The Uneventful Story

By: Snowflake Imp

Rated: R

Chapter 05

Disclaimer: I don't see why can't I own this series. I mean, I already get all the credit for the books and movies, plus all the money that comes from all the franchising ..and…wait…..ah shit….no I don't.

"Oh, Alex!"

Alex Grace tilted his head, looking at her from the corner of his eyes. "Hermione?"

Her heart jolted a little. Okay okay, screeching out his name and looking like a deer caught in headlights may have startled the man.

Regroup.

She coughed and waved her hand at him, dismissing the previous awkwardness. "Sorry Alex, I was thinking about a….a…."

Think woman, THINK!

"Oh, that new Charles Gassiger book, you know, that one about the mother that's only alive at night, and her son…you….know? I was so immersed in thought…for a second I uh…..yes…"

oh….that was…..mediocre. That gets a 4.5 on the bullshit meter.

At first she didn't know if it would even fly, he DID look a bit skeptical. She felt the distinct fear-moisture gathering at her brow. Then his face brightened.

"Oh, that ridiculous horror that's set in Africa?" he chuckled, melting her heart. He gave her an amused, incredulous look. "I heard rumors that you read everything, but I thought you'd have better things to do than read Gassigers."

Hermione laughed. Later, she would realize it was the first time she felt completely natural around him. And….it felt nice.

"Well, it sounds like you read it yourself, Alex," she said, giving him a wry smile.

"I read the book review in the Daily Prophet, like a normal wizard," he said with a grin. "Have you read a decent book lately, like Maira Devount's?"

"Oh…yes, yes I have!" she said, ecstatic that he, anybody, had a book interest, just like her. "Did you read the original French or the translation?"

"Actually, I felt the English transferred a lot of the nuances from the original version…."

They must have stood there a good 20, 30 minutes chatting amiably; some might even call it excitedly. Everything just flowed organically and it was just the kind of conversation she loved: witty, informed, warm. Of all the years she had known him, never had she seen such a side to him. Never had he acted this close to her.

Why can't you always look at me like this?

Just as there was an impasse from laughing at a quote of particularly humorous passage, Hermione interjected, "Alex? I'm sorry, did you want to talk to me about something?"

"I did, actually," he said, his bright blue eyes softening. "I wanted to apologize for earlier - I'm afraid it didn't come off quite as I intended."

Hermione swore her face turned beet-red. Whatever he wanted to apologize for, just his face alone would have been suffice.

"R-really? For what?" she said faintly, barely even remembering her age or place of birth, much less anything he could have said.

"For what I said earlier, about how you shouldn't be here." Oh yeah. That did sting. "What I meant was, you shouldn't waste your holiday fretting about work. If anything went wrong, I would have taken care of it for you."

Oh sweet merciful Merlin. This man is beautiful.

"No no, I didn't take offense!" Liar. "It's not like I don't trust your abilities, Alex – " Saying his name, addressing him, is heaven – "I just don't trust….him." Thinking about Draco put a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Who, Draco Malfoy? They say he's highly competent, and he's moved up in ranks rather quickly…" Alex trailed off, perplexed. Hermione sighed.

"Actually, I should edit my last remark. I…I didn't trust him. But now that I think about it," she cringed, hoping to high heaven that he wasn't within hearing range, "…he's the best one for the job. I have no doubt about that."

Damn her honesty. No matter how much she disliked Malfoy, it just didn't feel right making him out to be an incompetent buffoon when he obviously wasn't.

He gave her another heart-stopping grin. "Then why did you sound so depressed saying it?"

She smiled, suddenly tired. "We've been sometimes called rivals. It's hard to give that man compliments."

He laughed at that but this time, stabs of pain went into her heart accompanied by sheer ecstasy. They chatted a bit more and she told him she had to run so she could do some grocery shopping. As she was leaving, he called out to her, "Hermione."

She turned, her face flush.

"Remember to lend me that book," he said warmly.

She smiled brightly and continued on her way out. If she stayed still for a few more moments, she would have seen one Draco Malfoy standing in the hallway, hidden from view until Alex also exited the room.

