Chapter 12: The Most Eloquent Silence

The most eloquent silence: that of two mouths meeting in a kiss.


Nobody on the face of earth heard or saw Hermione Granger again after Viktor Krum and Draco Malfoy left her flat the night they found her unconscious on the floor.

Well, at least for the next two days. And boy, what a difference 48 hours could and would make.

Paparazzi disguised as passers-by who saw the Quidditch star storming out of the Malfoy apartments had let their imaginations run free with fantastically fabricated stories of a lover's quarrel between him and his secret fiancée Hermione Granger, who had been engaged since that fateful Yule ball way back in their school days. Apparently, the couple had gone to great lengths to hide their engagement, as Krum never set foot on British soil for the next five years and Hermione never left Britain. Now that the couple were reunited, they could practically hear the wedding bells in the distance, but evidently the lovebirds ran into an argument over whether they should hold a spring wedding or a winter one…

"I haven't read such fabulous bullshit for a long time," declared Draco bluntly.

Blaise chuckled, shaking out the Gringott Times. "You, my dear friend, are obviously a very sad man."

"'The act at celebrity hotspot Donatella was a touch of genius'," he read aloud and snorted. He faked a feminine voice and cooed, 'Oooh yeah, I didn't want anyone to know about my secret engagement, so I went to the single most paparazzi-infested place in the galaxy where I can be seen throwing spaghetti at my fiancé, then walk out on him with my hot and sexy boss.'"

Blaise laughed out loud. "You definitely have the talent to write your own gossip column. Ever thought of expanding into journalism?"

"Shut up, Zabini," muttered Draco darkly, and moodily reduced the tabloids to ashes.

"Hey," he said suddenly, poking at the Times. "Looks like the whole wide world's all hyped up for your little show tomorrow night."

"Of course they are, they are such dismal beings that they have to feed off my blazing brilliance," bit out Draco, scribbling his signature on yet another contract. "I hope you've found something presentable to wear, I don't want my own staff embarrassing me."

Blaise arched an eyebrow and said jokingly, "Is that all I am to you? Your staff?"

"Shut up and piss off, won't you?"

He grinned. Blaise knew his friend all too well to tell that he was nervous.

"How's the project coming along?" he asked lightly, folding up his newspaper neatly.

"Fine," was the terse reply.

"I'm sure Hermione's done a superb job."

"Of course, considering the fact that's she's so bloody perfect."

"I think I detected a bit of sarcasm in that comment."

"I think I told you to shut up and piss off."

Blaise grinned. "As you wish, highness. I'll see you tomorrow night."


"It's done! It's done!" shrieked Hermione into her cell phone. "I can't believe it! I made it on time! YES!"

Fleur's laugh came through the line. "Congratulations darling! I cannot wait to see eet, I am sure eet will be magnificent!"

"Where are you right now? Maybe you can pop in to see it?" asked Hermione hopefully.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm in a remote village somewhere in Cyprus, eet is a miracle my phone can connect, I doubt there are any floo stations nearby. But I will be back tomorrow evening, I promise to see you before the show starts."

"Thanks so much Fleur," smiled Hermione. "Have a lovely time, I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Bye darling, good luck!"

Hermione hung up and did a funny little dance. To be honest, she felt like exploding into a million little rainbows and unicorns- now she knew what it means when one cannot contain their joy.

Three minutes ago Hermione snipped off the last tail of thread in the finale piece- a fluid forest green silk dress with a plunging neckline that should suit Malfoy's taste.

Not that she made it with him in mind, of course. The idea simply put itself in her head.

The clock chimed nine, and with a start Hermione realised she had not talked to Ginny for some time. She winced as a stab of guilt hit her. Poor Ginny, she must have been worried sick.

Sprinting into her bedroom, she threw on some jeans and an old hoodie. Grabbing her scarf, she charmed the lights off and ran out.

But she skidded to a halt and scrambled backwards towards her studio. She stuck her head in and she grinned like a child who had stumbled on a chocolate factory.

"Oh come off it already," she told herself, shaking her head.

Green flames swallowed her as she flooed to Ginny and Harry's place.


Harry nervously pushed his half-eaten cheesecake around his plate. He was practically sweating, and he glanced at Ginny, still ranting about Fred's new ugly girlfriend and how he could do better.

The boy who lived could hardly believe this. His hand was shaking more than when he met Voldemort face to face three years ago in the Slytherin dungeons.

