All of this can't be real, the poor state that I'm in,
Discomfort in my sleep may have brought me here.
All the vows are broken, all the guilt that I'm wearin' of bein' here;
Of bein' here so unprotected.
I live to justify to give the reasons why,
You won't see right through me, see right through me.
- See Right Through Me, Mobile
Frantically, I push my way into the bathroom that was thankfully only 2 rooms down the hallway from Granger's room. Shutting the door quickly I lock myself in and turn on the sink so cool water pours out in streams. I cup a hand in and splash my face, bending down to steady my heavy breathing.
Holy shit.
That song. And her.
My cock is utterly throbbing.
It doesn't even make any sense.
The lyrics hit me like a tidal wave; they not only reminded me of my mother and how she probably feels now with her French boy-toy, but the words are exactly how I'd want someone to feel about me.
I know you've suffered, but I don't want you to hide. It's cold and loveless, I won't let you be denied.
More than that, I realize they're emotions I'd like to experience with my lover, to discover the truth in the mind of another human being, to get past the exterior, with whoever that may be…
And I'm a selfish prick. Why would I want to go and do that?
I want to reconcile the violence in your heart; I want to recognize your beauty's not just a mask.
That song was incredibly lusty, super sexy. The instruments were eerie, and it was intense. Whoever wrote it must really adore someone deeply.
And she was singing softly along to it. She has a beautiful voice. Who would've thought?
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart.
Fuck. I unclasp my belt, and unzip my pants, allowing for the bulge to breathe a little bit.
I certainly wouldn't mind Granger satisfying my undisclosed desires.
But she wouldn't, and she can't. I expect even the thought of penises makes her blush; she seems the shy type.
Or else, maybe she has done the dirty and is just extremely cautious about it; though she strikes me the type that would want to wait until the trust and devotion settles in like a 'grown-up' before sexing up anyone. I don't think she and Weasel went out for long though, and anyways, his little lizard is the last thing she should be touching.
But that just makes her more enticing; she hasn't dirtied her soul yet. I'd love for her to touch me roughly like she's never had before and for me to enter her unsoiled depths and conquer the sex goddess that's lurking beneath. To sail my fingers up onto her breasts, and past her untouched thighs and - Oh god, I can't hold it in any longer, I need to cum. I haven't in a long while because I apparently like to torture myself.
But this urge is too strong.
I step in front of the toilet, and pull down my boxer-briefs, allowing my dick to spring free from its restraints. I shove up my blazer sleeves, let my fingers grip around my shaft and begin the pumping. Immediately my breath is shallow, my mind numbs from the delightful sensation, and I feel somewhat naughty, doing this in a stranger's bathroom.
But it feels damn good. Merlin's beard, I forgot what this felt like. The warm flesh in my hands, exactly the way I want it to be stroked, and the lovely swooping feeling in the pit of my stomach as the feeling gets better and better.
It's building up, like the climax of a symphony, and suddenly I find myself with the melody of the Muse song in my head, filling up my ears and drowning me of the vacant state I want to be in.
My mind flashes to Granger, in her towel; Granger, in that purple dress playing the violin; Granger, yelling at me all sexily; Granger, teasing me about typing; Granger, telling me she doesn't hate me; Granger, touching my hand with hers.
I feel extremely tense now, the throbbing growing to its maximum, until I'm grasping the edge of the bowl from the arousal, not even wary of germs. I'm practically sweating.
A particularly heavy wave of stomach leaping turns my insides out and I let out a small groan.
Yet suddenly, before I can flush it out, my mother and father hazily cross my brainwaves replacing my forboden Gryffindor vixen.
They're fighting, coldly. I see them curtly kissing each other's cheeks, never hugging, never full on the lips, never passionately. And then I see the Dark Lord standing in my drawing room snapping Father's wand in half while everybody jeers at the sight. Now my mother reassures him later upstairs, but he pushes her away emasculated, the Malfoy's fallen. She's sobbing; now he's in Azkaban again, broken and a failure.
And then…she's not sobbing. She's holding hands with Jean-Pierre in Lucius Malfoy's bed, smiling like a child at Christmas, happy without the man who provided for her for over 25 years. Happy without the man who taught me everything and gave her everything she wanted except for true love.
And now I'm crying and wanking all at the same time, and the elated feeling I had has completely gone away. I'm too far in to stop pumping, and I feel disgraced and sad, because my body feels good but my mind is upset. The tears stream gently down my cheeks and I attempt to choke down any weeps that threaten to lurch up from my throat.
