All characters belong to JK Rowling

Chapter 9 – Questions (as posed & answered by Draco Malfoy)

EARLIER, WHEN I WAS SITTING BESIDE HERMIONE at a Muggle café, I knew that I was staring at her like some lovesick fool, but I couldn't help myself. She was so pretty. Really, really pretty. She wasn't the most beautiful girl in the world, but she was definitely beyond cute. Moreover, to me she was the prettiest girl of my acquaintance.

Right before work was to end today, I asked her if she would like to grab a cup of coffee or tea with me when we finished work. I didn't say anything else. I didn't act as if I wanted to 'talk' about something obscure. I didn't act as if this was more than it was. I asked her out on a sort of date, and she looked at me blankly for a whole of five seconds, (which was agonizingly slow, count it with me...one second, two second, three second, four second, five second...see, an eternity) and then she said, "Yes."

I waited for her to finish her work. She always worked beyond the normal workday. I usually left work before the normal workday was finished. Today, I waited, and today, she finished up on time. At five o'clock on the nose, she looked up and said, "Are we ready to go?"

I liked the sound of being a 'we' with her. It seemed right. I nodded, stood, and walked over to her desk, then offered her my arm. She looked at my arm, then into my eyes. She blinked several times and then placed her arm through mine. Right there in the office! We walked that way all the way to the lifts and everything! I mean, people saw us! I felt elated. I felt like I was part of a 'we'!

We stopped at a little place right outside the Ministry. Many people from work go there, even though it was a Muggle establishment. There was an empty booth in the very back, and we made our way back there by weaving in and out of the throng of people. I even reached down and took her hand as we made our way through the crowd. My hand was perspiring slightly, which was embarrassing, but I hoped she wouldn't notice.

When we got to the booth, she sat down first and scooted next to the wall. Overall, I had three major dilemmas that day, and she had presented me with dilemma number one. I had to decide, off the cuff, whether to sit next to her or across from her. Now, a normal person would sit across from someone, date or not. Nonetheless, I've never been quite normal, and I wanted to sit as close to her as I could. I wanted to be able to reach out and touch her if I wanted. I wanted to be able to hold her hand, brush her hair out of her face, or kiss her cheek, if I so desired. I wanted to continue to feel like a 'we' instead of a 'her' and 'me'.

All of that would have been difficult whilst sitting across from her. Therefore, without fanfare or fuss I sat down right next to her, called the waitress over as quickly as I could, ordered one tall latte, half calf for the lady (I knew what she liked) and one black coffee with a hint of hazelnut, for me.

I placed my arm casually along the back of the booth, turned to her, and smiled. "Do you want to get a spot of food as well, or just the coffee?"

She gave me a look a couldn't decipher. She thought either I was a ranging lunatic, or she was contemplating nine different ways to get out of the booth in a hurry. She picked up a menu from behind the napkin holder and opened it. Right. So we were going to have a spot of dinner, too. Excellent, excellent.

The waitress brought us our coffee and asked us what we wanted to eat. I was peering over her menu with her. There were two menus, but I wanted an excuse to sit even closer to her. I told the old hag to give us a moment, and then we both went back to perusing the restaurant's fine fair.

I pointed to something stupid on the menu and asked, "Have you ever had that? It looks good."

She closed the menu, placed it back behind the silver napkin holder, placed her hands around her tall coffee cup and without missing a beat she asked, "Is this a date?"

"A what? No, you thought, what, a date, really, ha, I mean," I snorted a couple of times in the middle of my little rambling and finally I moved my arm from the back of the booth, placed both my hands around my mug and turned to look at my coffee, even as I answered, "Maybe." Gads…I was a pathetic.

Where was all the Malfoy charm? Where was the debonair air that usually surrounded me? I usually oozed magnetism, charisma, and easy-going affability, and here I was acting like a fool. I was acting like…ugh…Potter.

This led me to my second dilemma for the evening. I didn't know whether to save face and deny, deny, deny, or for once in my life be truthful. I turned to her slightly, placed my hand on her cheek, rubbed my thumb near her mouth and said, "It's not really much of a first date, but yes, I consider this a date of sorts, Granger, how about you?"

"It's a date of sorts," she agreed. She smiled and seemed to relax. She picked the menu back up, and when the waitress came, she ordered, as did I. I felt so relieved.

While sipping our coffee and waiting for our food, I decided to ask her some questions. "If I asked you for a real date, a nice date, dinner, dancing, the whole shebang, would you consider it?"

"I thought you said this was a date?" she asked with confusion.

