Chapter Fifteen: "Oh, What A Feeling."

"Darling, you look so chipper!"

"Do I?"

As if he were a flitty school girl, Draco had the odd desire to tell his mother about Hermione as soon as he stepped into the manor. What she had said to him in the café made him feel unusually guilty about not seeing his parents more often. That one luncheon he'd had with Narcissa was the only visit since moving out, and he was in no mood to be chatty then.

"Yes, it's so much more becoming than that scowl you normally wear," she smiled, leaning in for a hug.

When his mother invited him home for the weekend, he obliged, hoping that it wouldn't be a waste of time. Time he could be spending with a one Miss Granger.

She, however, was still wary about Sirius and Remus letting their lips loose because of how 'dangerous' they thought he was. Lupin would keep it quiet, but Sirius was itching to tell Harry, and he knew it.
What were the odds anyways, that we'd be in the same damn location as those two imbeciles? Draco kept thinking on and off.

Luckily, Hermione's resolve was wearing thin, and she had given in to him asking her to come see him. They'd eaten lunch every single day at his flat this week; she'd used the opportunity to immerse him in classic Disney films, in an attempt to teach him basic life lessons that he severely lacked in his upbringing.

He enjoyed the movies, didn't really know why she chose to show him then because she wanted him to figure it out for himself, and always hated when she had to leave. He so wished he could parade her around the Ministry, Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, anywhere there'd be people he knew. But until they figured out how to sort this, and expose their relationship – whatever that was - without the Potter clan castrating him or worse, she'd be watching her back. That required waiting for everyone to comply; his worst quality might have been patience, and presently it was killing him.

"You can thank father for that wonderful trait he's passed to me," he smirked as he pulled back, while Narcissa shook her head disapprovingly.

"It is nice to see you though, Draco. I'm very glad you could come out. I know your father is excited to see you."

He snorted at her comment, and then attempted to look properly shameful at the look she gave him.
"He is, don't be so sceptical. Right now he's out with Montgomery at the club, I suggested a day out of the house."

"Montgomery? How's that old boy?' Draco asked with slight apprehension. That was Pansy's father.
A jaded ex-auror, exceedingly rare amongst the pure-blooded circle, his fortunes were inherited like many a Slytherin family. But he was pushed, like most everyone else, to do something with his gifts instead of sitting around sipping gin. This was why the Parkinson's were seen with less malice than most nowadays; he was not involved with the Death Eaters along with Lucius in their youth, because of his aim for a high profile job. After the Dark Lord's defeat and the smoke had cleared, he'd decided to allow his old schoolmates into his life.

On the other side, his wife, Prudence, was anything but. The biggest influence in Pansy's adolescence, she practiced all the discretion and kindness of an irate cobra. Gossipy and crass, she and her husband matched well as ill-begotten people could. Draco tried his damnedest to avoid them, they acted above them since their rep had been tarnished, but as he had been fearing, his luck was coming to an end.

"Fine, as far as I'm aware. Now, I hope you don't mind but I've invited the Parkinson's over for dinner. It's been so long since we've hosted any company."

Lungs plummeting into his stomach, Draco stalked to the parlour and slid onto an armchair in front of the dead fireplace, not allowing her to see his reaction, which was to smack his head repeatedly against the cushions.

"Draco?"
She followed him, surveying him with concern when he didn't reply, but he looked up at her, and offered an eyebrow raise. He couldn't let her know what was going on in his head. He was still so used to feigning constant excellence, even though he had none. And right now was not the place to lose his sanity.

"I do mind, actually, wanted to spend some time alone with you. But it's fine. I'm going upstairs for a moment, must check some work related things." Grazing past her, he patted her back lightly before trudging upstairs. He was very good at being a manipulative arse; She would be feeling guilty all night. He hoped maybe she'd call it off, but, the invitation had been sent, it would be massively rude not to go through with it.

Returning to his room for the first time in 3 months, it felt a lot smaller than he remembered. And unfriendly. The curtains and his bedspread were black, and the only sliver of light that shed through was highlighting a brass-framed mirror he used to spend his time grooming himself to perfection in.

Walking in front of it, examining his reflection, he felt ridiculous. He hadn't slicked back his hair this way in Merlin knew how long, and his suit was much too tight. The formalities of looking proper weren't something he'd ever escape, but he'd gotten used to rolling out of bed and slipping on muggle clothes, which had plenty more options, and were more comfortable.

"Sigh, this is going to suck," he groaned, sliding onto his pillows, laying back and fishing out the cell phone he'd smuggled inside to make a call.
He only hoped Pansy wouldn't come. She could certainly make excuses, and would know he wasn't going to treat her kindly.

Hermione was sitting in her office when her mobile rang. She jerked spastically from the chair, about to hyperventilate when she realized it was Saturday. Gladys was at home, taking a much needed break from her hectic schedule.
She'd come in to do extra work because everyone else had been busy, and because she was working on a case for Charlie Weasley's dragon-raising association. It had utterly and completely gripped her attention. Romania had really strict (read: terrible) laws for magical creatures, and they needed somebody to help them in their request to change them so they could help protect dragons better. Obviously she jumped on the case, and desired to know every little fibre of detail when Molly had mentioned the trouble they were having in passing. It not only combined her interests with her focus she regretfully chose, but it gave her a distraction.

