All right, guys! Judging by your lovely positive feedback, I'm uploading chapter 2 right now! Chapter three will be up as soon as I'm done writing it! :D
Disclaimer: All HP characters belong to JK Rowling. No matter how much I wished I owned them, I never will, so **sigh**...
Hermione was at work in the Ministry, at the Department of Magical Creatures. She was busy signing papers on a piece of legislature that would outlaw house-elf slavery and grant them minimum wage rights.
Suddenly, she heard cries and swooning in the corridor outside her office. Expecting Draco, she looked up eagerly, but the anticipation melted off of her face when she saw who it really was.
Standing in the hallway, dressed in a bright orange jumper that clashed jarringly with his hair, was one Ronald Bilius Weasley. What was worse was that he didn't seem to have learned his lesson. He still stood there looking as though he was God's gift to women.
"Ronald, can't you see I'm busy?" Hermione asked shortly.
"Herms, how have you been, love?" Ron cut her off jovially, completely brushing her lack of welcome aside.
"I'm not your love anymore, Ronald," Hermione retorted exasperatedly. "How many other women have you got that name for?"
A flash of anger flitted across Ronald's face, but he took a deep breath and calmed himself down. He had also seemed to have forgotten that Hermione had a long memory, and the deepest (if very rare) capacity to hold the most scathing grudges against those who had done her wrong.
"Come on, Herms, you know you're the only one for me," he said, his voice oozing charm.
"There was a time when I believed that as well, Ronald," Hermione said, not even bothering to glance up from the paperwork she was signing. "But I was painfully reminded otherwise, or do you not recall those particular events?"
"Oh, you can't tell me that the bloody Ferret makes you happy," Ron spat.
"That 'bloody Ferret' is right behind you, Weaselbee," a cold, scathing, and dangerous voice said from the doorway. Hermione finally looked up and grinned at her boyfriend, who was, as she kept reminding herself, quite a catch. "And he's asking you very politely to please not let the door hit you in the arse on your way out," Draco continued, pushing past Ron and entering the office.
Ron glanced mutinously back and forth between Hermione and Draco, but realized that would get sympathy from neither. With a loud pop, he Disapparated from the office.
"Wonder what he's doing back in town," Hermione mused, frowning.
"Well, whatever it is, it can't be good," Draco said cheerily. "I brought takeaway."
"Lovely!" Hermione exclaimed. "I didn't realize that I was starving and that it's already lunchtime."
"Of course it slipped your mind, Herms," Draco laughed. "I mean, it always does."
"Does not!" Hermione argued. "I eat plenty."
"Remember what counts as plenty for me and Harry," Draco countered calmly.
"Of course," Hermione said sarcastically. "The famed 'Quidditch Player's Appetite'."
"Keep that in mind," Draco said. "Also, we're due round the Potters' for tea this afternoon."
"Right!" Hermione exclaimed, eyes widening. "I completely forgot!"
"Yeah, that's what comes of undereating," Draco chuckled with a cheeky grin. Hermione rolled her eyes and reached into the takeaway bag.
"So tell me, how's that patient of yours doing?" she asked.
Around four in the afternoon, Hermione returned to her flat, which just so happened to be down the corridor from Draco's. She'd had quite a tiring day reading over all the paperwork and making edit, and was about ready to go to the Potters' and drink some of Ginny's rejuvenating tea, whose recipe was never shared. Rather unfortunate for Hermione, who was in bad need of a cuppa very often.
Rooting through her dresser, Hermione searched for something more comfortable to wear than her office clothing. She finally found a red jumper with navy polka dots (which she was rather fond of) and a pair of navy high-waisted shorts. On a recent shopping trip around Muggle London with Ginny, Hermione had realized that she had an affinity for clothing that had vintage elements.
As she took a look in the mirror, Hermione nearly screamed and hid at the state of her hair. It was all out of place, as though she had been running her hands through it all day. Which she probably had been.
Pulling out her wand, she waved it over her fringe so that it fell right over her forehead wispily. She then proceeded to wave it over her rat's nest, making her hair arrange itself in the softest curls around her shoulders.
"There you are, love," Draco said from her bedroom door. Hermione jumped and whirled around.
"You gave me a fright!" she cried. Draco smirked and came closer to her. "You know, we really should leave for tea," she went on. "I would hate to keep Gin and a cup of her rejuvenating tea waiting."
"Well, it's not until half past that we have to be there," Draco said, pulling Hermione suddenly into his arms. "IN the mean time, how about a cup of rejuvenating something else?" He raised an eyebrow as his smirk grew, leaning forward to kiss.
Hermione sighed contentedly, her hands running through Draco's thick, silvery hair. Why need rejuvenating tea when she had a boyfriend who could put life into her as soon as he touched her?
So, what do you think? Has anyone any guesses as to what might happen at tea? Keep reading to find out! ;)