Chapter Seven: "Hook, Line and Sinker"

"How does this one look? Hey!"
Pansy snapped at Draco, who was lying backwards on a chaise lounge, head hanging off the end.

He was reading all the neglected messages on his phone. And really was getting bored as his female friend had inappropriately brought him along lingerie shopping. She had said she wanted an opinion on an outfit, as her and Sergei's three month anniversary was soon, but he thought it was a dress, not boudoir apparel.

Peeking up lazily, he saw that she had on a garter belt connected to a black basque fit with spikes on the bra and down the side. That detail had become her new obsession since his party. Matched with red pumps, she looked sexy as all hell, but Draco felt on the fence on whether he should say so or not. And he hoped to Merlin that Pansy wouldn't ever tell Sergei he was the one approving what his girlfriend should wear right before they fucked. (And if she did, that he wouldn't come to axe murder him.)
This was too strange for real life.

"It matches your soul," he replied impassively, while firing back an e-mail to confirm an appointment the following week.

"Alluring and mysterious?" she asked with hopefulness Draco wanted to smirk at.

"Wicked and obnoxious."
She emitted an annoyed little tick and stomped back into the dressing room.
They were at a boutique in Leeds, Bordello; it was after sundown now. Pansy had requested to come past open hours for a private shopping experience, and with a bribery too good to ignore, the owner had agreed. The manager was now in her office, leaving the pair to their own devices until she could close shop.

"Well what do you suggest then, you idiot? You haven't been paying any attention to me," came muffled whines as Pansy wiggled out of her corset. That must have been her twentieth or so try, and she was getting exhausted and hot from the constant buckle-popping, lace-tying, and leg-bareing.

"That scarlet corset you tried on was probably the nicest thing so far. With pull-up tights. Light colours aren't as boner-inducing as rich darker ones. Plus you're really fair, so it looks better anyways."

She peeked her head out again, trying to gauge if he was serious or not. He was staring straight at her. Rolling her eyes, she yanked the curtain closed to finish her redressing.

"I was paying attention, love. You just don't have any faith in me."

"You've been on your phone the entire time," she hmmphed, coming back out in a sundress, Draco's suggestion in hand. "And obviously I do, or I wouldn't have invited you."

Clacking her way to the till, sweetly calling for the manager, Pansy made her purchase and then dragged her guest back onto the strip. Thrusting the carrier bags into his hands to light up.

"Let's go to Baby Jupiter, I hear it has an exceptional bar. You aren't too busy are you?"

With the morning spent dealing with the Greengrasses, followed by setting up all the intricate, asinine details with his new staff, he was too tired.

"I am, actually. But I'll go," Draco uttered, pulling out the receipt, scoffing. "I know this might come off very hypocritical, but why spend nearly a thousand pounds on shit that will only make the person you bought it for want to tear it off after six seconds?"

"Because I can," Pansy blew smoke into his face, knocking him on the head with a fist.

"Rude. I'm not your damn caddy, by the way."

"You are tonight. Besides," she stepped aside, smiling while avoiding a playful swipe on the arm, "Sergei loves the slow tease. He'll appreciate the effort. He's going to come home to me, looking fabulous, with drinks and freshly washed sheets. Surely, I can expect prolonged foreplay in my future."

She then sighed in contentment, winking at him.

"And what about his prolonged future?" Draco asked in response, grinning as she contorted her expression into a death-glare.

"I'm going to suck his cock so well he'll be incapacitated for a week, so don't you go trying to imply I'm selfish in the sack, because you have no idea."

"No, I don't."

"I'm fantastic, in case you were wondering. Don't be jealous now, I think you just need some encouragement. When's the last time you even had a nice time out with a pretty lass, anyways? Want me to set you up? It'd be nice if I could get some sex advice from a boy, but you have to actually be proficient in the act for it to be useful."
He wasn't even certain anymore whether she intended to sound like a massive bitch or if it all came naturally.

"Don't worry, I think I can hold out a bit longer, Pans. Don't need to date someone just to justify banging them like you do. Besides, anyone you pick out for me will probably have the mug of a dead carcass and the personality to match."
He laughed while she threw her silent hissy fit, defending her mates under her breath, when his mobile began to go off.