Rifling through her bag when she knew she could answer behind closed doors with no superiors, she felt herself relax as she saw who it was.

"Nearly gave me a heart attack, you did. Calling me at work."

"Oh? And it's my fault you left the sound on?"
He was teasing her.

She'd grown to enjoy the quips instead of becoming flustered now. And she suspected that he knew it, which is why he kept it up.
Her week had been filled with the same trivial, yet enthralling, conversations they'd had at the restaurant. With humorous commentary on all her favourite childhood films. She felt herself becoming more and more comfortable around him, he was endlessly fascinating. And he had the annoying habit of always seeming pleased to see her.

"No, but you knew where I was," she replied in a haughty tone, teasing him right back. "So how are you? I thought you were going to your parents?"

She refused to call it the 'manor'; it sounded so pretentious, like he was visiting a different country.

"I'm there right now actually," he chuckled when she drew her breath in shock. "Don't worry, I'm in my room. Though they disprove of muggle items, they're not going to ban it if it concerns work. Lucius is out right now, so he won't beat me for bringing filthy technology into the house. Or talking to you."

"Draco!" she scolded, trying not to giggle. "That sounds horrible, don't imply that kind of thing on your own dad…."

"He's quite stuck in his ways," Draco mused, stretching out on his sheets. "I know I'm going to get an earful when he comes home. How's the battle for preserving dragon meat going?"

"I swear to – please don't talk about them that way, honestly," she growled, really frustrated at his lack of caring for creatures. "Bad enough your parents still have a house elf, your track record is pretty questionable."
He felt drastically humbled right then, forgetting for a second how invested she was in rights for animals he couldn't care less about. She'd been fretting every time he saw her, but was too immersed in finding her red cheeks adorable to pay attention to everything she'd said. The last thing he wanted, especially considering this development, was to make her upset. They'd got along swimmingly up until now, but he could tell she was pissed.

"Sorry."

She was surprised he didn't laugh it off, like she assumed he normally would. Maybe she was getting to him, he sounded sincere.

"Hermione?"
He sounded a little panicky - maybe she'd hung up on him – and she let him squirm for a few seconds longer until she returned.

"I'm here. Just watch what you say around me about these kinds of topics. Alright? If you have a different opinion, fine. But respecting magical creatures, fighting for equality, is a big thing in my life, and if you can't be sensitive, I suggest you pack up."

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I know you don't like it – I - I didn't mean to make you feel like I was trivializing it – no, not it. I mean them. Or your work…" he trailed, wishing he didn't feel so remorseful all the time around her. Wishing he wasn't so damn bumbly.
If anything he said hurt her, or affected her in any way other than eliciting a smile or laugh, he wanted to pick up all the letters dropped from his lips to swallow it down, to take it all back. It was a sensation he wasn't used to.

Exhaling, she found his rambling sweet, and simultaneously really was starting to question her will and reason that she forgave him so easily. Because his consideration calmed her enough to accept the apology. She was now hoping to get him to come around, maybe give him some pamphlets on the tragic state of elves and centaurs

"I know. I think a Malfoy apology is a rare sight to behold. I didn't mean to get cross, I'm just stressed."

"God, do you think I have any idea what I'm doing?" he asked her, unnerving her when he seemed slightly irritated. "Don't try to write your emotions off because you think you've been mean. Just tell me off. I don't enjoy making you angry, love. And I'd like to keep you around, so berate me; It's the only way I'll learn."

"Are you telling me to speak my mind all the time? Cause let me tell you that isn't good advice," she told him, smiling a bit because his intentions were seemingly meant to please her.

"I do it, don't I? I haven't been murdered yet."

"Yet. Is it going alright on your end? What are you doing tonight?"

The topic had been dropped.

"No actually," he admitted, deciding not to overkill and continue. She was over it for now. "My mum invited the bloody Parkinson's over for supper. Fair warning, that's why I'm calling." She could sense the trepidation in his voice. "I wouldn't worry too much. I doubt Pansy is coming, and even if she is, and she tries something, I can deflect it. Lucius will believe me over her, same with mother."

She was worrying, but then, nothing had happened yet. Perhaps if Blaise was going to strike, or anyone involved, they'd have done so already. Draco was rising in being noteworthy, because he had just had a series of features in publications. Surely the rumour would have been set out into the public sphere by now.

"I just wanted you to know in case something were to happen. Or I don't respond to your texts and things. I might be shackled in the basement."

"So dramatic," she remarked, smiling. "Am I seeing you Monday?"

"Oh, you'd still like to after my brilliance? Of course. We can watch some more cartoons, or whatever."

"Disney, Draco – Disney. And yes, we can. I'm surprised you enjoy them."

"They're amusing. Honestly, I'm surprised we haven't got an equivalent over here. It's moving pictures, but it makes a story. Like a book but better. I mean, how clever is that?"

