Dinner, though Draco, as he strolled through the dark streets of Diagon Alley, sounded very tempting right about now. He hadn't eaten anything since his butterbeer a few hours earlier, and his stomach had moved past the, "don't you think we should eat something?" stage and into the louder and slightly more demanding, "I want food NOW" stage. But dinner required a certain know-it-all Gryffindor, and he still hadn't found her. "If I was Granger, where would I stay?" he mused, pausing in front of an old hotel. "No," he decided, and moved on. "Somewhere not too shabby… possibly even quality, if she could afford that much." He squinted at the sign hanging a few feet above his head. "The Cat's Paw," he read, frowning, trying to remember why that seemed to click with his mental picture of Granger. Realization hit like the pile of books he still needed to buy. "I bet she brought that furball with her, too," Draco grumbled, stepping inside the inn.
But even Draco was impressed as he gazed around the room. It wasn't exactly a parlor, but it was more than a lobby. On one side of the spacious room stood a desk and three numbered staircases leading to dark hallways. The other side looked more like a lounge. Large, red velvet chairs cozied up to corners, perfect for curling up in on a cold day and reading a good book. Small wooden tables were scattered on the shiny brown floor, steaming white china teapots enchanted just to sit all day and puff away until someone desired a cup of tea at each one. Shelves held books and teacups and games, ready to serve and amuse anyone. Not bad, Granger, Draco admitted. I might have to get a room here one day.
"Can I help you?" An older lady materialized at the desk.
Time to pour on the charm.
"I'm looking for a friend," he said smoothly, stepping up to the desk and glancing around. "A Hermione Granger. Is she here?"
The lady looked at him disapprovingly. "We aren't permitted to say, sir."
Uh oh. We need backup.
"I haven't seen her all summer," he began his tale, "and we were supposed to meet for dinner," (here, his stomach gave an emphatic groan) "but she didn't show up when she said she would, and I started getting worried, and I've been looking for the past two hours for where she said she'd be, and… and… I've just missed her so much these past three months." He finished with a miserable sigh, a piece of his hair flopping into his pleading eyes.
His act worked like one of Professor Flickwit's charms. "Oh, hun," the woman gushed, "I sure am glad she's got some company other than that cat of hers. She's got another week here before she leaves and she needs a good friend to keep her from withering away with those books."
Definitely the Hermione Granger I know.
"Room three-seventeen," the lady finished, now beaming at him. "But don't stay too long, hun, we're closing in a minute."
He was so elated with his success he didn't even bother to correct the "hun" bit. "Thank you so much," Draco said politely, heading towards the stairs.
The stairs, however, didn't seem to like him as much as their owner did. Every time he tried to step onto the staircase numbered with an elegant gold and burgundy "3", the signs disappeared and reappeared on different staircases. "Moving stairs," he muttered, crossing his arms. "Just my luck. Help?" He looked around. The woman had already disappeared, so she wasn't any good. "Great." His stomach growled in agreement.
"Hold on, we'll get some food in a minute," Draco told it, pulling out his wand and sending a quick freezing charm onto all three signs. The signs turned blue with icicles hanging off the edges, and Draco could almost hear them chattering (if signs could chatter, that is) as he smirked and lightly stepped onto the desired set of stairs. "Don't mess with a Malfoy," he told them as he passed, unfreezing them once he was moving.
"Three-twelve, three-thirteen, three-fourteen…" One turn to the right revealed the fabled three-seventeen the first door on his right. He froze, listening for any movement inside. She has to be in there, Draco frowned. His had rested on the shiny doorknob, slowly inching it to the right. A soft click, and the door swung open.
If there were any lamps in the room, Granger hadn't learned how to work them, Draco decided, as he tripped over something and almost fell to the floor. A little sigh reached his ears and he perked up. "Granger," he growled, "guess who."
But no one answered his intimidating greeting. Draco frowned again, deeper this time, and pulled out his wand.
"Lumos," he muttered, and a soft yellow light burst from the tip of his wand.
There, leaning on table, dead to the world, was Hermione Granger.
"Granger?" Draco cocked his head, moving forward, making sure his feet didn't come into contact with anything other than the floor. "Wake up, Granger."
But Hermione ignored him, and continued sleeping on her table, covered in books, papers, and a bowl of half-eaten soup.
"Granger," he said, a little less gently.
She let out a little snore, as if to defy him even more.
