" Mr. Hotshot? "
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She woke up groggily. The bright sun was shining through a half open curtain. She groaned and buried her head under a pillow. It was too early to be up, wasn't it? It had been a week since Ron had been hospitalized, a week since she had said farewell to Draco.
She groaned again and swung herself on the edge of her bed and buried her face in both hands. She stood up with slight effort. It was not her day. She had probably slept only an hour, being up all night, being up all week. She couldn't sleep again. She felt restless all the time, like something was missing from her everyday duties.
She knew what it was about. But she wanted to deny it. Everything was about denial nowadays. Even the ministry refused to entertain that there was a possible resurrection of Voldemort's faction. They dismissed it as some silly pastime by wizards and witches who had nothing better to do but to create chaos in a now peaceful time.
Hermione poured herself coffee in her kitchen later on, after her bath, as she read the morning papers. It was a standard for her, to have one muggle paper and The Daily Prophet. Nothing else was new in the muggle world. A man had just been arrested for shoplifting in a female lingerie store. The Daily prophet however, proved to be quite entertaining.
Ron had phoned her to see how she was and every single day after that recent battle. She had been involved in that skirmish in Cardiff; there were five other Aurors with her, even the aging Mad Eye Moody. They had certainly put up a good fight, but the 'deatheaters' had managed to elude captivity. She had gotten a few bruises and a bloody lip, but apart from that, she had survived without any major injuries. They were luckier than Ron's group, this time.
The smell of coffee floated inside her apartment as she busied herself making toast and waffles. She wouldn't eat them all, probably have a few bites or so and she would be off to work, her muggle job, this time. She bit into her waffle as she continued to read the Daily Prophet. Some of the members of the ministry were facing an inquiry at work, with accusations of double-spying and the like.
She sighed and finished her waffle and she put the Daily Prophet down. It was time to dress up like a muggle fashion magazine columnist. She stood in front of her closet, in her lingerie as her eyes picked out what to wear. There was a ring at the door. Her doorbell chimed twice and she hurriedly placed on her bathrobe, hoping it was a delivery from American Vogue. A British correspondent was needed, or so her editors said.
There was a man with something behind him, she saw it through the peephole. It was a young delivery boy. Sensing no danger, she opened the door.
The young man stammered a good morning. " I- I'm here to deliver something for a miss Granger? " he asked holding out something for her to sign.
" What is it? " she asked.
The boy seemed to blush as he looked at her in a knee length red bathrobe. " It's… " he stooped and turned around and held up a basket of roses. " Flowers, 3 dozens"
Her eyes widened as she signed without regards to the line where she was supposed to sign.
" Thank- thank you. "
Hermione closed the door and quickly brought it to her kitchen counter. She stared at it for awhile; every large, red blossom seemed perfect under the sunlight. There was a silver colored card attached to the corner of the rustic-looking basket. She reached out for it.
" Hermione, if you can count all the petals… that's how many times I've thought about you in a day. It's been a week….- signed, D.M. "
Hermione felt a smile creep up her face. He hadn't communicated with her at all, and now this? She felt joy surge inside her. Perhaps- there was some truth to his- She shook her head and allowed the moment to be hers alone, no sad thoughts, no doubts, just the fact that she had received 3 dozen roses…would she be silly enough to count them all? Each rose had a different number of petals…she laughed to herself. But…still…Draco…
And as silly as it looked, Hermione kissed the card.
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Draco woke up past 8 in the morning. He had decided to sleep in for awhile, and not be at the office at seven in the morning. He had gone home past twelve for overtime in his own company. He looked at his clock and rubbed his eyes.
A few minutes later, he had taken a bath and was heading for his kitchen. The orange colored tiles gleamed under the sunlight that was entering through a window near his sink.
He sighed and took out his coffee roaster and placed some bread in a toaster. He wondered if Hermione had gotten the flowers. He hadn't seen her or heard from her in a week. She sure was good with her words at not seeing him anymore, but so was he. But then his mother just had to….
He had done it on impulse, when he had taken a coffee break earlier yesterday. He had passed by a flower shop with one of his assistants when a bunch of roses caught his eye. He went in and took a closer look at them and ordered 3 dozen, and personally selected the basket.