He stared in their direction leaning against the wall, one hand in his pocket, his eyes hard.

Then he too, turned and left.

Diary Entry No. 51, Vol. V

As much as I feel like a jumper-clad schoolgirl going through her first love, I think I'm old enough to know that not everything is fairy-tale perfect. It's times like these I sometimes wish I were I bit thick. You know?

I've known Alex for years, and the interaction we've had in the past few days are more than all those years combined. And this is after I find out he's with someone gorgeous? After I've pretty much decided to give up on him? It…it….

It bloody hurts.

Why couldn't things have remained the same? Then I wouldn't know how his eyes glow when he smiles, or how white his teeth are or….how good it feels to be seen as someone interesting. Not as an encyclopedia. Or worse….mousy know-it-all Granger that wears granny panties and as androgynous as a snail and just as pretty.

Now what do I do? Do I delude myself into thinking I have a chance?

Or should I just give up at the one thing that's made my heart sing this special song?

……bollocks, I should give up. Did I really just write, "made my heart sing this special song"? This is the type of lovesick drivel I swore to myself I'd avoid.

I don't know. I just…..don't know.

Work the next day was going pretty smoothly, to Hermione's surprise. Everybody seemed to be settled in and she was getting a lot of work done. Even interacting with Malfoy was uneventful. They had to exchange a few papers and discuss a few expenses, but it was all so clinical and business-like she would've swore she was dealing with a man wearing a Draco Malfoy costume. At the thought of Madame Madkins having a rack of drooping, Draco Malfoy skins hanging in the back made her giggle.

"What's so funny?"

Hermione turned quickly, controlling herself. "Hullo Alex, what are you doing here?"

"The Minister wanted to make sure everything is going smoothly. Are you alright?" He ran his hair through his short brown hair. Hermione tried her best to keep from swooning.

"Yes, everything's fine. Oh that reminds me, I have to talk to Arthur about that stupid Ministry gala," she mused, looking over her day-planner.

"It's soon, isn't it," he said. "Do you have anyone in mind as a date?"

She stared at him, incredulous. Did he just ask her that? Did he just ask her that? Her mind whirled quickly, realizing there were two paths to take. In a split second, she chose.

How can you ask me that?

"I-I . . actually don't, but um…I'm actually thinking about not going this year," she said quietly, refusing to meet his eyes. Her heart was pounding, knowing that whatever he said next would seal her decision.

"It's okay not to bring a date Hermione," he said gently, sitting down next to her. "I've actually never had a date to it until this year."

And like that, her heart cracked.

You are cruel.

She managed to smile weakly. "Thank you, but that's not reason. I actually was thinking about going to Prague to do some research." Before he could say anymore, she continued quickly, "I better get to Arthur, but help yourself to some scones." She motioned to the plate on her desk.

As she was walking, she felt broken but….calm. She turned and said a little bit more firmly, "Oh, and your book is in my bag if you want it. But if you damage it, I damage you, yeah?" She flashed him a cheeky smile.

Your naivety is so cruel.

As she turned the corner, she choked back a sob, bringing her hand to cover her mouth. Her other arm clutched her stomach, as if her very innards were to spill. She knew he was taken. She had decided to give up on this whole ridiculous ordeal the second he asked her that question so innocently. Stupid stupid stupid stupid

God, it hurt more than she thought. More than when she saw him with her on the streets that day. And why? Because she had a taste of what she could never have? Her eyes burned with the tears threatening to spill.

Pull yourself together, she hissed to herself. You are stronger than this. You've been through worse than this. You're a Gryff.

At that thought, she started to calm down. She took a deep breath and shook herself. That's right. She was a Gryffindor. Strong, courageous, and unstoppable.

I am a lioness, she thought savagely.

She paused. Why did that sound so familiar, like something off the tip of your tongue? She had never…called herself that. Had she? Then why……?

And suddenly a wisp of a memory appeared – a warm, wet mouth whispering fervently in her ear, "You are a lioness."

She gasped, feeling it tickling her ear and spun around. Nothing. What just happened? She looked around frantically. Was she going mad?