Then my peak is reached, and the sweet release comes. I really needed it to come. But instead of emitting a happy sigh or groan, a sob bubbles up instead.
Many more sobs fly up my throat and I fumble with my trousers and belt to make myself decent again, at least look the part.
That is, until I hear a knock. I suddenly remember I'm not in my house safe, I suddenly feel disgusting and ashamed.
"Malfoy? Are you in there?" No, I'm not. Get out of here, Granger.
I finish zipping up, and flush the toilet.
"Yes, I'm in here," I reply, attempting to sound more irritated than unhappy.
"Are you….alright?"
"Peachy."
Nothing for a moment, then;
"…Are you going to come out?"
No, I'm going to stay in here blubbering all day.
I wipe my eyes with the back of my wrist and take a glance at the mirror; red splotchy eyes, red splotchy eyes, red splotchy eyes, and shame stare back at me.
I just had a lovely onanism session, thinking of her. How can I possibly face her after that? And with my mind in a mess that matches my face. I mean, it's not like she'll know what happened or anything; she can't tell the difference between the boys who jerk off a lot, and the ones who don't, right?
I swallow my pride and straighten my clothes, then turn the knob and find myself staring straight into those eyes as the door swings open. Granger's eyes widen so I look at her feet immediately, avoiding her face for obvious reasons.
"Malfoy, were you cr-? I mean…..are you? Sure you're okay….?" Dammit. She knows about the weeping.
"I'm fine. What was the bathroom visitation for?" She flushes red and steps back so I can get into the corridor.
We're in too close a capacity for what I just did. I back away a few steps, pulling down my sleeves self-consciously, covering the mark and my dirty hands.
"Well, my Mum just informed me that my cousin is coming over in 5 minutes and –"
Something from downstairs rings and both our heads immediately flick towards the source of the noise. Granger flicks her head back to me.
"Um, I guess she's here now."
"Your cousin?"
"Yes….."
"Why would your cousin be visiting today?"
"My parents are leaving for a week and a half," What! ? "So I won't get to see any family for Easter, and no Easter dinner. She just wanted to come see us before they left."
"And why does that require you coming to visit me at the W.C?"
"Uh, I just, um, wanted to explain to you what was happening," she shrugs uneasily.
"Why?"
"Well, Mum told me that once you were finished in there to come down for lunch." What! ?
"Excuse me?" I ask raising my eyebrows. "I did not agree to come into your home to just fuck around drinking tea and eating crumpets all day! Are we going to do anything productive?"
She looks utterly taken aback. Her eyebrows furrow and she looks at my chest, avoiding my eyes. "I-I'm sorry. I know we haven't done anything really, It's just – I didn't know how long you'd be staying for and I'd hoped you didn't mind Andrea coming over too much, I haven't seen any of my family in such a long time and –" she breaks off.
Oh, damn her and her sad face. Because of being 'caught', I'm feeling embarrassed. Embarrassment leads to anger.
And I'm angry at her because my parents are split up essentially and hers are not, as idiotic as that it is. My mom cheats and my Dad's in prison, while hers stay happily here in oblivion.
All of her upset seems invalid to me; I've never had an Easter dinner, and I've never even met one of my Aunt's, while the other I have was frightening and insane. It's enough to make my blood boil.
How can she be so inconsiderate? I'm taking time out of my schedule that would be rightfully spent boozing, and she expects me to just follow along like a puppy.
"Granger, honestly, this whole scenario is completely ridiculous! Your parent's are leaving? So where does that leave us finishing the project? In case you hadn't noticed, we haven't even technically started yet and I've been here for nearly two hours. My mother is in France, and I doubt she'd appreciate you coming over when she's travelling even if you so desired!"
"My parent's already said you could come over here when they're gone, actually. It isn't my fault we haven't picked a composer yet, you told me we could listen to choicesdiplomatically today! What is wrong with you?"
I realize I've been raising my voice, but this is ludicrous.
"What's wrong with me? Granger, don't you get it? I'm a wizard, a pureblood wizard. I don't know how to act around these people. I don't even know what half the stuff in your home does. I'm in fucking Muggle London for the first time, and I've already in that short span almost gotten killed. It's bad enough I had to have a little heart to heart with yourmother of all people, does your cousin even know you're a witch?"