Having only an hour or two to meet up, they'd committed to just eating in front of his TV; she'd bring the movies. It was clear by the way he gazed a her he desired so much more than that, but it was of her opinion that they'd definitely dove in much too quick, and she had to ensure she could enjoy simple things with him before she'd date him.
One of her favourite things to do was watch body language, it made her very adept at understanding how different people were feeling. She really enjoyed watching his reactions to the scenes, noticing that crinkle that formed around his eyes when he grinned, the soft chuckle he let escape when she wasn't laughing along with him. Mostly, she enjoyed that he was never tense in her presence.
He was always excited, always had something delicious prepared when she arrived – where he got it was a mystery – and he always ate so fast so he could lean in closer, to touch her on the sofa.

"Yes, it's quite clever," she agreed.
Damn him, she thought. He was able to make her go from wound up to melting in five seconds.

"Draco, are you alright? You seem upset."
Hermione could hear Narcissa through the line, and even though she couldn't be seen, she felt herself tense. Which made her think for the millionth time:
Would she be able to handle this stress? Would they?
If it came down to them getting together officially, was it possible to keep it together through the turmoil?

"No, I'm fine, mother. I'll be right down." He paused, she heard a door closing. "Guess I should probably go. Don't know if you heard that. Any news of the Black and Lupin plan?"

"I did. And 'plan'? That makes it sound like a big deal."

"Isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess it is," she sighed, leaning back into her seat. "And no, I'm assuming they'll inform me of a date, obviously I'll let you know as soon as I can."

"Okay…I miss you."
She was about to reply that she saw him yesterday, with an embarrassed giggle, but his voice was so hushed. Her breath caught in her throat at how sincere it was. Wherever this Draco had emerged from, she had no clue. He was honest, when before he always disguised his feelings by making a scene or deflecting everything.
It didn't come out often, but the rarity made her intimidated by him even more. Sometimes she'd catch glimpse of this side of him here and there, in the short time they'd been close. She'd catch him staring at her when he thought she wasn't looking, he had developed a special smirk he reserved only for her. It was in those times she disliked how perceptive she'd trained herself to become.

She was definitely falling for this charming, pure-blooded snake, who had no life experience, never had a girlfriend, and could still be a complete guttersnipe.

"I miss you, too."

And all these things that should send off alarm bells didn't seem to deter her at all. He didn't seem like Blaise, and she was willing to put her heart on the line one more time to see if it would stay in one piece.
She could do this.

"Can't wait to see you, Granger. I must be off though. Have a good night. I'll report my experiences later."

"Please do," she chuckled. "Call me before you go to sleep."

"I don't know how long I'll be," he muttered.

"I'll wait. Promise."

"You'll wait for me?"
She tried not to be affected by his surprise. And failed.

"Yes. Bye Draco."
She hung up before she could hear his reply, wishing she could speak to him endlessly.
What is he doing to me?

"What is she doing to me?" Draco breathed when he heard her voice fade away. Every time she spoke, something warmed inside of him, and he'd been used to feeling so cold and empty for so long.

Without knocking, Narcissa poked her head in once more, gazing at her son, attempting to figure out what exactly was wrong with him.

"Darling, you're sure you're alright? Anything the matter with work?"
He was smirking now. Twenty-two years old and nothing had changed. She was still fussing over him like he was twelve, barging in whenever she pleased. He sort of treasured it if he was honest.

"Everything is just peachy, mother," he replied earnestly.

"This doesn't have to do with the Parkinson's coming over does it? Did you have an argument with Pansy?"

"More like an explosion," he mumbled under his breath, folding his arms.
"No," he then lied. "I just haven't seen any of my….friends, in a while."

"Oh, sweetheart. Why?"
She rushed over to the bed, sitting on the edge beside his stretched out form, and reaching for his knee to soothe him.

"They haven't been the most pleasant of companies," he stated, shrugging. "grew out of them a bit, I think."

"But, darling….you've been friends with Pansy since you were 8. Surely…"she trailed, noticing his expression, which was beginning to cloud.

"Surely what? Everyone in the age group I'm in, that I'm meant to associate with, are conniving garbage."

"What are you saying?" Narcissa furrowed her brow. She'd heard this speech before, only it used to be about schoolmates, not purebloods. "Who have you been seeing then? You mustn't be alone…You always seemed, well, depressed, before you left. Being so isolated."

Draco exhaled, adjusted his blazer lapels, then slithered off the mattress so he was facing away from her, sitting up. He stated it to complete silence, feeling the pressure in the room thicken before he could get the words out of his mouth; "I'm not alone. I've been talking to muggles, mother. Basically."

Standing now, he slowly turned to face her. While immaculate for the guests, with a difficult updo and ivy dress robes, she was sporting a face that was grave, but well-rehearsed. One that calculated everything whilst attempting not to seem shocked, or have any emotion, on the outside. When she couldn't manage to say anything coherent, disappointment suddenly gripped him. He knew his dad was a piece of work, but she always seemed to dislike dirty words and dirty actions.
He sauntered to the door, then threw his phone onto the bed besides her. She recoiled from the action, and stared at it with incomprehension and slight disgust.

"It's true. And it won't change. Now don't go telling Lucius, unless you want me to be dead on the floor by the end of the night."

He waited, only a few lingering seconds, but it was enough to irk him as she said nothing. He then trudged downstairs to go find something to do before he was surely going to have a hellish time once company came for an evening.