It was so vivid…it must have happened to her. At one time or another. But for her life she couldn't remember when. Or who.

She shook her head, clearing it. Hermione didn't know what was going on, but she was sure it was due to her distress. It was best to put it out of her mind. She headed to the bathroom; no way she looked presentable for the Minister.

Her nerves were feeling a little better after a quick splash of water on her face in the bathroom. As she exited, she daintily dabbed her damp face with her handkerchief, heaving a big sigh.

"Enjoy your trip to the loo that much, Granger?" said a mocking voice.

Hermione forced a growl down her throat. Damned fates, she was already having a shitty day, could they just spare her the pain of his company? Was that so hard to ask? Their relationship was going so well today – distant and sparse.

"Please don't tell me the high and mighty Malfoy had just lowered himself to making comments about toilet trips," she snapped. Just go away, go away.

"If you just looked hard enough, you'd see that I'm a man of many faucets," he said smugly.

God, everything about him was pissing her off.

Why does he get everything?

She wished that it was anybody else, dear Harry, Ron, Ginny; anybody but him.

"Then let me state for the record that I am relieved I have never wasted more than a few seconds to look at your disgusting form," she snarled.

Draco merely blinked in mild surprise. She hated it when he was so untouchable. She preferred it when he was just as spitting mad as her, yelling and screaming and completely out of control. He was a bit surprised, however, because usually it took a few more exchanges for her to get so fired up. This was supposed to be the warm-up round. He held up both his hands in a sign of complacency.

"Easy, you spit-fire," he said languidly. "Just passing by."

He was right, she was over-reacting. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Sorry Malfoy," she said with a tinge of exhaustion. At this he was truly surprised. Very rarely had he seen her back down this humbly so quickly. "I'm just a bit out of sorts today."

"You weren't out of sorts a hour ago," he pointed out suspiciously. Then it hit him. It always does. He smirked. "Ah, a fall from grace?"

His pun on words was definitely NOT appreciated.

"Please, never, ever say anything that pathetic again," she pleaded, pained by both the subject and his terrible sense of wit.

"Good gods, Granger, did you learn nothing from yesterday?" he asked, exasperated. He ran his hand through his blonde hair.

"But I didn't DO anything!" she cried. How dare he say that when he had no idea what had happened.

"This is coming from the woman of a thousand 'oops'?"

Her eyes narrowed. What kind of stupid moniker was that? She didn't even want to entertain how valid it was, despite the absurd name.

"HE asked me who I was taking to that damn gala," she ground out, embarrassed beyond belief that she was sharing intimate details with Draco Malfoy, of all people. But her pride prevented her from walking away, leaving him thinking she was the one who did something stupid and unnecessary.

"And when I said I wasn't even going to it, he told me EVER so gently that it's alright if I didn't have a date, since he's never had one before either, EXCEPT. THIS. YEAR," she finished, feeling very drained after this admission. Forget it, she didn't care anymore. Let him think of her as a silly bint. She just wanted to go home.

He looked at her, his eyes unreadable. She knew he was analyzing her and she wished he would hurry it up. Go on, Malfoy, let's open all the festering wounds and talk about them, shall we?

Then he said simply, "You're not going this year? You always go."

She choked a bit. That was a bit of a left-field question. Suspicious, she said carefully, "Yeah, I was thinking about going to Prague."

He scoffed. "What's so good in Prague these days?"

His lofty tones irked her, but her current state of tension was ebbing at this new, neutral subject. "Their Museum of Military History is holding an anniversary celebration where they're having a special showcase on alchemy devices. I figured I'd drop by and take a peak."

He shrugged, obviously not even half as interested as she was. She looked a bit miffed. "It's VERY interesting, Malfoy. And relevant to this department."

Malfoy waved a casual hand at her. "Whatever you say. But if you're intent on skiving off that preposterous farce of a charity ball, don't think for a second that I'm not going to find a way out of it too."

His answer surprised her. She would think such a busy socialite such as Malfoy would adore events like the yearly Ministry gala. After all, one of his goal in life was to absorb as much envy and admiration as possible.

