A/N: Hello again! I'm rather proud of the fact that I managed to edit this in a reasonable amount of time, but this is also due to the fact that I don't have my new compy yet. I can't waste my life playing Diablo 3, and therefore need something else to distract my excitement. Anywho, I love your reviews, like always, so keep them coming! Also, I was planning to update last night, but a thunderstorm disconnected me from the internet before I was ready to, so I apologize for y'all waiting an extra day. I wish I could control the weather enough to not inconvenience me, but I'm no Storm. =(
Reviews:
Divess - Hahahahaha! Thank you for the inspiration! Those are all very amusing, and I already have one of those in the story. With your permission, I may use the others in my other stories if I can't find a natural place for them in this one.
DustedSilverAndGold - Oh man. That is such a fantastic scene! I'm still giggling just thinking about it. I wish I could fit it in this story somewhere, but alas, it will not flow with the rest of it. Thank you so much for mentioning it, because that's pretty much how that situation would go, and I always enjoy those kind of dramatic yet hilarious situations. Do I have your permission to use it in a different story? I might make a whole new story just for that scene alone...
viola1701e - You know, an argument could be made that his life does depend on it. Otherwise he would suffer wealth, notoriety, and a need for mental stimulation that could only be drowned out by copious amounts of Ogden's Best Firewhiskey. In other words, he would die of alcohol poisoning or liver failure, so his active obsession with her is really saving his life. =P Haha. I can totally imagine Pansy scouring that book for every little piece of info on how to get Draco to love her, only to throw it aside as rubbish just as Hermione did. Nobody pays attention to Professor Morgana until it's too late. As for Devon, I agree. That certainly is an interesting twist, but I will say nothing about what I have planned for him. Though I'm glad you like him!
allisonconnor - Hahahaha! Please tell your fiancé I apologize profusely for stealing your attention. I only need you for about an hour a week; he can have you the rest of the time, I promise! And just because you begged me, this is me not taking two weeks. Thank you for being such a faithful reviewer, and I can't wait to see what you'll say about this chappie!
vashappenin - Not gonna lie, I blushed a little. That's a very high complement, considering how many dramione fics are out there. On the major websites I visit, the dramione pairing has the most fanfics out of any Hermione pairing, and there are A LOT of fanfics starring Hermione. Granted, it could have changed since I last checked about a year ago, but it seems like they're only posting more...Anywho, before I start whipping out my statistics charts, thank you so much for saying that! It makes me really happy that you like this story! I promise I will finish this story, so you will not be left hanging! The fanfic I think could have been the best ever was abandoned years ago, and I swore to never do that to anyone because that feeling sucks.
SlytherinGurrl - ...Doorknob... *bursts out laughing* That one still gets me every time! Thank you so much for sharing that. It really is so stupid it's funny.
nikki98 - Heehee. Yes, yes he is. Thank you! I hope you like this chapter, too!
~~~\~~~
Step 6: Learning the Malfoy Language
Men and women have always had trouble communicating, but Malfoy men have their own special kind of interpretation that is a whole other dialect of the English language. Annoyingly, the general rule appears to be: if you tell a Malfoy to do or not do something, he will go out of his way to do the exact opposite, because "nobody tells a Malfoy what to do." In short, it is a matter of pride, so getting a Malfoy to actually do what you want him to requires subtle manipulation and a lot of saying what you don't mean, the very thing that men love to complain that women do. Curious, no? For example, if you want a Malfoy to take interest in you, tell him to leave you alone. If you want him to help you, tell him you can handle it yourself. If you want him to fall in love with you...well, if only it were that easy. I still don't know the answer to that one.
But it is a two-way street, as they say. Your Malfoy's actions and words will tell you what he is thinking, as long as you know how to interpret them correctly. It isn't quite as simple to understand them because they have a nasty tendency to genuinely hate a lot of people, so it can be difficult to distinguish whom they hate and whom they are fond of. One definite sign that your Malfoy is falling in love with you is his incessant need to pester you about every little thing throughout the day. If he wants to know what you are doing, whom you are seeing, and when you'll be home , then congratulations. You've caught yourself a Malfoy. But be warned, these questions may sound a lot like insults if you don't listen carefully. Malfoys are master deceivers, so if he doesn't want you to know how much he likes you, chances are he will go out of his way to make you think he hates you...or to ensure that you hate him. Don't ask me why he thinks making you hate him will solve anything. That is far beyond my comprehension.
~~~\~~~
When Hermione awoke the next morning, she rolled onto her back and looked over toward Malfoy's side, which was empty again. She felt another pang of disappointment, but stamped it down viciously and frowned. She had no bloody clue what was going on with him. He had congratulated her on her potion and then called her a selfish brat, angering her enough to lead to a physical duel, which then led to a sexual duel, which finally would have ended in actual sex if he hadn't been so suddenly...noble. Wasn't that supposed to be a Gryffindor trait? He had called Harry 'Saint Potter' countless times. So when the hell did Malfoy start caring about being noble for anyone, especially for her?
'He's bloody in love with you,' Devon's voice echoed.
Hermione rubbed her forehead and sighed in frustration. He can't be in love with me. Draco Malfoy doesn't love anyone. He's completely incapable of loving anyone. If he were in love with me then I'd know, because...
Her train of thought halted. How would she know? If Malfoy was good at anything, it was hiding how he really felt. Did she honestly expect Malfoy to no longer be himself? Did falling in love change every person's personality so drastically that they all acted the same? Of course not. When you were in love, all that changed was you started caring more about that person. If Draco Malfoy ever fell in love, he'd still be a reputation-obsessed, Harry-Potter-hating, infuriating-enough-you-wish-you-could-strangle-him-to-death, pompous git. He'd just also happen to care about someone else in addition to himself. If Malfoy chose not to reveal to his beloved that he were in love, it would look an awful lot like how he was acting around her, so hot and cold.
