First of all, I want to give cyber-hugs to EVERYONE who contributed to the reviews for chapter 5...you guys went WAY above what I'd expected, and now I have a grand total of 130 reviews instead of my originally expected 115! Seriously, give yourselves a hug from me, because you totally deserve it! So now that I've seen what you all are capable of, is it possible that I could raise my limit? Hmm...how about 155 reviews at least before I update again? Please? ^^
Extra Note: Nice work to those of you who recognized Chapter 5's title to be Randy Newman's song from "Toy Story." Here's my challenge for you musical ones out there - can you tell me what song THIS chapter's title is from? First one to get it receives the next chapter dedication!
OFFICIAL CHAPTER DEDICATION: x. enchanted .x for constantly providing me with uplifting, fun reviews! Thank you so much! (Sorry I had to put spaces in your name - for some reason, FF isn't letting me type it all together.)
CHAPTER 6 - Kings and Vagabonds
She was nervous...so very, very nervous. In fact, she hadn't even felt this nervous when she had made her entrance with Viktor during the Yule Ball. That time, it had been different – she had just wanted to surprise people. But now, she was going to have to impress, and that was what made it all so very nerve-wracking. Because honestly, how many people would be able to model in front of the critical eyes of Blaise Zabini (and, lord have mercy, Draco Malfoy himself)? It wasn't that she had many exterior flaws; she just couldn't bring herself to quite comprehend the magnitude of the matter. She knew that if she stopped to really think about it, her legs would collapse from under her.
Oh, I wish Andi were here.
Hermione gazed into the brightly lit mirror and saw a pair of smoky eyes peering back at her. It all seemed so alien: the rosy lips, the lightly bronzed skin, and the nominally darkened eyebrows. And her hair – it cascaded down her bare shoulders and back in silky amber waves, framing her face and unadorned throat. She stepped back and examined her long, flowing dress: it was of a simple yet ethereal material that flared out in a triangular pattern, beginning in a creamy hue at the bust area and then transitioning into a gentle maroon.
Thank god this dress covers my chest. The last thing I need is for the whole world to ogle what sadly resembles a couple of mosquito bites.
Inhaling deeply, she gently nudged the door open, made her way out of the makeup artist's room, and stepped into the photo studio. A woman of about thirty looked her up and down once before snapping her bubblegum and saying, "Mr. Zabini will be down shortly. Go ahead and get situated with my assistant Willy so that we can do some starter shots."
Hermione nodded and walked onto what appeared to be the designated photo shoot area. The background was enchanted to show a dark bedroom solely illuminated by a crackling fire, while the floor was coated with hundreds of coffee – colored rose petals.
"All right, miss," Willy said as he pointed to an area next to the "fire." "I want you to stand there, arch your back slightly so that your collarbone is exposed, part your lips just a hint, and then look straight into the camera. This will be an experimental shot, but if need be, we can use this pose again for the real thing."
Hermione swallowed her mounting anxiety and nodded as she followed his commands. Feeling rather awkward, she stared black depths of the camera lens, waiting for the telltale click and flash.
The lady with the gum wrenched her head out from behind the camera. "Oi, Willy! She can't be wearing her shoes! Weren't you born with any common sense, you dumb blighter?"
Willy, a scrawny little fellow, dashed forward while apologizing profusely. "Good god, I'll fix that up right quick. Here miss, let me have your shoes."
Hermione slipped her black flats off into Willy's hand before returning to her pose. "Erm, excuse me?" she called out tentatively to the photographer lady. "Will I need the perfume with me?"
The lady smacked her hand against her forehead in frustration and cried, "Willy, you irresponsible mutt! Kindly go fetch the perfume. We can't have a perfume ad without the perfume, now can we?"
The wretched man stumbled off into one of the adjacent rooms, but soon returned with an oval shaped bottle filled with a dark red liquid. Across the vial was written "Temptation" in exquisite calligraphy.
"Here, miss," Willy mumbled as he handed Hermione the perfume. "Take this, hold it in both hands, and then raise it up to your lips like it's an apple."
Hermione did so, and before she could blink, the photographer shouted, "Well done!" Then there was a white flash that seemed to surround her from all sides.
The photographer stepped back and examined her handiwork on a panel on the back of the camera. "Ah, yes…I need to tone the flash down. Willy, turn all the light dials to warm."
