Manhattan Interlude (Or Hell Hath No Fury).
By alloy
Manhattan: an island of rock upon which towers to the heavens are built. Legends say that the tower of Babel was intended to reach heaven, before God took affront, and split asunder the single tongue of man. In the ensuring confusion the children of Noah were scattered across the world.
Since that time men have tried to unite the world under a common language, more often than not through force of arms. The Romans were so successful that their language is still present, although more written than spoken.
The British Empire was the most successful; English has cut a swath across the world, a second tongue to more than it is a first. But English itself has become a shattered instrument.
"Do you speak American?"
"No I speak English", she had replied.
She cursed requesting the introduction, the man was a boor, she idly wondered if that word still existed in the American language.
He tried to impress her with his wealth, the breath of his investments, his astuteness for opportunity. She wondered why some men felt the need to flaunt their material wealth, as if it reflected their worth as a person. Money did not impress her; she had married a poor man for love, and never regretted it.
He was no longer poor; not rich, perhaps, though he owned a small portion of his brothers' businesses. Even in the darkest times she had not doubted that he would provide as his father had done, what he could, enough, with love.
She couldn't sense the magic in this man. Her witch senses so used to the burning copper brightness of magic that resided in her family. Less magic than even her parents. Her parents were muggles, their magic was of the most common muggle variety, love, but she knew hidden deeply within them was the almost undetectable echo that had birthed her.
This man had nothing; he had been born a squib, and had allowed the bitterness to stifle his soul, so that all that remain was money and lust. He probably wouldn't even notice a Dementor's kiss.
"What does 'Hermione' mean anyway?"
"It means 'Eloquence.'" A voice so familiar, yet so strange; she had loathed that voice, yet tonight she welcomed it."
He had presence; he had always had presence. There were few if any who could match it, Harry of course, and Ron, but only in anger, and he could make Ron so angry.
"Ah does it now, and you are?"
"You may call me Mr. Malfoy"
"Well if you would excuse us, Mr. Malfoy, Hermione and I were having a private conversation."
"It's nice to see you, Draco."
He laughs, a wry chuckle. "How unusual to hear you say that."
"Mr. Malfoy, I am trying to conduct a business discussion."
"Really? I thought you were trying to peer down her dress."
"Well I never! I've never been so insulted..."
"Never? I do believe Draco's just warming up."
"I don't think so, Hermione, hardly seems worth it if Ronald's not here."
"Well Ron isn't really fond of dancing."
"Perhaps then Hermione, I might steal you for a dance, for old time's sake."
"Of course, Draco, you understand Mr. Donner, for old time's sake."
Donner's words became the soundless gulping of a guppy as Draco guided her smoothly to the dance floor just as the orchestra struck up Strauss's timeless 'Blue Danube'. They danced in silence for a moment. He was different; male certainly, but different from Harry, with whom she danced more than her husband. She felt she could see the barest glimpse of what Lavender had seen in him.
"You dance very well, Mrs. Weasley"
"Why thank you, Mr. Malfoy, so do you."
"Why were you sitting with such an unsavory character as Donner, anyway?"
"It was a foolish mistake. He claimed he could broker an investment partner for me, for a product I've developed."
"Why not launch it through WWW?"
Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes had in the past year launched some products which bore a distinctly feminine brand of mischief, and Draco had a firm suspicion that he was dancing with the witch responsible.
"It's really not that sort of product. It's more of a product for parents, with small infants. It's actually a magical version of a muggle device"
"A muggle device?"
"Yes, it's called a baby monitor. Ron and I got one when Arty was born, but I got tired of replacing batteries, so I made a charm."
"Ah, but you still haven't explained what it does?"
"Oh it's very simple; it comes in two charms, one you place near the baby, in his room, or on his cot, the other the mother wears around her neck. If the baby cries, or makes a strange noise the mother can investigate it."
"Only the mother?" He sounded disappointed
"Oh no, Ron wears ours all the time. I have to fight him for it."
"As a potential investor I'm interested, as a parent I'm even more interested."
"Are you serious?"
"Absolutely. Your brothers-in-law are accumulating wealth at such a rapid rate, that all the old money is desperately seeking opportunities. As a parent, this is precisely the sort of product I've been looking for."
"I'll owl you a sample when I get home. No wait, I'm sending it to Lavender as a gift."
"That's very kind. I'll instruct my solicitors to contact you next week."
They dance together in silence for a while before Draco begins to chuckle.
"What's so funny, Draco?"
"My father would be turning in his grave right now, if he had one that is."
"Why?"
"Well," he said, "Here I am, Draco Malfoy, dancing with a muggle born witch." He paused, "No offense Hermione."
"None taken."
"And," he continued, "with whom I have just conducted a business deal. To make matters worse..."
"I'm a Weasley?"
"Yes!"
Hermione had never heard Draco laugh before, laugh with genuine merriment; it was infectious. She began to laugh too, at first a chuckle. Their conservative dance became more exaggerated, as they began to glide across the entire dance floor, trailing laughter behind.
Suddenly Draco got a glint in his eye.
"Do you dip Mrs. Weasley?"
"Dip? Oh no, Draco, you can't! DRACO!"
He dipped, and held her there, both of them still chuckling, and there was a bright flash!
To his credit, despite being blinded, he didn't drop her; he recovered himself, and pulled them both upright.
"Oh dear," said Draco, as they watched the photographer scuttle away.
"Don't worry, I've got some good news that will ease Ron's temper."
"Good news? Hmmmm, congratulations"
"Thank you." She hadn't realized how intuitive Draco could be.
Then he sighed, "It's not Ron I'm worried about, it's Lavender. You of all people should understand Hermione, Hell hath no fury as a pregnant woman scorned!'"
Fin.
Explanatory notes:
1. "Manhattan Interlude" is the title of a story which appeared in DC comics "House Of Mystery" Series in the early 80's. The story was an "I...Vampire." tale which bears absolutely no resemblance to this story. It's a cool title though.