I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction,
Cause I try, and I try, and I try, and I try…

"Shit, here."
Fumbling through his pockets, piling the load onto Pansy for free hands, his stomach jolted slightly as he noticed who was calling.

"What in the hell kind of ringtone is that? Ever since you left your mum, you've been listening to such weird – " her voice died in her throat, eyes ablaze with sudden rage. "Wha- mmph."

Before there was time to explode, Draco put a finger to her lips, then brought it back to his, shushing her.

She stomped her foot, balled her fists, as he clicked the green button.
"Draco Malfoy speaking," he drawled, drawing out the sound to rile up his friend.

He had no idea how he was going to get himself out of this situation, but staying calm surely was a pertinent factor, to show Pansy he had this all under control.

"Hi, it's Hermione…Um," she paused, sighing, causing an uncontrollable smirk to fall on Draco's face. He almost felt her pouting. "I've finished the draft like you wanted, and though you might think you are untouchable, I'd encourage you to consider finalizing it before you continue taking clients. I suggest going to a notary to have them bear witness and validate it legally, then posting it officially on your website. I know you have one, don't be surprised. Send copies to customers before they pay you so they can't make any disputes, as well."

"Hello to you too, Granger. When did you want to meet up?"

A loud argh startled several pedestrians making their way down streets for dinner out.

"Sorry? Are you outside? Sounds like there's sirens or something, can't hear you very well."

Fighting back - with great difficulty - a hefty snort, Draco strode beside a dirty building in the corner, leaning against the fake brick.

"My apologies. Thank you for your suggestions, I only meant to ask when you wanted to get together to discuss this, and so I can pay you."

"Merlin….I don't know. Don't care. I work every day, so do you. You probably have a more erratic schedule than me."

"Always so difficult," he noted, not missing the tut of annoyance through the line. "When are you free this week? I should be fine for the next few days because it's all press and acquaintances. Just need your go ahead."

"Look, give me a day that best works for you and I'll tell you if it's also in my favour. Tomorrow, Tuesdays, are the only time I can't. Worse comes to worst, you could come to the ministry on my lunch break, or are you too famous to eat now?"

Chuckling, he fiddled with his zippo in his free hand, watching the flame go out again and again.
"Lunch I usually spend with associates, not that you aren't, but they actually want something to do with me. Wednesday is the best day for me. Nothing going on in the evening. You?"

"Of course it is," with a tiny growl, Hermione returned with a frustrated attitude. "I have a dinner date with Blaise on Wednesday. But if that's the only day in the next week you're free….just if we can meet before 7 that would be great. No offence, but I'd like to tie up this endeavour and lay it to rest."

Dinner with that?
Blood simmered through his veins, again feeling oddly guilty that the mere mention of them together had that affect.

"Certainly," he replied curtly, running down his options lightning fast before one flashed before him brilliantly. "So shall I pop by your flat then? Say 5:30? No need for you to leave, plenty of time to get ready for your nightly romp."

"It's no trouble for me to visit you, honestly. I'd prefer it, actually."
She sounded panicky.
Draco pondered if she had landed in the same boat as he had, hiding the fact that they had formed a partnership.

Inhaling a soft hiss, he put on an apologetic voice. "Oh, well, you see, I'll be busy right up until 5:30. I'm not even sure when exactly I'd get back."

This wasn't a lie.
Tomorrow he had a photo shoot cum interview for Witch Weekly, the only magical magazine for all things trendy and celebrity. Everyone else seemed excited for him, but he didn't really give a newt's eyeball.

"It'll only take a few moments," he taunted. "Afraid of Potter and company finding out about us?"

"No," she spat. "It's 45 Kilburn Road, flat 15. Don't be late."

With that she hung up on him.
Riling her up had become his new favourite vice, though he would never confirm it to himself by saying it aloud. Returning to his fretting ladyfriend, she was talking in hushed whispers to somebody on her own device, angrily, but far too whiny for it to be a worry to him on who she was calling.

"Are you quite finished moaning to Sergei? Shall we?"
He held out his arm, but she snapped the phone shut with a hasty good bye and bellowed at him, smacking the offered limb instead.

"Why the hell are you talking to Hermione Granger? And why do you have her number!?"