Hermione allowed herself a small smile. Either Malfoy didn't realize he was in love, or he was fighting against it every step of the way. The Malfoy she knew, if he had accepted being in love, would have taken advantage of her willingness to sleep with him or tried to romance her into loving him back, because with his ego, surely he would believe that unrequited feelings happened to other people. Hermione snorted. The git's ego was so huge it wouldn't even occur to him that she might not be in love with him, too. The fact that he wasn't waltzing in here declaring that she loved him and she might as well just admit it now to save herself a whole lot of trouble told her he hadn't accepted it. After all, he had been doing something similar all along. He knew she lusted after him, and what had he been saying this whole time? Things like: 'I know you want me, Granger,' and 'You're still not denying your attraction to me, Granger.' She rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep the grin off her face.
Merlin help me. I'm already too fond of the git.
Hermione groaned, got out of bed and started getting ready for the day. She needed to talk to Devon, now that she was convinced that Malfoy loved her. She'd go leave a message with that waitress, Mona, and hope they could meet up tomorrow to discuss what to do next. It would probably be something along the lines of getting Malfoy to see her and Devon together so he would get jealous and then do something so out of character that he'd have to admit it to himself.
As she was getting dressed, looking at her clothes suddenly reminded her of a conversation she had had with Ginny a while ago, back at school.
~~~\~~~
Hermione looked up from her book as Ginny and Harry climbed into the Common Room. Harry grinned at his girlfriend, who giggled and batted her eyelashes at him, making him blush. Hermione allowed herself a smile at the two lovebirds before assuming her usual no-nonsense demeanor and cleared her throat.
Both of them were startled and looked at her with guilt clear on their faces.
"Er, h-hi Hermione! I didn't realize you'd, erm, be up this late.." Harry started with a pathetic attempt at a carefree smile. "Studying, I see?"
Ginny bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing at him, and Hermione herself was hard-pressed to keep a straight face.
"Harry James Potter, you ought to be ashamed! It's past midnight, which means it is far past curfew, for both of you," she glanced at Ginny, and then back to Harry.
"But Hermione," Ginny soothed, "we made sure not to get caught! It's just been so rough for Harry recently, as you know. And shouldn't you be in bed as well?"
Hermione lifted her chin haughtily. "I am a Prefect, so my bedtime is later than yours. And even so, Harry was right, I 'm studying, which I guarantee is not what you two were doing up so late."
This effectively kept them both quiet, blushing bright red at getting caught.
After another minute or so, Hermione decided they had been scolded enough and smiled. "Alright, off to bed with you. I promise I'll be up soon, as well. Just getting angry at you is making me exhausted."
They both looked up at her brightly. With a quick kiss on Ginny's cheek and a "Night, Hermione!", Harry scarpered off up the boys' staircase and into his bedroom.
Ginny watched Harry run off dreamily, but then snapped back to reality and started walking toward the girls' staircase when her shirt caught Hermione's attention.
"Ginny," she interrupted, making the girl stop and face her.
Ginny raised her eyebrows but had a faint look of nervousness, worrying if she wasn't getting off quite as easy.
Hermione gave her a small smile to put her at ease, but then frowned. "Don't you think that shirt is a little...too low-cut to be wearing?"
She pointedly glanced at Ginny's cleavage, in which the tops of Ginny's black bra were clearly visible, as well as the valley between her small breasts.
Ginny blushed significantly redder than her hair. "I swear I didn't wear this during class, Hermione!"
Hermione snorted. "Obviously, or the professors would have noticed through the gap in your robes and McGonagall would have had a fit, meaning the whole school would have talked about it all day."
The two shared a smile at that common knowledge.
Ginny walked over and sat down on the arm of Hermione's chair, sighing.
"Look, Hermione, I don't want to offend you, but if you can't figure out why I'm dressing like this for Harry, you're much dumber than we all think."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course I know why you'd want to...but Gin, you weren't even in Gryffindor Tower! Anyone could have seen you, not just Harry!"
Ginny smirked. "Oh, so you're telling me that Ron's never made you feel a little reckless? You've never once considered snogging in a public place or wearing a shirt with just a hint of cleavage to get his blood heated? To make him think of ravishing you every time he saw you?"
Then Ginny blanched. "Not that I want to think of my brother like that, but, you know what I mean."
Now it was Hermione's turn to blush and stare at the floor. "Not really."
Ginny's mouth dropped. " Not even once?"
Hermione shrugged. "We don't really plan our snog sessions, Gin. They just happen, usually when we start arguing about something, which I'm sure you've noticed is most of the time. So, really, we don't need to plan them. Besides, if I can get him to snog me without resorting to changing my wardrobe, why would I bother?"
Ginny frowned. "Because you want to? I dunno, Hermione. Ron thinks about Quidditch so much I guess I just expected that you'd try to get him to think of you as much as possible. That's how I feel about Harry, anyway." She shrugged. "Maybe it's just me, then."
Hermione frowned, too. "Is it bad that I don't feel the same way you do? I mean, it's not that I don't want Ron to think about me, it's just that we have so many other, more important, things to think about that, honestly, him thinking about me that much would do more harm than good. I mean, we have N.E.W.T.s this year, and you know how your brother is with studying. It's like pulling teeth with dull instruments. He needs to stay focused on his schoolwork, not on...well, snogging."
Ginny sighed in defeat, but rolled her eyes. "You're right. He is irresponsible like that." She got up and headed to bed. "Goodnight, Hermione."
"Goodnight, Ginny," Hermione returned. There had been something in Ginny's voice that worried her. Ginny sounded more like she gave up on trying to convince Hermione, rather than agreeing with her. Was there something wrong with her relationship with Ron?
