Theretofore on GG:

"If I promise to go out on one date with him, provided he agrees, will you lay off?" Hermione asked, and Faye grinned triumphantly.

"I give you my word."

"Fine."

Faye gave a nod and got up to leave, but just as she reached the open door, Hermione called back to her.

"If I may... why didn't you just take him?"

"He likes you, love."

"You don't know that. And you've never been one to give up a good man for someone else's better interests; especially that man's," Hermione recalled, and Faye smirked.

"Well, there is the matter of his name," she said, and Hermione lifted an eyebrow. "Dray? Faye? We'd never work out."

-x- -x- -x-

Chapter 3: Barstool Confessional

Hermione woke at the crack of ten AM on Wednesday, a week and three days after her afternoon rendezvous with Draco. She took a shower and spent an hour doing her hair, only to be completely unsatisfied and venture to the lavatory to wash it again. When she was finally content with her locks and her looks, she made a break across the living room. Faye was studying again, sitting cross-legged on the sofa and bent over a textbook. Realizing that the blonde's back was to her, Hermione took off her rusty brown oxfords and tip toed across the plush carpet in only her socks. Just as she reached the door and turned the knob, feeling confidant and home free, a suspicious voice halted her.

"Where are you sneaking off to? And dressed like that?" Faye asked, resting her chin on an arm folded over the couch.

"What's wrong with the way I'm dressed?" Hermione snapped before realizing it, and tucked in her chin to view her casual ensemble. Faye laughed.

"No need to get defensive; it's just odd to see you wearing something other than black. I assume you're not going to work, then?" she asked, lifting and eyebrow, and Hermione shook her head, seating herself on the carpet and replacing her shoes.

"I'm going to see... if I can replace our barstools," she said, more fluently than she'd expected, and gestured to the breakfast bar. Faye pouted.

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm incapable of decoding your illusive street-lingo..."

Hermione smirked and tied her second shoe with flourish.

"It means exactly what I said. That's where I'm going. Now, if you'll excuse me," she said, standing from her seated position and withdrawing her coat from the hook by the door. "I have a man to see about some chairs. Do have fun in class." Faye scrunched her nose in annoyance and waited until Hermione left before sticking her tongue out at the door and going back to her work.

-x- -x- -x-

Hermione sighed as she closed the door behind her and buttoned her coat as she walked toward the lift. She felt only slightly bad about lying to Faye; she hadn't really been dishonest, just opaque. Faye would decode her plans and berate her with questions when she returned; Hermione simply hadn't wanted the inquisition before she left. She'd had enough trouble gaining the confidence to leave. She didn't necessitate Faye losing it for her.

Hermione braced herself against the burst of cold air that met her at the front door and hurried down the porch steps before promptly disappeared with an echoing crack. When she regained awareness of her surroundings, Hermione's eyebrows were buried in her hair. In front of her was a brick building, like a small factory, with two levels, a thousand windows, and a peeling, painted sign above the front doors. Just as she began to wonder if she'd come to the wrong place, Hermione was calmed by the tarnished words on the notice board; 'Unwonted Wonders.'

With one final deep breath, she marched toward the café appropriate doors. As she made to enter, a stalwart woman with a scowl and too much pink lipstick burst through the entryway. Hermione stepped back in surprise, and the lady glared at her, lips pursed in a tight line. The younger woman tried to remain unintimidated and smiling sweetly at her matron, cocking the door. The fedora-clad customer merely huffed and strode down the street, disappearing at the end of the boulevard. Shaking herself clear of the uneasy feeling in her stomach, Hermione finally entered the shop and turned back to see the bell above the door jingle. With a warm smile, she turned to take in the rest of the showroom, and was again surprised.

It looked like a cluttered cottage, inhabited by both old and young. There were dressers, chairs, all sorts of furniture, a multitude of toys, caldrons, brooms, and even a section dedicated to Quidditch. Being an aficionado of the sport, Hermione made a beeline directly for this latter sector. There were maple beater bats, a hollow stone quaffle, collector's cards of men long retired, and an entire collection of wooden snitches, in various colors and decorations. She reached out to touch one, but its wings began to flutter and she quickly drew back, afraid of the damage it might do if provoked.

Forcing herself to back away from the Quidditch supply, Hermione scanned the room, searching for any other form of life. A slowly moving ceiling fan caught her attention; just below it was a mahogany desk, complete with an American-made fifty's cash register. As she approached, Hermione noticed a little tea bell, and a note on the counter instructing to ring it for service. She smiled and did as she was told. Within seconds, there was a stomping noise from somewhere behind the wall she was facing and a voice soon accompanied it.

