A/N: So sorry for the wait on this chapter. I have excellent excuses. Okay, they could at least be qualified as good excuses. My husband and I took our three kids on an 11-day, 3700-mile road trip. We visited three National Parks. We hiked more miles with three small children than most people would consider sane. I did not write while traveling, because reading in a moving vehicle makes me carsick and, needless to say, I was exhausted every night. Throw in some writer's block on either end of the trip, and suddenly, three weeks have gone by. The good news here is that I have the next four chapters after this one done, and I am just going through final edits.
If Amortentia Smells Like Parchment
"What did the Sorting Hat say to you when you were sorted?"
She wasn't the first person to ask him this question. Everyone present saw how quickly the hat made the decision made for him. He found a sick sense of satisfaction in giving the fictitious answer of 'Easiest one this year'; people never questioned a lie when it perfectly met their expectation of what the truth ought to be. The truth remained a little more complex. The hat asked him one simple question and Draco answered 'No'. He now felt sure the question contained layers of complexity his 11-year-old-self couldn't have guessed at.
Until today, only two people knew the true answer. On their first night together in the Slytherin dorms, Theo shared his secret of the hat suggesting Ravenclaw. Theo gave Draco a shrewd look after Draco divulged the truth of his sorting, and suggested maybe Draco shouldn't tell anyone else. 'There can't be any doubt for a Malfoy, can there?' he asked Draco. No, no there couldn't be. Lucius' indoctrination of Draco into believing what a Malfoy should be began at a young age. He chose to reveal the truth of his own accord to his mother the day after his father's funeral.
"It asked 'Are you ready to break tradition?' and I arrogantly answered 'No', before it yelled out Slytherin. What did I know at eleven? I knew to do what my father told me. I was so proud to arrive at Hogwarts with my first real mission. My assigned task, which I only learned about a month prior, was to befriend Harry Potter and determine if he was to be the next Dark Lord. It was obvious, even before we walked into the Great Hall - he was not what my father hoped for. As the hat slipped over my head, my thoughts may have been still lingering on what I planned to tell my father regarding Harry Potter when I owled him later. Nearly 20 years have passed, and I still wish I could ask that blasted hat what it meant by the word 'ready'." The entire story came tumbling out now, leaving him strangely relieved, even as a raw and vulnerable crept in.
Hermione looked at Draco with sad eyes. She was slowly meeting the demons who continued to haunt this wizard. Just when he allowed her to dismantle a ward, she discovered yet another set of complex wards behind it. Hermione knew firsthand the destruction an out-of-control Gemino Curse could cause. Draco's demons weren't all created by Voldemort, his parents, or even the other Death Eaters. Some he piled up all on his own.
"What house would you have selected, if not Slytherin?"
"I'd like to think I could have carved a niche for myself in Ravenclaw. And yet, in my heart, I am a Slytherin. I don't think the hat sorted me incorrectly. Does that make any sense? I'm agonizing over what I believe, in the end, to be the right answer. Was the hat giving me a choice? What if I had been given a choice and the hat still put me in Slytherin? I see it as my first non-choice in an ever-widening river rushing over rapids towards a waterfall of not having a fucking choice." Draco took a breath. "Or not understanding there was a choice," he whispered the last sentence.
They were sitting on the couch in her flat, popcorn in the microwave (long-since forgotten) and a movie queued up for a quiet night in. Hermione originally thought her question made for interesting chit chat during the five minutes or so before they were munching on popcorn and watching the film. She couldn't decide if her selection of The Breakfast Club was apropos given the turn in conversation.
The options flitting through Hermione's mind all seemed wrong. Offer up a platitude by reminding him he was a kid and it wasn't really his fault? Placate him with hollow words regarding his choice not to kill Dumbledore or to positively identify her, Harry, and Ron in his home? Maybe congratulate him on his superior choice in girlfriends – namely her? She knew now would not be the appropriate time to tell him her sorting hat story.
Alternatively, she chose to pull his head down into her lap and run her fingers through his hair over and over, just holding him quietly. Draco knew it took a lot for Hermione to not say a word. And so he said the only thing which came to mind,
"I love you."
Well there was something new. Was it awful that the first thing which popped into her mind was, "I know"? At least she managed to not say it aloud.
"I love you, too."
In the end, they skipped the movie (maybe it had something to do with Hermione grabbing the remote to turn off the tele at the same time as she told Draco, "I'd rather have your cock in my mouth right now") and it wasn't until three days later when she opened her microwave and discovered the stale popcorn. Instead, she led him to her bedroom as he murmured, "I love you," over and over between kisses on her lips, her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck, then up her stomach as he pulled up her shirt. She returned each word with equal ardor.
When Hermione made her way down his body to take his warm silky length into her mouth, she kept her eyes locked on his. She wrapped her hand around the base, gripping tightly. She darted the tip of her tongue out to lick around the head, flattening her tongue out as she trailed down the underside, then back up, still keeping it broad against him, with her hand following her mouth. She swiped her thumb over the top and then moved her hand back down, giving a little twisting motion at the same time. Her tongue traced around the head again, flicking with a bit more pressure on the frenulum.