~~~\~~~
Hermione sighed, staring at herself in the mirror. Yes, there had been something wrong with her relationship with Ron; she just hadn't realized or accepted it at that point. But now she knew better...hopefully. She couldn't say that getting involved with Malfoy sounded like a wise thing to do, but as she thought about the previous night, she smiled. Ron had never made her feel like that. With Ron, she had felt so uncomfortable about exposing herself that it was awkward. But with Malfoy, he made it feel like the most natural thing in the world, like she actually wanted to.
She breathed deeply and sighed, recalling the way his whole body had teased hers, both skin on skin and through clothing. He had so easily evoked a reckless lust in her, which had made her cling onto him, making it seem like it had been her idea to pounce on him. It was all Malfoy's fault that she felt like this. She had never asked Ron for sex; it had always been up to him to initiate it. But Malfoy made her feel just as Ginny had described that night. Hermione felt reckless and predatory. She wanted to make him jealous. She wanted to make his heated blood rush so far south that the ever-composed and ever-proper Draco Malfoy could barely form a complete sentence for want of ravishing her right then and there.
Hermione smirked at her reflection and blamed Malfoy for that, too. Even she had noticed that she was smirking far more than she ever had before. Grabbing her wand, she shrunk her turtleneck and trousers by one size. She grinned at her own deviousness.
Hermione always bought her clothing one size too big because she had never agreed with form-fitting clothing. If she had dressed like Parvati and Lavender in school, she would have had to go through so much trouble looking for a bloke who liked her personality by sorting through all of the ones who liked the way her breasts looked through her shirt. So, with all the studying she had had to do, it would have taken too much of that precious time away dealing with boy drama she didn't need. Therefore, she had decided to dress unattractively, including wearing a skirt that fell clearly below her knees, to make sure the wrong type of boy ignored her. She preferred being teased as a prudish bookworm over being teased as a loose tart any day.
But now Hermione was on a mission, and she wanted to at least be relatively subtle about it. If she flounced around in shorts and a tiny top, Malfoy would get suspicious. Instead, she'd start dressing nicely for Devon, and perhaps not bother to change out of those nice clothes so Malfoy could see them. She giggled to herself at her audacity and headed downstairs to the dining room to eat breakfast.
~~~\~~~
Hermione considered it lucky when Malfoy joined her in the dining room halfway through her breakfast. She had had plenty of time to think about her strategy, and decided that she would act completely normal around him, meaning, like he hadn't been so intimate with her. Surely, if he thought that she thought that what he had done for her was meaningless, he'd get angry. If Hermione Granger knew how to provoke any emotion in Draco Malfoy, that emotion was most certainly anger. Malfoy thought he was Merlin's gift to the world, so all she had to do was argue that he wasn't, and POOF! Instant Malfoy rage. She smirked mentally.
"Morning, Granger," he smirked, taking a seat across from her and helping himself to some of the food the house elves had put out on the table.
Hermione kept her eyes glued to the book propped up on her leg and leaning against the edge of the table, restraining herself from automatically glancing up at him.
"Morning, Malfoy," she returned absentmindedly. She took a bite out of her toast to increase the nonchalant effect.
She felt his eyes burning into her forehead and continued to scan her eyes across each line as if she were reading. She could hardly remember the previous word she just saw, let alone the concept the words were conveying. But Malfoy didn't know that. She took another large bite out of her toast and chewed slowly to keep herself from openly grinning.
***/***
Draco glared at her. Granger was just sitting there reading. Not that she didn't do that all the time, but she was so calm about his presence that it irked him. He had expected her to blush and stutter or even avoid him because of the previous night, when she had practically begged him for sex in her own way. But instead, she was calmly sitting and reading, as if nothing remotely interesting had happened between them. Hell, she was barely acknowledging his presence.
He narrowed his eyes, looking at her critically. In fact, she was looking positively aloof. Since when was Hermione Granger aloof? In school, their deep-seated hatred for each other had ensured that they would always be connected to each other. Even up until yesterday, they had been intensely aware of the other's presence and always reacted accordingly. But today, she acted like she didn't even notice him after he spoke. He mentally sneered. She was up to something.
Granger interrupted his thoughts. "Don't you have business to attend to? I usually don't see you in the mornings," she asked conversationally, still reading that bloody book.
So she was trying to get rid of him?
"Not until later," he replied haughtily, "I have the entire morning free to do as I wish." He watched her expression carefully, but it didn't change.
"Oh," she replied uninterestedly, and said nothing more.
After a couple minutes of silence, he decided to pick up the slack.
"And what about you? Any interesting plans for the day? Or merely reading?"
Her face broke out into a smile and her eyes became unfocused. She sighed.
"I'm meeting Devon this afternoon," she replied warmly.
Draco scowled. Her voice had positively caressed the bloke's name. He wanted to break something, preferably said bloke's neck.
"On a date?" He spat with thinly veiled contempt.
He seemed to have startled her from her dreamy state. She raised her eyebrows at him, but still smiled.
"Yes, on a date."
He rolled his eyes. "How nice."
There was something about the word date that deeply disturbed him. He tried not to think about what would happen on said date, but his thoughts refused to turn anywhere else. What happened on a date? A meal, of some sort, entertainment, usually dancing or listening to music, and at the end? A kiss, which led to a lot more than just a deeper kiss. Draco's hands clenched into fists on his thighs. Just the thought of another bloke thinking about touching her naked skin made his blood pressure rise dangerously.
He stood up. He needed to get out of here before he did something he would regret. But he couldn't prevent himself from getting in one jab.
"Yes, well, do remember to use the proper spell tonight. One know-it-all is enough."
He turned around and headed toward the doors when the sound of a book slamming against the table stopped him.
"Excuse you!" Granger screeched, outraged at his insinuation.
He inwardly smirked in triumph. This was the Granger he knew. He turned around, allowing the inward smirk to form on his lips.
"I'm only thinking of your future, Granger," he commented innocently.
She gawked at him and then glared, hands clutching the table edge in anger and leaning forward to get her message across.
"For your information, I am not that type of woman!"
Draco raised an eyebrow as he walked back over and leaned forward onto the table, matching her stance.