Once the changes had been made, the lady addressed Hermione: "Okay girlie, do that same pose again, and this time, give me some allure in those eyes of yours."
"I'm sorry, I don't exactly know how to do that," Hermione responded. Her cheeks burned pink. When was the last time I didn't know how to do something?
The obviously impatient woman rolled her eyes and muttered something like "Where do they find these jokers?" before saying, "It's not that hard, doll. Just stare into the camera and pretend like you're trying to get someone to sleep with you."
Hermione felt herself turn full-on red and dropped her posture into normalcy. "I'm terribly sorry, but I still can't really grasp what you mean."
"What, are you trying to tell me you don't know the meaning of 'sleeping with' someone? What are you, two? Bloody hell, I'll be damned if I know where the company picks up amateurs like you."
A loud, masculine voice boomed through the air. "Norma, you have exactly five seconds to apologize to Hermione before I have you escorted out from the premises."
Hermione, Willy, and Norma simultaneously pivoted to see Blaise standing in the doorway. Norma blanched when she realized that her boss had just overheard her outburst.
"Mr. Zabini, I can assure you I meant no harm," she began, her tone suddenly sugary sweet. "I was merely pointing out –"
"Spare me," Blaise said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just apologize and get it over with. Your immature antics are wasting all of our valuable time."
Norma bowed her head and muttered a hasty "sorry" to Hermione. Then, she scurried back to her camera, ducked behind it, and began fiddling with various knobs and buttons in an effort to appear totally undisturbed.
"I'm sorry you had to face Norma's belligerence, Hermione," Blaise said quietly as he walked onto the petal-covered area. "She's been a bit off ever since we had to get rid of her troublesome other assistant."
"Oh no, it's fine. I'm not really too fixated right now on the way people act towards me."
He drew away and observed her as she flushed with embarrassment. "You look wonderful, by the way. The sultry theme suits you."
Keeping her eyes lowered, she shyly replied, "Thank you. I must admit, this is an entirely new experience for me."
"Well, keep it up; you look marvelous." Suddenly Blaise leaned in and whispered in her ear, "I want you to know that Draco will be coming down soon. When he shows up, I want you to completely ignore him and continue whatever it is you'll be doing. I don't care if he takes off his pants and moons you – you are not to make him feel the slightest bit of importance once he's in here."
Hermione lifted her eyebrows in bemusement. "May I ask why I'm taking on a mission to fully ignore Malfoy?"
"I've had enough of him antagonizing you in every way possible. It's high time he realize that just because he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, it does not mean that he can do whatever he bloody well feels like."
She smiled warmly at him. "I entirely approve of the motive. However, there is the issue of him being my boss. If he directs a comment or question at me, am I to just stand there and pretend I have selective deafness? I'm afraid he might realize what's going on if that were to happen."
"Don't forget that I am also your boss. If he asks you a legitimate or reasonable question, then I'll repeat it and you'll answer to me. Fair enough?"
"Quite."
"Now let's get on with the shoot."
Blaise left the photo area and walked around to stand next to Norma who was critically examining Hermione's face through the lens. "Okay doll," she called. "I want you to do that first pose again. Be prepared to sit through a couple of flashes, okay?"
Hermione nodded once before freezing completely. As flash after flash went off, she felt a distinct fluttering in her stomach. What's with the butterflies, 'Mione? Surely you aren't worried about Blaise watching you? After Norma allowed her to stand normally for two minutes, Hermione frowned and bit her lip in thought. No, this isn't about Blaise. This is about him. Malfoy, that's who. God, who knew that someday I'd end up modeling for my worst enemy? I'd seriously rather take Divination again than go through this agony.
"All right, now this time, I want you to hold the perfume in your right hand behind your back, turn so that your back is facing me, and then twist your head as far as you can over your left shoulder so that it looks like you're glancing back!" barked Norma.
Hermione struggled to hold the uncomfortable position through the next few shots, but the real conflict was going on in her head: What are you really worried about, Hermione? The fact that you're modeling for Malfoy, or the possibility that he won't like what he'll see?
Color flooded her cheeks again. Of course she didn't give a hoot about what Malfoy thought about her – it was an indelible and irreversible way of life that the two hated each other with a passion. Yes, yes, that may be so. But it's not like you're blind now is it? Don't act like you haven't taken note of Malfoy's features at least a couple of times.
