I do not own Harry Potter.
She knew this was a bad idea. A terrible idea, actually. The absolute worst idea ever imagined. She had never done something so knowingly reckless, without at least having a morally justifiable reason. Every fiber in her being had warned her against it, and yet, Hermione still found herself standing outside of the Three Broomsticks, her tawny hair whipping haphazardly in the wind as she hugged her scarlet jumper closer to her body.
She had no idea why she was so nervous; this obviously wasn't her first date. Hell, it wasn't even a date! She knew that Malfoy and Zabini were just playing a cruel trick; in all honesty, she fully expected all the sixth year Slytherins to be waiting inside with wicked smirks in the hopes of humiliating her. She couldn't even remember why she had ever agreed to the impending public ridicule in the first place, though she suspected it had something to do with Ronald. But if she did intend to use this 'date' as a ploy to make Ron jealous, why hadn't she mentioned any of it to him? Instead of cluing her clueless friend in on her plans for the day, she had actually taken the time to pick out an appropriate outfit and attempt to tame the mess that was her hair.
A part of her reasoned that hearing the news of her on a date from anyone but herself would drive Ron totally insane, thus giving her the satisfaction of toying with him for once, and was cause enough to keep quiet. But at the same time, she knew that telling either him or Harry would result in a quarrel of some kind - and she really wanted to avoid conflict. Plus, a tiny, tiny piece of her relished in the unexpected attention - despite the deceitful undertones carried with it. She knew, without a single doubt, that Blaise Zabini did not fancy her; the other day was the first time she could even remember speaking to him.
She was also fully aware of the fact that she did not fancy him, either. Objectively, she could admit that he was handsome, despite being a bit of a prat. But that could be applied to many of the male Slytherins; hell, she had overheard two fourth years discussing how fit Malfoy was, and found herself unable to disagree! Though, no amount of boyish good-looks could ever make up for the boy's arrogance and self-entitlement. It was a pity, really, that such an aesthetically-pleasing face could be wasted on such a horrid person.
Hermione prided herself on being one of the few girls her age who valued intellect and kindness over status and appearance. Her somewhat hopeless crush on Ron solely stemmed from his disagreeable, yet oddly charming personality, and she saw his handsome features and strong build as nothing more than added bonuses. And she was never phased by Harry's piercing green eyes or shy little smirk, due to being completely aware of his short-temper and awkward demeanor.
She knew she had no reason to be wary of her 'date' - it was just some dumb, half-witted attempt to embarrass her, and she was happy enough with herself to not let it shake her confidence. So, when she straightened her posture determinedly and marched into the Three Broomsticks with a smug smirk plastered across her face, she was beyond surprised to find Blaise Zabini sitting alone at the nearest table, greeting her with a smile.
"I was starting to think you wouldn't show up," he admitted coyly.
Glancing around the room quickly, Hermione felt her confusion double as she realized that the few students scattered about were nothing more than fellow patrons, and not the malicious faces of Zabini's fellow Slytherins.
"Are you going to sit down?"
Somewhat startled by his question, the Gryffindor gave her companion a questioning look. "Pardon?"
"Sit down, Granger," Zabini laughed, motioning towards the chair across from him.
Observing the seat cautiously, Hermione slowly lowered herself onto it as her honey-colored eyes scanned the room once more. There was still no sign of an ambush, and she felt a sense of relief wash over her, coupled with a strange feeling of disappointment, and then eventually, horror.
Was this an actual date?
Zabini must have noticed all the color leave her face as he sent her a bemused look. "You feeling alright, Granger?"
Hermione couldn't find the sense to speak as a thousand thoughts swirled within her mind. Was Zabini actually interested in her? And did that mean she was unintentionally leading him on? She couldn't find one redeemable quality of his to cling to, and the sheer panic of what she was potentially doing began to wash over her - how could she toy with him, just as Ron toyed with her?
"I think I should go," she stuttered, shakily rising from her seat. But before she could make a break for the exit, a group of students noisily entered the pub, one redhead in particular standing out.
As his questioning blue eyes met hers, Hermione found herself being bombarded by guilt and mortification, and she slowly lowered herself back into her chair.
"Wow, Granger - I'm impressed," Zabini mused suddenly, causing the Gryffindor to rip her gaze away from her confused best friend.
She opened her mouth to respond, but the Slytherin continued on.
"I knew you only agreed to this little rendezvous to get a rise out of Weasley, but I didn't know you planned on putting on a show!" he laughed.
Utterly bewildered, Hermione furrowed her brows as she attempted to register his words. "I planned... what?"
"I admire your tact, really," he continued, somewhat slyly. "I mean, I planned on doing the same to get under Malfoy's skin, but knowing I'll be bugging Weasley too is really just the cherry on top."
Hermione couldn't have been more lost. Was Zabini not serious about the date? Was it really just a ploy to bother - wait! Did he say Malfoy?!
"What?" Hermione finally exclaimed, undoubtedly gaining more than just Ron's attention, though she paid no mind. Instead, she had more pressing matters to attend to - such as figuring out the meaning behind the offhanded Malfoy comment. She couldn't think of any reason why the blond would be bothered by her date with Zabini, other than the fact that they were somewhat getting along.
"I've had my suspicions for a while, but I think this will confirm it," the Slytherin smirked, obviously lost in his own thoughts as Hermione struggled to gather hers.
"Confirm what?" she huffed, frustrated by her companion's incapability of having an actual conversation. "What does any of this have to do with M- "
"Shut up," Zabini hissed as a mischievous grin tugged at his lips.