She shakes her head, and stares me down. "You agreed to come here, don't be quick to forget -"
"I didn't bloody forget!" I holler.
"Then what's the problem?" she hisses lowly, hands on her hips.
"What am I going to say to your cousin, who I'm no doubt going to meet? Or dear daddy and mum? What if they ask me what I like or if I've ever done an activity that is entirely Muggle, huh? I can't answer that if I don't know what anything is. What if I slip up? They, at least your Mother, aren't exactly in the know."
"What's that supposed to mean!" She practically shouts.
"Don't get so livid, you're the one who modified their memories," I say calmer so she doesn't get any more riled; she looks almost deranged. I'm not even trying to fucking insult them, she should shut her mouth. "You made them think that the Order was with you the entire time last year, that you actually went off to school and that Voldemort was defeated by a gun."
"H-how did you know that?" she asks utterly flabbergasted.
"Your mother asked me about magic, and we ended up on myself being sorted into 'terrible' Slytherin, which then landed us on the topic of what occurred last spring because allof the Death Eaters are in Slytherin, and subsequently what happened to you. She doesn't remember it. Seriously, what happens if they ever do go back into say Diagon Alley, or meet Potter, huh? Do you think he'd think it's fair for you to alter the real story? Everyone will flock to you asking questions if you go out; you were extremely wanted during the takeover and therefore are now well-known throughout the public eye. How could you be so daft?"
"Excuse me? Me, daft? I was only trying to protect the ones I love!" She whispers angrily, so very upset. She's embarrassed and annoyed that I'm calling her on her idiocy.
"Yeah, you were, but why lie? Fucking hell, Granger, this is a powerful maniac we're talking about, someone who was so terrifying that we didn't even say his name. I still can barely utter it in a normal frame of mind. And you were one of the mains behind bringing him down. That's not exactly an easy feat to stifle."
"I know it isn't!" she shrieks. Why is she so irate? "Do you think if I told them all the details though, that you would even be allowed to step into my house?" she points. "They don't need to be afraid for me, I had to modify their memory so they'd be safe from harm in the first place, why confide to them everything unnecessary? They know he died, they know Harry and I had a big involvement. They don't need to hate everyone who was on the bad side. Be grateful I never told them about how much you hated 'people like us', and what you've done to me in the past. If I told them half the things you've wished upon me, my dad would be on you like nifflers to a diamond factory." She's fuming, and I'm fuming too. What cheek, she has.
"What if they find out the hard way what I am? Who my family are? You must've told them something about me, and besides saying 'a pureblooded arse', a term they probably didn't understand because you're too 'kind' to tell them, all you can really say is that I'm rich and in Slytherin which clearly you did neither."
"I told them you were rich," she bites, thinking hard now it appears. What will she do if that lovely occasion arises?
"What if they see my Dark Mark, huh? What then? Your mother heard me even say 'the Dark Lord', for Merlin's sake. I'm sick of lying, of being deceptive, how the hell do you keep wizard ideas out of conversation when speaking to your family? God, if your parent's are anything like you then they won't care who I used to be more than what I am now." She gets that taken aback look again, mouth agape, and confused. I suppose that was almost a compliment.
"Sick of lying? Don't pretend like you've all of a sudden become a saint," she mumbles. I let out a cold laugh. "I am free to do as I see fit, and I don't need my family involved in something they really didn't have anything to do with; I don't want them to worry for me when I'm perfectly alive. And even if I wasn't, they'd be safe for the most part; happily carefree because they didn't think they'd ever had a daughter! Plus I really don't care if I've become famous or whatnot. And you're one to talk. Who knows how many times you've lied to a teacher? How many people you used and deceived to get your way, or made your band of cronies do your bidding, not caring of the outcome of their fate? Your father spent his entire life in lies, buying and manipulating his way out of every situation that he found himself in, probably taught you to do the same. Even your mother lied –" she stops, putting a hand to her mouth at my expression, remorseful at what she just said.
How dare she. HOW DARE SHE?
"Excuse me? How dare you? How dare you insult my family! My mother lied about what?"
"Nothing," she says frigidly. Her tone suggests the conversation is over.
"No. You will tell me what you were going to slander about my mother."
"No."
"Yes." She must see my fists balled, because she steps against the wall nervously.
"You ask her about it yourself. Now let's go, my Mum is waiting down-"
I grab her wrist which was still dangling in the air and yank her towards me.
I don't understand how somebody can go from being so attractive to being a complete….a complete cunt, all in the span of 10 minutes.