Back in Whitehall, gathering her things, Hermione realized it was nearly 7 and she'd been here for nearly 9 hours. Her brain was slightly fuzzy, she needed to go home and unwind. She brushed off her skirt and took a long leisurely stretch before sauntering to the exit. The Ministry was eerie when it was empty. The most miniscule movement would echo off the underground walls, and the click of the heel on her boots made her feel somewhat self-conscious. She felt like, in the complete emptiness of the atrium, that somebody was watching her. She passed the giant golden fountain, loathing the statue that rested in the middle, while trying with extreme difficulty not to look around every two seconds.

Intuition for her was generally correct; she was a logical person and normally refused to succumb to it. So when she had a very strange despair grip her in the gut, she shouldn't have been so surprised to find Blaise Zabini grabbing her by the shoulder, spinning her around before she could escape into the fire.

Wiltshire; Dinnertime

Pansy had decided to show up.

Draco, for all his wit and insight, couldn't imagine a reason why.

And there most definitely was a reason; she was dressed to kill. Perhaps literally.

Strolling in nonchalantly with her parents and Lucius, she paraded her cleavage and slender legs wearing scarlet dress robes, stilettos, while her hair was in a neat knot to expose her skin. Everyone else seemed to be oblivious, all 20-somethings strayed from being modest, but he couldn't tear her eyes off her. Not because she looked good – though she did – but because he feared if he didn't, she would push him into the flames when he wasn't paying attention. He could tell by the way his father greeted him that she must've let slip something else on the journey here. They made polite small talk but Draco wasn't very interested in being invested in conversation.
A few cocktails had been shared in the drawing room. Most of the conversation was steered towards Pansy, because to the elders in the room, what the Malfoy heir had chosen to become was reprehensible. Narcissa was lenient in terms of the aristocracy, but it only went so far.

Pansy lived in London, but she did so to be independent (so said she). Draco was forced out, everyone knew it, and everyone probably figured out by now his vehement retaliation was apparently a feature to stay for good.

Now they were sat at the table, and he couldn't think of a moment in time where he'd been more unease in his own house. He was happy that Pansy was seated beside him, so he didn't feel so inclined to have to look her in the eye, so she didn't see him riled. She had him, they both knew it.
She could choose to say what Sergei had seen and told her. Even if his parents didn't believe her, he could not lie about not seeing the Slytherin crew lately, and he'd end up in the same tangled web from hours earlier with Narcissa.

The wine and steak was served, but he found himself with no appetite. He was already buzzed, so he took another mouthful. They began to eat, and after the comments and thanks about the meal were passed, they sat in contented silence until it all went downhill.

"So Draco," Montgomery began, knife pointed out, blood dripping down his chin from his very rare meat, "what exactly is it you do? What does a 'stylist' do?"

Draco froze. He watched everyone else for their reaction; Lucius halted cutting, Narcissa smiled nervously, and Pansy adopted a smirk to rival his.

Luckily for him, Montgomery was drunk. Unluckily, so was his father. All they'd done all day was sit and smoke and sip. He had to proceed with great caution.

"Well, clients contact me. They tell me what it is they're seeking to find. I size them up and then discuss their options, recommending clothes to try on, picking them out, and then schedule a fitting session. I try to find a median with them as usually they haven't a clue what looks best on them," he explained, "and like to argue. I always end up on top."
He gave Montgomery his fakest, most cheeky grin he could muster, winking.
The only way to be around these people was to be smug, haughty, and stuck-up. Prudence and Montgomery chuckled, his desired reaction, and they continued to eat while he felt like puking.

"Yes, daddy, he helped me pick out a few things, don't you remember? Tell me though, Draco. It's been a while, and I've always been curious; Are Muggles harder to deal with than wizards?"

Somebody choked on their food, but he couldn't see who. His vision went hazy, his nerves twisted and mangled themselves so heavily that he could feel pain. Knowing this was likely the end for him, he refused to go out without dignity; she was attacking.

"No, actually. Often they're much more pleasant."

"Muggles?" Prudence uttered with disdain. "Lucius, Narcissa, you never told us that. You had radio interviews, you've been in the Prophet. Draco, why would you cater to them? It's disgusting. I thought, what with you being on the cover of Witch Weekly, that your endeavours were successful. Why resort to them?"

Already exhausted by this judgement and prejudice before even speaking, he kept his composure like a champ, not bothering to glance at his father before speaking.

"Because, Prudence, I'd like to help out more than just rich bitchy housewives who want an evening gown for one night and then discard it. Not a lot of wizards have taken a liking to me. Just the purebloods. I wonder why that is. Do you have any ideas, father?" Lucius looked about ready to smack him, and shot him a look that said 'shut the hell up' from across him.
"There are millions more people out there, and I like the change in pace. There's more of chance to gain recognition, and respect – oh, please don't sneer," he said gently when Montgomery snorted. "Yes respect. I get more respect from them than I do from anybody I know."

"Don't you think it's a bit dangerous to associate with both? It's bad enough we have the half-bloods or worse running round freely in the Ministry…..I suppose that's unavoidable. It's another thing though to blatantly serve to both. Do your magic clients know?"

Are you thicker than a doughnut, or what?
That's what he desired to reply to Prudence, who was genuinely concerned, and confused.