Draco watched Hermione's lips slowly work their way over the broad head of his cock. The way she kept eye contact with him the entire time was so fucking hot. He concentrated on not bucking his hips as she ever so slowly worked her mouth down to meet the hand still wrapped around him. At the moment she had him fully engulfed within her hand and mouth, she let out a moan, the vibrations going straight to his bollocks. Merlin, he really loved this woman.
She set up a steady rhythm, using a combination of hand, lips, and tongue to stimulate his shaft. With her other hand, she began to lightly roll his bollocks around while continuing to suck his dick. She gave the whole sack a few soft tugs. She then very gently used her thumb and forefinger to pinch the skin between the two balls, sliding her fingers from the base of his scrotum to the tips of his testicles. Draco let out a loud, "Yes!" when she moved her mouth's focus from his dick to his bollocks. Hermione's hand kept going up and down on his penis, with a delicious little wrist twist and thumb swipe across the top, as she licked all around his testicles with a broad, flat tongue. Taking each ball in her mouth for a minute and sucking sent him over the edge. With no need to worry about gagging her, he began to thrust into her wet, tight hand, allowing his hands to grip her head. All the while, watching her.
Hermione felt his sack tighten up as his hips moved back and forth and knew his orgasm was imminent. She managed to get her mouth back over the head just in time to start swallowing. As she gave one final firm suck to make sure nothing was left behind, Draco avowed, "Hermione Jean Granger, I love you."
"I want you to come with me to an event." They were lying in her bed an hour later, she on her stomach with her head facing towards him, Draco on his side, head cupped in his hand with elbow underneath as he looked down on her and seemingly stated this out of nowhere. "The Malfoy family is bestowing a number of ancient books to the American Wizard Library of Congress. Some will become a part of their permanent collection, while others are only on loan. It won't be a large event and it won't be a gala fundraiser such as you have become accustomed to over the past few years. It will be a small, private affair with special access granted to special guests."
"You want me to come with you to the largest library in the world as your guest to a backstage access event? Only death would keep me away."
"That's about what I figured you'd say," he smirked down at her, then leaned in to kiss her nose. "It's funny the small things you sometimes remember, yeah? Well, I remember a certain potions class where you admitted aloud how Amortentia smells like parchment for you. Along with fresh cut grass and… something else."
"I don't think the last one would apply anymore," she said evasively. How could she tell her current lover that the love potion's third scent could best be described as her first love's hair? "What did you smell?"
Draco considered his girlfriend's lack of guile to be adorable. Well, she had more cunning than most other non-Slytherins he knew, but really, who did she think she was fooling? Luckily for her, he was mature enough to let her have her privacy. Most of the time. This time. "Peonies – my mother is partial to them and grows a large number of varieties in our gardens, a combination of wood and leather – Quidditch gear, and chocolate. I wonder if mine would still be the same?" he idly pondered before getting back on track. "The event is in two weeks. We can spend a weekend there, if you like. Have you been there before?"
When she shook her head in the negative, Draco continued, "Washington D.C. has a slightly stuffy magical district. I am under the impression the designers were trying to build the diametric opposite of Diagon Alley when it was constructed soon after the end of the American War of Independence. However, they do have a grand hotel we can stay in. There shouldn't be any need for us to go into the Muggle part of the city, unless you want to."
"Is this going to count as one of your dates?" she asked while simultaneously wondering what a Malfoy considered stuffy. Would everyone be walking around with actual sticks up their arses?
"I guess it is."
Draco arranged for a 4:00pm International Portkey to The States on a Friday, with a return set for noon local time on Sunday. International Portkey travel was still strictly regulated and as such, most of it originated from and concluded in Ministry buildings. Exceptions were made for certain large scale events, when pre-set portkeys would be sent out with instructions to the travelers. Today there were a few others traveling to various destinations in North America, as this was a popular time due to the time difference.
They were handed an empty picture frame, it no longer contained the glass, and told to queue up. Hermione carried only her handbag, but Draco was already privy to how much his witch could fit into that thing. Draco held a small trunk under his arm; it was in actuality quite a bit larger when unshrunk. Inside of it were two additional trunks. One contained his personal items, the other his books. All of the books being donated undertook a careful inspection and vetting process months ago by experts who came to the Manor. The wizard and witch team spent a week in England, staying in Manor guest rooms, rarely seen outside of the library there. Now, it was just a matter of formality in presenting the books. Their turn came up, and both held on to the rectangular piece of wood as they were pulled away.
The witch who welcomed them to Washington D.C. executed the typical Americanism of "Hi! How are you?" with a cheery voice. Hermione ruminated on this little oddity. Americans asked this question without much thought, and basically expected a response of, "Fine, thank you. How are you?" The little dance then called for the first person to reply, "Excellent! Well, have a nice day!" A few years ago, Hermione began a test, whereas, she chose to not answer as expected. What happened next was completely unexpected for a British citizen. When Hermione gave a truthful response along the lines of "It's been a long week. I'm knackered," she received commiseration. If she said, "I'm having a shite day", the inquirer tended to offer sympathy, usually without prying. And on the occasions when Hermione voiced a particular complaint, they tried to make it better. Americans with their sincerity in caring about complete strangers was so weird. Draco was obviously familiar with the social conventions, as he answered, "We're well, thank you. How has your day been so far?" while depositing the used portkey in the basket provided.
