Disclaimer-I do not own the Harry Potter series, all credit of it goes to J.K Rowling.
I own the plot and the plot only.
"Good luck, Leroy!" Hermione cheered softly, waving simultaneously at the man who strode towards the door with swagger-like foot-steps trailing behind it all. The 6"1 bloke chuckled softly at Hermione's ecstatic goodbye, passively letting his medium-length, pure red hair that barely reached his shoulders flow pass his sharp-features.
"Good day to both of you ladies," he tipped his round, narrow hat once more, his other hand wrapped tightly around the wand properly placed in his left-cloak pocket. The door shut closed as a light bell rung. Leroy Huntts was a young man, merely at the age of Hermione Granger. He had a chivalry personality, charming in many outstanding ways indeed. He wasn't bad looking either. His bright red hair made him stand out as an auror, though, causing him to seem a bit egotistic at first - as if he wanted all the attention he could receive.
Leroy was a regular customer at Hermione's store, being a brainiac and so forth, Hermione enjoyed his darling company. Ginny didn't mind his charming personality as well. The minty scent of his cologne remained lingering in the somewhat cramped store, appealing to Ginny quite some much. His neat appearance was quite tasteful, with a touch of his perfectionist ways, he seemed even almost - just almost - perfect.
"Oh well, better get back to work, Ginny," Hermione smiled a soft smile at her partner, watching cautiously as Ginny merely nodded in an unusual manner. It was out-of-order for Ginny to agree with Hermione - due to the red-haired girl's stubborn personality. Even so, the brown-haired witch shrugged it off, not wanting to over-think anymore. Over-thinking was like a curse at times.
Hermione sighed a relieved sigh, watching as the moon shone softly - the clouds fading to reveal the glorious beauty. Finally, the witch decided to stop dreaming for a moment, snapping back to reality. She quickly turned the sign, that was hung right beneath the door-knob, signally that their somewhat neat shop was closed for the day - or night, to be more accurate. Her soft, brown curls slowly bounced up and down as she hurried to the basement, in other words, where the old, weary books were placed.
The youthful witch was not at all surprise to find Ginny there, wandering her delicate fingers through random, broken down books with a plain expression resting on top of her freckle-covered face. Ginny - though was not as serious about books as Hermione was - still had a passion for it. Why else would she have agreed to open the book store with Hermione - practically throwing away her dreams of ever playing professional Quidditch as an official member of the Holyhead Harpies.
"Leroy is quite a charm, don't you think so, Hermione?" the words left Ginny's thin lips with a lingering disposition to it. If Hermione hadn't seen Ginny's lips move itself, she wouldn't have believed it herself. It was obvious that Leroy was gorgeous and fine in many ways, but the two intended to keep it to themselves - their thoughts and opinions of him - that is. Since Ginny was already taken by Harry, Hermione didn't bother to go into squeamish - gossip with Ginny over their casual customer.
"I - uhrm - yes, I guess so," Hermione awkwardly mumbled, raising an eyebrow towards the red-head before shrugging slightly. She slowly strode over to a dust-bunny-covered book-shelf, not technically intrigued with it in any way - but just felt the need to occupy her mind and attention. Ginny shook her head slightly, muttering to herself with a disappointed expression resting on top of her fair skin with slight freckles to match gracefully. The bright witch - though was quick witted, did not know much about love itself. Or romance, to be more specific. Mostly when it came to the opposite sex.
Ginny had always wanted Hermione to hook up with Leroy, since the first time she had met the young gentleman when he had happened to come upon their store on a stormy night. Gladly for him, the two witches let him stay for an hour or so as they caught up with the bills. He was amusing, yet intelligent. Serious - he could be at times - but instead overall tended to joke around with a light chuckle escaping his smiling, thin lips.
Meanwhile, Draco yawned softly as the half-moon revealed itself, glorious and shining in many ways. His eyes skimmed a page in the book he was holding, not really paying attention much to the words. It was as if they were being sucked into his brain, and blown out through his heart-shaped ears with not much care to it anyhow. The Malfoy's mind was being placed somewhere else - somewhere far more intriguing and significant. The wedding, he had not heard himself whispering the words out loud, his tone as if it were a sin to even comprehend the though of it following through.
