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Chapter 20: Force:

Hermione opened the door to her suite ten minutes later and smiled. Then she frowned. Where did he go? She looked down the hallway, to the left, to the right, and said, in a confused, concerned, humbled tone, "Draco?"

The bastard left. Well, she wouldn't let Draco's presence, or lack there of, define her good time today, not on her thirtieth birthday. She would go down to the boardwalk, buy some ice cream, some lunch, some sweets, and then she would buy herself a birthday present. Perhaps a book. Yes, that sounded like a good plan. Still, she wondered where he had gone. Perhaps something really was wrong with him before. Maybe he wasn't just aroused, earlier. Perhaps he really was ill. She wouldn't worry about him (although she knew she would.) She would show him no distress whatsoever, since he apparently didn't show concern for her and her feelings.

Hermione looked down at herself, and though she hated to change clothes, she thought she looked rather nice, she knew she was far too dressed up to go down to the boardwalk. She turned to walk back in her room, but only got as far as turning the knob on the door when she felt something hit her shoulder. She turned around again, saw nothing, and then looked at the ground. There was a piece of parchment on the floor by her feet, folded into a triangle. She unfolded the parchment and read, "Meet me by the lifts. D."

She smiled, tucked the note in her purse, made sure her flower was safely behind her ear, and she walked to the lifts. He wasn't there. She pushed the button and entered. Perhaps he meant down at the lobby. She exited the lifts, looked around, and still, no Draco Malfoy.

Now, she could become terribly perturbed, perhaps even piqued, and she could try to find him, or she could have fun and just go with the flow, and see what happens. The old Hermione would have picked perturbed and piqued, but she was a new woman, so she decided to walk outside and see if she would be bombarded with more flying triangles.

She walked out to the portico, and an employee asked her if she needed a cab. "I don't know where I'm going," she said, though she felt stupid as soon as she said it.

"Maybe this will help you decide," he said. He handed her another triangle. She smiled, said thank you, and sat on the steps to read.

The note read: "How dare you talk to other men when you're on a date with me. I am terrible jealous. To make it up to me, walk to the end of the lane, to the left of the hotel. D."

To the right of the grand resort was the beach. To the left were a large car park, and then a little two-lane road that led to the village beyond. The village was a Muggle village, and this resort had a massive concealment charm over it. The road to the village was rather long. Was he perhaps just at the end of the car park, near the entrance of the resort? Because that was as far as she was walking. If he thought she was walking all the way down the lane, he was crazier than a loon.

She hopped down the steps, left the protection of the portico, and went to the end of the car park. The sun was high in the sky, but she wasn't as warm as she was on the beach earlier. It was a nice day for a 'small' walk. She walked to the entrance, where the sign to the resort acted as an archway over the entrance. She looked at the two-lane road before her. She really didn't even know which way to head. Right or left? She apparated here this weekend, she hadn't driven, so she didn't know the way to the village.

She leaned against the edge of the stone fence that held up the sign at the entrance of the resort. She waited for a triangle to drop out of the sky. She waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, she decided to walk back to the resort. She wasn't angry, she was confused, and still a bit concerned. Maybe she past by a triangle note on the ground on her way to the lane.

She stood back up, when she heard the sounds of car brakes squealing behind her.

She turned and saw a cream colour Rolls Royce. No kidding. She leaned down to look in the window, when the passenger door opened and she heard a familiar voice say, "Get in, Granger."

She got in and he leaned over her and shut her door. As he leaned back up, his arm brushed her breasts, and he smiled at her and said, "Do you need a lift?"

"You're supposed to ask that before the person is safely in the seat, and besides, I don't know where I'm going," she played along.

"Here." He handed her another note, neatly folded into another triangle. She opened the note and read, "Will you join me on a tour of an old Muggle cathedral in the village? D."

Hermione smiled and asked incredulously, "A Muggle cathedral?"

"I like Muggle things, and believe it or not, I won't burst into flames, or melt, or turn into salt, if I enter a church or cathedral," he waned. She smiled. He added, "I might get a nasty rash or something, but nothing too severe."

"Drive on," she commanded.

He turned to look at her and said, "You look pretty. You really do. I love that dress. We match, did you notice?"

"Yes, that's odd. The car seems to match us, too," she said slowly, while looking around the car. "This is the dress I was going to wear on my date Friday," she explained, smoothing out the skirt.

He said, "I'm glad you didn't waste it on the bugger you had the blind date with, my Granger."

"That bugger happened to have been you, Malfoy," she said with a grin.

"You know what I mean, I meant the real bugger, not the bugger by proxy. It's nicer than the dress I bought you," he said, really believing it. "It's too pretty for a simple blind date. It's pretty enough for a special occasion or something."

"Like a birthday," she said matter of fact.

"Or any special occasion, really," he agreed, "like a birthday, bris, Christmas, May Day, A wedding, anything."

"A bris?" she asked. "Do you know what a bris is?"

"I do, and I know I don't want you to demonstrate, especially as you spouted things about castrating me earlier," he said. He smiled again, reached over for her hand, placed both their hands between them on the seat, and continued to drive.

She thought about the last thing he said. A wedding. They were going to a cathedral, and he mentioned a wedding. A wedding. She looked over at him, nervously, and said, "What are we going to do at the cathedral?"

"Pray," he said.

"What?"