"Mrs. Crichton, I told you... I don't have any new..." bellowed Draco as he threw open the door behind the desk and stepped into the store room. He stopped short when he saw Hermione. "Blimey," he stated under his breath. "What are you doing here?" Hermione smirked and crossed her arms.

"And I suppose you treat all your customers that way?" she teased and Draco shook his head as if to clear it.

"I'm sorry, I... I'm just surprised. I was expecting..."

"A Mrs. Crichton by the sound of it," Hermione finished and he nodded, eyes still locked on her face.

"She's obsessed with doorknobs. Comes in at least once a day asking if I've gotten anything new. Sometimes even buys cabinets or armoires just for the doorknobs. For the life of me I don't know what she does with them... but enough about her. Are you here on business or... for something else?" Hermione smiled coyly.

"To the point, aren't you?" she goad playfully and Draco lifted an eyebrow. "Maybe a bit of both," Hermione finally answered, and he smiled. "So, this is your store, hm?" she asked, turning back to the bulk of merchandise and avoiding his eyes, if for no other reason than to tease him.

"Right you are," he boasted, stepping around the desk and smiling proudly. Hermione let her eyes travel around the room once more, then turned back to him with a little smile.

"I like it. Again, not what I expected, but quaint nonetheless. And it looks so sterile from the outside. I rather like it better in here."

"And I would have to agree with you," Draco said, watching her curiously.

"What?" she asked softly, as if flattered by his stare, and he smiled coyly.

"Well, either I'm reveling in your beauty, or I'm still trying to figure out why you're here." He paused. "Or both."

"I'd have to say that's a better compliment than your last attempt," she said with a smile and took a step toward him, decreasing their distance only slightly. Draco kept his gaze on hers, as if he expected her continue, when in reality it was his turn to apply wit. Hermione grew noticeably more nervous, shifting her weight onto separate feet and letting her eyes dash about his face. It was obvious that she had no idea what to say. "Right... I've never been brilliant at this quixotic flirting etiquette. I'm not very avid," she admitted, eyes turning to the floorboards and waiting for his laughter.

When it came, it was not mocking as she had expected, but cheerful. He chuckled and moved back behind the counter, flipping the little card over to read,

The counter is closed.

Please try back at a later hour.

Thank you,

Dray.

Hermione would have inquired about the untroubled shutdown of his shop, but Draco distracted her with conversation.

"I'm glad you realize that, because you weren't fooling anyone," he informed, hands spread on the desk as he looked at her, leaning against it and twisted around to face him. Hermione blushed just over her cheekbones and turned away again.

"Well, thanks for telling me before I made a complete arse out of myself," she replied sarcastically, and began re-buttoning her coat. Draco looked slightly confused and spoke up when she threw the end of her scarf over her shoulder.

"Where are you going?" he asked, sounding disappointed, but Hermione shoved her hands into her pockets and lifted her chin at him.

"I'm going to stop acting a mooncalf and leave you to your work. It was nice seeing you again, anyway," she granted, then nodded her head at him and turned toward the door. Draco came quickly around the counter and took her arm.

"Hey, don't go off all mad at me..." he implored, turning her toward him, and Hermione kept her poker face.

"Why not?" she demanded, showing nothing in regard the way he was making her feel, and Draco smiled the same sheepish smile he had the last time they'd met.

"Because then you might not come back."

Hermione tried to keep her countenance rigid, but the look on his face and the tone of his words forced a smile to creep onto her lips. Draco grinned.

"Will you stay?" he asked, hopeful, and she sighed.

"I suppose... since you've gone to the trouble of closing up just for me..." she joked, a quirk to her lips. Draco chuckled.

"Brilliant. Come; I'll show you around," he said, unbuttoning the only button that managed to find its way back into a slot, and gentlemanly doffing the coat from her shoulders. He draped it over his arm and gestured for her to follow as he made his way to the door through which he'd previously entered.

"Cor..." Hermione exclaimed as she stepped into the giant workroom, cluttered and messy with stains and supplies. Draco grinned at her reaction, watching as her eyes traveled the expanse of the walls, trying futilely to take in everything.

"Bit of a change from the front, I know. Gives me a bit of personal space."

"A bit? I'd say so," Hermione agreed, feeling dwarfed in the massive room. As promised, Draco explained the various sections outlined in the immense area and Hermione listened with more than mild interest. The majority of the building was dedicated to working; various tools and stains lined the walls, while piles of mismatched pieces and broken wood littered the floor. In another room, with air magically treated to be extra dry, stained and polished furniture was left to sit near a large fan. Upholstering was done in a completely separate section of the factory, filled with fluff and common fabric. Draco spoke with fervor as he explained why he felt it better to reupholster than to simply cover. Hermione was caught with his voice, simply through the passionate way he spoke.