"Oh? You could have fooled me. Wasn't it just last night when you were begging me for sex? And we're not even dating."
Her face fell into a look of shocked horror as she backpedaled away from him and nearly tripped on the chair she had just been sitting in. She looked as if he had just back-handed her across the face. To be honest, though, he had metaphorically done just that. She thought she was so prim and proper? Obviously she was delusional. Just because she pretended to be proper didn't mean she was, and that was a lesson she needed to learn.
He basked in the moment of triumph, but a part of him ruined it. It felt guilty for saying something so harsh to her. It told him that if he made her cry, he was going to feel it, and it wasn't going to be pleasant at all. He scoffed at that part and stuffed it into a silenced cage, where it belonged.
Finally, Granger pulled herself together, although he thought that the sunlight streaming through the high windows had sparkled on her cheek for a moment. He ignored it and waited patiently for her response.
Granger took a deep breath and glared at him.
"You're right, Malfoy. I haven't been myself lately. The potion was obviously far more potent than I had anticipated, but I assure you that I am now in my proper state of mind. I no longer need your assistance during the night, so I expect you to be moved out of my room by the time I retire. Since I do not plan on staying out the whole night, I suggest you do it earlier rather than later. Thank you for putting everything into its proper perspective," she hissed.
She grabbed her book and stormed out of the dining room.
As she passed, Draco glanced at her cheek, where he thought he had seen the sparkle.
There it was. A single, tiny rivulet running from the corner of her eye down to the bottom of her cheek, confirming his suspicion. The part of him he had just locked back up burst out of its cage again.
***/***
Hermione hardly knew where she was going. She was blinded by pure rage, not just at Malfoy, but at herself, too. She had given him that ammunition. She didn't know how she didn't expect him to use it eventually. Maybe not so quickly, but she had walked right into that one. The worst part about being an enemy of Draco Malfoy was that his insults were rarely, if ever, fabricated. They were powerful because they were based on the truth, and he knew his enemies well. She cursed the day she had met him, wiping away her tears.
Fuck Malfoy. Fuck every single thing he's ever done to make me think he cared. And fuck me for believing in something so obviously false. I was right before. He's incapable of love. He doesn't deserve me, and all he ever does is bring out the worst out in me. With any other man, I would have been slow and steady. With Malfoy, he just slithers under my skin and crawls around, poking and biting me until I go insane. And fuck you, whatever hellish power keeps the bastard in my life.
By the time she had stopped mentally ranting, she had stormed all the way to the foyer where Dopey was waiting with her outerwear, bundled up, and made it to the nearest Floo. She sniffed and nodded determinedly. She needed to talk to Devon.
~~~\~~~
When Hermione reached the diner, she was thankful for the cold weather. Now her puffy eyes and red cheeks wouldn't be so telling to strangers, and only Devon would know the real reason behind them. She searched out Mona and found her behind the counter.
Hermione approached it cautiously. "Mona?" she asked hesitantly.
Mona looked up and smiled brightly. "Hello!" She frowned as she took in Hermione's appearance.
"Oh, yet another victim of the cold. Would you like me to fix you up a nice hot tea? It'll make you feel better."
Hermione nodded. She had been planning on staying here for a while anyway, even though Devon wouldn't be here. Though she had to admit, she had hoped that fortune would be on her side for once.
Mona smiled warmly. "Good. Now go make yourself comfortable right over there," she pointed at the booth Hermione had sat in before," and I'll bring it over to you when it's ready. Devon just went to the loo, so he should be out soon. I'm sure he won't mind some company today."
Shocked that fortune was, indeed, on her side today, Hermione couldn't help but ask.
"Devon's here?"
Mona nodded as she turned around to refill the kettle with water.
"Sure is. He's in a right state, mind you. His mother called again."
"His mother? What did she say that upset him?" Hermione leaned on the counter and vaguely remembered Devon mentioning that his mother upset him every time she called, especially because of the dating thing.
Mona put the kettle on the stovetop and then turned back around and leaned against the counter on her own side conspiratorially.
"Mostly the usual about how he'll never find a decent woman to settle down with, but this time he said he had a woman for her to meet. Mind you, I could only hear his side of the phone call, but she sounded screechy and annoyed even from here, so I imagine it was something about him not telling her before or some such thing. He tried to calm her down but I suspect she thought he was outright lying. He's done it a few times already, so she's more suspicious now more than ever."
Hermione turned around when she heard one of the doors open and smiled when she saw Devon walk through. She frowned as she got a better look at him. He looked dead tired.
She turned back to the waitress. "Thanks, Mona. I'll try to cheer him up."
Mona nodded and turned around to tend to her duties as Hermione walked over and sat down across from him. She licked her lips and smiled at him as he lifted his head from his hands and opened his eyes.
"Hey," she greeted softly.
He blinked and then smiled. "Hey, Hermione. What brings you around?"
She bit her lip and looked down. For a few precious minutes she had completely forgotten about her fight with Malfoy, and wasn't sure if now was a good time to bring it up.
Devon frowned. "Hey, talk to me. What happened?"
She shrugged. "I don't know if now's really a good time. Mona just told me that your mother upset you again-"
He put a finger against her lips, silencing her, and her eyes immediately shot up to his.
"Don't worry. It's nothing my mother hasn't said hundreds of times before. Besides, it'll be nice to talk about your problem instead of mine. Or, I can make you a deal. You go first and then I'll vent. Deal?"
He removed his hand and held it out for hers to shake.
She nodded, smiled, and then reached for his hand, shaking it.
"Deal."
And so Hermione launched into everything that had happened since their last meeting. Admittedly, it had only been about twenty-four hours, but Hermione felt like a week had passed with her emotions all over the place.
By the time she finished, she was in tears and Devon was holding her hand on the table.