I passed my hand before my face, in a sort of waving motion, and said as a joke, "Yes, yes, but it's really more of preliminary date, to set up rules and guidelines, and to see if dating you is even worth my while."

She gave me a penetrating smile and said, "And for me to see if dating you is worth my while, right?"

I smiled too, leaned forward, caught a scent of 'essence of Hermione' and said, "Exactly," then I leaned away and sighed. "Go on and answer my question, would you go out on a real date with me, to a fancy restaurant, let me spend loads of money on you, lavish tons of presents on you, share a nice kiss or two, and then perhaps see where it might lead us?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Good." We were getting off to a good start. I turned to face her slightly and asked, "Did that kiss we shared mean anything to you?" Gee, I didn't mean to ask that question quite so early in the question/answer portion of our evening, but since it popped out of my mouth, so be it.

"It was wonderful," she answered with a smile.

Now, here's the thing - If she had merely said that it was 'nice', I might have cut my losses right there, right then. If she had been too anxious, too eager, and had said something insincere like, 'It was bloody fabulous,' or 'I was gobsmacked by your technique,' I would have left her, no more questions asked.

But she was as sweet and unassuming as ever. She was unaffected by things. She was genuine and engaging and honest and she said that kissing me was wonderful, and since I concurred (kissing her was wonderful as well) I decided to stay and ask more questions.

"Who did you like kissing better, me or Potter?"

Suddenly, her smile dissipated, as if someone took an eraser and wiped it right off her face. She didn't try to deny that she kissed Potter, oh no, not honest Hermione. Instead, she asked, "How did you know that I kissed Harry?"

Thankfully, our salads came right at that moment. I speared some greens on my fork and without looking up I said, "He might have mentioned it. He knows you kissed me too, you know."

She folded her arms in front of her, leaned back in the booth, pushed her salad away from her and said, "I know. He and I talked about it a bit. The thing I want to know is why were you and Harry talking about my kissing the other one of you?"

My third and final dilemma was staring me smack dab in the face and I was going to ignore it. I pushed my salad away, to form the words carefully in my mind. I didn't want to come off as the villain in this piece, but if she knew Potter and I were talking about her virginity and her secret conversation with Weasley, she would be angry, and she wouldn't only be angry with Harry. She would be angry with me as well. She might even be embarrassed, and in her embarrassment she might run away and sulk, and decide that it wasn't worth seeing me anymore.

I couldn't have that.

So I decided to lie. I opened my mouth to lie, but I couldn't. I didn't want to build a relationship with her on lies, and I most definitely wanted to build a relationship with her. I also didn't want to act flippant, or play if off as unimportant, so I said, "Potter was concerned for you."

She continued to glare. Her arms were still folded across her chest. She had a nice chest, by the way.

She apparently wanted me to continue. The waitress brought the rest of our meals, saw that we hadn't touched our salads, asked us a question, to which we didn't answer, and so she placed our plates on the table and left.

"Potter and I were talking about you, because we were both concerned," I said honestly, not knowing if I should continue talking or not.

Her arms unfolded slowly, gently, as if someone was letting all of the air out of her sails. She looked down at her lap and asked, "What were you talking about, with Harry, in regards to me?"

"Your proposition to Weasley," I said softly.

She looked up quickly, shocked. Now she looked as if I struck her on the face. The pain I saw etched there would live in my mind forever. "What proposition?" she asked breathlessly.

"You know, concerning…" I made a crude motion with my hands, something like one fingering going back and forth inside the circle of another, and I made a whistling sound. I really was pathetic. She continued to look at me stunned, so I finally eeked out, "Your virginity, you know."

She gasped. Then gasped again. Then thrice. The next thing she did surprised me most of all. She pushed me, with all her might, right out of the booth, onto the floor, where I landed with a thump. She grabbed her purse, said something about killing someone or other, and ran out of the café, leaving me with no dignity, on the floor, where I was sure I belonged.

"Cheque please," I said to the waitress from the floor.

I walked around Muggle London for hours, knowing that I had ruined it with her. She would never consider me as anything even remotely resembling a friend, let alone a boyfriend or a lover. Why should she? The fact that Potter and I were talking about something as private and intimate as her virginity really was unforgivable. I wondered where she was. Had she gone to confront Scarhead? After all, it was really his fault. He was a bad influence on me, he was. If he hadn't wanted to have a little sharing session earlier, I would have been just fine being in the dark about everything.

Of course, I also might never have asked her out on a date.

And look how wonderful that turned out. I really did hate Harry Potter. Very much. With a passion. Damn forehead scarred freak.