He apparated them into the lobby of the hotel, having stayed there before on business. Hermione grew up wondering if all wizard accommodations were as dismal as The Leaky Cauldron's. It wasn't until she began her Masterships in Charms and Transfiguration after Hogwarts when she happily discovered the inaccuracy of her assumption. The beautiful little boutique hotel in Rome situated a block from her flat during the year she lived there opened her eyes to the possibilities of magical accommodations. And the Renaissance-era hotel, originally built as a private residence, on the La Rue Magique in Paris became a favorite upon her first visit. Yet, neither could hold a candle to the lobby she now stood in.
In older European cities, the magical areas were often built haphazardly. When the ICW first signed the Statute of Secrecy, the wizarding world suddenly needed to go underground in pre-existing cities. They used alleys and streets already containing wizard residences or businesses mixed in with Muggle, and basically forced the Muggles out. Most accounts were murky on how the Muggles were moved, and what, if any, compensation they were given. Mass obliviations were common place. Once the districts were established, they became hemmed in quickly, with existing structures undergoing conversions to meet changing needs. The few new structures constructed often ended up very strangely-shaped in order to find room.
Magical Washington D.C. began construction congruent with Muggle (or No-Maj, as the Americans preferred) Washington D.C. The benefits of purposeful city planning were evident. Hermione was looking forward to exploring everything she had only read about. For now, she was just in awe of the lobby. The atrium boasted a domed stained glass ceiling three stories above them. The brightly colored glass shifted patterns every few minutes. The scenes varied between a herd of centaurs under a star-filled night sky, two male Chinese Fireballs fighting for dominance in flight with a female watching off to the side, a nymph bathing in a sun-dappled forest pool, along with others Hermione didn't catch. Draco pointed out the pair of floos with a list of restaurants next to the fireplace labeled 'exit', complete with menus.
"The concierge also is able to recommend shops based upon whatever you are looking for. Every single wizard business in D.C. has both an entrance and exit floo built in," Draco told her as they walked to the front desk. "After we check in, we'll floo somewhere for lunch, then wander around the streets. It's probably chilly out, but at least it isn't snowing."
"Welcome back, Mr. Malfoy," the wizard at the desk recognized Draco as they stepped up. "We have your room ready – the presidential suite you requested. Will you be requiring anything immediately?"
"Yes, can you please have the concierge make a reservation for a table for two at The Southern Belle for 30 minutes from now?" Draco inquired.
"Of course. I will have her call up to the room with confirmation. Here are your room cards." Hermione was impressed to find the establishment was up-to-date with the Muggle practice of using disposable cards, albeit with charms set on them rather than a magnetic strip.
Draco glanced at Hermione and noted the way she curiously stared at the card, quickly analyzing the charm on it, most likely jealous of the witch or wizard who thought of the idea before her. One of the things which attracted Draco to Hermione in the first place was her business acumen. Draco's combined business ventures, under the parent company of Malfoy Inc., dwarfed most wizard-run companies in the world. But, Hermione's charms-based powerhouse swiftly grew to one of the top five companies in Britain. She rivaled only George Weasley for patents filed every year.
Hermione had yet to let Draco watch her while working, but Salazar, he itched to do it. She claimed no one was allowed in the inner sanctuary within her offices while she invented and tested new charms, but George was known to be invited in upon occasion. Granted, those instances were specifically for collaborations between their two companies, which rarely took place. The knowledge did little to ease Draco's jealousy. Hermione offered a balm for his wounded pride in the form of watching her employees test before-market charms either of her making after the initial phase, or of their own making during presentations. He hadn't blinked when she handed him a magically binding non-disclosure agreement to sign first. The next morning, he sent her the same form for his company and invited her to visit his Potions lab.
"What's The Southern Belle?" Hermione asked, giving up her study of the room card.
"The cuisine is from the Southern United States. You'll love it," Draco explained as they walked towards the lift.
When they entered the lift, Hermione was confused to see only one button on the wall, marked 'lobby'. Below the button was a slot; Draco slid the room card into it and the doors shut. The movement felt was minimum, and over before Hermione had much time to think. The doors slid open to reveal the reception area of their suite.
"This is some impressive magic!" she gushed. "It's the same for every room, right? Are there any hallways at all? How does the staff move things about and clean the rooms?" Draco cut her off before she could rattle off any more questions.
"Yes, it is the same for every room. I have no idea how the hotel staff operates," he stopped before revealing he really didn't care how staff accomplished their duties, as long as it didn't affect him. Seriously, did his witch ever draw the line at needing to know too much? And no, it didn't escape his inner monologue that mere minutes ago he had been silently appreciating her sense of curiosity.
Hermione heard the small note of exasperation in Draco's voice and rolled her eyes. Times like these reminded her that her boyfriend was basically a prince (or a ponce, depending on your point of view), born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and the magic of how "servants" waited on you was beneath his notice.
Draco moved into the office, set down his trunk on the floor, and returned it to full size. Hermione stood behind it as he opened it to check on the contents. She let out a little sigh of longing. Draco hadn't dared to invite her to the Manor yet, so this was the first small taste for her of his vast library there. He planned to offer her the opportunity at the end of the weekend. The contents of this chest would serve as an enticement. Hermione ran the tip of a finger along the spine of one book.
"You can fondle the books to your heart's content later tonight. Or me. Your call. Let's get ready for lunch." He waited a beat to see if he would need to forcibly drag her away from the ancient and rare tomes.
