Malfoy. Roses. Alcohol.
Hermione's poor, tired brain couldn't even make full sentences anymore after a few days with the guy.
Malfoy.
"You… I… night…" Hermione babbled.
Apparently, her mouth couldn't either.
The Malfoy Smirk ™ came out full force, causing Hermione's stomach to do a funny little wiggle.
Roses.
"Really, Granger, opening your door past midnight for just anyone? What if I was someone—" he leaned in, presumably to frighten her, close enough that she could smell his (unfortunately) minty fresh breath, "out to hurt you?"
That's when Hermione Granger – and the scientific term for it would be – cracked.
About two inches away from his face, close enough to see the specks of gold in his intense stare, she burst out laughing.
"Malfoy," she gasped, "who do you think you are? Casanova?"
His slight frown and now disapproving gaze swept over her shaking form, as she bent over to hold onto the door frame, the better choice over sliding down in a boneless pile of hilarity on the floor. No one wants to clean that up. "What is wrong with you?"
But she couldn't stop laughing. The oddity, panic and confusion of the past few days finally triumphed over her. Logic and wit had clearly abandoned her in perhaps her greatest time of need, and while a part of her wished they'd return from their unannounced hiatus, another – more repressed – part of her hoped just for one night, they'd stay the freaking heck out of her head.
Alcohol.
"Come on in," she finally choked out, tears streaming down her face. Good thing she didn't wear makeup, like most muggles. She would've looked like a rabid clown at this point.
Breathless with laughter, she turned away from Draco and walked back into her room, but not before grabbing the bottle of bubbly from a stunned (to say the least) Ferret.
A few seconds later, as she rummaged for glasses, she looked up to see him still standing, now watching her warily from outside the door. She couldn't help but be a little pleased that he finally seemed off his game. If she could do a happy dance, she would. Or perhaps laugh manically, like the villains in the movies. Or, really, both at one time. Now that would be a picture for the Daily Prophet- "Head Girl Driven Insane by Schoolmate!"
"Are you coming in?" she asked, conjuring two long-stemmed glasses for the champagne. A glass of bubbly could be just what she needed to relax after such a stressful few days.
"It depends," he shot back, "are you going to go completely nutters and Avada me right after telling me how handsome I look?"
"You'll have to find out," she smirked in what she assumed was a fair replication of his signature look, from the look of disapproval on his face. "Isn't the surprise half the fun?"
"Not if it involves me losing body parts," he shot back.
They both paused for a moment, each wondering which parts he could be referring to.
"Don't worry," Hermione finally broke the silence, stopping herself from going to far with which parts she'd, er, most want to see. "Your overinflated ego has one again presumed that there's anyone in this room that cares enough to muster the effort throw a spell at you."
"You do have your wand out and ready," he retorted. "You could annihilate me before I even have the chance to say 'Expelliarmus.' "
"That'sHarry's signature spell," Hermioned rolled her eyes. "Can't you come up with something a little more original?"
Good. Back on solid ground.
Giving herself a mental pat on the back for stringing together more than three words to compose a moderately complex sentence structure, Hermione patted the bed to beckon Mafloy to enter, as if to tell him that Cracked!Hermione had left the building- at least for the moment.
It didn't occur to her until a second later that perhaps drawing attention to the most common place for illicit nighttime activities might not be the best move with the man who had almost-sort-of-was-possibly-about-to kiss her only hours before.
"Are those for me?" she asked quickly, pointing at the roses, hoping her faux pas would go unnoticed by Malfoy and she wouldn't have to defend her virginity from the one person who would be least likely to appreciate it.
Eek. No thinking about virginity and Malfoy. He certainly isn't The One. Er, or one at all. Anyone. No one! He's no one! But I wonder who- No! Stop! Self, we are NOT going there. Thank you kindly.
"Always the brilliant one, aren't we?" he drawled, finally crossing the threshold and entering her lair. "No, I thought Crookshanks needed just another token of my extreme gratitude for ruining my clothing." His eyes swept around the room and noticed the other bouquet. "Apparently, he has more than one admirer."
Hermione smiled softly, "Those were from Harry and Ron." She glanced over at the lush blossoms, missing the quirk in Malfoy's eyebrow at her assumptions.
"Well, take these as well," he responded, drawing her attention back to him, and offering the crimson flowers her way.
Trying not to look as pleased as she felt, Hermione accepted them and turned her back on them to fill a vase with water.
When she turned around, Malfoy had made himself completely at home on her bed, and was currently pouring a stream of shimmering, bubbling liquid into the glasses. He smirked up at her, and her stomach – it complained it had been getting quite the workout lately – did another flop.
"Drink, Granger?"
Um. Hi. I'm Trinity and I… well, I didn't forget about this fic. I just… had other things on my plate. I started this photo when I was fifteen. And now I'm mid twenties, and life is obviously very different. For one, the HP saga itself has come to an end with the release of HP7.2. And it's bittersweet, to return to this universe. Two, I now have you know, a real job. And writing is at the very bottom of my list of To Do's. But every now and then over the past few years, someone would review this fic and remind me it was unfinished. And yesterday, a friend mentioned how she used to writing fanfiction, and my mind went straight to this little story. And I hate leaving when something is incomplete – thus… here I am. Don't be surprised if this story now feels different, I'm assuming my style has changed since I was fifteen years old. But if you're just along for the ride, as anxious as I am to see a true ending, then I'll see you here for the next chapter.
Oh… and Kate… you still out there? *smiles*
Love, Trin