"I just don't understand, Devon! How can he be so...ambivalent? First he's cold because we hate each other, and then he's hot because he wants me, but then he gets cold again and then hot, and back to cold, and I just can't take it anymore! And that's not even the worst part! The worst is the fact that he has a wit like acid that burns you to your very core! Everything he s-said was true, I did offer myself l-like a c-common t-t-tart!" she sobbed.
Devon sighed and rubbed her hand in both of his.
"Hermione, you weren't a tart. In your hurry to agree with him, I think you're missing the fact that it's not a crime to be sexual with a bloke. You don't have a boyfriend, so you can do whatever you want. It's alright to have fun once in a while."
Hermione looked up at him, wiped her tears with the napkin that came with her tea, and sniffed.
"I don't want to agree with him. You do have a point, but I still don't usually do that. I only get involved in the physical aspects when I'm in a committed relationship."
Devon shrugged. "In any case, I have good news for you."
She frowned at him. "What?"
He cracked a smile. "John's definitely in love with you."
She gawked at him. "Are you mental? He called me a tart! And, well, you know what he said. How is that code for 'Hermione, I'm in love with you'?"
Devon looked like he wanted to pat her on the head, so she scowled at him.
"Did you notice when he suddenly became mean, though? It seemed like a calm conversation up until you said a certain something."
"All I said was that I was...oh," she gasped in comprehension.
"Going on a date with me," he finished smugly. "Trust me, Hermione. If you were any other girl, whom he didn't care about, he would have stayed civil with you and, hell, maybe he wouldn't have even asked what you were doing for the day. He was interested in your life, and you told him you were sharing it with another bloke. Cue jealousy. I wasn't kidding when I said you had to provoke him into a rage. It's just unfortunate that you'll have to bear the brunt of it to get anywhere with him."
Hermione sighed. "I don't know, Devon. I don't think I even want to be with him after this. He hits hard. I don't want to go through school all over again if I can avoid it, if I actually have a choice this time."
Devon opened his mouth to respond, but then stopped. He closed his mouth and shrugged.
"Whatever you think is best, Hermione."
Her head snapped up. "What does that mean?" she asked suspiciously.
He shrugged again.
"This is the part where I'm supposed to tell you how good you two are together, and you shouldn't lose hope because you're meant to be. But I don't know that. In fact, this bloke sounds an awful lot like me in all the wrong ways, so I'd honestly tell a nice girl like you to run and get as far away from him as possible. He's no good for you."
Her stare softened. "Devon..."
He stared right back at her grimly.
"It's true, Hermione. I'm good for translating, but that's it. I'm a terrible boyfriend. I keep telling my mother I'm not ready to settle down yet, and it's true. Relationships are hard and I can't deal with them. It's not that I can't stay loyal to one woman; that's the easy part. The hard part is merging our lives together. I'm selfish and I want her when I want her, but she's always got other things to do. I start to feel neglected and lash out, and then she leaves. It happens the same way every time, but I can't stop myself because I start resenting her and get angry. And when I'm not angry at her, I'm angry at myself for screwing everything up. She isn't doing anything wrong. I'm the problem. I can't fix it, so I'm just putting myself out of the equation. All I can hope to be is a great lay for some girl every now and then."
Hermione laughed. "That's your goal in life? To be a great lay?"
He shrugged sheepishly. "It's all I have, Hermione. My roguish good looks and talented appendages."
Now she held onto his hand. "Devon, I've only known you for two days and I already consider you a close friend. You're a very talented friend. I'm already feeling better."
He sighed. "Yes, well, a friend isn't going to get my mother to see the truth."
Hermione pursed her lips in thought.
"Maybe not, but we can put her off for a while. Give you some modicum of peace."
He looked up at her in surprise. "We?"
She nodded, smiling. "We. Did you forget that I agreed to pretend to date you? Why don't you call your mother right now and set up a day for us to have dinner with her?"
He grinned and whipped out his mobile, dialing his home number.
"Mum, you remember that woman I was telling you about?...Yes, Hermione. Yes, it is a mouthful, but she's real..." He sighed. "No, Mum, I don't think she's actually Greek. She's English...I don't know how tall she is! Why does that even matter?..."
Hermione chuckled and he glared at her as he listened to his mother. Hermione beckoned him to give her the phone. He raised an eyebrow, but she gave him an impatient eye roll and repeated the motion.
"Hey. Hey, Mum. Hermione wants to talk to you...Yes, she's with me, right now. We're at the diner...Here, here she is." He handed her the phone with a relieved expression.
Hermione silently laughed at him and took the phone. "Hello, Mrs. Winchester?"
"Hermine?" the woman's voice asked suspiciously.
"Her-mi-o-ne," she corrected clearly and slowly.
"Her-mi-o-ne," Mrs. Winchester repeated.
"That's right. I'm sorry it's so unusual, but I didn't have a say in the matter," she joked.
"Are you being honest or did my son pay you to say you're dating him?" Mrs. Winchester asked bluntly.
Hermione openly laughed. "I assure you, he did not pay me to date him. I'm dating him of my own free will, no bribes."
"Did he tell you that he has bribed women?" the woman retorted.
"Yes, he did mention that. He also mentioned that some of them even refused the bribe, and offered out of kindness because he was so handsome."
Devon rolled his eyes at Hermione's fib.
"That sounds just like him, telling lies like that one," his mother responded sourly.
Hermione covered her mouth to prevent her laughter from giving her away. She cleared her throat. "Well, Mrs. Winchester, the reason I asked your son to call you was-"
"You asked him to call me?" his mother interrupted.
"Yes, I did."
There were a few moments of silence. "Continue," his mother ordered imperiously.
"I wanted to know if you would like the three of us, that is you, your son, and I, to get together for a meal sometime soon, so you can meet me in person."
"You would like to meet me?" the woman asked skeptically.
"Yes," Hermione replied seriously.
Another few seconds of silence.
"Very well, Hermione. Have my son bring you over to my home in three hours and we will have supper together. Goodbye."
