continued his tour down the hall. "Empty room, for now, could become a nursery, or a study. A spare bathroom and then my room." The spare bathroom was bigger than her chamber, but she kept the comment to herself.
The door opened into the biggest quarters aside from the living room. In the middle, a modern king-sized bed, neatly kept, overlooking high, floor to ceiling windows; the grey walls contrasting with off-white touches. The dressing room was quite spacious but what really drew her attention, was the impressive bathtub which could comfortably accommodate two.
Draco knew it was the centrepiece of his whole bathroom, "Can you see us between the bubbles?" His finger followed her spine, creating shivers down her body. "I'm lathering you in the finest oils, massaging away the stress knots on your back, and continuing to spoil you until you reach your pleasure point? Or, me buried inside of your body, bringing you over the edge?"
"Your voice could seduce a eunuch." The penny dropped, very slowly, but when it did, he roared, belly shaking of laughter.
"Oh lords, you're one of a kind…" He wiped tears off his face, breaking again, seeking support against the sink. She fell into laughter with him, his fun affecting her the most. Fingers sought each other, one pulling the other into his circle of arms, hand brushing the hair away from her face.
Laughter finally died off, and he went all serious. "Do you like my place?"
"I'm jealous of your view."
"It will be yours when you're ready, it could already be yours if you want it. You know how I feel about skipping the remaining challenges…"
"I started this circus, as Harry calls it. I want to finish it as I planned it." He nodded. "I should be going…"
"Let us fix something to eat together, see it as a try-out. Decide then if you want to spend the night here, or go back home." Her raised brows forced him to promise, "I'll not cross the boundaries."
"It sounds like the most delicious cake dangling in front of you and you swearing not to touch. We both know how it ends." He smirked at her, "The finger in the frosting!"
"Hermione…"
"Listen, we'll do dinner. What do you have in-house to cook?"
"My house elf…"
"You want me to barbeque him? Or roast him well done in the oven?" She gave him the look.
"Love, before you lecture me, my Tibby is a free elf, neatly clothed and he threatened to commit suicide if I didn't let him clean the house and cook when I told him I was moving out of the Manor. Don't judge me."
"Your elf has blackmailed you emotionally, and you ate it up?"
"I… Alright, I admit. Don't tell the others or my reputation as a Slytherin will be diminished into that of a marshmallowy Hufflepuff."
"Where is he?"
"Tibby!"
A crack later, a butler-clothed house elf bowed, "Master Malfoy, yous have visitor?"
"Meet Hermione, Tibby."
"Tibby's very pleased to meet yous, Missus Herminy."
"Tibby, the pleasure is mine. Could you bring us what we need to make some steaks with mushroom cream sauce and baked potatoes?"
"Tibby makes yous perfect steak…"
"No Tibby, I want to cook with Draco." The wizard followed the conversation closely, wondering how she was going to handle a hysterical elf. "I know you are a great cook, but I would love to do it together with him." The little bottom lip was trembling, "Tibby, I promise you can clean the kitchen, and I'll make it extra dirty." That earned her a what the hell- look from the blond.
Her offer seemed to appease Tibby, "Extra dirty, Misses?"
"Extra greasy." The little smile equalled the face of a toddler at the sight of the Christmas tree. In a matter of seconds, all the ingredients found their way into the kitchen.
"I guess we'll have to make our best, love. Shall I start on the mushrooms?"
"Not too thinly sliced, I love to have a bite."
"You're quite dangerous with that biting of yours."
"I haven't given you a reason to complain." The licking of her lips, very telling...