Hermione had half a mind to just get up and walk away, seeing as her 'date' was being incredibly rude, but as she followed his gaze to the door once more, she felt her curiosity get the best of her.
Malfoy had just strolled in, his signature sneer on his lips and Pansy Parkinson on his arm. The air of arrogance that surrounded him was enough to make Hermione gag, though she refrained from acting so immaturely. After all, she was a prefect, and that would be an awful example to set.
Instead, she settled for a dirty look, and felt a small sense of normalcy as he sent one back. Malfoy then looked past her, and she could have swore his glare intensified.
"Zabini," he drawled in greeting as he neared their table, though his grey eyes burned with such malice, it made Hermione's stomach churn. "I had forgotten about your... plans," he continued, casting Hermione a dismissive look.
Blaise Zabini seemed entirely unphased by the blond's hostility, and merely continued to smile. "I'm sure you did," he replied simply.
A cloud of confusion soon settled over Hermione's thoughts as she awkwardly watched the scene before her. Malfoy appeared more irritable than usual, while Zabini seemed rather pleased with himself. Pansy, on the other hand, looked incredibly bored, and began to tug on Malfoy's arm.
"Come on, Draco," she whined, her face scrunching unattractively. "I'm thirsty."
Hermione watched curiously as Malfoy's face hardened, though his eyes burned with anger. He really wasn't having a good day, apparently. A pang of sympathy shot through the Gryffindor, before she remembered who the blond boy before her was, and she mentally scolded herself for being so empathetic. It was just Malfoy, after all - the very same Malfoy who occupied his free time by torturing first-years and muggle-borns. He was nothing more than a self-serving prat, and with that thought, any sympathy she may have had for the blond vanished - though she wouldn't wish spending time with Pansy on anybody.
As the two Slytherins made their way towards the bar, Hermione again locked gazes with Ron. Her friend still looked utterly bewildered, but, to her dismay, she couldn't find anything that resembled jealously in his clear blue eyes. A little annoyance, yes, but nothing that suggested he was on the verge of sweeping in and rescuing her from her 'date' with Zabini.
"Well, hasn't this been lovely," her companion suddenly purred, causing Hermione to direct her attention back to him. He was still sporting a smug smirk on his handsome face, making her skin crawl ever so slightly.
"Why am I here?" Hermione questioned, feeling fed up with the act. "Obviously this isn't a real date or anything, and if you're just trying to get a rise out of your friends by being seen with a 'lowly, Gryffindor muggle-born', then I suggest you find someone else, because I will not be just some silly girl for you guys to laugh at!" She could feel her temper rising, though she refrained from letting her voice do the same. Why had she ever agreed to this? There was obviously no benefit to it - Ron seemed to lose interest as he publicly snogged Lavender from across the room, and Zabini wasn't anyone Hermione wanted to spend time with.
"If you want to go, be my guest," Zabini replied dryly, motioning towards the door. "I've already gotten my answer."
Cursing her ever-lasting curiosity, Hermione fought the urge to leave as she regarded the Slytherin skeptically. "Answer to what?"
He smiled wickedly in response, before nodding his head towards where Malfoy and Pansy sat.
"My dear Draco has the strangest... fascination with you," he began with a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. "I wasn't sure what this fascination stemmed from, though I had an idea. But let' just say, our little... date... has been very informative."
Hermione attempted to work out what he had said, but even she couldn't figure out what Zabini meant. She knew Malfoy had some sick fascination with torturing her, and she had always figured it was due to his morphed sense of reality and brainwashed prejudice. But so far, he hadn't even acknowledged her presence with more than a glance, so she really had no idea what conclusion Zabini had come to in the short amount of time that had been their 'date'.
"I honestly have no idea what you're going on about, but I will have no part in it," Hermione declared as she stood from her chair. "And I really couldn't care less about what Malfoy thinks of me, so whatever conclusion you have drawn from this 'experiment', you can keep to yourself. Good day."
With that, Hermione turned towards the door, paying no mind to the curious looks she was receiving, and making a great effort to ignore the snogging couple in the corner. The last thing she needed was to see Ron tangled up with Lavender.
But as she left the warm air of the Three Broomsticks and was faced with the harsh winds outside, her mind began to replay all that had just happened.
What was Zabini talking about? It was obvious their whole excursion was just a ploy to annoy Malfoy, but why? Why would he be bothered by the fact that Zabini was 'on a date' with, as he would call her, a 'filthy Mudblood'? It made no sense - and Hermione wasn't used to that. She was Hermione Granger, after all - she always had the answers! So why couldn't she figure out what Zabini had apparently realized?
Feeling her frustration rise, Hermione attempted to shake away those thoughts. It really didn't concern her, nor would she benefit from figuring it out, so she shouldn't waste her time on dwelling over it.
Pulling her jumper closer, Hermione continued her way down the road, ignoring her fading curiosity as her hair violently danced with the wind. It didn't matter what Malfoy thought of her - he was just some slimy Slytherin, after all.
I'm sort of disregarding HBP, as the plot wouldn't mesh well in this story, and I really only set it in their sixth year because that had been the most recent book I re-read, and I like the Lavender/Ron subplot, as it adds drama (though, strangely enough, I am a bit of a Ron/Hermione shipper - Dramione is my guilty pleasure, really!) But this fic will be Dramione, and it will also be pretty slow-paced.
Constructive criticism is welcomed, as well as reviews :)