Draco had not wanted to come upon the topic, who would - if they were in his little predicament? Finally, after what seemed like hours to him, he set down his book. The blonde's long, slender fingers soon moved up to his temple, massaging it with great impact, hoping it would somehow shoo away the horrible thoughts until further notices. Sadly, it didn't. The constant massaging merely made it worse, to be more realistic. The ex-Slytherin shook his head, pieces of his platinum blonde hair soon placed in unusual spots, one being right in front of his glaring, silver eyes.
Piercing grey eyes continued to explore the luxurious living room, hoping to escape from the nightmare-like-dilemma. What am I going to do? - the wizard found himself questioning the same question over and over again. Is Pansy really going to rat on me? - Draco once again asked himself, hope suppressing from what seemed like - beyond the grave.
She wouldn't, he mumbled to himself, Would she? The Malfoy pondered for a moment, barely a second passing by before the - Of course she would. With his hands clutching his knees, he sighed, though it sounded quite like a grunt rather than a regular, bored noise. It sounded as if the one making the noise was in distress, irritated, as if dealing with something awfully and merely unbearable. The description perfectly matched how he was feeling right at this very second.
After feeling somewhat betrayed by his slightly pessimistic mind, he found himself accioing himself a bottle of wine along with a glass, both imported from France itself. A gracious gift from his mother, when she had found out about his income-increase due to excellent work habits in the Ministry of Magic a year or so ago. The wine bottle was still in good shape as he dusted it off with his minty breath, loosening the cork until it somehow sprung open, and pouring it into the glass with an elegant format lingering along with his slight movements.
It was already five past one in the afternoon, the sun was already shining exquisitely upon the hour - its glaring light welcoming Draco into an unbearable embrace. The slightly young wizard woke up, drunken and surrounded by empty bottles of wine. The one bottle of wine turned into two, then turning into three, late at night. Draco grunted, struggling to pull himself into a stable position. Suddenly, he felt a splurging feeling crawl through his throat - before he could even think, his instincts kicked in, sending him sprinting into the restroom, grueling noises escaping from the opened room afterwards with absolutely no hesitation to it.
After what seemed like hours of throwing up - although was merely a couple of minutes in reality - Draco washed his face, although he had not entirely shooed away his darling little hangover. Who knew wine could be so drastic? Locks of platinum blonde hair remained disoriented as his slender fingers combed it slightly - with absolutely no good outcome to it. It remained messy, looking as if it were a dirty shade of blonde instead of a lighter, whiter shade of it.
I feel like crap, he sighed a dramatic sigh - the ones where actors and actresses would pull off during an emotional plot in the film. The Malfoy drenched his sharp-featured face with icy-cold water, hoping it would somehow wake him up and bring him to his senses. It did do something to the blonde-haired wizard. However, his senses remained underneath it all - causing him to only shiver in the cold. Draco sat there for a moment, not caring about getting dirty, or anything that related to it. He stared at the pale, light grey wall, his eyes dazed. Drip, drop, drip, drop. The sound of water drops being pummeled against the ground echoed in Draco's ears as they fell passively onto the black-and-white tiled floor.
Finally, Draco pushed himself off the ground with force, soon striding towards the snow white couch with tiny amounts of jumps in his steps. He pivoted using the corner of his heel, bent down, accioed a piece of paper along with a pen and began to write:
Dear Granger,
We need to talk.
Signed,
Draco Malfoy
It was a simple letter, but it was as clear as a whistle.
A/N- Sorry for the wait! Been quite busy. I as well apologize for the lame last-sentence. I couldn't really think of anything else to put.. just had to technically be a metaphor of some sort. Anyways, I'll try to upload chapter eight quicker. Mostly since Spring Break is coming up. One week of relaxation! Remember to review and subscribe for more chapters and stories!
-Saga Hugs&Kisses
A/N - Updated 6/29/14
I will no longer be updating this. I will soon be deleting this; I have, however, decided to write another Dramione story that's somewhat parallel to this story. I apologize for the inconvenience and hope that my second attempt at a Dramione fic will go well.
-Saga