Good Night, Granger

Chapter II

It was a balmy day in mid-May when Draco Malfoy ran into Hermione Granger again, and quite literally. She sat sprawled on the grimy sidewalk outside of the same pub they'd met in that night nearly six months ago.

"Sorry," he muttered as he reached a hand to help her to her feet. She regarded him cautiously, but took his hand and allowed him to pull her up. She mumbled quick thanks as she cast a charm to restore the contents of her purse; she smiled tightly and entered the pub with Malfoy at her heels. Hermione headed for a table near the back, sat down, and consumed three shots of firewhiskey in rapid succession.

"What's wrong with you?" Draco asked, shocked at her ability to handle the stout spirit.

"More wedding angst," she said with a shrug as she daintily dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

"Go on then, tell me."

"One of Ginny's bridesmaids has turned up pregnant and will be as large as Hogwarts when the wedding rolls round. Harry asked me to take her place."

Draco fought to keep his mouth closed—Potter had some nerve. "Please tell me you hexed him."

"No," she said sadly before her face broke into an impish grin, "but it was a very near miss. Only the very timely appearance of Luna Lovegood saved Harry from a terrible fate."

"Did you at least give him a thorough telling off?"

"I'm afraid not, though I'm fairly certain he doesn't hold any illusions regarding my happiness on the matter. I told him to take that hideous bridesmaid's dress and…well, let's just say that had he done as I said, he'd be walking rather oddly right now."

Draco laughed merrily; he could imagine the flustered look of shame on Potter's face as his oldest friend, whom he'd behaved atrociously toward, told him to get stuffed. "When is the wedding?"

"Two months from now."

"I'm sure the Weaselette wants a warm weather wedding so it can be held outdoors at their hovel."

"The Weasleys are good people…for the most part, so don't say things like that. As for the reason she wants a warm weather wedding—she probably doesn't care when she marries him, the sooner the better most likely. She wants it officially known that she's got her claws into him."

Malfoy smirked—that seemed very likely, and the Weaselette sounded like many other pureblooded witches in that respect. "Are you even going to the wedding? Surely you'll be miserable."

"I'm expected to be there," the curly-haired witch sighed. "Everyone is completely ignorant to the entire situation—save for Harry and me, and now you."

"I would say I feel honored…"

"A dubious honor, I'm afraid."

"Very true. So you will go to the wedding…are you going to cause a scene?"

Hermione smiled wickedly, "As much as it would please me to stir the cauldron on Ginny's perfect day, I think it'd be best to do what's expected of me and retreat gracefully."

"You're better than most women, Granger."

"Thank you."

"Let's get out of here," Draco said as he stood. "The weather is fine and I wouldn't mind a stroll through the park."

"Don't let me stop you," Hermione said cheekily as she rose and tossed some coins on the table.

"Are you going to make me ask for the pleasure of your company?" Draco asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Hermione said as she slung her purse-strap over her shoulder and exited the pub. Squinting against the bright sun, she turned to look at the blonde wizard, "Besides, it is the two of us, after all. I can't guarantee the company will stay pleasant." With that, she strode confidently toward a nearby park with a chuckling Draco in her wake.

Two hours later, the pair of them was sprawled, shoeless, on a conjured blanket next to the duck pond in the heart of the little park. Surprisingly, the company hadn't been bad. Draco had opened his mouth, preparing to speak when he heard the nerve-grating voice of the Weaselette calling out to Hermione.

"Hermione?" the redhead trilled disbelievingly as her eyes raked over the relaxed form on Draco Malfoy lounging next to Hermione as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Hermione's head whipped around, sending her already unruly hair flying. Draco could see the tension re-enter her shoulders and back as she took in the sight of a stunned Harry Potter and his redheaded harpy.

"Ginny, Harry," Hermione said in a forced voice, "How are you?"