They floo'ed into the restaurant and were shown to a table next to a window overlooking the street. There were plenty of people walking about on a sunny afternoon, in spite of the chill. It would be tea time back home, so Hermione was feeling a bit knackered. She perused the menu and realized there were many items she did not recognize.
"Maybe you should order for the both of us? We could share," she suggested.
The first time Hermione tried to share food with him off her plate with the obvious expectation that he would return the favor, well, his reaction could best be described as bewilderment. Who would even do that? Hermione, of course. He discovered it was not necessarily a Muggle thing to trade food at restaurants, just a thing some people did, and she was one of them. Luckily, she possessed impeccable table manners otherwise, so he overlooked this faux pas. And now he had come to enjoy the intimacy of it. Did he sometimes also take advantage of the knowledge that he could eat half of her plate if he chose? Maybe.
Nothing prepared Hermione for their appetizer of delectable little fried cakes made out of grits (something she had never heard of before today), shrimp, cheese, jalapenos, and a variety of spices. They were slightly crisp on the outside due to being fried, but creamy and full of flavor on the inside. There were four on the plate and when Draco went to have a second one, she nearly stabbed his hand with her fork.
"Hands off, buddy. I'm eating that," she said, while quickly moving it to her side of the table.
"Should I even tell you how many calories are in that little delight?"
"Nice try. I don't care, because shrimp and grits is my new favorite thing," she smirked.
"Mmmm…" Hermione moaned with an evil grin on her face as she refused to share the last bite with him.
Hermione stared out the window, really noticing the nearby buildings for the first time, as she took a sip of her wine. The street was straight and the buildings were all brick and rose with straight lines. Most contained businesses on both the ground and second floors. Some included apartments above the establishments. Trees lined the sidewalks, their branches bare now, but they would offer sufficient shade when full of leaves for the benches interspersed among them. Directly across from the restaurant was an apothecary; it was doing a brisk business. To one side of it sat a stationary store, with a candle shop above it. On the other side was antique and collectibles store – it took up two floors. Hermione was curious to go in there. Draco's idea of stuffiness appeared to be Hermione's idea of orderliness.
Hermione's entrée included fried green tomatoes. She'd eaten fried tomatoes with breakfast more times than she could remember, but these were decidedly different. The British variety were simply naked red tomatoes cooked in the leftover sausage grease. American fried green tomatoes were breaded, although these particular ones were done with a light hand. She thought maybe there were only egg whites in the batter? She detected a hint of cayenne and paprika. A cool, creamy sauce drizzled atop proved the perfect accompaniment.
"Yum," Hermione hummed.
"You haven't even gotten to mine yet. Just wait," Draco pushed his bowl towards her, inviting her to take a taste.
"Oh sweet Circe!" She took a second bit just to confirm the first bite wasn't a hallucination. Draco's seeker reflexes had the bowl back in front of him in a heartbeat. He wrapped a protective arm around it to shield it from her as he brought another bite to his mouth. He considered the fact his behavior was bordering on uncouth.
"I thought we were sharing," Hermione said petulantly. Crawfish Etouffee was her new favorite thing. Never mind she had already thought the same thing about shrimp and grits and fried green tomatoes within the past few minutes.
Draco ordered Strawberry Shortcake for dessert. The slightly sweet biscuits with the shortcake were so light and fluffy, Hermione wondered if they were infused with a modified feather-light charm while baking.
"I am a huge fan of American Southern food!" Hermione declared in a giddy voice as they exited the restaurant. Draco chuckled at her exuberance. He linked her arm with his as they strolled down the street.
Hermione dragged Draco into more stores than he would normally go to in a single day. The bookstore was a given; she purchased three books on the magical practices of Native Americans. She came across peony scented card-stock at the stationary store and handed it to Draco thinking he would like to purchase it for his mother. The scent was set with a stasis charm, so it would not wear down over time. They both found items in the antique store to purchase. At the Quidditch shop, Hermione bought United States National Team jerseys for Ron and Harry. She collected jerseys on all of her travels for them. Strangely enough, they reciprocated with snow globes for her. Draco's favorite was one Harry picked up in Amsterdam with three people smoking joints in it and charmed smoke that swirled around when shook up, instead of snow.
She found a thrift store which sold second hand clothing. Draco didn't care how many times she used the word "vintage" – the idea of wearing other people's old cast-offs disgusted him. He spent the majority of time they were in the shop sporting a sneer.
"Stop looking like you expect doxies to jump out at you from the coat rack," she hissed at him in embarrassment.
"It's difficult to do that when I'm sure it's exactly what is going to happen," he hissed back, being careful to ensure even the cuffs of his cloak didn't brush against a single thread of what hung around him.
"You are such a spoiled brat," she told him.
"Of course I am. That will never change. Can we please leave before I get fleas?"
"Stop being such a toddler. I want to try on a few things," she said, pulling two dresses from a rack.
"No! You can't! I won't be able to touch you afterwards until you shower and Scourgify everything you have on. Ugh. Who am I kidding? I am going to have to Scourgify everything I have on anyway."
"Are you fucking serious, Draco?"
Of course he was.