Instead, he raised his eyebrows to his supper before speaking: "Yes, they all sign a contract agreement so I don't get sued if they aren't satisfied. All the wizards know that their filthy underlings won't ever have to grace their presences, dirty their pedestals."

"Draco," Lucius snarled in warning.

"No, that's good, Lucius. It's good tactic, dear."

The look of approval Prudence was giving him not only caused him to drop his jaw open, but laugh in disbelief. He wanted to bang his head on the metal plate repeatedly at how horrible this woman was, but instead passed a glance at Pansy like he used to, forgetting himself for a moment. His rationality was salvaged somewhat when she was appropriately pink-faced.

"Yes, it's simply marvellous," Draco replied.
Lucius was thanking his stars that his guests were to bigoted to understand sarcasm. Last thing he needed was his name being slandered through town again because his son couldn't keep his trap shut.

"So, Pansy dear, how is your boyfriend doing? Sergei?"
Narcissa was attempting to change the direction of the conversation, but she of course picked the worst possible topic.

Oddly enough, Pansy responded gaily, something that scared Draco, giggling with bared teeth.
"No idea, darling. Wasn't working out, so I dumped him."

"Excuse me?"
He couldn't believe she'd have the audacity to pretend like this wasn't all her fault; all theirs.

Pansy wasn't expecting to be called out; he noticed her pale jaw set, her eyes becoming darker, all the while still smiling.
"Sorry, I must not have told you about it. I'm fine though, Draco, I'm glad you're concerned about my well-being. Weren't you seeing somebody? How's that going?"

Draco shook his head at her, while passing her a look that clearly said; this means war.

"Darling?" Narcissa asked flabbergasted, appalled he wouldn't have said anything. "Is that why you were so content earlier? Who is it? Is it that lovely girl Tracey Davis? She was very chatty at your party."

"Oh, no," Pansy gushed. "Draco has his sights set on Blaise's ex-girlfriend, Hermione Granger. In fact, if you recall that whole fiasco, he's the one who told her all about him cheating."

A goblet slammed onto the tablecloth; it was Lucius'.
Draco felt that he was in for it, but he wasn't losing the battle without trying for some self-preservation. He put on a guise of astonishment, as if what she'd just said was ridiculous.

"Is that true, Draco?"
Oh, he was very, very mad. You could tell that Lucius Malfoy was cross when every single word he said was sharply emphasized. Of course, he still was speaking in the low drawl as always, but Narcissa, in any case, suddenly stopped watching the back and forth to snap her attention to her husband.

He could lie, he could confess…..but he was slippery, and he found a median. White lies.
"I'm not seeing her."

Technically true. She was miles away.

"Then why did Sergei see you with her in Harvey Nichols?" Pansy asked, her tone getting shriller by the second. He supposed she was thirsty for answers too now that he ex-communicated himself and the gossip trough ran dry.

"Because she wrote up my contract. It's not news, it's on my, um, website," he coughed the last part so not to offend his already upset father. "You know that. She's the Brightest Witch of the age, or what have you. She's a lawyer. Obviously it would be idiotic of me not to ask her considering she's immersed in both worlds. She understands both sides."

"But that was months ago!"

"Revised edition."

"But – Sergei told me she got really cross with you…."

"Yes, well that seems more likely, doesn't it? She hates my guts, I'm just very good at persuasion, and I'm not going to overlook somebody with merit because we didn't get along when we were thirteen."

"But you wanted to break them up! Theo and you were trying to get revenge!"

Her parents were surveying her with slight bewilderment. She was normally so demure and sophisticated, how could their baby girl be so flustered?

"Was I? Have any proof of that, dear?" he cocked his head to the side as if she were insane.

"I – "

She paused, and he sighed with relief that he had 'defeated' her so far. But what he didn't know was that Sergei had also relayed to Pansy that Hermione pushed him, which made it clear something more went on before that juncture. She decided to go for another unprotected vein.

"Well what about Georgia May?"
He'd almost forgotten about her. Not her as a person, but her in the sense that he'd shared intimacy. That he used the fact they'd snogged as a weapon when trying to break it off with this cancerous person sat in front of him.

"Are we really going to do this?" he inquired in a measured tone, rolling his shoulders so he could relax his muscles that ached from strain. His anger was simmering to the surface.

"Georgia May?"
Pansy could either break or save Draco, and internally he hoped that she knew her actions would determine the possibility of ever trying to salvage whatever this bloody mess was. Because Lucius was insanely nosy now, wanting the facts.

Up until this point, he was stringing by his parents, they'd never find out about his activities because they didn't read muggle post, obviously. And anything in the tabloids they didn't trust because they themselves had taken a great displeasure towards journalists when they'd been portrayed as terrible people.

"Yes, one of Draco's probably many promiscuous muggle friends. She's the daughter of that famous bloke that was at the party, that rock star Mick Jagger."

"WHAT!"

"Mick Jagger's daughter?" Narcissa asked, clasping her hand on Lucius' forearm so he wouldn't snap.

"Georgia May is my friend," he growled, not realizing he had been slowly rising until he was fully rigid and standing. "And I am not dating her or seeing her, whatever."

"Draco, tell us the truth!" Lucius demanded, eyes wide, wondering why this all had to come out in front of the worst possible family.

"I am! I snogged her, yes. One time."