Potter, pull yourself together! He told himself. He rubbed his nose absent-mindedly. The little velvet box in his trouser pocket dug into his hip uncomfortably as he leant forward to pour more wine into Ginny's glass.

"- an absolutely disaster- thanks darling- I can't believe she could actually go ahead and throw all- darling, are you alright?" Ginny looked at him anxiously. "You look pale."

"It's the light," explained Harry with a weak smile.

Only a couple of candles hovered on the side of the tiny table they were sharing their meal on, casting a lovely golden light on Ginny's face. She had suggested a romantic dinner to mark their fourth anniversary, so Harry set up the scene- white table cloth, tall wine glasses, red roses and the like- and his amazing girlfriend cooked the entire three-course meal.

It was when he was buttoning the white shirt Ginny had ironed out especially for tonight that he decided he would propose tonight. They had been together for four years, and he wanted to start a family. He swore he noticed Ginny's lingering gaze on children in trolleys in the past few months- he was sure she wanted it too.

"Harry?"

"Sorry honey, maybe I had a bit too much wine," he grinned, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

Ginny laughed. "You're pathetic, Potter. You are the most powerful wizard of our time but you can't handle a glass of red wine."

Harry laughed as well, but did not reply. He held onto her hand and started reaching for the velvet box-

A familiar voice broke into their blissful little bubble. "Ginny? Harry? Are you in?"

Ginny nearly somersaulted backwards over her chair in her rush to get up. "SWEET MERLIN!"

Hermione made it to the balcony and was knocked backwards by Ginny, who looked about as ecstatic as… a castaway making it out of his island. Like Tom Hanks in Cast Away.

Anyway.

Sometime during his musings of a palm-leaf-wrapped Ginny on a raft riding the waves Hermione had flung herself into his arms and was squeezing all the oxygen out of his lungs.

"Harry! I've missed you!" she squealed, and he grinned, patting her head.

"Did you have any idea how worried we were?" he asked as she stepped back.

"He's lying," declared Ginny, grabbing her hand and dragged her inside. "He didn't even realise you've disappeared for two weeks until I told him. And you!" She sat Hermione down on their squashy couch and commanded, "Tell me about your engagement to that sexy boss of yours."

"What?" Hermione gaped.

Ginny grabbed the previous day's Daily Prophet and shoved it in her face. "Tell me it's true, or I'll die of grief."

Hermione scanned the headlines and scoffed. "'Off-the-scale Genius and Legendary Playboy: Hogwarts Sweethearts to Tie the Knot'? Ginny, I thought you knew me well enough to have the sense not to believe in this nonsense."

Ginny's face fell. "Oh. So you're not engaged to Malfoy?"

Hermione waved her ringless hand in front of her best friend's face. "No."

"What about Victor?" asked Ginny hopefully.

"We're just friends, you know that," said Hermione defensively.

"Then why was he 'storming away in then rain, trembling with frustrated passion and the pain of unrequited love'?" Ginny read aloud from the article.

"I don't know, you tell me," she sniffed. "It's all you two's fault, you know. If you get engaged then they'll leave me alone. It's just too quiet out on the gossip front."

"Well, Zabini and Parkinson are getting married, aren't they?" asked Harry.

"Yeah, but Blaise has a rather- special relationship with the paparazzi," said Hermione.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Is it Blaise now?"

"We work together," shrugged Hermione. "It's only polite."

Ginny looked rather suspicious. "Alright. Anyway, when's this big holiday you said you would have? Is it sometime soon?"

Hermione grinned. "Very soon. In fact, I just finished my assignment tonight."

Harry smiled. "Congratulations, 'Mione. What's it about?"

"Yeah, you never told us," chimed in Ginny.

"I can't tell you yet, but you'll know all about it very soon."

"I won't be surprised if it's a wedding you're working on," commented Ginny.

"Trust me, it isn't."

"I wouldn't want to work on a wedding," scoffed Ginny. "I just don't get all the fuss about getting married, you know."

Harry froze in his seat.

"I think you gave quite the opposite impression earlier on," teased Hermione.

"I don't mind going to weddings, getting free champagne and truffles is great, but imagine having to pay for free champagne and truffles-" Ginny broke off with a shudder. "Don't you think so, darling?"