"I need to speak with you, Hermione," Harry said gruffly, releasing Ginny's hand and pulling Hermione up by her upper arm to lead her off. Draco certainly hadn't liked the looks of that, but he didn't have any right to interfere unless Granger looked like she was in danger.

"What are you doing here?" Harry demanded angrily.

Hermione looked back at him defiantly, "I'm enjoying an afternoon in the park, exactly as you are."

"With Malfoy? What's going on?"

"Absolutely nothing."

Harry snorted in disbelief, "I don't know what you're trying to do here, Hermione, but he's bad news and you know it. End it before you get hurt; he's no good, he'll hurt you."

She flushed and hoped that Draco or Ginny hadn't heard, even as she angrily swiped away a tear that had coursed down her cheek. "You hurt me too, what does that make you?" she asked in the iciest tone she could muster.

Harry gripped her upper arm and glared down at her fiercely, "I didn't mean to, and you know it."

"Go home, Harry."

"I'm escorting you home," he bit out.

"That's not necessary, Potter," came the smooth tone of Draco Malfoy. Harry spun around and glared daggers at the blonde wizard. "I'm sure Granger is capable of getting herself home, and if not, I wouldn't mind assisting her."

"You don't know where she lives," Harry spat triumphantly.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Draco said as he took Hermione's arm gently and led her back to the blanket. Harry turned on his heel, stalking over to where Ginny stood eyeing the scene shrewdly. In seconds, he had apparated them away, leaving a shaken Hermione and a furious Draco.

"Does he manhandle you like that on a regular basis?" the blonde asked irritably as he noted the red-marks on her arm.

"Never," she said with a shake of her head. "I suppose seeing you here set him off. I'm sorry if what he said offended you."

"Not at all," Draco said. "He's right—I am no good, but savior of the wizarding world or not, neither is he."

Hermione vowed that she would not let Harry Potter ruin her afternoon as he'd ruined her morning, and Draco seemed pleased enough to go along with her as she completed her errands throughout the afternoon. Finally the day was drawing to a close, the dusk was beginning to surround them and Draco, in an uncharacteristically impetuous act, invited Hermione to dinner. He watched her carefully, noting that she was preparing to decline, but at the last minute, her countenance brightened and she accepted, on the condition that they could have take-away in her apartment. Draco agreed.

Several hours later, both Draco and Hermione were reclined on the comfortable sofas in Hermione's flat, stuffed to capacity and surrounded by empty Thai-containers.

"I think I'm going to die," Hermione groaned.

"I certainly wouldn't be surprised," Draco said with gravity, "you eat more than any woman I've ever known." A throw pillow went sailing by his head and he laughed at her. "Have a sense of humor, Granger."

"I have one, but it's buried under all that I've consumed. I really do feel ill, I wonder if something didn't agree with me…"

"Please save any disagreements with your gastrointestinal tract until I leave, if you will." Draco paused to look at his watch, the hour was growing late and he'd been in Granger's company for nearly eight hours.

"Are you leaving?" she asked.

"Soon," the blonde wizard said as he moved to sit up, something that took much more effort due to the size of his meal. "I've been with you nearly all day."

"It wasn't that bad," Hermione said with a bit of impatience.

"I didn't say it was," Draco snapped in response. The pair lapsed into silence for a few moments before Draco stood and cleared the take-away containers with his wand. Hermione, likewise, got to her feet and followed him as he moved to the door; she had pulled it open and he was nearly halfway out when he turned to face her. "I enjoyed today."

"So did I," Hermione responded honestly.

Hermione's breath began to quicken as she realized he was drawing closer to her as if he was going to—she pushed the thought firmly from her disciplined mind, dismissing the thought as ludicrous…Draco Malfoy would never deign to kiss her, no matter how civil they were to one another. The thought had barely formed properly in her mind when she felt surprisingly soft lips brush across her cheek.

When she was able to focus her vision, Draco was looking at her, wearing an unreadable expression. She smiled shyly, "Good night, Malfoy.

"Good night, Granger."