"BAH!"
Prudence was gagging, Montgomery looked properly ruffled.

"That doesn't make me or her promiscuous!" he stated before his father could wring his insolent neck. "That doesn't mean that just because she's a bloody muggle she's more susceptible to behaving badly. And you," he pointed to Pansy, "I will not have you ridicule people I like and know, and try to tear me down because you're a jealous, horrid human being."

These people were the ugly ones, he decided. Just because he associated with Muggles, he was being 'rebellious'. That was rubbish, it was bollocks.
Times were different, everyone else was into integrating themselves, he wouldn't stand for them insulting the 'unworthy' anymore. He supposed it just took someone he actually cared about to drive the message home.

"Draco!" Narcissa's voice was all but gone now, regretting inviting them over, thinking that her child had given her fair warning about how he felt and she didn't have the nerve to cancel.

"No, you people need to sort out your attitudes. I will not apologize," he snipped, excusing himself from the table to go walk the grounds. He really needed some air.

As he marched off, he could vaguely hear smatterings of conversation.
"Need to get him under control…"
"So rude…."
"….how dare he…"

He didn't give a flying fuck though. For all he cared, they could slander his name across town. He was going to the forest, to the end of his acreage and back, and if they weren't gone by then, he was climbing up the side of the house to avoid them.
Talking his wand, lighting up the end with lumos, he started pacing his was into the nearly set sun, past the giant hedges in his backyard.

"Draco, wait!"

He didn't. But he also didn't speed up.

"Go away, Pansy."

She reached to grab him by the hand, and he shook her off, nearly pushing her over. It was then that he realized how livid he'd become, how ragged his breathing was. It was also then that he was about to berate this disrespectful girl in front of him, when he noticed how downtrodden she looked.

"Just let me talk to you. Please."

The Atrium

"Just let me talk to you. For a minute."

Perhaps if they'd been in a merry courtyard in the sunshine, she'd oblige. But fact of the matter was, that Blaise Zabini stood in front of Hermione's exit, in a darkly lit glorified tunnel. That the last he'd heard of him, he was apparating to Draco's house with back up to hurt him. She was a brave girl, but she wasn't a fool; she was justifiably frightened.

"Blaise, no. Please let me go."

But the grip on her wrist was still there, and even if he was gentle, he was not allowing her to leave.

"I just want to know why you'd choose him over me. It's been eating me damn near alive, and I can't figure it out."
Maybe a month ago shed have thought this was vulnerability, and genuine. But she only found him conceited now. The fact that he couldn't wrap his head around the idea of her choosing Draco (or anyone) over him was astounding, let alone that he banged another woman seemed to have slipped his mind.

"Blaise, I haven't chosen anyone over you. You had sex with somebody else, and that wasn't okay. That's why it's over. Whatever people have been telling you, it's probably embellished and it's probably wrong."

"Do you know that Malfoy planned to try and get us to split up? Do you know that everything he's probably said to you is a lie?"

"As a matter of fact, I do know about his plan, and Theo's. I also know that he took a video of you." At this, his expression flickered, and she felt she had him. "Georgia May was telling the truth, and you can't admit it. Why can't you just bloody admit you're not a perfect specimen of a gentleman? Are you going to stand here and try to have the audacity to suggest that I'm not with you because of somebody telling me something? It's you Blaise."

"Yeah, alright. It's me," he repeated, unconvinced. "He's feeding you information from his side only."

"I'm not discussing anything with you. My business is none of yours if I don't want it to be. How the hell did you even know I was here, anyways?"

The thought had only just came to her, and it chilled her to the very bone.

"Had a meeting with the Minister earlier," he replied dismissively. "Saw you from his office walking around, and figured I could wait, though the results are not very satisfying," he spat, crossing his arms like this was all her fault.

"Your explanation isn't either. Stay away from me, Blaise. I hope you realize that treating people the way you do is not going to make anybody fancy you, or trust you within an inch of their lives. You are unbelievable."
She stood her ground, choosing to stare up at him in the face. Something in his expression shifted, but it wasn't enough for her to speculate firmly how he might be feeling. And she honestly didn't want to know.

"Is that so? Maybe you should realize you shouldn't trust anyone except yourself, love. Least of all Malfoy. But if you're too fucking stupid to see that…Just watch your back Hermione, because I wouldn't trust that leper with a barge pole, and if you continue to be with him you're going to get burned."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's good advice you should take. Good night."
And before she could say a thing, he wrenched his hand away from her and jumped into the fireplace to leave.

For a moment she was too shocked to react, and then, horribly, she felt tears prick her eyes. Stepping in, she let the green blaze capture her so she could return home. In her flat safe, she was sad to find it empty, but refused to let this little feeling of dread engulf her. Brewing some coffee, she propped up pillows and a blanket on the couch and tried to engage herself in her favourite series. Regretting telling Draco that she'd wait.

Malfoy Manor

"Draco, what the hell are you thinking?"

Draco was thinking that he needed to leave this location, but also believed that his dad was too pathetic to live.