"She's whipping up a contract for me, actually. That's it. So my clients can't sue me, cause lord knows that some of the vile richer cunts will be dissatisfied and unafraid to do so."
Snatching the lighter from his hand, she starting smoking her third fag in ten minutes.

"But why her? And why didn't you tell me? Surely Blaise is furious."

"Actually, I don't think Blaise knows, funnily enough. Think she felt too shameful to tell him. And her because I'm dealing with witches and muggles, and she has expertise of the laws in both areas. Knowing that you'd blow up at me and try to seriously maim me was why I didn't inform you, and with your spiteful history books you'd probably go running off to Zabini to tattle before I could've explained it."

"I would not," she huffed, averting her gaze as she trudged her way to their destination for a strong drink.

"You so would. Nott and I," he began, phrasing this in a way that wouldn't endanger him, "are finding small ways to piss the bugger off. Vivienne suggested I get a contract when we were dressing you up, which is how I got the idea in the first place. And using Granger because she is a lawyer, and because Blaise is like a rampant watchdog about her career, presented the perfect ruse."

"Theo wants to bother him? But he's such a kissass."

"Yeah well, let's just say Mr. Flawless Model flaunted his influence over Astoria, however real it is, and it ticked him off big time."

"God, nobody ever tells me anything," she frowned, twisting her face for a moment, puzzled. "I suppose I was too preoccupied that night for drama anyways….."

"It was a 'between the boys' deal. Bunch of peacocks displaying their feathers, if you will. Come on, Pansy, don't be so irate. Our lives are one big game, remember? Just because we're supposed to be adults doesn't mean we're any more mature, any less petty. Nott is in a tight spot working for the idiot, and though I loathe him, at least we have some common ground in our hatred. One-upping that moron by garnering some attention away from him was gratification long needed, and I don't want it to dry out so soon."
Pleading with her, using his tried and true method of coy piqued lips and soft wide eyes, visibly her shoulders sunk, relenting.

"Well…sigh. He's going to kill you when he finds out…and I don't see why you have to actually make dates with her. But I guess I buy your dumb alibi. Whatever. I won't go snitching to Blaise, he's been an arse to me lately, and even if I hate that girl, boyfriends shouldn't dictate who you talk to…."

It never ceased to amaze Draco how one minute somebody could be acting so infantile, and in the next they were reasonable. His coaxing helped, but still, this was rare especially concerning a Parkinson.

"You must tell me what happens though, I assume you'll let Blaise know in one way or another about the events after you're finished eh?"

"Of course. And cross my heart, I won't leave anything out. Hopefully she'll take him down a peg once he overreacts."

Pansy furrowed her brow for a moment. It sounded almost as if he actually cared about what happened to Granger, that he'd hope she'd dump him.
She shook her head, what a silly idea, as they arrived at their target.

Settling down in the far end, the smoking section, Draco ordered them whiskey and a margarita.

"So…how was Astoria anyways? First appointment and all. Did she co-operate with you?"
Still suspicious, perhaps a tad green if she was honest, Pansy decided to leave him to his own devices. Getting mad at him was pointless if she wanted to keep track of his activity.

"Yeah, she was fine. Pleasant, even. Daphne though…was an entirely different matter," he confided, giving her a knowing look which caused a delicious grin on her face.

"Oh, do tell. She's got her knickers in a twist lately, Adrian got tired of her shit real quick. Honestly, that girl is only concerned with how many men she can attract. Think she's annoyed that her sister has managed to get somebody head over heels and she's always in between blokes."

With her concentration garnered, Draco felt himself relax again as he retold Pansy about all the whining and disagreement he'd had from Daphne, and then about the experience of dabbling in responsibility as a whole. Thinking back to the weekend, he resolved to settle her qualms even further.

"Oh by the way, I had dinner with Vivienne, and she was toiling with the possibility of having you walk the runway in the fall. She wanted to use that dress, and it was made for you, so," he shrugged.

"Really?" her whole body filled with delight, and she tried to mask some of her glee by looking down into the glass that was just served to her.

"Mmhm," he replied as he took a sip. "I mentioned that to old Daphers and she was positively livid."

"Excellent."
With the signature smug expression, all was well.
Draco listened to her prattling and stories for a few more hours until he had to leave.

