Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all aspects related to that realm belong to J.K. Rowling. I am merely a provider of a playful plot!
A/N: Still focusing on Hermione's perspective and psyche but will delve into Draco in the next few chapters. :p
Chapter 2
It wasn't until the glare of the mid-morning sun hit Hemrione's line of sight with such intensity that she was blinded as she was interrupted from her slumber. Her neck cramped, and her right arm was dead under her weight. If truth be told, she was a mess. Lifting the dead weight with her left arm she shook her limbs as pins and needles rushed through to the tips of her fingers. She looked down at her state of dress; the hemline had ridden up to her hips, the straps had fallen off her shoulders, and her hair was unruly to the point where she would need to condition for at least fifteen minutes to be able to run a comb through it. A sure sight for sore eyes she sat up, rubbing her neck, trying to turn it this way and that. only to discover she could direct her head only a fraction as she attempted to look toward the kitchen. Her mouth screamed for lubrication; a desert storm had passed through.
Kicking off her forsaken heels in frustration, her ankle was feeling rather good. She reluctantly stood up and headed into the kitchen. Water and pain killers were in order - she was in no mood to brew a hangover potion. Her head throbbed and the thought of eating anything made her want to retch as she contemplated a day in front of the couch feeling sorry for herself. Her loss of self-control last night had left her in a wretched state, physically, and emotionally, and she needed plenty of chick flicks to help repress the annoyingly crystal clear recollection of events.
First things first, a bath to snooze in as her aches were soothed. She made for the bathroom in such haste; she almost needed to detour to the toilet. It would be a long day of emotional turmoil indeed. The fist stage of self-pity lasted for about an hour but as she emerged from the bath feeling slightly improved, a rush of anger swelled through her while she changed into her 'home clothes', as she liked to call them. Hermione Granger was now so irate that she picked up the first thing she could get her hands on, sadly it was the vase her mother had given her as a house warming gift, and flung it across the room, as it broke against the wall mirror of her living room sending shards and shattered glass flying about in a state of chaos. She needed her wand.
The third stage of reflection and resolution set in as Hermione relaxed into her couch after having cleaned up and made something dry to eat. She took a bite of her raisin toast and sipped her tea in contemplation. Yes, in a moment of weakness, Hermione had felt inadequate for not being desired. Yes, she had drunk herself into a ridiculous state. Yes, she had embarrassed herself and needed help, and she had exhibited all the signs of someone weak. But, the only person centering on all these realizations was one Draco Malfoy. No one else had recognised how drunk she was, or her reason for leaving early. On face value, Hermione had acted the part of a perfectly sober and social director of Muggle Relations. She could fix this with one act: a clean sweep. If she happened to run into Malfoy, she would never acknowledge the events that had transpired. She was Hermione Granger: independent, strong, and most certainly able to take care of herself. And, upon reaching such a satisfactory accord, stage four set in. Hermione, now at ease, curled up in front of the television and commenced her DVD marathon. Bridget Jones was calling.
ooo
There was no such thing as Monday-itis in the working vocabulary of Hermione Granger. Her routine was so fixed, it could be marketed. She would wake up early, go for a jog, shower, dress, and floo into her office for an hour's work before her staff arrived, at which point she would head out for her morning coffee, leaving her secretary to take any calls. She headed to her favourite little café, it sat in a laneway behind Flourish & Botts, and was the haven for writers, literary enthusiasts and coffee connoisseurs. As per her routine, at 9:05, Hermione entered the café and took her usual seat in the chesterfield wing chair facing a small coffee table and chair opposite, shielding her from other patrons.
"Morning, Miss Granger, your espresso as usual?" the young waitress asked.
"Hi Josephine, that will be perfect. I might have a bacon and egg muffin too this morning. I'll be here a while." Hermione smiled at the young witch, before settling into her work. The next issue of Understanding Muggles was due for release in two weeks and she needed to organize topics and allocate tasks. Hermione was so self disciplined when it came to her work she could tune out from the hustle and bustle surrounding her and concentrate solely on the task at hand. She had mastered this skill from a young age.