But…she hadn't. Not blatantly, anyways. Sure, there had been that one time at the Manor when she'd noted that he had some muscle in his upper body, but apart from that, she hadn't paid attention to much else. Boring gray eyes, startling blond hair, ridiculously pale skin – not even close to my type.
"Miss Hermione, Willy's going to place a cushioned stool next to you. I want you to point your right foot and then place it lightly on top of the stool. Make sure you're facing your left. Then, after bending your knee, hunch over your thigh so that your back is curved. Willy," she commanded. "Sweep all her hair over her left shoulder so that it provides a backdrop for her face. Oh, and put the perfume bottle by her foot…right there. Good." She put her head back behind the camera. "Okay miss, stare straight into the camera. One…two…three!"
Hermione almost lost her balance as Norma cried "Three!" because lo and behold, Malfoy had entered the room at that instant. The sudden light momentarily blinded her, but once her eyes began functioning again, she saw him standing there in the doorway, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open.
As he stood there without moving a single muscle, Hermione felt a sort of chill run down her spine. His eyes seemed to be drinking in every ounce of her – they trailed down the curvature of her spine, over the incline of her leg, around the angles of her arms and neck, and finally stopped on her face. She felt dreadfully self-conscious, and the desire to shield herself with her hands was becoming increasingly strong. All of a sudden, she was just feeling so…exposed.
She felt like he had caught her naked.
Blaise tore Malfoy out of his reverie by striding over to him and clapping him on the back. "There you are, mate! What do you think? Does she clean up well?"
Malfoy was still boring holes into her eyes, his intensity causing her to want to dive under the floorboards. Finally, he said, "I've seen far better."
Hermione felt a spark of anger inside, but chose to ignore it. Remember what Blaise said, remember what Blaise said. Very deliberately, she focused solely on the handsome Italian and asked, "Well, how do you like it so far?"
Blaise grinned and softly applauded. "Very sexy. I'm certain that you're going to be a big hit."
She curtsied once in response before inquiring, "Let's hear it, Norma. What other poses are there?"
"Oh, you won't be needing those other poses to prove whatever nonsensical point it is you're harboring," Malfoy jeered, his mien returning to its old, bothersome self. "You're going to become the laughing stock of modeling society."
Hermione didn't even blink at this comment and instead asked Norma again, "Go on, what's next?"
"Um, well, now Willy is going to stand there and do a mild wind-blowing charm so that we can give you a somewhat dramatic effect. So what I want you to do is move the stool aside, hold the perfume firmly in your hands, lift your arms up over your head, and tilt your head to the left and back. Try to elongate your neck and torso as much as possible – you want to give the impression that you're a tantalizing siren beckoning her suitors forward."
Hermione complied without hesitation, but mentally winced: this position made her feel like her dress was going to slip off her body. Damn these strapless outfits! How can anyone behave normally in this sort of getup? The small breeze in her face felt good, for she was starting to think she'd suffocate in the stuffy little room.
"Was it really necessary to use her for this perfume? I can think of so many other delectable choices," Malfoy remarked scornfully as the camera clicked on endlessly, his pale face pinched with malice.
"I chose what I deemed the best option. There's nothing left to say," Blaise answered serenely.
"Merlin knows why I gave you the power of overruling me when it comes to new recruits. The worst I thought you'd be capable of was hiring Eloise Midgen to do a skincare ad…apparently you're capable of much worse."
"I have no intention of hiring Midgen for any ad whatsoever, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped complaining. You have a way of getting on my nerves, and I'd rather not lose my cool in a business setting."
Norma and Willy both pretended to ignore the ongoing argument, but Hermione strained to listen. She wanted to hear as much as possible in order to eventually justify her murder of one Draco Malfoy. I was provoked, your honor, into committing such an act. You may test me with Veritaserum if you'd like…
As the final flash died away, Hermione sighed and stretched, the flimsy material of the dress swimming around her ankles. Blaise quickly made his way over to her. "Nice work, Hermione. I have a feeling those pictures are going to turn out great. You want to stay a little longer and check out the results?"
She glanced once at Malfoy who glowered at her before saying, "No, thank you. I actually have somewhere to be."
"That's fine. We'll see you tomorrow morning. In case you're curious, we're going to choose some final photos and send them out to some of our biggest evaluators first, so you'll probably hear a lot of feedback from me tomorrow."