Harry started. "Oh yes. Yes, yes-"

But Ginny had already changed the topic to some womanly issue he did not understand. He quietly stood up from his seat and went upstairs, tucking the velvet box to the back of his underwear drawer.


Draco had just stepped out of the shower when somebody started pressing on his doorbell button like crazy.

"What the hell?" he muttered, grabbing a white towel and dragged it gruffly across his wet face before wrapping it around his waist.

As he strode across his living room, the grandfather clock chimed 1 a.m. It must be Zabini with a suitcase, he thought darkly. Pansy must have finally had enough of him and decided to kick him out. So much for getting engaged.

Oh well, at least Draco would get to say "I told you so".

Feeling rather smug about that he opened the door.

Imagine his surprise to see Granger standing there, staring openly at his damp and very well-toned torso. Not that Draco blamed her, of course. Potty and Weasel had always been too busy fighting baddies for body-building, and Lover Boy probably weighed more than a rhino with all that excess muscle. Heck, he'd jump himself if he were a woman.

"Yes?" he piped up bluntly when he judged he'd let the silence linger long enough.

Her big brown eyes snapped up to his, and for once, there were not rock hard with hostility, but rather glassy. Like she was…

"Are you drunk Granger?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. He took two steps towards her and sniffed. "Dear me, you are."

"I'm not drunk," she denied authoritatively, crossing her arms.

"Yes, you are," he told her slowly, as if she were a five-year-old. "Granger, that's the second time I've seen you intoxicated. Trust me, it doesn't cast a particularly positive light on you. What of the young girls all over the world who see you as the symbol of moral superiority?"

Granger blinked up at him. "Moral superiority?"

Draco nodded. "You know, the thing you're always droning on about?"

"Are you telling me that I," she paused, laying a hand on her chest emphatically. "A woman in my early twenties- in my prime- am not allowed to have a good time?"

"Well, that's the impression you give people," said Draco with a nonchalant shrug.

Granger pursed her lips and gave him her best evil glare. "Let me tell you, Draco Malfoy. Just because I don't screw around as a habit doesn't mean I'm a prude."

One corner of his mouth went up in amusement. "Hey, nobody ever said that's a bad thing."

"You're mocking me. Again," she sniffed. "Don't you ever get tired of it?"

Draco pretended to think really hard, then said simply, "No."

Granger seemed to shrink in frustration- like a giant snake recoiling, ready to spring towards its unsuspecting prey.

Draco was certainly not prepared for the aggression that this simple word triggered.

"YOU!" Granger suddenly and violently poked him in his chest, making him stumble back a step or two. She followed him into his flat and turned up the volume. "I'm SICK of you! I'm sick of you acting like you're a GOD just because you sleep with a different women every night! I'm sick of you acting like you're so much BETTER than me just because you are rich! I'm sick of you laughing at me just because I'm UGLIER and FATTER than your supermodel shag-bunnies! And I'm sick of you because you just won't take me SERIOUSLY!"

Draco wasn't even aware of the fact that the little woman had backed him so far into his living room with her vicious poking till his toweled butt hit the sofa.

Granger stopped, breathing hard as she towered- to a certain extent- over him. Draco blew a raspberry.

"Wow, if only I knew baring my chest would have you baring your soul to me," he remarked sarcastically. Then, before he could shut his big mouth, he added none too wisely, "Tell me, Granger. Would you take that top off if I bare my soul to you?"

The woman seemed no less shocked at his question than he was. In fact, she looked so much like a goldfish opening and closing her mouth that it scared him.

"You- you- ugh! You pervert!" she all but screamed, wringing her hands as if in great distress. "You see, this is why I'm glad I've FINISHED my job- so that I'll NEVER have to see you again!" With that, she spun around and stalked away.

"What? Are you saying that you've finished your collection?" he asked, thankful for the new turn of events.

"YES. And trust me, Malfoy, you won't see me again after tomorrow's show, you sick bastard!"

Draco smirked, then faked a surprised tone. "Wait, what are you doing, Granger? Are you quitting?"

Granger froze and turned around. "No, that would put a cramp on my style. Grangers don't quit. You're fired!"

"Hey! You can't do that! I'm the boss, remember? Or are you so drunk you can't tell?"

"I'm NOT drunk!" she screamed.

"Oh yeah? Then why are you yelling at me?" he shot back.

Granger looked oddly red in the face as she shouted, "Because you just told me you want to see my breasts!"