Undeterred, she grabbed her wizard's hand and dragged him towards the dressing rooms. She stationed him in a chair outside, with the command to wait. The first dress was from the flapper era and made entirely of a see-through fabric with beads sewn. When she came out of the dressing room to show it off to Draco he asked, "Are you naked underneath the dress?" She nodded. "Too bad the beads are covering the best bits," he sighed. "Watch this," she said in a sultry voice. Draco watched his curly-haired witch execute a slightly clumsy pirouette. The skirt flared out as she went around. When she faced him again the beading on the bodice had moved to allow him a view of her nipples. She watched his eyes widen. She spun around again and saw the lust in his eyes when he caught sight of her trimmed pubic hair.
"Maybe vintage isn't all bad," he said in a husky voice. Draco tried to follow her into the dressing room, the bulge forming in his pants pulling him to her like a magnet. She laughingly pushed him out. He willed his half-hard cock to stop thinking about forcing his way back in.
She bought the dress, plus another, with a promise to him to model the peek-a-boo one again later. He also made her promise to Scourgify it first. And shower. She'd allowed it to touch her naked skin, after all.
Dinner that night was on the roof top of the hotel; Draco had made the reservations at booking. Draco suggested forgoing what would have been afternoon tea time locally and instead to eat a slightly early dinner than they would have at home to adjust to the time difference. They were not the only ones dining up there, but the tables were few and placed far apart, so only a faint murmur carried to them. A plethora of warming charms were placed around the area, allowing for comfortable al fresco dining on a winter night when the temperature fell below freezing level. There was a dance floor off to the side and a small string band struck up just as dessert was being served.
They danced under the stars and Hermione was ready to swoon with the romance of it all. She reminded herself this part wasn't even the real "date". That would come tomorrow at the library. Which reminded her…
"What will the presentation be like tomorrow?" she asked as they swayed together gently.
"There will be about 25 witches and wizards there, I would guess. That's the usual size of these things. The director of the library will be on hand, along with their board of trustees. The two staff members who came to England are a part of the official presentation, they will receive the trunk on behalf of the facility. Then, there will be a handful of other top donators who are invited to these events whenever they occur. Maybe a dignitary or two. There will be hors d'oeuvres and cocktails, then a tour will be offered. I expect there will be a private photographer present the entire time to document the event." He dipped her with a sexy smirk as the song ended.
Draco made deal with Hermione. She could fondle and otherwise use his books to her hearts content, if she did it while wearing the used dress he would never admit he fancied. She sighed in delight as her fingers ran all over the spines of the tomes in the chest, taking delight in the magic she could feel radiating from them.
"Twirl, kitten," he told her from the large leather chair he lounged in nearby, glass of scotch in hand.
He watched the way her nipples pebbled when they became visible to his gaze. Her lips parted seductively as she pulled the oldest book from the group and opened it reverently. She had cast a protective charm over her hands before they began so no dirt or oil would be transferred. He heard a small breathy moan escape from between her lips as she turned the pages and soaked in the ancient knowledge. It was his cock's favorite sound. Well, one of them at least. It also responded to mewls, groans, panting, the word yes, purrs, expletives, certain noises of a wet nature, and his name being shouted. Ok, let's face it, Draco's dick didn't discriminate.
Hermione picked up her wand to try out something she read.
"Practicing spells will require another twirl, love," a husky voice interrupted her casting. She looked up to see Draco feigning nonchalance. Her inner lioness purred when she noticed his hooded eyes and the slight tightening of his trousers. He wasn't fully hard yet, but he was getting there. She twirled and went back to the spell. She heard, rather than saw, him take a rather large swallow from his tumbler. She tried out two more spells in the book before she replaced it to pick up a rather rare book she knew would most likely be the prized one of the bunch for the library.
"Hmmm… You want to look through another book? You did clean that dress, correct?" At her nod, he continued with, "I want to test out a theory on friction. Come here, kitten." He beckoned her to him with a curled finger. Using a combination of his mouth and fingers on her nipples, he worked them through the fabric of the dress until she said, "Please," in a small voice. His now completely hard length twitched a reminder at him that it also enjoyed hearing their witch beg. He allowed her to step back to the books.
She went to grab a notebook and pen from her bag to take notes or copy down text she found interesting. He chuckled because the reason he agreed to donate this particularly rare book was due to the fact he discovered two copies of it in his library. He would be happy to lend the copy he retained to her whenever she wanted. She didn't need to know this information now though.
"Tsk, tsk. That will cost you, pet. I think it is time for your secondhand garment to come off." He watched as her pupils dilated at his command. She slowly slid down the hidden side zipper and then shimmied out of, sending it via spell to hang in the closet in the bedroom. She stood unabashedly before him in nothing at all, while she copied down numerous pages quickly via a spell.
The minx dared to give him a sultry look as she asked, "What will it cost me to read one more book?"
He stood up and let the tent in his trousers show the price. Hermione's tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she sauntered over and went to work on his belt and then the clasp and zipper on his slacks.
The night proceeded until Hermione had a chance to delve into each book she desired, while Draco also found many opportunities to satiate his desires.
Before walking outside the next moring, Hermione stopped to look over the posted menus to help decide on lunch. She was intrigued by the Southwestern one. Draco asked the concierge to set up a reservation for lunch today and another for Sunday brunch at 10:30 at the Northwoods Supper Club.
"I have a bad habit of eating my way through trips," Draco confessed.