"I'm joking. They give tours. It's very old. It was erected around the time of Henry the Eighth, and it was one of the first cathedrals built for the Church of England. Very old. It has many artifacts and there's an old monastery that has a bunch of dusty old tomes. You like old books, don't you?" Suddenly, he seemed apprehensive and added, "If you want to go somewhere else, I don't mind. This isn't my cup of tea, but I thought you'd like it. It's your birthday, so I'm trying to think of things you would like."

"That's sweet," she said, surprised. Okay, so he wasn't planning a quickie wedding. Anyway, he really couldn't trick her into marrying him, after all, they would need a license, and witnesses, and then there was always the little part where the minister asked the question that deemed the answer of, "I do." If she didn't say, "I do," then she didn't. She smiled and relaxed. She gave his hand a squeeze.

"What's on the agenda after the cathedral?" she asked.

"Worry and wait," he said laughing. He knew that she would. He turned and saw that she was already worrying. "Oh, Granger, don't be so concerned. I wouldn't force you to do anything you didn't want to do. I promise. Short of taking your wand from you, I'm not sure I could anyway."

"So you wouldn't make me eat radishes? I hate radishes," she stated.

"Who doesn't? And no, I would never force radishes on you," he promised.

She turned in her seat slightly, placed his hand on her lap, while it still encased hers, which he rather liked, and said, "Would you make me sing in public? I had to sing in public once when I was ten. I was horrible. My voice was all shaking, and whiny, and shrill."

"Sort of like it is now," he said, amused. She threw his hand off her lap. She folded her arms in front of her. He put his hand up to her neck, under her hair, and rubbed her neck with his thumb, as his hand rested partly on her neck and shoulder. She actually sighed and hummed.

"That feels nice." She relaxed in his touch and said, "You wouldn't force me to tell you how I lost my virginity, right?"

His brows rose and he quickly looked at her and said, "I wouldn't force you to tell me about it at the cathedral, but I might insist you give me a physical demonstration up in the room later. Relax, Granger. Really, there will be no force used at any time during the day. I might trick you, or coerce, but no forcing, and no deception, at least, none that I'll admit to, okay?"

She was quiet for a moment and then decided just to ask him the thing she really wanted to know. "You wouldn't trick me into getting married if I didn't want to, right?"

He didn't look at her, but the hand on the back of her neck went slightly rigid and then he removed it all together, laughed, and said, "You're a funny little thing."

She had noticed something about him over the last two days. When he lied, which he did so often, his eyes narrowed slightly. He then would smile, often look away, and then he usually said something glib, or try to change the subject. She was beginning to read his body language easily, and she was now more than concerned. She was afraid. He was lying to her! She turned to look out the window, a hitch in her chest. If he sprang a wedding on her, she didn't know what she would do.

"Stop the car, Draco." He kept driving. She turned to look at him and she said calmly, "Would you stop the car for a moment?"

"We must keep driving. We don't want to be late," he said, without looking at her.

"I don't want to go to the cathedral. Let's do something else," she said seriously.

"Well…I don't have any triangles planted anywhere else. Don't you want to read the rest of your notes?" He turned and smiled. He tried to take her hand again, but she resisted.

"Let's go back to the resort. We can go to that museum at the end of the boardwalk, or maybe the little amusement park they have," she stated. She wanted to see how much he 'forced' the issue of the cathedral.

"You'll love the cathedral," he said. "There's beautiful stain glass windows, and artwork by masters, and an old stone tower with a large bell. I've been there before. You won't want to miss it."

She folded her arms in front of her again and said, "You said you wouldn't force me to do anything I didn't want to do, but once again, I guess you lie." He looked over at her and was no longer smiling. Neither was she.

"Why don't you want to go to the cathedral suddenly? I thought you thought it was sweet just ten minutes ago!" he almost shouted.

"Well now I don't! Now I'm slightly concerned that you're planning something devious," she said.

"At a cathedral?" he yelled. "What, do you think I might force a hymn book in your hand and make you sing? Or that I might stick a radish up your nose?"

"You might TRICK me into something!"

"Like what?"

"A wedding!" she yelped.

He opened his mouth to say something, and then stopped. Then he smiled and said, "Well, that's just, absurd, that's what that is. I'm good at skulduggery, but I'm not that good. You're too smart for something like that." He laughed. Then he stopped.

She didn't believe him.

"For God's sake, stop the bloody car!" She was so angry she couldn't see straight.

He looked at her quickly, concerned, and he pulled to the side of the road. She opened the door and ran out of the car, across the road, toward an open meadow. He opened his door and followed. She fell forward on her knees in a field of high grass and she looked as if she was about to be sick. He put his hand on her back. He rubbed her back, and she felt cold and clammy. She had a fine layer of sweat on her skin and she was shaking. He knelt down beside her and put his arm across her shoulders.

He moved in front of her, and cupped her cheek. Forcing her to look at him, he said, "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Are you going to lie to me, to force me to marry you in some way? Just tell me outright, because I won't do that, Draco. I won't!"

He swallowed hard. He smiled, narrowed his eyes, and then looked down. He let out a small, fake laugh, and said, "Really, my Granger, do you think I could force you to marry me? Especially by lying? You're much too smart to let me pull something like that over on you, right?"

She pushed him and he landed on his bum. She stood up, pointed her finger at him and said, "You're lying!"