"You do all your own work?" she asked and Draco nodded enthusiastically, pointing to a chair, presently wet with paint stripper and waiting tender loving care.

"It makes for full profit. I don't have workers, and I don't have a manufacturer. I just go out and buy things, bring them here, make them their best, and resell them for a higher price," he explained proudly, running his fingers along a freshly built and sanded chest of drawers. "Or I simply make them myself." Hermione seemed intrigued.

"You make a living that way?" she asked skeptically and Draco chuckled.

"Enough. I own this building and I live upstairs; I don't have anything to pay but utilities, and magic is free. A fairly boring existence, but it appeases me."

"I think it sounds wonderful," Hermione praised, shaking her head at his accusation. "To have your own life; no boss, no paycheck, no constant fear of being fired... I envy you." Draco smiled amusedly, watching her as she inspected the stitching on a newly finished velvet sofa.

"Surely it can't be that bad," he insisted, shaking his head as she gave him a skeptical look. "What do you do?" Draco asked then, as if her answer would prove some secret truth to his statement. Hermione seemed to regain herself; she stood more erect and tilted her chin slightly toward the ceiling.

"I can't tell you," she stated. Draco lifted an eyebrow.

"You can't tell me, or you simply won't?"

"I can't," she repeated.

"May I ask why?" Draco posed and she sighed slightly, half smiling.

"I promised myself never to tell on a first date. The last time I did, something suddenly came up and I never got called," Hermione explained and Draco laughed aloud.

"When did this become a date?" he asked in surprise, and Hermione smiled weakly.

"When it served to get me out of obligation," she started and continued to Draco's bemused eyebrow. "I promised Faye I'd go out with you." Draco smirked.

"So it's to get away from me? I'll pretend I didn't hear that," he said and Hermione lifted a finger, as if to correct him. "Never mind; I want to show you something," Draco interrupted, saving her the exertion of explanation. He held out his hand and Hermione tentatively took it, lifting an eyebrow at his smile. It grew at her acceptation and Draco tugged her gently, leading her to the back corner of the large workroom. Hermione followed willingly, careful to maneuver away from anything to which she might pose harm.

In the far corner was a cement staircase, covered in a deep purple carpet that rolled down the levels like a tongue. Draco led Hermione directly up the runner and into the dark room beyond.

"Draco..." she started hesitantly, but he waved a hand to dismiss her.

"Don't worry," he said passively, dropping her tiny palm and taking a step back toward the door. Hermione watched him, eyes wide as to see in the darkness, assuming he was about to leave her. Draco stopped near the doorway and shifted a giant lever to a higher position. At once, the forest of industrial lights on the ceiling flickered on, illuminating the single room that occupied the entire floor. The space was filled with furniture, but distinct lines divided everything, as if made into wall-less rooms. There was a kitchen, small dining room, sitting room, and various rooms filled with assorted debris.

"Electricity?" Hermione wondered, turning back to her host. Draco furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head.

"No, of course not. Enchantricity."


"Ah," Hermione agreed, turning back to view the splendor before her.

"What do you think?" Draco asked eagerly, as if he'd set his home up just for her.

"A creative use of provides," she began, remaining professional as she let her eyes slide slowly across the room. "Pronounced dividing lines; cleanly living space. I applaud you, although it is a bit impersonal."

"I hoped you might say that," Draco voiced from behind her and Hermione spun with a 'ha' on her lips.

"You had no idea what I was going to say!" she accused and Draco lifted a shoulder, looking innocent.

"No..., but I hoped you wouldn't like it; it gives me a chance to do this..." he explained and pushed a green button next to the lighting lever, causing a red one to jut underneath. A sound much like a truck in reverse pierced the air and a dozen deep purple drapes cascaded into the room, suspended on pipes near the ceiling and running toward the pole that acted as a midpoint. The curtains stopped in a meter wide circle surrounding the center pole, and the high-pitched sirens quieted. Hermione watched with awe written on her face and Draco viewed her with complacency.

"So you do have taste, don't you, Draco?" she said when the curtains had slowed their sway and she was able to compose a thought. Draco's smirk grew.

"As clearly anyone can see," he validated jokingly and Hermione modeled an amused smile.

"How did you do that?" she asked with quiet curiosity and Draco stepped toward her and more into the room.