"Have you really not noticed I'm doing the same thing?" Hermione asked.
"Are you daft woman? I have no idea what you are talking about," Draco said, lacing his fingers through hers and pulling her outside. She rolled her eyes at him.
Washington D.C.'s joke shop was a total dud. The products were dull and the two Brits were part of mere handful of customers on a late Saturday morning. WWW would be packed at this point. Hermione would tell George if he ever considered expanding to The States, Washington D.C. was not the place to do it.
"Did you notice the only good gag in the place seemed to be a blatant copy of Weasley's Headless Hat?" Draco commented as they exited without purchasing anything. "And everything else was shite I used to buy at Zonkos as a third year."
Lunch served as a reaffirmation that this city definitely got some things right. The food was fantastic.
"Green chile is my new favorite thing!" Hermione enthused as they continued their explorations.
Soon enough it was time for the main event. Hermione decided to wear the second dress purchased yesterday rather than the one she'd brought along from home. It wasn't a magical dress, which meant some other witches probably disregarded it. Hermione couldn't believe her luck in acquiring a vintage Dior cocktail dress from the 1950's in perfect condition. Typical of the times, it hugged her tightly on top, accentuating her bust. There was a wide belt at the waist, and then a flared skirt with plenty of tulle underneath, causing it to flare out before ending above her knees. The dress was white; the top portion was heavily covered with clear crystals in varying sizes. The belt contained the same crystals in a zigzag pattern. The skirt's crystal coverage slowly tapered off towards the hemline. The skirt reminded her of heavy snowfall, the flakes melting as they neared the warm ground.
When she walked out into the main room, where Draco had lounged, waiting for the past half hour, she found him reading one of the books he'd purchased here – A Guide to Indigenous Potions Ingredients of the Northwestern United States and Canada. She felt a bit foolish at how turned on it made her to see her perfectly groomed boyfriend in black wool slacks and a forest green cashmere jumper, reading a book. A book she wanted to read when he finished, none-the-less. Circe, how could someone so sexy even exist? And he loved her.
Draco glanced up, thinking he'd use the cliché of "See something you like?" – but the words got stuck in his throat. His first thought was that he wondered how crow tasted, because he may be forced to eat it after seeing her in the vintage dress. "You look gorgeous," he admitted softly. "I don't think I've seen your hair up like this before."
"I took some inspiration from Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Figured it would go well with the dress. Even transfigured this little tiara out of a bracelet," her hand nervously fluttering near her up-do, wondering if she'd gone a little too thematic, "And, judging by your blank look, you've never seen Breakfast at Tiffany's," she surmised. He shook his head.
"You look pretty handsome yourself," she told him a bit belatedly.
He knew he looked good, but it was in a very calculated way. Hermione looked beautiful in her artless way; she could be so unpredictable, doing what she wanted without a care of what others may think. And she pulled it off with aplomb.
When they reached the lobby, Hermione paused at the concierge desk, where a wizard stood. "We'd like to be able to watch a movie when we return. I didn't notice a tele in our room."
"No, ma'am. Our manager said we may start offering it soon, but the company who charms the tv's and dvd players to be magic compatible is out of England and the hotel owner is on some sort of wait list with them. Sorry for the inconvenience," he told her sincerely.
"Would it be possible for you to procure a television and dvd player for us and have them waiting in the room? We'll also need a copy of Breakfast at Tiffany's, if you can find one?" Hermione asked with a hint of a smile and a twinkle in her brown eyes. Draco loved a good show and there was an excellent one unfolding in front of him.
"Ma'am, I can do that, but I don't understand what your plan is. I can send up one of the spare charmed portable outlets we have available for charging charmed cell phones, but even with power, the tv won't work. In fact, you take the risk of it exploding on you," the poor bastard was toeing the line of professionally letting a customer know they were stupid.
"Is your manager in?" she asked, ignoring everything he'd just said.
"Yes, ma'am. He's always here on the weekends until about eight," he said with a practiced blank look. Draco was impressed. No eye rolls or sighs, and definitely no sign of discomfort from the concierge. This was another reason Draco liked this hotel - excellent staff was hard to come by.
"No need to get him now, we have an appointment. Here's my card," she pulled a business card out of her clutch and slid it to him. "I would be willing to negotiate the cost of my services in order to leave the tele and dvd player behind after our departure in return for your services this evening. Please do send an outlet up, as Mr. Malfoy and I are currently charging our mobiles with the one I carry in my purse," she finished by pulling the very outlet in question, with two mobile phones attached to it, out of the seemingly endless purse to show him.
The wizard glanced down at the electronics, then the business card, and then looked back up, eyes widening in awe. Even the best training couldn't hide the mix of embarrassment and excitement flitting over his features. His lapse didn't last long as he said, "Of course, Miss Granger. I know he would extremely interested in talking with you upon your check-out tomorrow. I will get right on acquiring the tv, dvd player, and movie you requested. Can I get you anything else? Perhaps popcorn or ice cream to go with your movie?" Now the bloke was just fawning.
As they walked away, Draco noticed a smidgeon of swagger in his witch's step. She'd had a bit too much fun with that one. He smirked at her, "Had to pull the outlet out, with the brand new iPhones plugged in to it, didn't you? The ones no one else has charmed yet. Don't get me wrong, it was a nice touch."
"Stop staring at me like that," she said in an undertone.