"What, you don't love your doting, adoring fans enough to make an appearance to the biggest event of the year?" she asked snidely.

He must have gave the most elegant snort she had ever heard. "Hardly. It's a sorry excuse of an affair. I have better things to do than to entertain slack-jaw social climbers who have no idea on how to even process the word 'class.'"

At the thought of that, it reminded her of the hilarious hijinks of last year, no doubt a major deciding factor as to why Malfoy despised the gala so much. When he heard her snickering, he knew she hadn't forgotten. "Stop it Granger, it's not funny," he growled.

She clamped her hands over her mouth to keep from bowling over. Hermione reveled over the fact that this was one thing Malfoy got antsy over. Gaining control over herself, she managed to retort, "Oh, I know. Dame Griselda would agree that any subject regarding you is a very, very serious topic." Her voice gradually grew deeper, mockingly seductive.

"If that woman were not a part of the Denela house I swear I would go to that old hag and…," Malfoy swore, lost in his own dark, dark musings. Hermione's sniggering brought him out of it. He curled his lip in distaste. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"As a matter of fact, I was going to the Minister right now to tell him about my plans," she said haughtily, pushing her way past him. "A pleasure as always, Malfoy."

"Granger, he's not in – I just came from his office."

Oh bugger. Now what? She shifted her weight to one side, tapping her toe in frustration.

Malfoy groaned, as if someone were pulling his teeth. "What's wrong with you?" she asked, perplexed at his behavior.

"You're not going home are you?" he asked, suddenly very agitated. When she shook her head, he nodded. "Good, I just remembered those FISA documents I need to go over with you."

Hermione blanched. She totally forgot about those. "Noo Malfoy, not today, it's been a very, very bad day."

"Yes, Granger."

"No, PLEASE."

"Granger, YES."

"Don't be cruel, those things are torture!"

"As much as I don't want to be in your company or work on these, we have to. It needs to be done," he said sternly.

Hermione moaned, close to whining. He scrunched his eyes shut, willing the headache to go away as he massaged his temples. "Stop being so bloody difficult."

Close to tears, she shook her head. She deserved at least a trip home to wallow in her grief. She deserved at least that.

"What if we did it somewhere more…savory than our current location," he offered.

"Like where," she asked moodily.

"The Golden Egg," he responded casually.

She blinked. "THE Golden Egg? That's the most expensive restaurant on this side of – oh, right. It's you."

"Well?" he asked impatiently. Give this woman a centimeter and she asks for a meter…

"Fine," she said reluctantly. "Do I have to change?"

"My answer would be always," he said with a smirk, which she glared at. "But you're in office attire, so technically they can't throw you out. I'll meet you in front in ten minutes."

It was marvel how an entirely idle conversation could be riddled with so much bickering, but then again that was the brilliance of the infamous Granger-Malfoy dialogues. They were notorious for the most intelligent yet undecipherable exchanges. One needed to be of a high intellect to follow it; as they were rivals, it was customary for them to keep close tabs on each other, thus they knew almost every intimate nuance of each others' life, ready to be picked apart. Know thy enemy. This equaled completely A-B conversations.

Amidst their squabbling, Hermione couldn't help but notice the huge difference between the two of them. There he was, looking immaculate with his finely tailored, camel-colored long overcoat, his pristine Italian suit, his cashmere scarf and his genuine black leather gloves, while she was making due with a musty tweed jacket and cotton/polyester scarf-glove set she bought at some bargain-bin store. She glowered enviously.

Don't think she didn't notice the stares she received in the fancy restaurant. Judging, incredulous eyes that roared, how dare you enter this place, you don't belong here, you're only allowed in because of him. She heaved a sigh, squashing those age old emotions down to the pit of her stomach. She watched Malfoy stealthily over the top of her menu. He seemed not to notice the attention, both good and bad, they were garnering, but she knew better. There was no way he hasn't noticed. He was a soldier, just like her. He was just better at hiding it than her it seemed.