"Good morning, Mr Malfoy, in a bit later today? Take a seat and someone will be over to take your order." Despite her well trained skills, Hermione's attention instantly shifted as she registered the name. An undue panic overcame her as she peaked over the back of her chair to confirm the presence of Draco Malfoy in the café. To make matters worse he was looking for a spot to sit. She turned and gulped, as she noticed the only available seat was the wing chair opposite her. Hermione hurried to pack her things, reaching down for her satchel from the side of her chair.
"Sorry to disturb you, is this seat available?" She heard the familiar baritone, sending chills down her spine. She did not want to look up, she wanted to apparate like a coward. She would exercise a polite indifference, she decided.
"No, go ahead, I'm just leaving," she straightened up with her bag, placing her things inside and standing to leave. There was no way to avoid the scrutinizing gaze of the intruder. The familiar grey eyes caught her avoiding glance and she could not help but notice a smirk creep up on those perfect lips.
"Well, hello Granger, don't rush out on my behalf. I am quite flattered you would give up the whole space for me. But, it looks like you haven't even touched your food." He was being sarcastic and she hated it. This Malfoy was far different from the one she had encountered at the ball. But, she would play along.
"I just realized I had a meeting this morning that I can't miss. Help yourself to my untouched food." She remarked snidely and turned to leave, brushing past him as she moved around the coffee table.
"Nice shoes, Granger." He had to have the last word. She hesitated. But, Hermione was a strong and independent woman and would not let him remind her of her vulnerability in a drunken state.
She turned her head shooting him a dazzling smile, "Thanks," she quipped and headed to exit. She was reaching the end of the laneway to the shop front of Flourish & Botts when she heard her name being called out.
"Hey Granger, you forgot something!" Monday-itis was about to kick in for the first time.
"No, Malfoy, I believe I didn't," she retorted, not turning her head. She heard his pace quicken as he tried to catch up with her. Why could he not just leave her in peace?
"How do you know if you haven't seen it?" He had caught up and was now standing beside her, his breath heavier from his efforts and his hair lightly disheveled as the flaxen strands fell across his face. He was holding her diary: her daily planner. She must have left it on the seat as she had reached for her bag.
"It even says Hermione Granger on the front cover in silver script. Unless there is another Hermione Granger who happened to be sitting in the same spot, in the same café as you a moment ago, excuse me for just assuming." Malfoy was playing her now. Her eyes narrowed in frustration as she snatched the diary from his hands. "I believe that's twice now I've come to your assistance and you are yet to thank me."
"I didn't ask for your help Malfoy," She snapped. It was a childish response and she knew it but, he was aggravating her and she was still hungry. He shot her a glare in disbelief, the amusement disappearing from his eyes as he drew blank.
"Fine," he stated simply and began to head towards Diagon Alley. Hermione stared after him, baffled. She thought she would have to play hard to exercise control but he just gave in. What in the world had just happened? She was made to feel inferior by acting immature and it was not settling well with her. Her day would be ruined.
"Wait!" She called after him, almost involuntarily. Now she was running after him. How the tables had turned. "Malfoy, just hang on a second," she stated rather than asked.
"Didn't you have a meeting you just couldn't miss?" He had stopped and turned to face her, smirking. She ignored his acerbic remark.
"Look," she resigned, "I'm sorry for snapping, but I just want to say, thank you for going out of your way to return this," she waived her diary in gesture. She had purposely avoided mentioning the ball but she figured it was implied. She stared at him awaiting a reaction.
"You're welcome, Granger." They stood there staring at each other. It was prolonged to the point that awkwardness was setting in. "Right then, Bye." His eyes averted hers and he started to walk away, hands in pockets. He seemed unperturbed about it all.
"Bye," she responded, feeling rather stupid. He probably hadn't heard anyway. She walked away hurriedly before any further unease flooded her and headed back to the office, setting about her daily routine, pushing the unexpected interruption into the recesses of her conscience. At least she had her planner back.