"Staring at you like what?" he asked.
"Like you expect me to have a spontaneous orgasm any moment now due to my proximity to so many books," she hissed in his ear.
Draco snorted, earning a couple of questioning looks from the people nearest them. "Your Amortentia did smell like parchment," he murmured. She took in the scent of his cologne, realizing she also had a strong visceral reaction to the mix of bergamot, vanilla, and sandalwood, for which he assuredly paid a hefty sum.
"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, our guest of honor this evening. We are so excited to be hosting this event in appreciation of your generosity," a wizard exclaimed with a wide smile on his face, walking up with his hand held out.
Draco took the elder wizard's hand in his and gave a firm shake. He turned to his girlfriend, "Hermione, may I introduce you to the library's director, Thomas Andrews. Director Andrews, it's my pleasure to introduce you to Miss Hermione Granger."
The other wizard's smile grew impossibly wider, "The Hermione Granger? Oh, this is a pleasure indeed!"
Hermione was pleasantly surprised at the immediate recognition and obvious delight from the American Wizard. Was it for her war heroine status or for her current endeavors? Turns out it was a mix of both.
"Well, you know, living in our nation's capital, many here keep abreast of current world events. Nasty business, everything that happened with Voldemort. We Americans love nothing so much as a good revolutionary. And you know, I can tell you, I wasn't the only one of my friends shocked when you, one of our current favorite revolutionaries, didn't chose to go into government work. My wife lamented when you didn't lead a fiery crusade, like Jeanne d'Arc. When your name started to come up in scholarly journals, authoring trail-blazing ideas, well, I became even more if a fan," the man was seriously gushing. He wasn't at all quiet about it, and soon all of the people present had gathered to listen. Since there were less than a ten, it didn't feel claustrophobic.
The witch whom Draco remembered from her visit to his English Manor unobtrusively came up and took him aside to relieve him of the trunk full of books he'd been holding for quite some time, putting it on a table near a podium. She began the task of unpacking it for him, occasionally asking his opinion on the placement of each book being displayed. Hermione's name was being murmured around him, everyone excited at the unexpected surprise of her attendance. Draco was used to being the center of attention. His natural inclination was to insinuate himself back at his witch's side, taking the spotlight back upon himself. In the past, witches he dated were there to make him look good. Being in an equal partnership was a novel idea.
He continued to watch Hermione be the center of attention. Director Andrews introduced her to each other attendee in turn. There wasn't a one who didn't know of her. She'd grown into an accomplished conversationalist, naturally finding topics of shared interest. Draco's existence was soon remembered, when Hermione glanced back towards him with a radiant smile, putting her hand out ever so slightly, looking for him to step into her personal space. He came up to her side with his own genuine smile, taking her hand. She then introduced him to each person in the room, doing the amazing feat of remembering every name.
Together, they continued to chat with various witches and wizards, even as more people arrived. Hermione liked seeing Draco's real smile. So often his expressions were more on the scale of sardonic. She'd momentarily been nervous about his reaction to the group's response to her presence. That thought fled when she turned to find him staring at her with pride. He'd then come up to stand beside her, acting like this night shouldn't have been all about him. He liked that it was about them.
The ceremony was nice, but slightly forgettable in Hermione's opinion. She'd paid attention for Draco's sake, although the lure of the books around her was like a siren's call. Over martinis and finger foods, she'd found herself discussing possible uses of electricity in the library with three members of the board of trustees, Director Andrews, and the two other library employees present. They all agreed the first installment should be electric lights. She pulled out her phone to set an appointment for a teleconference the following week. Draco kept his face impassive when he saw more than one look of envy pass over the faces of these extremely wealthy, influential people upon the sight of the latest model iPhone, charms in place to be used in magical premises. It was with great internal glee, none of which showed on the outside, that he asked her for his phone, not caring if it looked emasculating to have it carried in her purse, slipping it into his own pocket after a cursory glance at the screen.
Draco moved amongst the crowd, answering questions about the books he was gifting, along with the ones being lent. He found himself describing the Manor's library. He was pleasantly surprised when one patron pulled him aside to discuss an article Draco had penned two years ago for an alchemical journal. It was the sole time the blonde-haired wizard had been published for his own original academic research. He enjoyed alchemy as a hobby, one he did not have enough free time to pursue as he wished.
Draco snickered at the way he could see Hermione's impatience grow when the evening didn't move to the final phase fast enough for her liking. She was itching to be allowed into the stacks, the research rooms, the very depths of the building. Finally, those who wished to take a tour were being welcomed to do so. The crowd dropped by half when the food and booze were taken away. Typical.
Hermione was a little miffed so many people left just when things were really going to get good. Where was their respect? The written word, and the wonders of discovering it, deserved reverence. If Hermione could ever be considered a religious person, then a library would be her place of worship. The early departures tonight were like the mass-goers who snuck out after receiving communion, not understanding the importance of the final prayer.
She would be leaving tonight with the painful knowledge that there just wasn't enough time. But, she made the best of it. She practically jogged from section to section, looking for certain books she had only heard about through reading other references to them.
