Something to Write Home About

Chapter 15

Matches9524

(Revised on March 3, 2006.)

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As Mrs. Granger ran downstairs, Draco and Hermione scrambled rather quickly into the clothes that they had thrown onto the floor last night. Hermione's yellow camisole was on backwards, and she fixed it seconds before her father burst in through the door, bellowing like a sea elephant.

"HERMIONE JANE GRANGER! THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE! IN MY HOUSE! IN MY OWN HOUSE!"

The accused girl rolled her eyes and stood with her hands on her hips. "Well, Papa, are you sure you are the best person to chastise me about sex?"

That stopped the world-renowned dentist in his tracks. He spluttered and flickered, like a candle in a soft breeze.

"Oh that's right," she said quietly. "I know all about it. About the baby born two months after you got married, and about how you put him up for adoption. You know, there's a reason they call me the cleverest witch of all time." Now was not a time to be modest, Draco thought, with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "So drop it and get over it. On the other hand, don't, I don't really care. Either way, Draco and I have to get going."

She pushed her shocked father out of her room and locked the door. She pointed at the doorknob and said to Draco, "Next time let's not forget to do that."

"Next time?" He said.

"Definitely. Unless of course-"

"No, no, that's not what I meant." He grinned. "I just didn't know if you wanted a next time."

"You bet your boxers I do. In fact, I will take you up on the bet right now. Let's go take a shower. But a quick one, we have to get going."

They tried to take a quick shower, but that just was not going to happen. So they took their time, only getting out once the hot water ran out and cold, frigid water rained down on their sweaty bodies. Hermione squealed and said to the showerhead "Alright, alright. I get the point. Time to go."

Hermione was definitely going to be sore that day.

They got dressed, Draco in his transfigured jeans and a T-shirt of Hermione's that was too big for her, but fit him perfectly, showing off his sculpted muscles. It said I had a nightmare I was a brunette once. Hermione grinned when he pulled it out of the dresser. "I went blonde one summer. My cousin bought it for me." He nodded and laughed.

He smiled, and went through her clothes and picked out something suitable for her to wear to his Manor, upon her request. "I don't know what would be acceptable or not when I meet your mother. I want to make a good impression." Accordingly, he chose for her an ivory corset with brown stitching and whalebone ribbing, a brown fitted blazer, a pair of Refuge jeans that did wonders for her thighs, and a pair of brown sequined ballet flats. She put on the clothes and checked the mirror.

"You have impeccable taste, darling," she said, with a high posh falsetto. She giggled. "I never wore this corset before. My cousin bought it for me when she bought your shirt. I'm surprised it fits."

As she was talking, Draco murmured to himself. "No, no, it's still missing something. Ah, I see." He went to her jewelry box and pulled out a long strand of pearls. Looping it twice around Hermione's neck, he nodded in approval. He passed his hand over her head, and her hair dried to caramel, soft, waves, bouncing around her shoulders. She went to her desk, and pulled out a pair of rimless glasses. She did not need them for her vision; she just liked the way they make her look.

"Very cute love. Let's go say good-bye to your family, and go."

"Do we have to?" she asked, her face falling.

"What, say good-bye, or leave?"

"Say good-bye."

"We should. We don't want to alienate them. You never know when you might need them to do you a favor."

"Good point. Come on."

She laced her fingers with his, and then unlocked the door. She poked her head out into the hallway, expecting to see someone waiting for her. But it was deserted, so they left the bedroom. However, she did hear the tinkling of ice in glass coming from the kitchen.

Walking into the tidy kitchen, Hermione found bother her parents sitting on the counter, drinking scotch and sodas.

"Well Mum, Papa, we just wanted to come down and say good-bye. See you in the funny pages." They did not laugh at her joke; they just stared at her blankly. She hugged them both, but neither returned the gesture.

Draco said, "It was a pleasure meeting you both. Under other circumstances, we would love to stay and visit with you, but we really are on a tight schedule. We have to go see my mother. I'm very sorry about this morning, too." Receiving no reply other than a stony glare, he took the Gryffindor's hand. As they walked out the kitchen door, there was a flurry of whispering, and then they heard fast footsteps on the oak floors.

Turning around, Mr. Granger stood there, holding out his hand to Draco. Draco took it and gave him a firm handshake. "You have my blessing."

Hermione was shocked. She just stood there blinking. But he was not done yet.

"I can tell you love her just by the way you look at her. You be good to her, you hear? Otherwise, my boot will be up your arse in half a heartbeat. Understand?"

"Yes sir. I understand. Thank you."

Hermione mouthed Thank you Papa, and then he turned and headed back to the kitchen.

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The couple was sitting in the Knight Bus, both practically in shock.

Stan Shunpike was staring at them. He knew who they both were, no doubt, but he had no clue why they were holding hands, or why her head was on his shoulder.

Ernie's dashboard voodoo-head-thing yelled, "Malfoy Manor! Comin' up!"

The Knight Bus stopped jerkily, right outside the tall, wrought-iron gates. Draco put a few Knuts into a jar labeled TIPS by Ernie's seat, before disembarking from the rambunctious bus. Hermione followed him, looking a bit green.

He held her hand and he unlocked the gate and stepped inside the boundaries of his home. He walked up the pathway, lined with Midnight Magick Roses. They were black roses that his mother had cultivated herself while his father had been away in Azkaban. Now they were huge, and letting off a fragrance that smelled like a forest on a moonless night after a rainstorm.

He marched right up to the heavy oak doors, and rapped with the silver knocker shaped like a serpent. They heard heels clicking, the lock turning over, and the door began to open.

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