Chapter 18

Hermione got a shock the next morning when she realised the body next to her was infinitely blonder than the Blaise she had expected. He was still asleep lying on his belly with his hair falling into his face. It was surreal to see him sleeping. He looked so different.

She slid out of bed, it felt like an invasion of privacy watching him sleep. Beyond her rights. And then there was the whole issue of them sleeping in the same bed to feel queasy about.

Then she wondered about the sheer number of strange beds he'd woken up in over the last few years. Probably a common occurrence for him. How completely different they were. Most of the Slytherins had little purpose other than existing and being young rich things. Blaise worked, unlike most of them, to his credit. She supposed the girls' jobs were to be husband traps and social divas.

The funny thing was that she'd achieved what some would only dream of, to be part of the Slytherin inner circle. And she couldn't wait to get out. Being with Blaise had been exciting at first, the clothes, the effort, the luxurious places. The exclusive of the exclusive. But what was there here beyond the exclusivity? A bunch of people who really were awful. Well not all, Adrian was lovely. Blaise had been lovely before he turned into a total shit. Even Malfoy had been alright. They had gotten on ok last night, which surprised her beyond measure. Even some of the girls, with the exception of Pansy-bitch were ok on their own. It was just when they were together than they were completely toxic.

She felt like an idiot standing around waiting for Malfoy to wake up. It was a crisp autumn morning outside, wherever they were. She decided to get out of the room, maybe out of the house to get some time on her own before the madness of the day ahead.

She walked quietly down the massive staircase and through one of the downstairs rooms which looked like it might provide access to the outside.

"Granger." Someone male said. She jumped a bit having not expected it. To her horror it was Marcus Flint and he looked like his morning was made. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Ahh.." She started about to tell him she wanted to stretch her legs, but she knew that he would join her if she did. "Just looking for a copy of the Daily Prophet."

"In the hall." He said still sitting in the chair he occupied. "I haven't really had a chance to chat with you. You left so quickly last time."

Because you ruined everything, you pratt, she though in her head.

"I really have to get back." She said.

"Maybe we can talk later. I wanted to ask you about your work."

"Maybe, I'm not sure what our plans are." She said trying to fulfil the incessant need to be polite. "Maybe at dinner." In public, she finished silently. She took the opportunity to leave the room. Well, there were her escape plans thwarted.

She grabbed a paper and trudged her way upstairs. She wouldn't put it past Marcus to stumble across her if she stayed downstairs.

Malfoy was still sleeping so she sat down in a chair and opened the latest version of the Daily Prophet to read whatever tawdry scandal was the cause celebre in the wizard world. Her respect for the rag hadn't exactly soared since she left Hogwarts. It was all drama, scandal and crap. Even the Quibbler provided a more interesting read, even if it was the major publication of Looneyville. Luna now being the primary editor. There were at times some little gems in there, however unintentional.

"This is the part where the fake girlfriend part really bites." Malfoy's sleep croaky voice came from the bed. The crisp white sheets rustled as he stretch. She decided to completely ignore his comment. He obviously liked it in the mornings. And she absolutely refused to blush at the implications of what he was saying. The fact that he was watching her again made it all the harder. Thank heaven for the paper she had in her hands, that had suddenly become much interesting.

"Oh you're there. I didn't see you as you blended into the sheets."

"Do you wake up with the claws out?"

"I think the point being is that I bite in general."

She could hear rustling of the sheets again. She thought he was getting up but the rustling stopped. When she put the paper down he was sitting up in bed leaning back with his top half completely bare.

She hoped he didn't expect that she would be overcome by desire. Admittedly his body was much better than he deserved considering his lifestyle, but his rank personality just dulled any appeal he could possibly generate. Grudgingly the appeal was duly noted, if not fully acknowledged.

"So," she said, "what forms of hell can we expect today?"

He grinned. That grin that melted lesser girls. As did his kisses, which she knew from experience, but luckily she was a killer at compartmentalising, so she could keep those two thought separate and distinct. They certainly were not going to get a chance to gang up on her, because her giving into something like that and giving Draco Malfoy a bit of morning delight would bring on new and terrifying levels of hell and humiliation. Bad enough that she'd done it while unconscious, doing it consciously, she might as well just kill herself because it would not be something he would likely be gentlemanly about.

"I don't know." He said. "A bit of hanging around. Maybe some Quidditch on the front lawn, while the girlies look on adoringly. Alcohol, a spot of seduction. The typical thing."

"Well, you can forget about the spot of seduction." She said tartly.

He grinned again and leaned back into the pillows. "I don't usually do the seducing part. I am more the receiver."

"I suppose that is still to be expected even though you have a 'girlfriend'?"

"Girlfriends are more of a fluid concept here."

"I see." She said. "So are you expecting the attentions of anyone in particular?"

"Well, you never know with these things." He said. "We'll just have to wait and see who's on the prowl tonight."

"How exciting." She said with lashings of sarcasm.

"Why, what do you typically do during the weekends?" He said after a while. He sounded bored, but there was something that told her that he might be curious.

"Depends." She said.

"On what?"

"Whether I am with someone of not." She said thinking about the time when she and Blaise had been together. It had been perfect irrespective of how things turned out or what his true intentions had been. They had it perfect for a while. She smiled at the thought. "If so there tends to be quite a bit of getting up late. Cooking brunch."

"You cook?" He asked.

"Yes, of course. Normal people have to feed themselves."

"What do you cook?" He asked and Hermione thought it was a strange question.

"Bacon and eggs, normally. If I feel fancy, I will make eggs Benedict. Maybe crepes."

"Then what?" He prodded. She felt like she was being interrogated.

"Then we go out somewhere. Maybe a gallery. Maybe a bookshop. A coffee somewhere along the way."

"And then?"

Ok, this interrogation was starting to reveal more personal information than she had intended to, but it was a direct questions so she felt duty bound to answer. She didn't know why he was curious because he obviously was.

"Then we go back to the flat. Maybe spend some more time together." She said with a smile, refusing to divulge such intimate details of what that entailed. "Then maybe get some things for dinner, cook dinner, maybe watch a movie or have a drink at the pub, and that's that." She rushed through the last part. He should not be privy to her weekends.

"Sounds dull." He said dismissively. "No wonder Blaise got rid of you."

"He wasn't complaining much at the time. Some would say it beats sitting around waiting to be seduced by middle aged women." She said and put her paper away. "When exactly do you get fed at this place?"

"Any moment now. And for the record, age does not indicate whom I attract. My attraction is ubiquitous." He said getting out of bed and Hermione walked briskly to the window to study the landscape outside. "I only respond to the gorgeous, … and the easy." He added as an afterthought.

"Don't like to put in any work?" She teased, but he didn't respond.

"Come on then. Lets get on with it." He said after dressing. He sounded annoyed with her. She wasn't sure why, maybe because he was stuck dragging his fake girlfriend around all day.

"So what am I supposed to do if you are preyed upon by the female population?" She asked, kind of curious. Until it struck her, "Of course, I should run off crying." She was excited now as her train of thought moved onto the conclusion of their supposed relationship. "Squeeze out a crocodile tear or two. I'm sure I could manage. I can rub some onion in my eyes if needs be."

"My paramour don't make scenes." He said curtly. "Its not allowed."

"Really, do you have to take the fun out of everything?" She said. "And what do you mean not allowed. Do you get a say in what emotions girls are allowed to feel?"

"Its crass to make a scene." He said.

"Oh, it that the point where it gets crass?" She said with sarcasm.