"You tell me what it is that you think she did, you tell me right this second," I whisper, boring into her eyes. Her mouth dangles downward and tears begin to well up into her eyes, obviously frightened at my proximity.
I don't care, as much as I hate my mother and father now, they're still my family. My mother is a good woman, and she doesn't lie! How dare she badmouth her? Curiosity is also overwhelming my rationality at her abrupt end to her sentence.
Lips are still clamped.
"Tell me."
"I can't."
"Yes, you bloody can!"
"Trust me, it isn't bad for you. But it would trouble you far more than make you satisfied," she says apprehensively.
"That only makes me more curious, dammit! How surprising could it possibly be?"
"Oh, it's completely strange when put in perspective of your life. Trust me." She stares at me meaningfully, but I'm too pissed off to care about the look.
"Well if isn't so bad, then maybe you can, you know, fucking tell me!"
She stands defiant.
"You hid in exile for months with the accompaniment of Potter and Weasel, and then yes, had some misfortune in my house I'm not going to downplay it. You helped out a lot in the defeat in the big war, but other than that, what happened to you? It can't have been that terrible until you ran into those snatchers. You lied to your parent's about your suffering and glory, and fine, that's your decision, but if you know something I don't about my mother, you damn well better tell me!"
She looks completely insulted, and tries to wriggle free form my grip, but in my current state, I retaliate by grabbing her other wrist, and push her against the wall. All I can see is red.
"Let go of me."
"Not until you tell me," I growl.
"You vile, disgusting…ignoramus!" she spits. "Leave me alone! How dare you suggest that everything I've been through is trivial compared to your 'tortured soul'. Back off."
My frustration and emotions reach the turning point, the pending eruption of a volcano, then the words burst from my mouth that have been begging to be told to everybody my age who assumes the worst about me.
"You think you've had it rough, Granger? You think Potter had it rough? You have no fucking idea." I let go of her, but she stays put, shocked still by my sudden tone. I need to explain this to someone; I need someone to understand how I feel.
"You think I wanted to receive this lovely gift?" I spit, revealing my left forearm, the skull & snake, wherein she flinches. "It was the most painful fucking thing I've ever experienced; like 60,000 knives coursing through my arm down my throat and into my very soul, leaving it forever unclean. You think it's been easy living my 'rich' life, my father never thinking I'm good enough while my mother confused me by saying I was perfect, yet both putting an end to any friendships I made with 'unworthy people'? Did you ever stop to think that maybe there's always been a part of me that's resented the hatred towards lesser bloods my family has, that maybe I was self-conscious of being mocked by people I was made to hate so I put on a front and bullied them instead? Did you?" She does nothing, at a complete loss at my sudden lunacy.
"You think I wanted to ache for hours attempting to assassinate someone whose skill is probably 10X that of mine? It is utterly terrifying when the man you are supposed to kill offers you help and you can't say yes because you and your family are dead if you do. And I had to pretend I was happy about being chosen to everyone who knew, I almost killed 2 people!" she's looking at me as if I'm mental, slowly shrinking away from me. "At first I thought it was an honour and flaunted it, especially to Snape, but then I knew like everybody else already had that the only reason I was doing this is because my father failed at his task to get a prophecy."
"Malfoy, I –"
"I don't enjoy watching people suffer, okay! I mean truly suffer, like being tortured or killed. I may jinx someone occasionally, but I never would intentionally wound you fatally. But no, I had to watch horrorshows and like it. If I didn't laugh or applaud at some blood traitor or Muggle's misfortune, usually being Imperius'd to do horrible things or being tortured, I'd get Crucio'd by some Death Eater or my Father on his orders. I was a mere plaything of the man I was supposed to worship. I was petrified by the Dark Lord, and I knew my father was too, which was most pathetic because he reached forth in the first place to join him. I did all of that because I yearned to be like my father, powerful and rich." I don't know why I'm letting slip all of this, but the words just pour out and won't stop, "It took me about 16 years to realize that he wasn't powerful at all, just devious, obsessed with being in the good books of everybody. Even if he could stop being a Death Eater, which nobody could, he was absolutely manic about becoming the most faithful servant again, and I had to stand afraid and watch while a snake and its owner lived in our house. My mother in all of this, Granger, was never interested in the Dark Arts, but she still loves her family, loves me. Even if Snape had planned beforehand to help me, she asked him first; they knew she'd ask. I know my parents are discriminatory, but that's how they've been raised. That's how I've been raised, but look where I am. I'm not refusing to talk to you like I'm 13 years old anymore." I take a deep breath.