Opting not to go to sleep once he was safe and sound at home, there was no point when you had to be up by 6 and it was 1, he went over his plan for when he got to Hermione's. Drinking copious amounts of coffee and tea, he then rehearsed potential answers to questions for his interview.

The last thing he wanted was to look stupid.

{}

"There aren't many in the wizarding world who'd have the nerve to branch out into a business venture so foreign. So Draco, how did you come to decide that the fashion industry was the place for you and how are you feeling about the progress so far? I hear though the grapevine it's all going swimmingly."

Autumn Millstone was fidgeting in her seat, trying not to break eye contact with her guest while simultaneously avoiding a blush creeping up her neck. Mr. Malfoy had specifically requested her to do the piece, as he'd been 'extremely pleased' with her article concerning his soirée. That assignment had been a low-priority at the time, and she had only been here for four months which is why she got stuck with it. The paid stories always were covered by the rookies.
Now that he was dubbed as an up-and-comer, and he was a Malfoy, ie, extremely rich and known for being sly, this was a big deal. Needless to say, she was under immense stress.

"Well Autumn," Draco cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his armchair. "My close friend Pansy -who was wearing that pink dress everyone seems to be asking me about at my party – has always told me I know what looks best on her. The information that I helped pick out her outfits slipped out one day in front of an audience, and one of my mates joked, rather nastily I should say, that I should consider doing it for a living. I wasn't doing anything worthwhile at the time, it sort of stuck in my head as a possibility after that. Without my mother I surely couldn't have done it at all, she got me in contact with all those beautiful people. Rock stars influence better than politicians, honestly."
Autumn let our a small genuine titter, covering her mouth quickly.
"The rest is history I guess," Draco finished, grinning that he could affect his interviewer in such a way. "And yes, it's going alright thus far, I've gotten an overwhelming response."

He flashed her a dazzling smile that left a lump in her throat.

"A-and, anybody in those responses worth mentioning?"

"Ha, no, not yet," he chuckled, fingering his chin and swinging his foot over his crossed leg. All of this was very calculated movement, calculated speech in an attempt to look candid. By the look of his company, it was convincing. "Mostly acquaintances, muggle women, and schoolmates."

"Any thoughts of collaborating with any designers then? Everyone in the office was raving about that Vivienne Westwood piece, by the way. Ahem, If I'm correct, there are many muggle stylists who have celebrity clients and good connections with the best of the best."

"You are correct, and I must confess that isn't really my cup of tea. Every person is different, so I don't imagine that trying to force them with affiliates they may not like will help them be individual. That's the aim, right? Vivienne has been a real dear, though, if you were wondering, and I wouldn't hesitate to work with her again."

The conversation went on smoothly enough, Draco had prepared himself (and guessed correctly) for most of the things fired at him.

"Well, you seem so busy, I know we all wish you luck in your endeavours. I don't want to keep you any longer because of the photo shoot," Autumn giggled anxiously, "just one last question though?"

"Certainly."

"With the busy schedule you have, I'm sure Witch Weekly readers are dying to know if you have any spare time for dating? There was no belle of the ball hanging off your arm last time I saw you. Or perhaps you do have a lucky, understanding woman in your life," she asked, staring at him meaningfully, "and she was unable to attend."

Struggling back laughter, he calmed his face by sipping water.
"Afraid not. It's not really on my to-do list at the moment. Besides, I've always been a bit of an underachiever when it came to that stuff," he winked. "There's somewhere I have to be soon, unfortunately. It was nice meeting you again, sorry if the first encounter wasn't very pleasant, I was a bit distracted."

He stood up to shake her hand and relished in her flustered response as he was directed to the next room over for some tedious posing.

Matching the disposition of Autumn, Hermione was spilling her guts and woes to Ginny, a day too late in her apartment.

"You WHAT!?"

"I know, okay, it was so stupid. I don't even know what possessed me to consider helping him," Hermione moaned, sprawling on her bed as she dumped her briefcase onto the floor.

"God, sometimes I wish you were meaner. I'm going to let myself believe it was the paycheck that influenced your decision. You know he only was nice enough to keep your wand so you'd feel somewhat obligated to return a favour."

"Shush, I know, trust me. It was just so weird. He was being agreeable, frustratingly so, and I guess I figured it wouldn't be so bad because I didn't have to spend a lot of time with him."