Or maybe he doesn't care, since it's favorable in his position, she thought nastily.

"Don't get the luncheon special, it has bits of peas in it," he said distractedly, turning the page of his menu. That broke her train of thought.

Oh. Disgusting peas. They were gross.

"Too bad, the lamb sounded good too," she said mournfully. She scanned the menu, panicking slightly that there were no prices next to the items. Hermione hoped she had enough money to spot for this. But once she got back to the office, she would immediately bill it to the Ministry. She grinned. Nothing was better than a free me –

Shite, forgot that Malfoy was still in Funds.

"This is a business venture, right?" she asked quickly, looking around quickly for an easy escape route.

"Don't be daft," he mumbled, having difficulty decided which wine to drink. "We could have done this back at the Ministry, but someone here was throwing a childish fit over something crucial."

If he wasn't always this stingy with money, Hermione would've worked up enough anger to create a ruckus. Instead, she was merely annoyed. Cheap prick.

"May I take your order?" the waiter asked politely to Draco, pointedly ignoring Hermione.

"Yes, I'll have the luncheon special and a glass of Port," Draco said casually, acting like a regular patron. Probably was.

"And….the lady?" he asked hesitantly. Merlin, even the waiters looked down on her.

"I'll have the chicken primavera, with some lemon water please," she said dryly. She turned to Malfoy, daring him with her eyes to mock her for her cheaply ordered drink.

He tactfully ignored it.

The rest of the meal went on without a hitch; when the food came there were a few remarks about it but otherwise a companionable silence fell. They blazed through the FISA reports efficiently, with only a few disagreements here and there.

The waiter handed a leather-bound check to Draco, practically fawning over the man. As he was scrutinizing the check, Hermione counted her money. She was getting impatient when he was obviously taking his sweet time perusing over it. To her surprise, Malfoy merely nodded and handed the check back to the waiter, who bowed and left. He pushed his seat back as he stood up, tightening his tie.

"Wait wait wait, what was that?" Hermione asked, confused as hell.

He gave her a look that made her feel stupid. "Malfoys don't pay per meal like commoners. It's gathered on a tab and I pay on a basis."

Well, how was she to know, not like she went to places with the upper-crust on a daily basis. "Well, pardon me for my ignorance," she retorted sarcastically. "How much do I owe you?"

Another one of those you-are-stupid glances. "What do you take me for, Granger? I'm not desperate as to count change with you."

He walked over to behind where she was sitting and pulled back her chair. She stood up automatically and they both began walking towards the exit. One would think having a man behaving with such good etiquette would be very flattering, but Hermione knew better. However, for the record, she was fooled the first time; she was both confused and a bit flattered the first time he held open a door for her. Then she realized such chivalry was ingrained in him as much as his snobbery. It was pure instinct with no thought behind it, so she paid it no mind either. But she was rather surprised he paid for her. That was new, but then again, they never ate together either.

Again, the whispers followed them. The younger women were bolder, talking outright. With each step Hermione could feel her face grower hotter, her ire growing. It was the last straw when one particularly beautiful blonde stopped Draco at her table, exclaiming, "Draco Malfoy, what a coincidence to see you here today! I was just talking to my girl friend about you!"

And of course, out came the Malfoy charm. Hermione was hugely tempted to just keep going without him as he flirted with her. It was pretty awkward just standing there like a useless accessory. But pride made her plant her feet firm – she would ride this out and leave with dignity.

". . . I'm serious darling, seek me out anytime and I'll be your date," the woman said softly, yet loud enough for Hermione to hear. She purposely looked at her when she added, "It must be embarrassing to eat in gritted her teeth, ready to bark at the stupid, vapid chit when Malfoy flashed the blonde a charismatic grin. "Thank you Lani, I'll be sure to hold you to that." He kissed her hand, to which she practically screamed with delight, and quickly resumed his exit. Hermione glared at the smug girl, and stalked out after him.

However, somewhere between the restaurant and the sidewalk outside, the indignation inside her died out. She slowed her pace down and almost lost him as he left the building. Malfoy was leaning against the street corner wall, preparing himself for a fantastic tirade, only to see a defeated looking Hermione coming out the doors. He straightened up, confused.