"I rigged the pulley system. Of course, I could have simply charmed them... but had I been so rudimentary, I'd have lost your brilliant response," he explained coquettishly, smoothly sliding to stand in front of her. Hermione found herself slightly alarmed and glanced nervously at the floor. She regained herself quickly and met his gaze, smiling offhandedly. Draco kept their closeness for a moment, observing her, before backing up with a grin and moving toward the metal mast. "Come in, stay a while. Would you like something to drink?" he asked and Hermione responded with a smile. Draco grinned. "Just have a seat and I'll be back in a moment," he instructed before disappearing into the sea of royal purple. Hermione found herself calmed by his innocent enthusiasm and shook her head after him. She couldn't remember a time when she'd been so nervous and yet unafraid, but he seemed completely comfortable with her presence and proud of his surroundings. She envied him.

Hermione wandered through the curtain-cut dial until she relocated the sitting room. As instructed, she settled herself on the rich toile sofa, visibly surprised at the heavenly feel of the cushions beneath her. As she grew more comfortable, the couch seemed to contour to her, relaxing as she did. By the time Draco returned, the numbing effects of settee had taken Hermione and she seemed overpowered by the heavy cushions. Draco laughed when he saw her, setting his cargo of bottles on the table in front of them.

"Sorry," he said with half a smile, offering her a hand. Hermione grasped his palm and allowed him to help her out of the sofa's clutches. "I didn't make this one wonderfully well." Hermione looked surprised as she watched him sit beside her.

"You made this?" she asked and Draco gave a swift nod as he uncapped the two frosty glass bottles, smiling contentedly at her.

"Of course. I couldn't sell it," he explained, handing Hermione the prime of beverage selection. She took it slowly, holding the drink in chilled fingers.

"Well, it is lovely," Hermione said in agreement, as if finalizing their exchange, but Draco laughed.

"No, I mean I couldn't sell it. No one wanted it. It sat downstairs for two months and I gave up and brought it up here. Actually, pretty much anything you see on this floor has been rejected," Draco explained, amused at her misinterpretation. Again, Hermione looked surprised.

"Really? That's unjustified; I would buy this couch," she declared almost proudly, running her fingers over the fabric as if to comfort the soul of the furniture. Draco took a swig of his drink and smiled at her.

"You say that as if you pity it," he accused and she laughed softly.

"Well, maybe just a little," Hermione admitted, looking up from the woven cloth and focusing on Draco's face. He kept a warm smile plastered to his lips as if it were the most natural position for them; she assumed it was his constant interaction with people that brought about such a characteristic. As they shared a comfortable gaze, Hermione's eyes seemed to narrow in speculation and Draco lifted an eyebrow in response.

"What?" he asked, making her look away.

"I was wondering," Hermione began, pausing as she looked back up. "What did you think when I didn't call you?" Draco laughed out loud.

"Honestly?" he asked, jolly in his flashback. Hermione offered him half a smile in return and Draco continued. "The moment I arrived back here I slapped myself," he admitted. "I gave you my business card, Hermione. Had you called, I would have been forced to meticulously consider your judgment." Hermione joined him in his humor.

"And now that I've randomly showed up on your doorstep?" she asked with a funny smile and Draco laughed.

"Well, I'm definitely surprised... As for your judgment? You did try to leave. That must account for something," he answered, looking sheepish as he finished and training his eyes on the floorboards. Hermione, with nothing at mind to say, simply lapsed into silence. Draco stared at his spot on the floor and listened to the quiet, looking as if he didn't notice her next to him. When the seconds became minutes, Hermione sighed.

"Maybe we should try idle chitchat?" she suggested, hoping to rise something out of him. Draco sat up straight, now paying attention to more than the hardwood, and shook his head.

"If we have to do that, then even a friendship is beyond us. We are lost cause."

"What makes you say that?" Hermione wondered, leaning back into the couch and glad to have moved on from such an embarrassing topic. Draco turned his head toward her, smiling sadly as if breaking bad news.

"It's a proven fact. If you can't simply talk with someone, you have nothing in common. You'll hate each other before you realize it," he explained. "My own personal study." Hermione lifted an eyebrow.

"Do you have six wives and a few dozen kids somewhere that I should know about?" she asked playfully and Draco laughed, shaking his head.

"No; just a plethora of ex's. All of which seem to hate me more now than they ever loved me then."

"Haven't you ever had someone you didn't need to force yourself to talk to?" Hermione asked with a frown, feeling sorry for him though he didn't seem overly sad. Draco smiled half heartedly, leaning back into the couch and toying with the lip of his bottle.