His assistant laughed at his actions, but assured him it was most romantic, a treat for feminine happiness. Draco laughed along, but wondering at the back of his mind how she was. It was the first time he had done that, sent roses with such a note, but at that moment, he didn't care. It was true anyway, and he wondered if 3 dozen roses were still not enough. His assistant assured him it was more than enough. Even the shopkeeper marveled at his devotion.
" She must be someone very special now, isn't she? " the seventy-something year old florist asked.
Draco merely smiled and paid for it.
He had only to keep it to himself.
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Hermione drummed her fingers on her desk. She was distracted somehow. She had been smiling an hour ago, but her mood suddenly shifted as soon as she got to the office. There was a knock on the door.
" America's wondering if you'd gotten that proposal? They'll send it to you by email if you still don't have it in an hour or so, " her secretary said.
She nodded and smiled faintly. America. To mention their American magazine counterpart by the name America….she shook her head. She was being a silly British patriot now. As for Wizardry, they (the Aurors) were in good terms with the American Aurors Authority, or AAA for short. She had hoped, after Harry's death, to be assigned to America, but Ron and the many others persuaded her to stay, or gave her reasons to.
She thought about the roses once more. And she wondered how Draco was. What he was doing. If he was seeing some other- she shook her head. Perhaps- she was letting her emotions run wild. She felt so restless; she wanted to get out- go wild- go- She heard hoots and whistles and shouts of laughter come form outside her office.
" Miss Granger, " a voice said.
She looked up. Her secretary.
" Good news- our circulation peaked 5 million this month, thought you'd like to know! "
She laughed. " That's great news! Do they all know? "
" You're in fact, three minutes late."
Hermione gave another laugh.
" Get out of your office once in awhile Miss Granger. It'll get too stuffy in here, " her secretary laughed. " Our editors will be throwing a party tomorrow night. "
" Where? " she asked.
" The Savoy, " her secretary winked. " Guess what the theme is? "
Hermione wrinkled her brow. " God, another party theme-? I hope it isn't one of those 1800s themes again. "
Her secretary shook her head joyfully. " It's a formal affair, and since it's autumn, they announced something about oranges and reds… god knows what. " She laughed. " Well, I have to start planning on what to wear! Excuse me miss. "
Hermione's head sank down to her desk. Just what she needed, another great distraction. Another night of party, dresses, perfumed women, heels and jewelry, men and their expensive watches, flashy cars, chandeliers… she could've gone on and on.
But what about Draco?
She was suddenly missing him terribly. Something she hadn't felt in the longest time. Missing someone.
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It was seven in the evening, the following day. The Savoy's grand lobby was bustling with people, and Hermione knew that most of them were headed for the Grand Ballroom. Up ahead, she saw a large prompter that said: " British Vogue: Autumn Revelry"
" Wow…" Hermione thought. " They sure had gotten everything in order quite fast. "
" Dah-ling! " a nasal voice resounded amidst the noise of people. Hermione spun around. " What an incredible dress! "
Hermione smiled and thanked her editor-in-chief. There were others who praised her for her choice of wear, and somehow, it surprised her. It was nothing more than a simple silk halter in a burnt orange color to her.
Some jazz band was playing center stage, and Hermione saw the details given to the party. Hues of red and orange were everywhere. Laughter filled the air, along with the tinkling of champagne glasses and hissing bottles of freshly opened bottles of champagne. She took one from a passing waiter and finished it in a single gulp.
"Don't get too drunk miss, " her secretary said as she passed by.
Hermione smiled. " I won't. " But she wanted to, all of a sudden. She suddenly felt alienated, even if half of the crowd were workers at British Vogue. There were actors and actresses, models and artists, and cameras kept flashing around her. It was blinding.
And she wanted to get out, get away from everything. And she stepped away from people posing for pictures, mumbled her excuses to her co-workers.
She half ran, mindful that she was still wearing heels and a dress. Wasn't there a bathroom to the left? It was an empty wall. So she spun around and tried to find a graceful way out, and not through the main door of the ballroom.