"I'll keep my fingers crossed!" Hermione exclaimed cheerfully as she hurried away to the changing room and donned her familiar slacks and blouse. She had almost left the room before she realized that she hadn't worn her shoes. After a couple of minutes of searching, she found her flats in a box by the dresser. At least Willy didn't just hurl them onto the floor.
After waving a final farewell to Blaise and completely disregarding Malfoy on her way out, she exited the building and apparated to a place brimming with sweet memories and bitter nostalgia: home.
She took a brass key out of her pocket, placed it in the ancient lock, and entered the old house. She was met by the sight of an aged woman sitting by the window, gazing at the outside world. Hermione slowly padded over many rugs before reaching the woman. She placed her hand softly on the woman's wizened, brittle one, causing the lady to haltingly rotate her head and fix Hermione with a blank stare.
Hermione swallowed hard as she absorbed the emptiness in those once beautiful, lively brown eyes. "Remember me, Mum? It's me, Hermione, your daughter."
...
"I saw that look on your face, mate. Don't even try to deny the fact that she was bloody hot in there."
Draco didn't answer. He was too consumed by the fifteen or so photos spread out over his desk, all of them of…her. There she was, staring at him like she was going to do unspeakably sinful things to him. Then in another place she was drawing him in with her eyes alone, almost as if she were begging him to come a little closer. Everything about her in these pictures was intimate, much to his bewilderment.
So she knows how to fake seduction, big deal. Any woman can do that –all the man has to do is show up with a camera and a gaudy outfit.
But something kept nagging him. She saw me gawking at her back there in the studio. Damn, I hope Granger didn't think I was interested or something. Merlin, no! Oddly enough, he wasn't feeling as disgusted with the thought of him being "interested" in her as he'd thought he'd be. This is ridiculous. She's the world's biggest prude; I, on the other hand, am the world's biggest Sex God.
"You know, Drake, your silence is speaking for you. You could just say -"
Something in him burst. Draco grabbed a fistful of pictures and swiveled around furiously. "What? What do you want me to say? What the bloody hell do you want me to say?" He flung the shots into the air. "Do you want me to say that she looks stunning in each and every damn photo? Do you want me to say that I feel bad about the way I've treated her so far? Do you want me to say that it was a good thing we hired her? Because I've got to tell you, Blaise, I fucking don't know what to say right now!"
The next few moments were noiseless as Blaise knelt and picked up the scattered photographs. He quietly placed them on Draco's desk before saying, "You're not angry with me, mate. You're angry because you have to accept the fact that you were wrong. You know she deserves this job, but you can't find the humility within yourself to admit it."
"Is there a reason why you feel the need to instill life lessons in me every time I talk to you these days? You're my best friend, not my freaking grandfather." Truth be told, not even my bloody grandfather would be this persistent. At least the old man knew where his limits were.
Blaise sighed and made his way to the door. "Draco," he muttered. "Just send the pictures to Foxworth as soon as possible. I want him to have a good look at the material by tonight."
Draco refused to make eye contact, choosing simply to bore holes into his desk with his glares. Unfortunately, his focus kept slipping back to the sultry images of Granger.
Really man, just shove the damn things into an envelope and get it over with.
So without wasting another second, Draco snatched up a large envelope from a tray and crammed five of the shots into it. Then, he whistled once for his owl, Dawn, and placed the cargo in her beak. After sending her off, he rolled up his sleeves, walked out onto his balcony, and rested his arms on the railing.
A gentle breeze began to blow from the east, and the sun was beginning to descend from its throne. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, willing all of the stress and tension to just…disappear from his life. He let his mind wander and unearth all sorts of things, but his visions kept bringing back the same image: a laughing Granger. His eyes flew open – this wasn't right. He had no reason to wallow in her thoughts when he could just be relaxing and enjoying the tranquility.
Forget her, Draco. Just forget her.
No sooner had he closed his eyes again when he heard his door being thrown wide open. In strode Blaise with a small frown on his face. "Foxworth just owled me back about the pictures. He said to meet him at the fireplace in your office."
Draco groaned and hurried over to his fireplace. The two men stood side by side, gazing into the flickering red fire. The flames soon turned green, and a large, bald head appeared seemingly out of nowhere. A man in his late forties wearing glasses peered around at the spacious office before addressing Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, I have received your photos."