"Oh, great," Draco rolled his eyes. "Now where am I supposed to get dinner?" The half-empty bowl of soup caught his eye, but he shuddered at eating a Mudblood's leftovers. With a sigh, he exited the room and made his way down the hallways, a long and painful fight with the stairs ensuing, leaving Draco with a bruised knee. "Last time I deal with enchanted stairs!" he swore, finally making it to the parlor—
--Just in time to see the front door locking.
"No!" he yelled, running over, but the elderly lady had already Disapparated away. "No, I am not going to be stuck here all night!"
One of the chairs squished its stuffing around invitingly.
"No!" Draco yelled at it. "I am not going to sleep in a chair! I am not going to wait until morning to get out of here! I am HUNGRY!"
His stomach acknowledged his shouting with a satisfied gurgle.
"Bloody everything," Draco mumbled, starting back to the staircases, thoroughly in a bad mood. He gave the stairs such a frightening glare they didn't even try to change on him. Now stomping down the hallway, he paused at Granger's room. She could get him out, couldn't she? She wasn't the Head Girl for nothing. Surely she knew some spell or something that would get him free so he could get some food.
"Granger," he said a little louder, reentering the room. "Wake up, I need to know a spell."
The only response he got a low yowl from her cat, which perched atop the dresser, staring at him with yellow eyes.
"Bugger off," he told the feline, moving closer to the Girl That Did Not Move. "Gra-"
The Girl Who Stayed Asleep gave a little sigh, turning her face so Draco was permitted more than just a view of hair. She looked very, very asleep.
"Bloody hell," was all Draco could said.
With a growl, he opened his mouth to say, "Wake up, Granger! Sun's rising!" but when she mumbled something that sounded like, "Don't forget the cookies," he was too busy cackling to remember any form of a wake-up call.
"It's bad for your health to-" he started, but Hermione shifted so her head fell off the cushion of her arm and hit the table with a loud thunk.
"That's bad for your health, too," he told the sleeping girl. "You're going to have a bump in the morning."
But no matter what injuries she may have sustained with her face plant on the table or Draco's numerous warnings for her health, the blasted Head Girl stayed asleep.
"Fine," he threw his hands in the air, giving up on any hopes of dinner. "Fine." He tromped over to her bed, throwing himself down onto the soft sheets. The flea-trap of a cat gave a long hiss at this. "Hey!" Draco burrowed deeper into blankets and pillows, "it's not like she needs it. She's perfectly comfortable on the table."
The Beast stood up and continued to stare at Draco, flexing his claws.
"Alright!" Draco gave in, standing up and inching his way over to Hermione, desperately hoping she'd wake up right about now.
Unfortunately, no such luck.
And since Draco didn't have the heart to do the dirty deed himself, he gingerly scooped her up and deposited her prone figure onto the bed. She murmured, "They don't look burned to me," and snuggled down into the soft, inviting bed.
"Oh, blast it all," Draco grumbled, kicking his shoes off and throwing his shirt at the cat on the dresser. The furry object didn't even meow, and it settled on top of Draco's expensive linen shirt.
"This day could not get any worse," he said darkly, as he slid into bed.
Hermione immediately pressed up against him.
Oh, yes it could.
"Ron," she sighed, sounding quite amused by something.
Draco's eyes popped open and he nearly fell off the bed. Granger and the Weasel? Who ever guessed.
"Harry!" she almost giggled.
Draco gagged.
"Draco…" she murmured, burying her face into the pillow.
Draco was horrified. What kind of a dream could she be having that involved all four of them in such happy sounding terms?
Needless to say, Draco had a very long, very sleepless night.
And while Draco was busy trying to figure out what exactly went on in Hermione's dream life, unbeknownst to him, Hermione opened one eye and smiled to herself.
Author's notes: thanks for the reviews! Ya'll are too kind. New chapter… hm, I don't know when. Oh, and if anyone can recommend a good beta-reader, send them my way. On a more confused note, I have no idea what's going on with the indentation with this chapter. Gah.
Kate- yup! Well, actually, I wrote the third chapter a few months after the first two, but never posted it, and when your email came I went to look at the fic and suddenly realized that I had a third chapter and set about uploading it. It's all thanks to you! *gives cookies*
TiffanyandCo- aww, thank you! I know that this whole Draco/Hermione plot is out of character, but thank you very much for the compliment.