"Yes," he said. "You make a very good point. Maybe the problem isn't the talking... it's just my incompatibility with reality. Even those few I felt connected to view me with at least indifference. If I showed up unexpectedly, I wouldn't exactly receive a smile and inquisition of my well-being. That's what drove me to take you out last week; I invited myself to your one-woman party and you didn't turn me away. You didn't even make a snide remark; you acted as if we had had no history. Like I was nothing but a face you hadn't seen in a while... and I've been thinking about it ever since." Hermione was struck speechless at his admittance. She gaped noiselessly for a few moments before sighing and dropping her shoulders.

"Draco, you can't say things like that," she scolded, sounding disenchanted, and he turned toward her, looking confused.

"Why not?"

"Because I couldn't possibly have responded in such a way to keep up the conversation. Before you know it, I'd be asking you about the weather; you're ruining us," she teased, and Draco smiled wholeheartedly.

"You're something else, you know that?" he asked, shaking his head, and Hermione shrugged a shoulder.

"So I've been told, but I've yet to validate any such thing."

-x- -x- -x-

Hermione tiptoed quietly through her apartment structure, trying not to make noise and disturb her neighbors. When she reached apartment 14D, she fished in her pocket for her key, then tried repeatedly to insert it in the dark. When the door finally unlocked, Hermione entered quietly and closed the door slowly to avoid any creaking. With a tiny sigh, she turned around and began to walk to her room, ready and willing to indulge in the covers. Just as she reached her bedroom door, a quintette of thin fingers latched onto her shoulder and spun her around.

"Faye! Bloody hell, you scared me half to death!" she scolded in stage whisper upon facing a tight-faced blonde with hair in big curlers and green paste on her face. "And you look like the bloody hulk."

"The what?" Faye asked her, but Hermione shook her head and made to turn back around. "Oh, no you don't!" Faye scolded, quickly moving in front of her. "You've been gone all day! It's almost eleven; where have you been?"

"I told you this morning where I was going, didn't I? Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep..."

"You told me you were getting new barstools. I don't see any new barstools," Faye pointed out heatedly, glaring at her flat mate. Hermione rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to comment, but Faye interrupted her. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been?" At this, Hermione lifted an eyebrow.

"You were worried?" she asked, sounding surprised. Faye sighed, dropping her shoulders.

"Of course I was. Anything could have happened to you... why do you think I've waited up? I have a six AM class tomorrow," she explained, and Hermione smiled.

"That's really sweet, Faye... but I can take care of myself. See? I'm home; I'm fine... go back to bed, all right?" she suggested, then tried to walk past her flat mate, but Faye stepped into her path.

"That's all well and good, but I think I at least deserve to know where you were. Obviously, you lied to me; I want to know why."

"I didn't lie to you, love..." Hermione said, sighing. "I just... eluded the truth a little. I'm honestly surprised you haven't figured it out." Faye lifted an eyebrow. "Where would I go to get new barstools?" Hermione posed, crossing her arms and looking impatient. Faye looked perturbed; she didn't see the point in the present inquisition.

"I don't know... the department store?" she guessed and Hermione sighed.

"Really nice ones," she hinted, and Faye seemed completely oblivious.

"A really nice department store?" she surmised unenthusiastically and Hermione placed a hand to her forehead.

"Old, valuable bar stools?"

"An antique store? Hermione, I don't see where this is..." Faye began, but trailed off as her words registered. Hermione was nodding overenthusiastically, a smirk on her face. Faye's lips grew into a grin and she squealed. "Blondie? Really?"

"Right you are; so quick on the uptake."

"Give me details!" she demanded, but Hermione groaned.

"Faye, come on... I'm tired and you have class. Tomorrow; please?" she pleaded, looking importunate, but Faye shook her head.

"You know I'm too excited to sleep now! Come on, just a little run down?"

"Well," Hermione sighed. "I went, we talked, went out, had dinner, and I came home. That's it."

"That's all you did in the ten hours you've been gone?" she asked suspiciously, inclining her eyebrows. Hermione made a face.

"Faye! Yes, that's all we did, all right? Can I go now?" she asked spitefully. Faye didn't answer, but allowed Hermione to brush past her and toward her room.

"Manny?" she called back and Hermione turned.

"What?"

"Did you kiss him?" Faye asked and her flat mate paused. She waited a moment, then repeated her question. "Did you?"

"Yes," Hermione whispered, and Faye lifted an eyebrow.

"What was that? A yes? I knew it... I knew you had a thing for him."

"It was just a little peck!" Hermione defended. "It didn't mean anything but goodnight. Speaking of which," she said, ending the conversation with the slam of her bedroom door.

"You just keep telling yourself that, then!"

---------------------------------

A/N: I changed a little bit in this chapter, but it's relatively the same thing. I've changed my plans for the future slightly, so I had to alter it so it would make the most sense. I hope it's enjoyable to new readers.