"And…?"
"And I think she's marvelous! Absolutely ravishing!"
Blaise was all smiles. "Excellent, Mr. Foxworth!" he exclaimed. "I'm glad to hear that."
"Who knew the great Hermione Granger could model, eh boys?" Mr. Foxworth boomed.
"Yes, she's certainly surprised us all," Draco muttered a tad bitterly.
Mr. Foxworth began stroking his chin, deep in thought. "You know," he murmured. "Miss Granger will do brilliantly for the campaign, and it will certainly appeal to the male portion of the targeted consumers. However, we need to bring in an element of interest for the females as well. Despite the fact that Miss Granger is lovely, her looks will only cause most women to feel a bit down on themselves."
"But again, her connection to the 'Temptation' perfume will make women think that if they use that particular fragrance, they'll attain the same level of allure as Hermione," Blaise interjected.
Wow, Blaise. Really. I'm so proud of you. Did you come up with that one all on your own? Because hmmm, oh let's see here, it sounds like EVERY OTHER COMPANY'S TACTICS.
Mr. Foxworth narrowed his eyes in concentration. "Yes, yes, you have a point, Mr. Zabini. Still, I think we should opt for a masculine touch for this whole appeal business. I've discussed it with many of my colleagues, such as Mrs. Clare and Mr. Stone, and they all think that we should bring in a man."
"And how do you suggest we find this man?" Draco asked with raised eyebrows.
"How, my boy? There's no how about it! Just find me a man with strong features, a powerful personality…"
"Yeah, someone with just the right amount of sophisticated sexiness and reserve to balance the composition," Blaise added with a nod.
"Someone with undeniable pride in his looks and unbreakable confidence," Mr. Foxworth continued.
"Someone with lust written on his face, and a heart of steel," Blaise finished.
Suddenly, the two men were staring at Draco expectantly. He felt his stomach do about twenty somersaults as he absorbed what had just happened. "You want me," he said in a slightly choked voice. "You want me to model with Granger?"
Oh, HELL NO.
Mr. Foxworth grinned at him appreciatively. "Hit the nail right on the head, Mr. Malfoy." He turned to Blaise. "Is he always this perceptive?"
Blaise sniggered childishly in response. "No, sometimes he's thicker than a brick wall. I suppose you've caught him at a better time than most, Mr. Foxworth."
The man in the flames chuckled at Draco's expression of utter dismay. "Fear not, Mr. Malfoy. I have a feeling you're going to be a natural in this field. You do, from what I've heard, like to strut around like a painted peacock more often than not."
Air. I need air. I need to breathe.
Draco laughed weakly, fully aware that Blaise was taunting him with a sadistic smirk on his face. "Mr. Foxworth, I can assure you that there are far better candidates for this job than me. I mean, really, I have no time for extra modeling, and it's not my cup of tea in the first place." In a sudden rush, he exclaimed, "Why not use Blaise? He'd be more than perfect!"
Take that, scumbag.
Blaise smiled sweetly at him as Mr. Foxworth vehemently shook his head and cried, "Oh no, Mr. Malfoy! Absolutely not! I intend on having you and Miss Granger up there on the billboards together – because I have a feeling you two possess immense chemistry. She will be all warmth, and you will be all coolness. She will be the fire and you will be the ice. She will be the –"
FUCK my life.
"Er, yes, thank you, Mr. Foxworth," Blaise cut in hastily as he noted the rising color in Draco's cheeks. "I'm sure he gets the idea."
Mr. Foxworth nodded enthusiastically. "I'm ever so glad you've agreed to this development, Mr. Malfoy. I guarantee that you're going to get great responses from the public once these ads are released. You'll be drowning in galleons, simply drowning."
"But I never ag-" Draco began to protest.
"Good night, Mr. Malfoy. Good night, Mr. Zabini. I hope to see some phenomenal shots again tomorrow evening!"
And with a burst of green sparks, the stubborn man was gone. With complete disbelief etched all over his face, Draco stiffly turned to Blaise and spat, "Will you fucking explain to me what just went on? Because it sounded to me like I was just forced into modeling with…dear Merlin…GRANGER!"