"Does Blaise know? I get the feeling he'd be none too pleased about this arrangement."

"No," Hermione grumbled, twisting the cord of the phone, getting a little riled as Ginny was well aware of the past week's events.

Blaise had been a bit too distant, in his demeanour and letters. They hadn't seen each other at all. She wondered if it was something she'd done, but hoped to fix whatever it was tonight.

"I haven't had the chance seeing as he is 'too busy'."
There was static as she heard her roommate contemplate on keeping her words to herself.

"Well make certain that you keep yourself guarded."

"Obviously," Hermione whined. "Ugh, I don't want to be dressed up when he gets here. He'll probably think it's all for his expense."

"Ew, he's coming to the house?" she groaned. "Any remarks about the size, and I swear…..gah. You better bleach it when he leaves, he'll probably make the plants wilt just by standing in the living room."

"Ginny," she chuckled, unable to hide her amusement. "Is there seriously no way you can come home at all? I only agreed because I didn't want to run late for my date. If you were here, he'd feel more inclined to leave."

"Hell no am I going there, I'd probably smack him. I'm meeting Ron and Lavender for a movie, if it's any indication on how much I don't want to stand ferret-boys presence. You could always ask Harry."

"Ha! He'd be worse than you, and I'm sure I'll get an earful once I tell him."

"True," Ginny tittered. "Well, guess I'll leave you to it. When is he coming over?"

"5:30, he said. I just got home so I should go get ready. If I don't call, I'm probably dead."

"Good luck."

Hermione couldn't unwind, even after a shower, even after she managed to make her face flawless with makeup, and even after she repeated in her head that tonight would end with love-making.

Hair straightened and shoes picked out, she was fingering the hem of her red zippered mini-dress, deliberating on its shortness, when she noticed the time. She flung her sheer tights at the clock, nostrils starting to flare.

Snatching her phone from her purse, she dialed the desired number and tapped her foot impatiently. It went to voicemail.
But she didn't leave a message.

Instead, she smacked the readied folder containing the contract over her palms, then threw it on her sheets.

Sliding her pantyhose on, she marched to the sofa and flicked on the telly. Even the normal trash shows she loved like Jeremy Kyle, yelling that some undeserving sod was indeed the father of a child, couldn't bring her any sort of distraction.

Then the bright, annoying tinkle of her mobile went off.
"You're cutting it real close, Malfoy. 6:15 and you're still not here? Really? I'm leaving when Blaise gets here, with or without you, if we're in the middle of it all or not. And right now I'm pretty damn – "

"Fuck, Hermione. I'm so sorry," he interrupted, convincingly apologetic, but it didn't sway her.

"Sorry? Yeah, right. If you tell me a time, I expect punctuality."

"I know, they took far longer than expected."

"They?"

"Yes, I'm at Witch Weekly's HQ for an interview. They requested I be photographed and I'm not a model, dammit. That's for your stupid boyfriend to do."

"Just get here," she bit, refusing to let her mind wander and become entertained at the idea of Draco doing ridiculous poses. And ignoring his jab at Blaise.

To his credit, the buzzer was sounded a mere five minutes later.
Opening the door to him smiling pleasantly, she grimaced in response.

"You look nice," he noted, giving her the onceover.
The compliment rubbed off her, no affect whatsoever.

"You say that as if I'm hideous the rest of the time."
She removed herself from the doorway, striding to the couch and pointing out a spot for him as he chuckled. He was wearing a tailored green and blue plaid suit, no tie, the pants rolled up to fit into boots.
Again, she was surprised that he'd be wearing such fashionable muggle clothing in public, to an interview no less, but disregarded it as she wanted to get this case closed ASAP.

Fetching the document from off her mattress, she didn't catch her visitor's gaze glued to her shapely backside.

Remembering why he had campaigned to be here, his only chance now, Draco discreetly fired off a single text message he'd already prepared: "Alright to go for it."

Eyes were fixed to hers when she returned.
"Here you go, I revised it about three hundred times, so if it's not good enough, I'm not the one for the job," she muttered, opting to stand.
Leaning back in his seat, he opened the file and engrossed himself what she'd written.