Mrs. Winchester hung up, so Hermione clicked off the phone and handed it to Devon.
Devon took it back and looked at her nervously. "So?"
Hermione smiled. "She says you are to bring me over to her house in three hours and we'll have supper."
Devon's mouth dropped. "Today?"
Hermione nodded. "Today."
Devon closed his mouth and sat silently, staring at Hermione.
"So, what should we do for the next three hours?"
"We should probably come up with a history. You know, how we met, what dates we've been on, what happened on those dates. I doubt she'll be very convinced if we're telling different stories."
He nodded. "Right."
~~~\~~~
Six hours later, Hermione and Devon made their excuses to leave Mrs. Winchester's home. Hermione cited needing to do some research, and Devon needed to get back to his flat. Mrs. Winchester agreed that it was getting late and showed them to the door.
She hugged her son and kissed him on the cheek.
"Devon, don't you stay up too late. You can't afford to be late to work."
Devon smiled and kissed her on her own cheek.
"I never do, Mum."
Then, to Hermione's surprise, his mother did the same to her. Hermione kissed her cheek automatically but smiled.
"Hermione, dear," Mrs. Winchester said warmly, "do feel free to visit often. And do keep me updated on when you start planning to move in."
Hermione blinked. "Move in?"
Mrs. Winchester patted her arm affectionately.
"Into Devon's flat, dear. You might need to get a bigger one. Lord knows it's small enough for only one person, but I wouldn't mind helping out with the cost for a while until you get settled."
Hermione opened her mouth to tell her it was way too soon for anyone to be thinking about that, but Devon made a frantic, silent beheading motion, and Hermione got the message.
"I promise, Mrs. Winchester-"
"Oh, do call me Edna," his mother interrupted, brushing some non-existent lint off of Hermione's shoulder.
Hermione paused, but kept her smile firmly in place.
"I promise, Edna, the moment Devon and I start talking about it, I'll let you know."
"Wonderful, dear! Well, off you go then!" She ushered them out and closed the door behind them.
Devon and Hermione started walking back toward the diner. When she felt they were far enough away, Hermione gave him a horrified look.
"Devon, I'm sorry to say, but your mother is a sociopath! She has absolutely no sense of other people's feelings! How did you turn out to be so sane?"
Devon cracked a smile. "Lots of women, and therapy. Lots."
She laughed.
"You think I'm kidding, Hermione, but I'm not. Seriously, like hundreds of women, a few of which happened to be therapists, which is how I got free therapy..."
They talked and bantered the whole way back to the diner, where they had planned to part ways.
Devon turned to Hermione in front of one of the diner's windows and took a deep breath.
"Thanks, Hermione. Really. You don't know how much it means to me that you suffered for me."
Hermione smiled. "You know, your mum isn't all that bad..."
Devon stared at her, speechless.
Hermione burst out laughing, so he glared at her.
"Sorry, I couldn't help it," she finally said. "Really, though. As horrific as it was, a lot of things seem much less scary now."
He raised an eyebrow. "Like John?"
She nodded. "Like John."
"You know, I still didn't really help you with how to handle him."
She smiled fondly at him because he looked a little guilty.
"Don't worry about it, Devon. I've dealt with him for nearly my entire adolescence, and he'll be gone in over a month, so one way or another I'll figure something out. At least I know why he's being such an arse, and I have you to thank for that."
He smiled. "Anytime."
Hermione leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, Devon."
He grinned back at her. "Goodnight, Hermione."
~~~\~~~
When Hermione arrived back at the Manor, she felt tired. The fight with Malfoy, and then the retelling of it, not to mention Edna...it had been all too much for one day. It was still fairly early in the evening, but all she wanted to do was sleep. She didn't know what to do about Malfoy at the moment, so she was glad that he would be out of her room by the time she got there. She could plop on her bed, fall asleep, and deal with him later. Maybe when she woke up she'd know what to do.
So Hermione pulled herself up the main staircase and dragged herself along the hallway to her room. She opened the door and glared. Of course. I should have guessed. Malfoy always was a pain in the arse, so it stands to reason he wouldn't stop now.
Hermione gathered the anger together and used it as an energy source, ready to tear Malfoy a new one for disobeying her.
"Malfoy!" she barked loudly.
The blond who had been napping on her bed opened his eyes and slowly sat up. He looked at the clock in her room and then back at her.
He glared. "Where have you been all day?" he demanded.
She almost thanked him - almost - for getting mad at her, because that only fueled her righteous indignation.
"That is none of your business. What is your business is that I distinctly told you to get out of my room by the time I came home, and you are still here! So get out!"
She turned to the side and pointed down the hallway for effect, stomping her foot.
He rolled his eyes. "Granger, that is beside the point. You told me you were going on a date. No date takes eight bloody hours!"
She scoffed. "Maybe not your dates. What you consider a date is probably allowing the woman about an hour of talking your ear off before you seduce her and then leave. You're right, that doesn't take eight hours. And do you know why? Because it's not a real date, you prick! What you do is called casual sex, not dating! You don't even want a real relationship! So don't you dare tell me what is and is not a date, because I can guarantee you, Draco Malfoy, you've never been on one!"
Suddenly becoming aware of her gradual increase in pitch, she stepped inside her room and quietly closed the door.
But Malfoy just sat on her bed and smirked at her, as if she were a little child throwing a tantrum over nothing.
"And how exactly would you know if I've ever been on a 'real' date?"
She rolled her eyes. "You just told me when you said that a date doesn't take eight hours, idiot. Real dates usually fill up an entire day. I would have stayed longer, but I was tired, and didn't feel comfortable sleeping over at his place. After all, according to you, I'm a loose tart who sleeps with any man who glances her way, correct? So surely, I couldn't trust myself to be alone with a man."
His smirk widened. "Correct. I'm glad to see you finally listened. You can be so stubborn that sometimes I consider giving up on you," he mock-sighed.