Pansy had had her say, and essentially outlined a million excuses instead of valid reasons why she'd been acting like a massive cunt.
There was no apology given, just a quick cry about how upset she'd become that they weren't hanging out. He laughed in her face, and asked her why she thought that was. He told her in so many vile words that she slapped him for telling the truth, and had broken his trust; What did she expect? She deserved no more kindness than he was willing to give her. She pushed him off the side of a cliff in front of his family and hers, knowing who they were and what they thought. She was to blame.
This, obviously, had ticked her off, and the last straw was when he had yelled "You're just as bad as Theodore!"

He wasn't sure what she was hoping to garner from the confrontation, but obviously she didn't get what she desired.
She stalked off, huffing, and likely, left the property in a theatrical sulk.

"I'm just being honest, father."
He was sitting on the grass, against a hedge, mulling over the potential reactions that his irate dad was going to have if he found out he had indeed been pining for a Gryffindor mudblood.

"Draco," he sighed exasperated, rubbing his temple with his forefinger and thumb. "You can't go round saying how you feel all the time. Especially when it's the damn Parkinson's!"

"The Parkinson's are a bunch of sods, father. Why care about their opinion?"

"Because, you idiot, they're on the moral high ground at the moment and – "

"Moral high ground!?" Draco guffawed, brushing off his knees and getting up to see if this guy was for real. "Let me ask you a question; do you honestly still agree with their views about muggles? I don't. And if you do, the minimal lingering respect I had for you has all but vanished."

"It isn't a question on whether I agree, Draco. We do what the Ministry tells us, and they have instructed everyone not to associate with muggles! You know very well that we used to be friendly with them before the Statute, the Malfoy's almost were wedded to the British Royal Family. We're just obeying the order of things."
He explained this all calmly, much too sincerely for Draco to stand.

"You mean the disorder of things."

Lucius wasn't sure what the city life had done to his formerly juvenile child. He never cared about things like this before; he never cared about anything. He didn't like the change.

"Regardless. We're towing – "

"'Towing a line'. I bloody get it, alright? The line is stupid," Draco retorted with a defiant sneer that was ironically matching the man he was quarrelling almost exactly.

"No, the line has been crossed, and you'd do well not to stray from it. Perhaps you weren't ready to leave yet," he murmured more to himself. "It's time you know your place, Draco. And understand that you're the only heir left to this family, and that our fate rests in your hands. You've already decided to choose to do something tasteless and vulgar, you don't need to add muggle conquests to the list."

Trembling, Draco dug his nails into the skin of his palms, feeling them close to bloodshed. A month ago he would've not taken this seriously and written it all off. But the fact was that this is how his father felt, and he loathed that there was a possibility that he didn't care about lineage as much as he let on and still adhered to the horrible social standards set by the government three hundred years ago.

"Hey, adding 'muggle conquests' would be something nice for the history books wouldn't it? Didn't you always say I should leave my mark on the world?"
Sarcastically he was spitting, then turned on his heel to go lie down before he cracked.
But Lucius was having none of this.

"You're my son, Draco," he raised his voice, trailing him back through the trees in dim moonlight.

"Unfortunately," he shouted back, undeterring his father, who'd heard it all before,

"I know when you're trying to hide things. When you act irrational and angry, something's up. You can fool your friends perhaps, but you can't fool me; is there any glimmer of truth in what Pansy said? Because by the looks of it, there is!"

"You know what?" Draco halted, chuckling to himself as he allowed Lucius to catch up to him by the pond full of lily pads and dead leaves, "Fine. I'll bite; I am interested in Hermione Granger, father. In fact, I'm more than interested. I used to hate her for all the wrong reasons, because I was wrong myself."

"Hermione Granger? Potter's little friend? It had to be her?"

"It didn't 'have to be'. I'm not doing this to punish you, you complete - ah! I like her as a human being. That's just the way it is. And you will not put a stop to it because I am an adult, and my own person. It's up to you on whether your abandon me like you did Aunt Andromeda, but let me just say that I doubt mother would be content losing another person in this family because you're too afraid of what others might say."

"You'll bring dishonour on the whole family."
Lucius was livid. Absolutely livid. Pin-straight and wide-eyed, he couldn't think of much else to say.
His only son wanted to dirty the gene pool, and had the same spark he had when he was young, the streak of rebellion that had nearly cost him his life.

"So be it. This isn't the damn stone age. I'm not bloody Mulan!" he retaliated, realizing his mistake and quickly turning pink when his father suddenly became confused.
I'll Make a Man Out of You had been permanently stuck in his head for the entire week since Hermione had shown him the video.

"Moo-what?"

"Merlin, just never mind," he threw his hands up. "I'm going to go home."

"Come on, don't hole yourself up in your room like a misbehaving child."

"No, home. I'm going to London, not back in there," he clarified with a cool simplicity that caused Lucius to be speechless for once in his life. "Give my regards to mother."

And with that he pulled out his wand, still gazing at Lucius in contempt, and apparated back to his flat.

Kilburn

Stop your messing around, better think of your future.
Time you straighten right out, creating problems in town.
Rudy, a message to you - Rudy, a message to you.

The Specials tinny melody filled her living room, and Hermione, who was dozing on the couch, was jolted up by the sound emanating from atop her chest. Grabbing the phone the mashed the answer button and mumbled a hello.

"Hi. Just ringing you to tell you I'm going to bed."

She hadn't heard him so peeved since they were at Hogwarts.