She was just standing there, suddenly looking very small, unlike the usual larger-than-life fireball. Her head was bowed, hiding her face. For a long time, the both just stood there, facing each other with the cold winter wind howling around them.

Finally, in a small, shaking voice, she asked, "Am I really that horrid?" Her voice cracked on the last syllable. Her fists clenched painfully in her pockets, waiting for his answer.

He said nothing.

She looked up, and for the first time, Draco saw her face with all the walls dropped. Her big bambi, chocolate eyes looking at him so openly, her heart-shaped face pale with uncertainty. Her plump lips practically quivering – he was speechless.

He slowly walked up to her, with an absolutely serious expression on his face, utterly unreadable. When he was mere inches from her, he continued to scrutinize her face. Their eyes locked, unable to look away.

Such a face.

Then, as if on its own accord, his right arm lifted, his knuckles brushing her cheek softly.

The second his hand touched her, whatever trance they were in was broken and he snatched his hand away quickly, as if on fire. They looked at each other incredulously, not being able to make sense of what just happened.

Malfoy responded first, by turning on his heels and marching away. Hermione merely stood there, eyes wide in shock. A few feet down, he stopped, with his back still to her. He then turned to her, his demeanor completely back to normal.

"What's with the weak act, Granger," he drawled deeply, his eye challenging. "Letting a stupid slag get to you with just that? I'd have thought it would've taken more to get you."

His words shook her out of her state, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. "I – that's not – completely not – "

"Please, spare me," he interrupted. "Let's just get back, I don't feel like standing here in the cold watching you cry yourself into a puddle." He proceeded to turn around again and walk briskly back to the Ministry.

Hermione just stood there, processing what just happened. And then she smiled.

He was…..different than Harry and Ron, that was for sure. In this kind of situation, they would've both respond out of love, but it wouldn't have...comforted her as much Malfoy just did. Whether or not it was intentional, he found her weaknesses and forced her to keep strong on her own. Malfoy responded perfectly, saying exactly what she needed to hear.

She shouldn't care about those people. They shouldn't mean anything to her. She was strong. Undefeatable.

Hermione ran up to him, all the vigor back in her step and matched his pace. He turned his head to her and asked gruffly, "What are you smiling about?"

"I was just thinking about how you're not quite the complete, insolent ponce I thought you were," she replied cheerfully, still smiling.

"What did you just say?" he exclaimed, aghast at her cheek. That was the last thing he expected her to say.

Oh, the look on his face was priceless. And then she laughed.

Today was a day for Draco to see all the different faces of Hermione he had never seen before – faces that were always reserved for others. He can't help but look at her face, how different it was from before. How different it was from her usual scowl reserved just for him.

Her cheeks were rosy and her perfect teeth were exposed, opening to reveal such a genuine, carefree laugh. It was an angelic sound. Draco was mesmerized.

She turned her head to him, her eyes twinkling mischievous. On impulse, she grabbed his right arm with her left. "You should have seen your face!" she said, the laughter still in her voice. "I haven't seen that much shock in you since I slapped you at Hogwarts!"

He blanched and tried to pull his arm away, but she held fast.

"What, don't want to get your coat dirty?" she asked playfully with a hint of challenge, grasping his arm even tighter.

Exasperated, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. "If you sully it with your horrid jacket, I will be forced to press charges."

"I'll have you know that I am perfectly pristine! And furthermore….."

And their squabbling echoed down the streets. He made no move to retract his arm. He was a gentleman, after all.

Done done done! YAY! Sorry for the hiatus folks, college life ain't all it's cracked up to be! Procrastination is hell, let me tell you. Anyways, hope you all liked it! I know, things seem pretty fluffy but BELIEVE YOU ME, dark things, sercrety things are about to surface. OooOOoOOh. See if you can catch some of the foreshadowing/clues. It'll be fun, I promise. Hopefully during winter break I'll be able to crank out a few more, but we'll see. Until then, review review review! That's what gets my writing juices going!