Hermione was startled that he was so absorbed in it, still skeptical about his intentions of hiring her.
Suddenly the annoying ring went off again, this time her home line.

Exhaling for the sake of her sanity, she went over to the kitchen.
Blocked Number.
"Hermione Granger speaking, may I ask who's calling?"

Draco snickered at her sugary tone, causing Hermione to saunter away from his immediate company to the front closet.

The points that his hired help had made were well-worded, well-reasoned and impressive. But Draco couldn't resist breaking his focus to watch the fruits of his labour all unfold.

"Georgia May?"
Hermione felt foolish that she was overwhelmingly giddy before confusion washed over her.

"Yes, hi, how are you? We met at Draco's party if you remember, only momentarily though ha ha."
She was very nervous for some reason, and Hermione, though usually quite perceptive, could not come up with any plausible reason for Georgia contacting her.

"I do. I'm alright, how about you?"

That Mick Jagger wanted to go out on a date lingered delusionally for a moment in her mind; what she had to say next made her blood freeze.

"Not so good, I'm afraid. The reason I'm calling Hermione, is about your boyfriend, Blaise."

A buzzing sound filled her ears, hesitating to reply.

"W-what about him?"

She heard the girl inhale a cigarette on the other end, breathing deep in dread.
"There's no easy way to say this, I'm afraid….but at the party….fuck. AtthepartyIwaspissdrunkandhadsexwithhim."

"Excuse me, what?"
She couldn't have heard her correctly. Surely she didn't say what her brain registered.

"God, I'm so sorry. I – well I hooked up with him, you see. During my dad's set. I had no idea you were dating him, and afterwards...He promised to call, see, and he didn't," she jabbed bitterly. "I called to ask for his contact info, and obviously, they wanted the reason for it. Told me about you then, how he was not single, and I took it upon myself to find your number in a directory. I just felt obligated to tell you."

Hermione's heart was going at two times the normal rate, plummeting itself into her stomach. Mouth too dry to speak.

"Look, if you hate me I understand. And I understand if you're really upset. But he told me he wasn't dating anybody, and if he'll do it once, he'll do it again. You needed to know. You need to dump the bastard. I'm sorry the news didn't come sooner, but I only just figured it out."

The immediate sadness she was feeling was replaced quite quickly with a slow burn creeping up her throat as the meaning behind Blaise's actions this week became painfully clear.
Insult only added to injury that the one person who she didn't listen to, who was right, was sitting not five metres away.

"Hermione? Are you there?"

"Yes. So you…went all the way?" she asked quietly, peeking at her intruder to see if he was watching, wanting very much to be alone.

"Unfortunately yes. We, erm, didn't use a condom. I'm clean, I got tested right away. Don't know your relationship details, but I suggest you go out too," Georgia told her earnestly, and Hermione, though livid, did notice how disgusted this stranger sounded about her own actions.

"Luckily I haven't seen him all week, guess I know why," she laughed mirthlessly.

"This is terrible. I'm so sorry…if there's anything I can do…"

"It's not your fault, if anything you saved me from getting too attached to a piece of scum. Thanks for calling."

"Please, it is partly. I'm glad you believe me, was worried you wouldn't. You deserve better than him. I guess it's no consolation, and it's more to selfishly ease my own conscience but want to go out for dinner?"

"Dinner?"

"Or drink til we're numb and forget about him? I insist on something. Maybe I can get my dad to come out . As I recall you like his work."

"Tempting as that is, I can't think straight right now. I'll have to get back to you about it," Hermione responded, easing slightly at the fact that Georgia was so adamant on apologizing.
And she wasn't trying to soothe her guilt, she was actually thankful. It could've been a year of Blaise cheating before she'd caught wind, Georgia could've easily said nothing.

"Alright, I have your number. I'll call you on the weekend? Leave you a message if you're away."

"Okay…"
This was too much to process right now.
"Sorry, I don't know what to say."

"Me neither. What a douche!" Georgia shouted angrily. "Go use your anger and chew him out, seriously. He doesn't know I know he lied, he would deny it if I gave him the opportunity to own up, surely. Break ups suck, but maybe you can drown your sorrow in ice cream, maybe hatefuck the next dishy bloke you see."

"Yeah, not likely. We're supposed to go out right now. Not anymore, not ever."