"What's wrong? Is everything okay?"
It was a dumb question, obviously it wasn't by the way he exhaled irritably.

"No. Bloody mess at dinner. Pansy showed up, tried to tell me that everything she did was justified after revealing to my father about my muggle influences. And when he confronted me about the validity of her claims, I might have admitted I'm mad about you."

"You – what?'

Draco Malfoy was mad about her. Fact.
He'd just said it, it shook her to the core, and she had no clue what to say in reaction. Because a part of her was completely alarmed that Lucius Malfoy might come looking for her to drive her away, while the other half was defiant that she wouldn't let it happen.

"I don't know. I'm at home though. I left."

"Draco! God, I'm so sorry….fuck this night has been terrible."

"Night? Why, what happened?"
She swore she'd tell him, but didn't want him to overreact in the seemingly irate state he was in.

"Blaise, um...,cornered me leaving work."

"He's fucking dead."

"NO. Draco, leave it alone." She was beginning to panic, he sounded so lifeless – too serious. "Nothing happened. Okay, well he asked me why I chose you over him, and I avoided talking about it. I told him to go away and that I left him because he cheated and was a slag, not because of any persuasion. Just let it go."

"I can't leave it alone, Granger. How dare he – bah! Just fuck, watch your back, he's capable of harm, physical and worse, and if he ever lays a hand on you I swear to – i'll go to Azkaban. Promise me you'll be careful. Because I have half a mind to seek him out now and punch his teeth in."

"Trust me, I know. I appreciate the sentiment, but you don't need to play white knight. I'm not afraid of him," she lied. "He doesn't know what he'd get into trying something with me, not just you would be after him. It pays to have friends like Harry and Ginny."

"Maybe so, but that's not reassuring. They'll be after me too, won't they?"

"No, I won't allow it, I'm not letting people get under my skin," she told herself and him. She was strong. "They won't dictate what I do. Worry about us for now, not them."

"Trust me, I'm trying."

The tension alleviated slightly, and she left him hanging for a minute because she didn't know how to continue. And then she blurted it out:
"You're mad about me?"

It was the only solid thing swirling through her brain; she was trying to force herself to be bothered by the other bits, but she wasn't. She was so, so stupefied he'd tell his dad, the man he used to worship about her, given their sordid history.

"I thought that was clear when I agreed to watch muggle films about bloody princesses."

"You said you liked them."

"I do, but I wouldn't if I was without you. I accidentally fucking told Lucius I wasn't Mulan, for fucks sake. When he hinted that hanging round muggleborns would be dishonorable. "Moo-what?" he said. That this wasn't the stone age, I replied. God, I think I'm out of my damn mind. I don't even- are you bloody laughing at me?"

The idea of Lucius Malfoy questioning the great Walt Disney was the most absurdly amusing thing she'd learned in ages. Though it was highly inappropriate right now, she couldn't stop the giggles strangling her throat, and was now close to tears from the mental image.

"Your dad said – "Moo-what?" – oh my god, Draco. I'm s-s-so sorry," she shrieked, abs now hurting from the strain.

After a few minutes of listening to her cute girly laughs over the line, Draco found his anxiety dwindling. And if he was honest, the episode with his father was rather amusing reflecting on it.

"You want to come over?" he sighed into the phone, relenting and hating himself for giving in to his interna desire. "I don't want to be alone. I might not be in a good mood, in fact, I know I won't. But we can story swap. Yeah?"

She'd finally quit her hysterics. And was considering it.

"It's ok if you say no. You probably have plans."

"I don't, actually. I think everyone has gone to Fleur and Bill's but I wasn't certain when I'd be wrapped up so I said I may or may not see them later."
Truth be told she wanted to cuddle, and just relax. And do it all with him.

"Well, it's up to you."

"I know...I'm really confused, though. What exactly did they say that's caused you such anguish? What did you say?"

He was struggling on whether or not to reveal all to her, she could tell. When he eventually spoke, she was at the door at his closure, waiting to hang up so she could run into his arms:
"A lot of rubbish. I shouldn't associate with muggles because of the Statute, not because they're racist fucks; because I totally care what the Ministry laws are. I can tell you about it later, I'm too pissed off to – You know what, fuck it. You want to know what he said? It's what Lucius told me that got me most. He told me I was the only heir left to my namesake, and that I should learn my place. Learn my fucking place. Like I should willingly fit into some mold and be imprisoned in a position, to act accordingly based on no logic. And it struck me that he's treating himself exactly the way he's been treating you and everyone else he thinks are beneath him the same way. I don't want to be like that; base my interactions on what I can gain from them, I don't – I just want to experience normalcy. I just want to try and be…..different. And while some things, like being with you, come easy, I'm uncertain of how to go about it."

"Draco, I'm coming to your flat. I'll see you in three minutes."

"What?"

She didn't care what she looked like right now, she didn't care if Ginny was cross in the morning. She didn't even care if Pansy damn Parkinson herself caught her in his embrace and reported it to the Prophet. She hung up the phone and hightailed it to the elevator, so anxious she was fit to burst.

Draco had pinpointed the flaw in the plan without any sort of help from her; Draco wanted to be a better person.

He'd set her heart aflame, and he'd done it without a touch or a look. He'd done it through words, through a feeling.