"I-I know you aren't but – "
"Just let me finish," I say desperately. "Granger, my mother is a good person, but she's been cheating on my father for who knows how long, and now she's getting engaged to some stupid Frenchman." Oh god, I feel the tears again. "I found out 2 days ago. She's been lying to me for a year; it would be just a fucking blessing if you could tell me anything you know." I try to blink back the water in my eyes, but my emotions betray me, and a stray tear rolls down my cheek. I don't bother to wipe it away; I'm too frazzled.
She's looking at me with a mixture of empathy, wonder, and hatred. Her breathing is somehow as heavy as mine, and finally she speaks.
"She – your mother; Harry told me that when You Know Who used Avada Kedavra on him…you know how the soul in Harry that was his, Voldemort's, got destroyed after Voldemort cursed him?"
"Suuure?" I say, contracting my brows, not comprehending what she's getting at.
"Well Voldemort asked your mother to check whether or not he was still alive after the fact." My throat hitches; I never knew this!
What she says next I could never have been prepared for.
"And when she checked on Harry, she whispered to ask him if you were still alive, if you were in the castle. He breathed a yes back to her, and – and she lied to Voldemort; she said he was dead. Half the reason Voldemort was defeated is because Harry was able to feign death until he was distracted. Your mother made that possible. She and your father wanted to go looking for you and she risked her life just for the opportunity to do so."
I feel as if I've gone deaf; a buzzing sound grows louder in my eardrums. I can't believe they'd….that she…that father….that they'd betray him for me. That they care that much. And I was a completely heartless asshole this whole time.
I slide to the ground, my knees weak. Holy fuck.
"Hermione, what is taking so long? Is everything all right?" I forgot about where we were.
Suddenly I snap out of the funk of lividness I was in, and rejoin the real world, realizing what a jackhammer I've been. I look up at Granger, and she's no longer a bitch on my eyes. She was right, I do feel troubled. she was trying to look out for me even though she was angry.
God, now she's attractive once more, and I want her to hold my hand again instead of berating her. I want her to stroke my hair and tell me my family will be all right.
I feel like an idiot, getting so angry at her…when I started it. She insulted my family true, but I was yelling at her. Merlin. Why did I have to all of a sudden become all emotional? It was much easier to deal when I hated everyone
I'm absolutely drained now. My lungs are raw from giving her my life story, and from choking back the tears. And also I'm spent because I had the orgasm of the century, super aroused to super deflated and weepy in 10 seconds.
Fuck, what have I done? I've just ruined the small relationship we finally managed to build; I torched that bridge. I doubt she even wants this loony 10 inches near her.
I need a stiff one.
"Yes, mum, we're coming!" she yells, looking at me questioningly. With a huge effort, I pull myself to my feet and with the non-existent dignity I have left, I wave out a hand; After you.
Granger looks at me like I'm disturbed, and walks towards the stairs, me silently in tow.
"You alright," she asks stiffly, as if she doesn't care but it's obligatory.
"I – no."
"Will you be?" we're stepping silently down the carpeted steps now; and I'm aware that I still probably look a mess. So to answer her; probably not.
"Possibility."
"Okay. Try to act normal now, yes?" she whispers in contempt as we reach the bottom floor.
Shit, I really pissed her off. At least I didn't call the c-word out loud.
This is going to be fun, talking to her Mum again.
We turn the corner round to the living room to spot Helen and another lovely girl with short blackish-purple hair and a polka dotted tea dress standing , chatting. Her face immediately lights up when she sees Granger, and she runs over to her cousin.
"Hermione!"
Andrea has me engulfed in a hug before I can utter a word.
It's nice, being hugged. Feeling loved. I wrap my arms around her skinny frame.
This is so much better than upstairs; what the Devil's snare was that all about?
I do feel terrible about Malfoy's parent's splitting up, it can't be easy to find that out in the middle of a busy school year. But that's no excuse. He needn't get so angry at me! It hurt far more than it should have when he was insulting me, I still feel stung. How can he school me on 'lying' to my parents and then basically break down when I point out to him that he's been a liar all is life? I went a bit far with insulting his parents, but now he at least knows the truth behind his mother.