Draco could not believe she just said that out loud. She obviously had problems handling that as well, judging from the slightly dazed look on her now thoroughly flushed face.

He broke the insanely awkward silence with a drawling laugh. "My virgin ears, Granger! Did you just say breasts?"

No words could describe what was going through his head as he watched a sly grin smooth out Granger's frown.

"Wait a minute," she said, sounding completely sober. "Malfoy, were you flirting with me?"

Okay, he confessed. He panicked. Big time.

"Sweet Merlin Jesus Christ Mary Mother of God- NO!"

Granger grinned impishly. Draco gulped. Who would've guessed she could look so… naughty?

"Was that a yes?" she asked sweetly.

"Are you hard of hearing? I said NO," huffed Draco.

He took a deep breath. What the hell was wrong with him? He was the one who did the interrogating. He was the one who was in control. What was with him tonight?

Granger shuffled closer, folding her arms neatly across her chest. "Actually, you said 'Sweet Merlin Jesus Christ Mary Mother of God- NO!' Which, frankly, sounds like you're in denial."

Draco could not believe this. He? In denial? Ha. Very funny.

He leant back into the sofa and said coolly, "I'll be honest with you, Granger. You're deranged. In order for me to be in denial, there must be something between us in the first place. Like a magnetic field of attraction. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm afraid there's only a huge, empty void of a wasteland there."

She laughed. Draco blinked. He'd never heard her laugh- not like that anyway. Like he had just said the funniest thing in the history of time. He was horrified to find his lips on an upward course towards a smile, and he hurriedly clamped his mouth into a grim line.

"Come on, Malfoy, admit it," Granger stopped laughing and went on mercilessly. "You're warm for my form, aren't you?"

"NO."

Then she went for the kill. "Then why did you kiss me that night outside my flat?"

Oh, bloody fantastic. Draco willed his brain to come up with something wonderfully sarcastic and witty that would wipe that smug grin off Granger's face. But with said face within two inches of his own, it proved to be impossible…

… Well, not quite. After all, Malfoys were intelligent creatures.

If Granger wanted to play it dirty, so be it.

Draco stared straight into Granger's eyes, and, having seen the slightest of waver in hers, he pranced.

"I confess," he began, his voice low. "I lied when I said there is only an empty wasteland between us."

Draco smirked inwardly as Granger instinctively drew back, but he caught her chin deftly and brought her face ever so close to his. He heard her breath hitch.

"What are you doing, Malfoy? Let me go," Granger complained weakly, though making no move to extract her chin from his grip.

"Why? You were pretty excited about me being, and I'm quoting, 'warm for your form' just two minutes ago," he taunted her. "Are you shy?"

Draco congratulated himself when he saw chewing anxiously on her lower lip. "This is ridiculous. I was joking, okay?"

He tut-tutted. "What a shame. I was planning to do this."

Having said that, he pressed his lips to her warm mouth. It seemed that he had caught her completely off guard, considering the way she unceremoniously fell on him, straddling him. Draco grunted at the clumsy weight of the hoodie she had on, and with an expert flick of his wrists sent it flying over her head and onto the floor.

He did not even have time to dwell on his disappointment at seeing a modest t-shirt underneath, as Granger took the reins and kissed him. Without thinking, he slid his hands slowly up her jeans-clad thighs, and would've gone further if Granger hadn't pushed her hands into his hair and started kneading his scalp.

He needed to get her off his lap. Now.

Draco all but pushed her off him and onto the empty space on the sofa next to him, so that he was half leaning over her. She was breathing heavily, sending small puffs of hot air onto his warm face. He realised that he was no less out of breath either.

"But since you're not too keen on the idea of me getting the hots for you, I'll have to say- get out of my face."

His head snapped to one side as Granger's hand made painful contact with his cheek. He could only stare at her as she got off the sofa awkwardly, as if she had lost her axis of balance, and walked off without retrieving the hoodie he had gotten rid of.

"See you tomorrow, sweetheart," he called after her.

She slammed the door shut. Draco sat there for a while, then sighed and decided to go for a cold shower.


Edited 29 May 2012

I hope this is satisfactory! Now we have two of them in denial, how quaint.

Thank you to those who agreed to help out as beta readers! I haven't sent this chapter to you as I wanted to get it up as soon as possible, but your help will be much appreciated next time!