I ended up back at the Ministry. I walked into our department, opened the door to the small office I shared with her and two others, assumed I would be by myself that time of night, and was shocked at what I saw. Hermione Granger was sitting at her desk, her head on her arms, and she was crying.

Furthermore, I was the cause.

I walked up to her slowly. I placed one hand in the mass of brown curls. God, I loved her hair. Let's be real, I loved everything about this woman. I leaned down, stroked her hair, and whispered in her ear, "I'm so sorry, Granger. I'm a cad, and so is Potter, and probably Weasley, too. We shouldn't have been so cavalier about your virginity. It's private. It's your business, well, except you sort of made it all of our business when you mentioned it to us."

She looked up. I removed my hand. "You are SO not helping me feel better about myself."

"How about this," I said with a grin. I sat on her desk. "Look on the bright side, Granger. At least now that it's out in the open, you have your choice. You don't have to settle on Weasley. If you want, I'll be your man. I'm up for the job." I nodded in affirmation and pointed my thumb toward my chest. "I could even give you references, if you'd want."

She couldn't help but to smile. "This isn't a joke."

"Do you see me laughing?" I said, though I was smirking, I wasn't laughing. "I know it's not a joke. Believe me, if you pick me, you'd know it's not a joke, either."

"Draco, stop making fun of me," she moaned. She placed her head back on her arm and sighed, "I could kill Ron. How could he tell Harry? How could Harry tell you?"

"Because, as much as it pains me to admit this, I'm on a new truthfulness kick when it comes to you, darling girl," I began. I pulled her up by her arm, and forced her to stand between my legs as I sat on her desk. "The reason Weasel told Potter, and Pothead told me, is because we all love you."

If I thought she looked traumatized earlier at the café, I was wrong. The expression she wore right now was the epitome of shock. She let out a long breath and said, "I know Ron loves me still, perhaps as more than a friend, and maybe he always will, and Harry already admitted his feelings to me, but you don't love me, Malfoy. Get real. You act annoyed by my mere presence half of the time."

I brushed a stray hair from her cheek, left my hand there for a moment before I moved it down her cheek, to her neck, to her shoulder and answered, "The truth is you annoy me more than half of the time, but I know how I feel. I love you. I do. I have for a long time. I never meant to act on it. I never meant to admit it. Perhaps if certain things hadn't played out as they had the last few days, I still wouldn't have, but I love you, Hermione."

She continued to shake her head no. I continued to nod my head yes. "I do, too," I continued. I stopped the movement of her head with my hands framing her face. I leaned in, kissed her mouth slowly, softly, absorbingly, (Yes, I meant to say absorbingly, because it felt as if I absorbed her with my kiss) and when I stopped kissing her I said, "I haven't loved very many people in my life, so give me credit for knowing when I love someone. I've loved my mother, my father, and gee, you."

"And yourself, don't forget," the cheeky little thing said with a smile. I really did love her.

"Right, and myself," I agreed, truthfully. I placed my forehead on hers. I closed my eyes. "I know you're confused right now. I know I've given you even more to consider and be perplexed about. I know your massive brain is going over all the facts right now, and you're probably close to exploding, and I'm sorry to add to your confusion." I smiled at her. "I'm sorry to add to your pain. I meant to take this slow, date you, and then admit how I feel, but I ran out of time. I can't waste a moment. I don't want you to make a mistake. Pick me, Granger. Pick me."

My hands were on her shoulders. She placed her hands up on my wrists and moved them down. She slipped her hands to mine, and clasped them tightly. She came forward and relaxed against my chest. "I don't know what to do. I have feelings for both you and Harry. I thought if I could resolve the whole virginity issue, I could clear my mind and pick who's best for me."

"I'm best for you. Pick me. Please." I urged. I pleaded. I begged. I no longer felt pathetic. I was fighting for my life here, but more than that, I was fighting for what was right.

"I don't know what to do. I want my first time to be with someone I love. That's why I've waited this long. I thought I loved Marcus, but the truth is that I didn't, not really. I don't want my first time to be with Ron. If I did, I would have made love to him years ago, but how can I pick you over Harry? The thing is I do love you, Draco. I know it's quick, but I do. I love Harry, too. I really don't know what to do," she said sadly, as she finished her ramblings. She hugged me tightly around the waist. Thank goodness, she didn't start crying again.

She ended with, "I need to think about things, Draco. Give me time to think."

"I can't give you much time," I warned.

"You can't?" she inquired, her head still on my chest.

Hell, whom was I kidding? I would give her anything she asked for, because as much as I despised Potter, I loved her even more, so if she asked for me and Potter together, I would probably even give her that, although I wouldn't tell her so, at least, not yet.