Her appetite was completely gone. Malfoy was the only bloke in the vicinity, and Hermione was getting increasingly, and unfairly, annoyed that he turned out to be correct about Blaise all along. She knew that her hatred towards him was irrational, because he'd been nothing but courteous. She needed him to leave.

"Damn, bad timing. Well I'll leave you to it. I'm really sorry, again…"

"I accept your apology. Talk later."

Hanging up, the click of the receiver flicked her back into the present, words repeating and echoing through her mind.

"Trouble in paradise, Granger?"
Hermione treaded gracelessly to her room, kicking off her shoes in the process, glaring only once at Draco before slamming the door shut.

Draco hadn't heard the whole discussion, but he got the gist of it. His first instinct on how she'd take the news was correct; she was as angrier than a thousand blasts of fiendfyre. The frown alone on her face would've killed if looks could.

Though he wouldn't dare in the state she was in, as harsh words flew about behind a flimsy wall, Blaise getting reamed via mobile, he so desired to press his ear to it. Thoroughly enjoying some of her vulgar thrashings.

Gems such as "Vile, arrogant prick," and "cheating, lying scumbag."

A final, "NEVER SPEAK TO ME AGAIN!", was the last sentence thrown about, and he didn't even pretend to be paying attention to the contract when she returned to his sitting space.

"Are you alright?"
Though highly tickled by her colourful language and the fact that Blaise got a scolding, he was a tad concerned she'd fly off the handle and do something irrational.

"Yes, I'm just peachy," she lashed at him. "Now is that good enough for you, or not? Because right now I'd appreciate being solitary."

"Why? What did Blaise do?" he asked, poor choice of words on purpose.

"Ugh, don't you worry about it. Answer my question!" she screeched, picking up a pencil off the coffee table and chucking it at him.

"Fuck, calm down!" he shouted, the lead nicking his ear.

While rubbing it better, she was seething, and didn't apologize.
He'd never seen her this ticked, and he'd been the cause of her anguish plenty of times before.

"It's great, Granger, alright? Now please, are you going to have a meltdown if I leave? Want me to call an ambulance, maybe the fire station?"

"Shut up, you don't care about me at all, you just want to know why I'm upset!"

"Come on," he implored her, folding his arms and staring at her with such intensity she actually stopped shaking.

"Your little buddy Blaise decided that I'm only of use for bettering his reputation, and not good enough to satisfy his overworked cock," she spit, surprising him with her crass. "He cheated on me with Georgia May. At least she had the decency to tell me about it. So I guess that means you were right, and I'm wrong about that arse. It was all a calculated ruse, like you said. Now before you laugh it up, throw your victory celebration, I suggest you leave. Because I swear to Merlin if I catch you smirking in front of me, I will rip your lips right off your – "

Knock knock.

Both heads whipped to the source of the noise, and despite the fact they'd been tussling, they both shared a worried glance.

"Hermione, it's me. Please let me in, it's not true!"

Despite being frightened, maybe even a deep-seated part of her complacent at his urgent appearance, she wasn't buying it. She had that intuitive feeling that something was off for the past while, and tonight proved it wasn't her that was the problem.

They stayed shock still for a few minutes of constant steady door-pounding.
Draco was actually at a loss on what to do, he hadn't in a million years considered that Blaise would chase after her, thought his pride would stop him.

"Hermione, I know you're in there. Come on, why trust a whoreish girl you've barely even met?"

Finally, with that comment, she broke.
She moved to the door, keeping the chain on it, and cracked it open a sliver. Just in the nick of time, Draco slithered backwards to avoid being seen.

"Because that whore took the time to seek me out! Why would she sabotage you? Are you that fucking full of yourself that you think she'd want to break us up to get back in your pants?"
Unbeknownst to the quarrelers, Draco was positively glowing with glee, though scared shitless at the fact that she might go in on him next.
"Why should I believe a word you say? You've ignored me all week, and something was fishy, something was up. I didn't see you during that whole performance by Mick Jagger at the party. Why couldn't you have just sat with me, eh? I'm not some subordinate little princess that serves to hang off your arm and keep my mouth shut. Quite honestly, I always feel like I have to watch my step when I'm around you. I don't feel comfortable, I don't like being told what to wear or do, and you've ruined it anyways by being a slag. You don't get a second chance. Now leave!"