She was ecstatic to be allowed to look through a one-of-a-kind book from the early 1600's showing painstakingly created, full color sketches of a Samhain Ball in London. The costumes worn were drawn, page upon page, in full detail, the decorations were recreated across many pages as well. Even the ghosts present at the event were drawn in amongst the living. And it all moved! She watched a rendition of an allemande on page, and then turning the page, found a minuet on the next. She was vastly amused to notice an amorous couple sneaking out onto a balcony in the background of a scene, the man stealing kissing as the woman giggled.
Draco was impressed the with the experimental potions labs available on a suburban level. Those wishing to research, using recipes from books housed within the library, needed to sign waivers, but were encouraged to test as much as they wanted onsite. There were cauldrons made of pewter, bronze, iron, and gold. Stirring rods were typically glass, as it was non-reactive with most ingredients. This lab offered bronze and even wooden rods so as to allow for recreation of period-correct environments.
The same went for using charms on premise. There were separate practice rooms. The general idea was a sharing of knowledge – the public gained from each other's successes and failures being noted within these walls. Hermione, or course, could not resist grabbing a book and using one of the testing rooms. She picked up a cup and a pillow. She transfigured the cup into a rat. She transfigured the pillow into a terrier. She then tried out a charm from an old hunting book that could be cast upon a dog to immediately teach it to find and kill rats, no training necessary. Bloody useful during the times of plague. The rat didn't stand a chance.
Ancient scrolls of parchment and velum were kept in dimly lit rooms with heavy stasis charms in place. There were even ancient clay tablets in still another room.
The employee research facilities were top-notch. There were two curse-breakers kept on staff. Translators of many modern languages, as well as experts in dead languages, were needed for this type of facility to insure no one would mispronounce a spoken word from a text. The results could be catastrophic. And just as at Hogwarts, there was a "restricted" section to this library. The books would be freely available for perusal, but were kept secure until needed. A patron could present themselves to the librarian posted to care for these titles and be allowed one book at a time, to be read in a managed environment. Director Andrews noted that occasionally accidents still happened. The most common was hexes being enacted by books with spells placed on them which determined whether the reader was worthy of the knowledge within. It seemed some wizards and witches would overestimate their self-worth.
They went back to the main level and one trustee asked if Hermione would like to hold a book which once belonged to Morgana herself. In many cases, the library owned more than one copy of an item, in fact, it was their mission to acquire at least two copies, whenever possible. However, if only one copy could be procured, then it did not matter the provenance, it was still made available to the public. The book felt warm in her hands, even before she opened it. When she turned to the first page, a glow emitted from it. It was the happiest little book she had ever held.
Hermione said good-bye to the handful of people left at the end of the evening. She was really looking forward to her call the next week with the board of the library. She planned to be very hands on with this project. It would be a great excuse to return and explore the building more.
When the returned to their room that night, everything they had asked for was in place. Hermione set the charms upon the tele and dvd player and hooked them up after she and Draco changed into pajamas. They snuggled up together on the sofa under a blanket and enjoyed the hot, buttery popcorn and cold, creamy ice cream, kept under stasis charms.
Draco didn't really understand the appeal of Breakfast at Tiffany's. Something was lost in translation between the fact that the piece took place in 1958 Muggle New York City and Draco's only life exposure up until after his 8th year at Hogwarts had been Wizarding Europe. He'd been 20 the first time he travelled further than the continent, to Japan. Magical Japan, of course. He'd seen Magical Tokyo before he'd seen Muggle London.
Hermione knew Draco was humoring her by watching the movie, but she couldn't get past how much she loved Audrey Hepburn. Pretending to be her for a night felt fun. She sighed as she licked mint chocolate chip ice cream from a spoon. Draco dozed off before the movie ended. She woke him up to move to bed.
The next morning, the two packed up, placing Draco's trunk into Hermione's bag so they could easily check out before leaving for brunch. They met with the manager at the front desk and came to an agreement to rebate the cost of their stay versus the cost of Hermione's services. One charmed tele and dvd player was in no way equal to their bill, but it took a bit off. She also agreed to check on the hotel's spot on her waiting list when she returned to the office tomorrow. She told the manager she hoped to see him again soon, as she may have work coming up in the city.
"Well, what did you think of the experience?" Draco asked over Bloody Marys at brunch.
"The revolutionary in me wants to shake my fist and yell "pay for play!", but it's easy to push that voice away when I remember the books," she sighed in a dreamy tone, tossing an olive in her mouth.
"I'm not going to disagree with you on the backroom deals that can come out of these things. It's difficult to when you kind of did one while there," he reminded her with a raised eyebrow.
She waved her hand dismissively, "Doesn't count. I've a monopoly on the field. They would have come to me eventually anyway."
"Really, that's how you see it?"
"Mmm-hmm," she said while taking a dainty sip of her drink. It was very spicy, just the way she liked it.
"Interesting," he drawled.
"What?"
"Your moral expediency. It still surprises me at times," he said in an admiring tone.
She preened under the compliment. Not at his insinuation of her loose morals. At the fact she could surprise him and he enjoyed it.
"All right, how does this particular American institution work?" she asked, eyeing the giant buffet.
They'd consumed a total of three Bloody Marys each by the time they finished gorging themselves, and they were strong.
"Ministry of Magic. Ministry of Magic. Ministry of Magic."
"What are you doing, Hermione?"
"Making sure I'm still good to floo."
A/N: Please leave me some reviews, I really could use some feedback on this story!
Happy 37th birthday to Hermione!