" Hermione, dah-ling! " her editor called out, suddenly grabbing her arm with surprising strength. " I want you to meet someone- "
" Madam Ellen, I really have to- "
" Oh pish-posh! This is a party, enjoy the night! " she told her, pouting her wine red lips. " I want you to meet someone, he seems like a very good match for you."
" I- I'm not so keen about that."
" Hermione, dah-ling, don't hurt me, " she crooned.
Hermione sighed, feeling the beginnings of a headache. She felt herself being led by Ellen towards an ice sculpture of a nude woman. A man was standing with his back turned to them, gazing at the ice sculpture, wearing some designer tuxedo, and holding a glass of wine.
" Oh Mr. Hotshot, " Ellen said in a sing-song voice.
Hermione cringed looking away. Mr. Hotshot? What kind of a name was that! Ellen had played a ridiculous matchmaker many times, and she found many of the men that Ellen paired up with her as dull.
Mr. Hotshot spun around calmly.
And that was when Hermione's stomach churned.
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Draco's eyes showed no reaction as he saw her standing in front of him. It was a dream. He thought it was…Her standing in front of him in some fairy-like shimmery orange dress with a loose bun on her forehead that sent a few tendrils cascading around her face, her eyes shone under the crystalline lights...he could faintly smell her skin despite standing a few inches from her….it was peaches and rain…it was…a dream.
And suddenly he felt a cold touch. It was Ellen's bony and many-ringed hand, holding his hand.
" Dah-ling, this is Draco Malfoy, Chairman of Automobile International- Mr. Malfoy, this is Hermione Granger, the jewel of our columns. " And Ellen held Hermione's hand and placed it over Draco's hanging one, held by Ellen's other hand.
" Don't be naughty now, " Ellen said winking. Something else caught her attention and she hurried away to have her photograph taken with some socialite.
Hermione and Draco were silent as Draco's hand remained over Hermione's. And suddenly she recoiled from his touch, like she had just held a kettle of boiling water.
" I- "
" Funny how fate sees us, " Draco said mildly.
Hermione smiled a little. " Fate? "
" Would you prefer magic then? It's closer to us than fate, I suppose, " he said.
Hermione laughed. " What brought you here? "
" You, " he quickly replied. And then he smiled. " They invited me, British Vogue, I mean- Ellen's husband just bought a car from my gallery a few months ago, and she's been referring me as Mr. Hotshot, which is getting truthfully aggravating. "
" Hotshot doesn't suit you at all.
" Your dress does, " he interrupted.
" What? "
" Your dress suits you, " he said.
She felt herself redden, and she wanted to kick herself for acting so juvenile. " This is old, " she lamely said holding a bit of the fabric.
He laughed. " Old or not, you unquestionably look spectacular. "
She blushed again. " Stop it. "
" Hermione Granger, conscious of what I say? " Draco interjected.
" More than you know, " she snapped with a smile.
He lowered his voice. " I missed you. "
Hermione felt surprised. To hear him say that. She had wanted him to say that to her. She actually imagined it. And now…he was here. But somehow, she didn't know how to react to it. Should she kiss him? Hug him? Beam like she had just been promoted?
She gave a small smile instead, and controlled herself.
" Would you like to get out of here? " he asked. " The crowd's getting a bit distracting- " and he gave a wink that she found irresistible.
She nodded and he quickly took her hand.
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A/N: sorry haven't been updating alot. i'm just sick. something like leukemia sick.so sorry if you haven't read new stuff earlier. i'm out of school now, my parents pulled me out of school. i guess i have to look on the bright side now...more time for stories! really, it's been a bumming week...sorry for ranting here. i just don't- well can't express how i feel infront of my family now, since they've been affected by the news too. crap, huh? sorry again.
Fain Oakenbringer: i wouldn't have grounds for my story if i placed them all in the wizarding world, now would i? hehehe. Hermione wants to keep herself busy, and Draco wants little to do with the wizard world as possible.
SailorMercury909: well, i can't wait for more of your reviews. hehehe
beautifulshadow & SelfHatred: a mary sue is someone that's annoyingly proper and perfect, something that i don't think Hermione is (well, in my story, though. i don't know about the other fanfics out there) hahaha
REVIEWS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED. hehehe