But seriously, I think he needs a trip to St. Mungo's, he's clearly unstable. And to think I have many more visitations from him to come. And he was quite right; we haven't gotten anything done. But lord, I just wanted to see my cousin thank you!
It's so infuriating. I was just beginning to like him, have a justification for being attracted to him, and then he ruins it. Crying doesn't make me immediately forgive someone, even if it is him. I just understand that it must be awful and heart-breaking; you often forget that terrible people are still humans after all.
Maybe I shouldn't have told him anything. I don't want Narcissa Malfoy to have a death wish upon me.
"How are you lovely? You look so beautiful! Finally decide to get all dressed up every day?" Andrea twinkles, running her hands playfully through my hair. I zap back to the present. I smile despite my troubling thoughts, grabbing her hands an pushing them away.
"I'm fine, lots of stuff to do, you know, with school and everything. And, no, I don't er, usually dress like this," I laugh nervously. "How are you?"
"Oh, cor, super busy! What with working basically 12 hour days and then parties all night on weekends. I can't seem to give them up," she giggles. Suddenly her mouth pops open a bit and she cocks her head to the side. "And who might you be, handsome?" she addresses my guest, and I blush slightly, though I don't know why.
I turn my head around and he's standing there very awkwardly, an unsure but amused look about his face.
"He is Hermione's school partner, and the reason she looks all fancy today," Mum says (without any tact) behind me. Bugger.
"No, mum," I say exasperated scowling at her, not even that embarrassed anymore because I'm no longer feeling the stirring in my stomach from him, just annoyance.
"Does he have a name, then? Can you speak English, darling?" she says to him kindly. He rolls his eyes, but smirks, evidently charmed by Mum and Andrea's flattery.
"Draco Malfoy," he says in that drawl of his, nodding to her.
"Ooh, interesting. Sounds exotic. Are you originally from England?" Oh, god, now she's going to talk to him for ages and he's going to hate me even more.
"Yes, my family just has a flare for picking unusual first names." Andrea laughs, and he raises an eyebrow crossing his arms.
"Shall we go sit down? I've made some sandwiches and boiled the tea. We can catch up." Mum smiles at all of us, and reluctantly I follow suit as she ushers us into the living room. Malfoy trails behind me uncomfortably and surprisingly sits beside me on the two-seater couch while Andrea & Mum sit on the longer one.
True to her words, there is a large tray on the coffee table.
I pour out tea for two, and politely pass a cup and saucer to Malfoy, who mumbles something incoherent. Probably thanks.
"Milk?" I ask him.
"No, no. Black is fine."
Riveting conversation we're having.
Andrea, never one for silence, plops a scone onto her saucer and says "Soooo, Hermione. Did you ever manage to snag that Ron gent you always talked about?" I clank my tea cup against the plate, and blush furiously. This is so not a conversation to be having with Malfoy here.
"Y-yes, we did go out actually….it didn't really work out like I thought it would."
"Oh," she coos sympathetically. Mum whispers something in Andrea's ear and Andrea widens her eyes. This is what I get for confiding information in my mother; I want to curl up and die.
"So then are you and Draco….?"
I hear Malfoy cough a lungful of tea up, and the redness worsens.
"No we're just….friends. Just friends. We have a school project in music, and we need to work on it." Malfoy nods.
"Oh," Andrea huffs disappointed. Mum looks at me strangely.
"Speaking of which, how is that going? I thought I heard some yelling upstairs, no skirmishes were there?"
"Some yelling, huh?" Andrea lewdly states, and I just sink into the couch. It was definitely not sexual, or even passionate. It was horrible.
"Oh, we were just arguing about who we were going to research," Malfoy explains smoothly. What?
After all that talk about lying, he sure doesn't practice what he preaches.
"Must've been fun, trying to argue with this one," Mum laughs. Hey! "Bossy used to be your middle name, love, wasn't it?"
"And here I was all these years thinking it was Jean….." I mumble dryly, though Malfoy chuckles almost silently. I glance at him and his face goes void of any laughter.
"So who did you ultimately decide?" Andrea questions.
"Ah- well, we"
"Muse."
What!
"Oh, I LOVE Muse! They are so good live! Remember Hermione, when we went 4 years ago?"
I can't even speak. This does not compute. Draco Malfoy agreeing with- is he serious? !
"Is that who we picked?" I ask looking at him baffled.
"Yeah, it was, Granger."
"Oh, how sweet! He uses your last name. Do you use his too?" Andrea asks, fascinated like she's never seen a teenage interaction before.