Hermione felt the rage boil inside her, and her wand hand twitched, aching to hex him seven ways to Sunday, but she also got the feeling that hexing him wouldn't be enough. She needed to touch him, strangle him with her own two hands, feel his heartbeat quicken beneath her fingers as he realized that she had every intent to murder him, sod the consequences. She would gladly go to Azkaban if she could just kill Draco Malfoy herself.
Blinded by the rage, she stomped her way over to him until she was standing right in front of him, glaring down at his smug face.
"I could kill you, you know, for everything you've done to me," she said quietly. "When I first learned about the Cruciatus Curse, I thought I would never be able to perform it, because I didn't hate people. I was raised to love, not to hate. Hate was an excuse for stupid people to act on their impulses without thinking about the consequences. But you, Draco Malfoy, have shown me what it is to hate someone, to want them to experience such utter pain and misery that they cannot escape it, and they'd rather tear themselves apart than to experience another second of it."
Malfoy raised his eyebrow at her impromptu speech, but gave no other indication of his opinion.
Hermione whipped out her wand and touched the end of it to his forehead, lightly pushing it against his skin.
"I know the incantation. Everyone does. I could say it right now and kill you. Just watch you tear yourself apart." She took a deep breath, her eyes locked with his. "I could do it," she whispered.
And then she lowered her wand to her side, still clutching it in her hand.
"But lucky for you, I'm not stupid. I know the consequences of that action, and let me be the first, although I'd be delighted if I'm not, to tell you." She bent down close enough that he could feel her breath on his face. "You're not worth going to Azkaban for. If there ever were such a thing as a worthless, filthy Mudblood, you would be it. So I am going to tell you one more time, Malfoy. Get out of my room, and stay out. Any stupid fantasies you have of getting anywhere near me ever again are just that, stupid fantasies, things that will never come true. Don't you dare talk to me or look at me. I don't want to hear your voice or your name ever again. I will tolerate your presence as long as it takes for you to conclude your business with your aunt, but the moment it is finished, I want you out of my life, for good. Any questions?"
"Yes, I have one," he replied just as softly.
"What?" she snapped, standing up straight again and fingering her wand, just in case he gave her a reason to use it.
"What will you do when I don't comply with your wishes?"
She narrowed her eyes. "And why won't you comply with my wishes?"
"Granger, if you were going to hurt me you would have done so already. You aren't the type to drag it out, which means you're just trying to scare me off. You can't scare a Malfoy. We do the scaring," he drawled. "So while I do appreciate you taking the time and effort to attempt to intimidate me, you failed. I'm not going to stay away from you just because you tell me to. You and I both know that's not what you want. So, if you are done, I'd like you to answer my original question, which, in case you forgot during your tantrum, was 'where have you been?'"
Hermione sighed tiredly, her posture sagging in defeat. Trying to reason with him was like repeatedly beating her head against a brick wall. He absolutely refused to budge, so her rage just drained out of her, and with it her will to argue. Merlin, she just wanted to sleep.
"I already answered that question, Malfoy. You just didn't like the answer," she replied.
"And that was?" he asked impatiently.
"None of your business. What I do on my own time is my business alone. You have no say in it, and therefore you don't need to know. It's a very simple concept. I don't see how you could fail to grasp it."
He scowled. "I understand the concept perfectly. What I don't understand is why you think you are correct, because you're not. As the person charged by my aunt to watch over you, it is my business where you are."
Hermione just stared at him for a moment and then laughed helplessly, throwing her hands up into the air. Now they were back to him getting in trouble for not keeping an eye on her. Her arguments with him just kept going around and around in one giant circle.
Surprisingly, laughing made her feel better, though. It gave her that careless feeling that told her to just give up trying to order him around and accept Malfoy as he was. This wasn't going to go anywhere until his questions were answered to his satisfaction, and he wouldn't stop bothering her until they were, anyway. She was done trying to control the conversation. She could try to assert her dominance as much as she liked, but Malfoy was having none of it.
After she conjured up a chair and sat down on it, she locked gazes with him and waited, slightly amused at the whole situation. After five minutes of staring, he raised an eyebrow at her, and she merely smirked at him. She knew how infuriating that smirk was to stare at, so she hoped it would annoy him just as much.
He narrowed his eyes at her, and her smirk grew. You don't like it so much when it's directed at you, do you? I didn't think so.
Suddenly his expression was apathetic, and he dusted off an invisible piece of lint off of his leg.
"So, you agree with me then? It is my business where you are at all times," he drawled conversationally.
Her smug expression cleared as she stared at him seriously, arms crossed against her chest.
"No, I don't agree with you. I'm no longer under the influence of the potion, and therefore I no longer need your guardianship."
His eyebrow raised delicately and smirked.
"And you consider threatening me with the Cruciatus Curse sane?"
"Yes," she replied bluntly. "You said it yourself, Malfoy. If I were going to hex you, I already would have. You witnessed my other fits. When I really got going, I needed intervention in order to stop. But that time I stopped myself. I desperately wanted to hex you, but I didn't. I had full control over my body, and my emotions, which proves that I am no longer under another influence. Not even a little. Thus, your argument is invalid. You don't need to know where I am or have been because your services are no longer needed. So you can stop worrying about punishment now. You have no need to. In fact, tomorrow morning I'll inform your aunt myself that I am fully well again, and then she can officially let you off the hook, if you need a formal declaration."
Just when Hermione thought she was through with surprises for the day, Malfoy's smirk stretched into a wicked grin.
"Excellent. See that you do, Granger."
Then he stood up and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Hermione stared after him, wary and confused. She knew that grin. He smirked when he was plotting, but he grinned when that plot was moving along just as he had planned. Frankly, it worried her. She had expected him to be relieved, or maybe let it slip that he wouldn't stop worrying about her. But instead she got typical Malfoy, who always had something up his sleeve.