Blaise rushed forward and placed his hands on the other man's shoulders in an effort to console his distraught friend. "Now, Draco, calm down. Listen to me: this is going to create huge profits for 'Sinful'! You've been voted Playwitch's 'Sexiest Man on Earth,' and you're constantly in the Daily Prophet for being recognized as the 'Hottest Bachelor Alive.' I just don't understand mate, where is all this reluctance coming from?"
I need to punch something – possibly a wall, possibly Blaise's face.
He jerked out of Blaise's grasp and bellowed, "Why don't you understand that I hate her? Why do you not understand that? Look, Blaise," he said as he worked to control his temper. "I put up with her joining this company, but I most definitely will not stoop to collaborating with her."
"It's not always about you!" Blaise exploded. "Blast it all, Draco, sometimes you piss me off so much, I can't figure out whether I want to punch you or the wall!"
Damn. Great minds do think alike.
"You're so self-centered and egotistical," Blaise ranted. His dark eyes were drilling into Draco's gray ones and his hands were actually shaking with the force of his anger. "I've tried and I've tried, Draco, but I cannot deal with this sort of bullshit any longer! Tell me, just what the hell did she ever do to you? And I want a damn clear answer."
"She's antagonized me since the first day we met! She absolutely abhors me, and she probably goes to bed every night praying that the next day's papers will have a headline about my death. She represents everything my family has ever hated and is best mates with two of the most insufferable worms in all of wizarding history. Not to mention, she's got you under some kind of spell!"
Blaise crossed his arms and scoffed, "Oh please. A spell? Don't be stupid."
"You damn well know what I'm talking about," Draco seethed as he thought of Granger draping herself over Blaise on multiple occasions. "Ever since she's popped back into our lives, you've acted like her bloody guardian angel. It's always Granger this, Granger that. Well, you know what? I'm sick of it! I can't stand the sight of you allowing that…creature to overwhelm you at every encounter. What on earth's happened to your Slytherin roots? I don't even feel like I can trust you anymore."
"You know what I think, mate?" Blaise remarked scathingly. "You're just plain, old jealous. That's right. You're being eaten up by the green-eyed monster. The difficult thing to understand is who you're jealous of – me, or Granger."
"I don't have a single reason to be jealous of either one of you, and you're highly aware of that," Draco retorted.
"The way I see it, you're either jealous of Granger because she's stealing away your 'best friend', or you're jealous of me because I'm stealing away Granger."
"Is this what you do in your free time? Come up with pathetic excuses for my behavior? I must say, it's a terrible way to pass time."
"Your words reek of bitterness, Draco. You realize that what I'm saying is true, you just can't find it in yourself to accept it."
Draco couldn't believe his ears. I'm going to spontaneously combust, I swear it. And if I do, I'm taking him down with me. "So according to you, I'm madly in love with Granger or deeply attached to you? Bloody brilliant! It's good to know that now my sexuality is in question!"
"I don't think it's the latter, Drake," Blaise answered with a coldly amused look in his eyes. "Something tells me you're more interested in Granger than in me."
"Okay, okay," Draco said, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Can I just make something clear? Granger and I are not of the same caliber. I'm the king, but she's a peasant. She's nobody to me. Frankly, she could vanish into oblivion and I wouldn't even notice it."
Blaise shook his head with disappointment. "It's sad how you're working so hard to delude yourself. Sooner or later you're going to come to your senses and thank me for my words of wisdom. For now, I'll leave you to your thoughts."
Draco waved his hand dismissively in the air before grabbing his jacket and flooing back to his manor. As he stepped onto his bedroom floor, he heard a small crack to his right and saw Needy shuffling his feet anxiously.
"What?" he barked at the meek little house-elf.
"Needy wanted to check on Master to see if Master is doing well," the creature muttered.
No, see, I'm not doing well at all. What I really want to do right now is go hire someone who can castrate wizards in the blink of an eye, because I have this friend who could use the job...
"I am perfectly all right. Don't you have any work to do?"
"Yes, Master. Mistress Malfoy has asked Needy to make sure Master is doing well at work. Mistress Malfoy worries that Master is getting into trouble with Miss Granger."
Draco could feel his temper rising again, and his blood began to boil at Needy's words. "Why? Why should I be getting into trouble with Granger? Does everyone on this whole damn planet think I'm the bad guy? Why is it always me getting criticized?"
Needy stepped back once as he twisted his rags in his hands. "Needy does not know, Master," he whispered. "Needy does not understand why Master and Miss Granger do not like each other. Miss Granger is very kind, but Master can be kind, too."