"As matter of fact, yes. We've never quite tried the first names on for size." I say wryly. What the heck is going on? Malfoy is like a mixed concoction of feelings that I'm slowly drinking; Today is completely mental.
"Ooh, speaking of which, I brought you some Voggguuue!"
Oh, please no. No more Vogue clothes, they've messed me up enough. If I didn't dress up I wouldn't even have Malfoy here. But she looks so elated that I smile, and shrug.
"Some Vogue?" Malfoy asks, confused.
"Clothes. Designer clothes," I clarify for him.
How can I hate him when we're doing Muse! We get to do Muse!
"Are you even allowed to take these? I mean, don't they get tired of you taking the model prototypes after all these years?" I laugh.
"Eh, I am Assistant-Editor, and I've been there for only 5 years. I've earned the privilege; they can't say shit, oh excuse me," she says giggling, while Mum shakes her head disapprovingly.
"Now come! Let's go try them on, maybe do a little fashion show, huh?"
"Um, no." I say. Absolutely not!
"Uhhh, yah-huh! I'm sure Draco doesn't mind, do you hun?"
"Not at all," he says amused. Git!
"See? You have your project topic, hell I'll buy you some books if you need it, let's skedaddle."
Before I have time to protest, she drags me off the couch, with my finger still in the air, and I'm being pushed into the laundry room with a big black bag. She enters the room with me too, and shuts the door.
"So! How did you manage to snag such a tasty partner?" She is such a 16 year old at heart.
"Malfoy?" I ask.
"Yes, Draco. Aw, look at you using his last name." She pushes me cutely.
"Um, we were kind of forced, I am not really close to him at all," I say.
"Blimey, though, he is delish! Can you hear that accent, uh, so refined! I live in poorsville you see, I spend way too much dosh to afford a nice house. So all I hear are the awful slangy youth in my neighbourhood, which has caught onto my vocab too. But anyways, he's eloquent, and his clothes and hair are divine, he has a pleasant smile, seems nice enough, geeeez what are you waiting for, love?"
"We…we just kind of have a history, he hasn't been the nicest guy," I say awkwardly.
"Did he hurt you!" she asks, eyes wide.
"No, no.." Well, yeah. But not that badly I suppose. "We are just quite opinionated and opposite. His family is just rather snooty, and well, erm, at my school he's with the crew that generally looks down upon everybody else. Though I'll admit he is a lot better than previously. I mean, he wanted to do Chopin or Franz Liszt for our project, but he agreed to do Muse, a band he's never even listened to."
"Aw, a compromise. Well maybe he likes you! Here try this on," she says, shoving a purple dress my way. It's silk.
"Doubt it." I pull my dress over my head, still awkward slightly about my girlie bits, and put the new one in its place. It barely reaches my mid-thighs, has a deep-v, and is ruffly. I think I look silly. Oh, and it's super tight.
"Why do you doubt it?"
"Well...even if he might find me attractive, he'll never like my personality. I don't particularly like his."
"Hmm. Damn, you look hot. It fits! Let's go show that hunk of man." She winks.
Oh, Merlin's pants.
"No, really, I'm fine. I'm sure he's bored with mum, we need to do some work anyways, and –"
"Come on, aren't you the least bit curious about if he thinks you're sexy or not? Even if you don't like each other, you'll have the knowledge that you make him shake in his boots."
She has me there, even though I'm afraid he'll grimace when he sees me.
I tentatively turn the door knob and I step back out onto the white carpet.
As I take a thousand years to get back into the living room, when I do, I hear a snag of breath. Malfoy has that dessert eating expression on him again.
His eyes are no longer splotchy and sad, and his smirk plays up the smoulder in his eyes. I guess I found out.
And darn it, Andrea is right; he is delicious. I still think he's a total arse, but at least now I know he has feelings. He just better apologize for insulting me.
"Doesn't she look gorgeous?" Andrea croons from behind me. Mum smiles, but looks slightly apprehensive at my 'new look'; i'm not one to be revealing. "What's the verdict for you, then, Draco?"
Eep. No. Don't put him on the spot. I cross my arms, feeling slightly exposed. He starts to speak and I cringe not wanting to hear, but then...
"Not half bad, Granger. Very nice." My eyes widen at him and he simply smirks again and winks.
The butterflies return from earlier this morning.
Good gracious, how long are we going to play this game of anger, teasing and liking? It's exhausting.