What was I thinking? All this talk of love has made me mental. I actually expected him to be something other than his usual snarky and scheming self. She huffed at herself. Some intelligence I have. I suppose I should be thankful he's leaving it for another day.
Now completely exhausted, Hermione got up and plopped onto her bed without even changing her clothes. She fell asleep right there, on top of the duvet.
***/***
Draco couldn't wipe the wicked grin off his face if he wanted to, but he didn't really care to try.
At first he'd been skeptical when Granger claimed she wasn't under the influence of the potion any longer, especially after she had flipped out and threatened him with the Cruciatus Curse. He'd never admit it to her face, but he finally saw why Potter and Weasel obeyed her like lap dogs. When she had the mind to, she could personify reckless hatred, so much so that she had actually reminded him of his mother's late sister, Aunt Bella. Bellatrix Lestrange had been by far the most beautiful woman in Draco's extended family, but she had been ruthless and hateful to the core. Any love that she could have held for her family had instead been directed all at the Dark Lord. He had seen her around the Dark Lord multiple times, and she had acted just like a little girl who was desperate for her father's approval. Draco had thought his father had sunk low by joining the Death Eaters, but at least he had maintained some vague appearance of dignity in the Dark Lord's service. Aunt Bella hadn't even bothered to do that much. All she had cared about was torturing Mudbloods and making the Dark Lord pleased with her above all other servants.
It had taken Draco many years to see the situation for what it really was, mostly because he hadn't wanted to believe that nearly his entire family could be so incredibly dumb. But in the end, he was forced to accept the truth. Both the Malfoy and the Black families had preached blood-purity and honor and dignity, but in order to achieve said honor and dignity, they debased themselves to the point of willingly enslaving themselves to a half-blood. The irony had boggled Draco's mind, but he hadn't dared to bring up the subject to his father, who would have snapped, 'Don't question me! You're ungrateful for everything I've done for this family!'
After all, that was the Malfoy way. The patriarch of the family had full control over the rest of it, and Lucius Malfoy had been the official patriarch. Truthfully, his Great Uncle Titus was the real patriarch, but he had unofficially been disowned when he had married a half-blood, his now Great Aunt Morwena. After Draco had buried his father, he had become the patriarch, although there wasn't much family left by that point. Most of it had fought for Voldemort, and therefore ended up dead or imprisoned for life.
But Malfoys were good at adapting and surviving, so as soon as he had "seen the light" in Sixth Year, Draco had immediately gone to Dumbledore and pledged his allegiance. While he recognized he was, in a way, willingly enslaving himself to someone else, he also knew that Albus Dumbledore would never debase him the way the Dark Lord would.
He had had two choices: one, swallow his pride and disgust at being a servant and follow in his father's footsteps, or two, swallow his pride and disgust at working with The Golden Trio and help bring down his delusional family. There was no option three; his father had seen to that. Draco had made the mistake of letting slip to his father that maybe he'd rather not participate in the war at all, and might just hop a portkey to Switzerland or some random country that the Dark Lord didn't deem important. His father had sworn then and there that the second Draco was pronounced missing, the Dark Lord would proclaim him a traitor and deserter, which was the equivalent of working for Dumbledore. So, really, the decision had been quite easy. His inherent revulsion at his family's hypocrisy (and of course the knowledge that his "side" would kill him without even blinking) had overcome his conditioned disgust of the goody-goody Gryffindors, who would make every effort to keep everyone alive and safe - even him.
So now here he was, the beneficiary of most of the Death Eaters' considerable fortunes because hardly any of their written beneficiaries had survived the war. Most of it had somehow ended up in Narcissa Malfoy's hands since her husband was dead, and therefore, since she only knew how to spend money instead of earning it, she had given it all to her son.
The first thing he had done with the large sums of money was donate a small percentage of each (which had still turned out to be large sums of money) to charities, particularly ones who helped orphaned Muggle, Muggle-born, and Half-blood children. He had done this for two reasons. One, the previous owners would have turned over in their graves if they knew their money was helping "Muggle filth". Two, Draco had needed to do some drastic damage control to gain a reputation for himself apart from his father, especially because they looked so much alike.
The second thing he had done was clear out a few of the mansions and cottages, turning them into expensive resorts. While he was negotiating with his uncle's property lawyers, he was also out hiring employees and working with his own lawyers to draw up contracts. He had originally estimated to spend two months in total in his aunt's mansion, but he considered dragging things out just so he could spend more time around Granger.
This bloke of hers, Devon, had a fair advantage against him because he didn't have a bad history with Granger. But Draco had already seduced her to the point of wanting sex, so he was confident that, even without the potion in her system helping him out, he'd be able to do it again. And this time, he wouldn't stop her. He had fulfilled the first part of his promise to her - that he wouldn't take advantage of her while she was under the influence - but now it was time to complete the second part of it. She would give herself to him without outside coercion of any kind, and she would officially be his.
As confident as he was of his own abilities, however, he still needed to scope out the competition. He didn't know how far she and Devon had gone today. While he was positive Granger hadn't slept with him, since she hadn't stayed the night (for Granger just wasn't the type to have sex and then get up and leave), that still didn't stop her from kissing the bloke. Draco was sure he still had the upper hand overall, but if she spent a lot more time with Devon, and liked what she saw, he might have some serious competition sooner than he'd like. Therefore, the next time she went on a date, he'd have to follow her. Hopefully they would go somewhere crowded enough that he could easily eavesdrop, but not so crowded that he'd lose track of them.
~~~\~~~
A/N2: So, your suggestions were highly amusing, but I realized that my prompts last time, and thus your prompts to me, were too plot-driven to be of any real use in this chapter. Unless you count the fact that they made me laugh so hard I practically had a chemical-high from it and therefore was in a better writing mood. Anywho, this time I'm going to go back to the simple few words ad-libbing because that worked really well. Thus, please give me an adverb, an adjective, and a noise. Until next time, lovies!