Almost against his will, Draco felt something inside him soften at the house-elf's sincere words. Imagine that: a house-elf is actually defending me. "Er, I'm glad you think so," he mumbled awkwardly. How exactly is one supposed to thank a house-elf?
Needy practically glowed with happiness at Draco's tenuous attempt at gratitude. "Master does not need to be angry. Master just needs to take rest and have a good night's sleep."
Merlin, even the house-elf is giving me advice. I really do need to shove off to bed – I've had enough of the day's events as it is.
He rapidly discarded his shirt and trousers before diving into bed wearing only his boxers. Sweet nothingness, here I come. He dimly heard Needy say something about a potion, but all he could manage to respond with was a muffled grunt. Soon, his brain began to disengage from reality and participate in its own wonderland:
He dreamed that he was back in the office, his desk surprisingly uncluttered and his bulletin board neatly organized. There was an unsettling silence in the air, and even his labored breathing seemed to make no disturbance. He abruptly picked up an odd, peculiarly familiar scent: vanilla. He frowned with confusion; where had he smelled vanilla like this before?
His feet began to lead him out through the corridor, past Blaise's office and Goldwin's room, and into the completely dark meeting room. The smell of vanilla had gotten stronger with each step he'd taken. When he approached the closest chair to the door by using his hands to guide him, a feminine voice intoned, "So you've come."
Draco slowly sat down in his chair and spread out his fingers before him, hoping to catch something out of the ordinary. There was nothing to grasp. "Who are you?"
There was a small squeaking noise from the chair at the opposite end of the table. Then, the voice spoke again, "You know exactly who I am, Malfoy. I am not easily forgotten."
"If that is the case, then why don't you show yourself in order to better jog my memory?"
The woman laughed softly at his request. Draco sensed that she was making her way towards him and frantically searched for his wand in his pockets, but the damn thing wasn't there.
"It's not there," she chuckled. Draco could feel her presence at his side. "You won't require a wand for what we're going to do." She placed a warm hand on his cheek, causing him to inhale sharply. "My, you're tense," she whispered. "What is there to be tense about?"
"Who are you?" Draco asked again, his pulse hammering away in his throat.
"No one of consequence," she replied while sliding her hand down his neck. The sensation felt curiously…pleasant. "I am but a mere peasant, my king." Then with another laugh, she was gone.
Draco awoke with a start. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, and he was breathing heavily. The skin on his face felt tight. He stumbled into his bathroom and splashed his face with cold water. Who was that woman? Where do I know her from? Troubled by his dream, Draco lethargically crept back under the covers. However, he quickly fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep devoid of any eerie incidents or encounters.
The little blue vial on his dresser remained untouched.
...
EXTRA TIDBIT: Here is a picture I found of exactly what I want Hermione's dress to look like for her photo shoot (apart from the not-so-ideal chest part - Hermione's is more decent, trust me); just take out the spaces to see it:
h t t p : / / g u m b o g l a m . f i l e s . w o r d p r e s s . c o m / 2 0 0 9 / 0 7 / s n a p s h o t _ 0 1 3 . j p g ? w = 4 2 0 & h = 4 1 0 - - - - By the way, there is only one space to be taken out after "snapshot", so watch out for that.
So many reviewers, but I want to address these guys this time!
muffinz113 - Yes, things are about to get very interesting indeed.
waterflower20 - Ah, whew! I was hoping someone would tell me my story was at least partially unique. You won't believe how much agony I was in, trying to figure out something that other people hadn't used yet...
Leanora - Thanks for donating the rice! It's good to know that my story helped out! IN CASE ANY OF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN FOOD DONATIONS BASED ON FANFICTION, CONTACT LEANORA.
Amourcherie - Yes, it's going to be a long and bumpy ride for Draco and Hermione before things turn out right. But trust me, it's not going to get boring...hopefully!
amazingtofu - Haha, I really like my Blaise here. He's Draco's foil, can you tell? I just thought that he has such potential, and J.K. Rowling left him virtually untapped, so I'm gonna go ahead and get the job done!
sarahclare - Aw, I hope you didn't get into trouble at school. And thank you for your kind words...my worst fear is that I'll somehow end up copying other great writers on FF and have nothing to call my own. T_T