Huffing, another slam resonating through the flat, she marched to her bed from her speech.

"I'm not leaving," came the response. It was much more unrepentant than before. "How dare you talk to me like that? You think you're too good for me? It's not true anyways, and you better not go spreading it around!"

"Just go away," Hermione murmured, lowering her head in her hands, lowering her body onto the comforter.

Draco, at this turn of events and emotions, had no ideas on what actions to take. Now the bloody fool was trying to save some kind of ego he thought he still had, thinking in his arrogant head that Hermione might forgive his mistake when he was acting so rash.

Witty in times of desperation, Draco recognized help is what they needed. With great effrontery, he lightly stepped over to where she was sitting, and pushed the door gently closed.

Snapping back up, twisting her face with rage and about to question his audacity, he put one finger up, gesturing for her to be quiet as he pulled out his phone. Seriously hoping after tonight he wouldn't have to use or see one for a decade. Raising his brows, he wanted to convince her he was on her side in one last attempt at solidarity.

She was too drained to even muster the strength to tell him off.

The dial went on for a moment, then: "Hello?"

"Hey Nott, where are you right now?"

Hermione put her hands up in hindrance, quizzical and annoyed that Draco was being useless when he had the nerve to be here, in her room. Only, he wasn't being useless.

"Uh, at the club, why?"

"Are there many others in the vicinity?"

"Yeah, quite a few, is something bad happening on your end?"

"Something very, interesting, has just transpired with your old pal Zabini. And I need you to try and calm him for me, because he's quite upset. Are you able to try and rouse him to come join you? Call him? You're the man for the job, he doesn't hate you."

Draco could practically hear the satisfied elation ooze through the line.
"Ooh, I think that can be arranged."

The Malfoy heir gave Hermione a thumbs up as she gaped at him in bewilderment.

"Pray tell, if you can, is it juicy?"

"Oh, friend, you're going to be gobsmacked, trust me."

"Excellent, you coming to spill the details?"

"Yes, I'll meet you in thirty. When he comes, just tell him you already invited me as well if he asks, yeah?"

"Ten-four."

And then they waited.
Draco re-entered the main area, and Hermione halted the onslaught of tears she felt brimming out of morbid curiosity.

After a few minutes, they heard soft mumbling in the hall, and then footsteps walking away: Draco had saved the day.

Picking up what he came for, he made his way to the front, waiting to see if Hermione would say anything before he took his leave.

"Thanks," she uttered, looking at the ground and self-consciously scraping one shoulder with her nails.

"Anytime, Granger," he saluted her. "He got what was coming to him. And now you know to listen to me."

Glimpsing his grin, everything rattling around in her thoughts made no sense. It didn't match previous record. Draco Malfoy was the unlikely hero, Blaise was dirt, and she actually couldn't decipher whether she was pissed off, relieved, or upset.
Maybe all three.

"Shall I deliver your check to your office?"

"Y-yeah, thanks," she sighed, rubbing her temple wearily.

"Catch ya later, Hermione. Don't fret too much, you deserve better."
Before she could reply, he was gone.

Opening up the fridge, she grabbed a beer, brought it to her room and got completely naked.
She laid back, resting against the pillows, and drank it while touching herself below the waist.

She was too confused and frustrated to waste her sadness on somebody who didn't deserve it. She wouldn't cry it out for Blaise; he was handsome and smart, a great shag, and he made her feel pretty, but what did they have in common?

Absolutely nothing, she thought, shutting the images out and replacing them with somebody more tantalizing.
Tonight she was getting off, with or without a date to help it along. Single again, she was at least always self-reliant.

Miles away, enjoying a well-deserved blunt, Draco was high as a kite with Adrian and Theo, the euphoria of a scheme accomplished unable to damper him regardless of who showed up.

Blaise had arrived, and had already gulped several rum and cokes. Putting on a façade of contentment, he was telling them that Hermione and he had a 'spat', that he was 'fine'. Draco and Nott knew better, sharing secret smiles and snorts of derision at every false word he said. Cherishing the slight paranoia that crossed his face every time they did.

Phase one complete, Draco observed the starry sky, ready for the next day of work he had lined up for him, planning the next sabotage in his influenced state.