5. The Theater
A/N: Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter in any sense! All rights belong to JK Rowling, and I am making no money from this fic!
"Good morning, sleepy head." My mother looks up from her Muggle newspaper with a smile.
I shake my head slightly, laughing at her. "You're really weird, mum. I hope you know that."
She laughs too, sliding from the barstool to join me in the kitchen. "What? You loved my pet names when you were four!" She wraps her arms around me from behind in an awkward hug as I get a mug from the cupboard.
"Yeah, ten years ago." I mutter, flicking the switch at the base of our electric tea kettle to heat the water. "These Muggle inventions are so strange! You'll never believe what Hermione showed me the other day—it's this bowl that sits in this torture device thing. She called it a 'mixer'. That's how she makes cookies." Mum is starting to look interested, so I quickly skim over the topic by introducing another. Truth be told, I wasn't really listing to my neighbor girl's talk on the mixer—I was too busy staring at her cute face. Not that I was staring, exactly. More like 'studying intently'. "So, how do you like Mr. and Mrs. Granger?"
We've lived in London for a week and two days exactly, and we've already eaten with the Grangers four times. I think that Mum and Myranda have really hit it off, though she mostly leaves the talking up to me, so I'm not entirely sure. Mrs. Granger is kind and bubbly, and her husband is as dark and tall as she is fair and petite. He's very intelligent—though I figure they must both be to be dentists. If I ever wanted to figure out what a real family should be like, I'd look at the Grangers. They're kind, loving, and never seem to fight. Hermione's one lucky girl to have a father like she does. My father probably has no idea where we are—if he did I have no doubt but that he'd come searching.
"… And it really sounds like a strange job."
I blink, realizing that mother has been talking away and I've been ignoring her the entire time! I nod vaguely. "Yeah. I totally agree."
"Do you have any plans today?" She pours herself a cup of tea with the steaming water from the kettle, leaving enough for me.
"Mmhm. Hermione's going to show me what a movie is. We're going to the theater down the road. Is that okay?" I drop a sugar cube into the drink, watching it melt with rapt attention.
"Sure. You know, I'm really glad that you've found a friend here, Draco. It makes me so proud to know that you're getting along with Hermione. Do you think that she fancies you?"
"What?" I choke on my tea, spewing the hot liquid across the kitchen. "You've got to be kidding me. Hermione? Fancy me? No way—she's only doing this because she says it's her duty." I drop to my knees, wiping the tea up with a rag while my mother laughs.
"Her duty?" She shakes her head slightly and exits the kitchen with a chuckle, leaving me utterly bewildered.
"Promise me you won't be scared?" Hermione's dark eyes pierce me as she looks me over.
"I promise! I'm not a wimp—I'm really very brave, you know."
She nods, eyes narrowed scathingly. "I can tell from your remarkable acts of heroism at school. What was I thinking getting tickets to a horror movie for your first film? You'll likely wet you pants or run out of the theater screaming, or something like that!" She tangles her hands in her brown curls, pacing before the theater door and effectively managing to block about a dozen people from entering.
I pull her gently to the side, trying to reassure her. "I asked what films you like to see, and you said horror. Trust me, if you can handle it then I can!"
"Are you sure? You know, there's a romance playing right now, and-"
I laugh, cutting her off. "Haha—no. I'll take the horror, thank you very much, Hermione. You know, it sounds to me like you might be the one who's scared! Are you all right with this?"
She nods, covering her frown with a brave mask. "Of course! I watch movies like this all the time! Like, every day."
"Fine then, let's go in." I grab her arm, tugging her into the theater with determination. "How does this work, now?"
Hermione takes a deep breath, gesturing down a red carpeted hall. "We're in theater six—down here. I've got some popcorn in my purse, so we don't need to buy anything."
"In that little thing? How much could you squeeze in? Two kernels?" I slap her small handbag playfully, and she snorts.
"I'm a witch, remember? I have more than one trick up my sleeve. Now shut up before you get a permanent burn from my flaming awesomeness." Hermione whispers. I hold the door to the darkened room open for her, and she nods in thanks as well pass through a rather long hall.
The theater reminds me of the place where our family went to see a play when I was younger, only a bit smaller and much darker. Rows of seats stare out at a giant blank screen. Hermione leads me to the very back of the theater, promising me that these seats will have the best view. I find her hand in the dark, giving it a reassuring squeeze to slow her heavy breathing. "Are you sure that you're all right?" I hiss, and she nods.
"Yes—yes, I'm fine. But I lied! I've never seen a scary film before—I just wanted to impress you." She whispers quickly.
I ignore the flame of heat rising to my cheeks. Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, wanted to impress me? "Well, it's not like it's real, or anything. I'm here—we can be scared together. I'll bet lots of the Muggles will freak out anyway, so nobody's going to mind if you scream."
Her hand tightens around mine for a fleeting, heavenly moment before she pulls away. "Thanks, Draco." People begin filtering into the theater, taking their seats as the screen suddenly lights up and sound washes over us. I wince—I hadn't been expecting this experience to be quite so loud. "Now, first they'll play lots and lots of previews and ads. Basically, video clips of things that they want us to buy, and sections from other movies that they want us to pay to see. It's all about the money." I grin, amused by her observations. She unzips her purse while I watch in fascination—the women in these "ads" are practically flawless!
She presses a cold can into my hand, and I realize that she's managed to fit drinks into her purse as well. "Wha- how did you?" I begin to ask, but she cuts me off with a hiss for silence.
"All in good time, my man, all in good time." She jokes, passing me a bag of popcorn. I hear the sound of her popping the seal on her soda can in the near darkness, and the noise fills me with a sense of joy.
I was fairly close with the other Slytherins back at Hogwarts. We played truth or dare in the Common Room and made jokes about the other students. I suppose that I was accepted and perhaps admired, but I was never loved. They weren't real friends, just people for me to use. They probably held similar regards for me—I know that many of them secretly despised me. Even Pansy Parkinson was never as close to me in private as she was in public. A place on Draco Malfoy's arm served her well, but only while others were watching.
Sitting here with Hermione and watching an advertisement for gummy fruit vitamins, I feel liked. She cares for me enough to ask me to spend the afternoon with her, when she could be sitting in the arms of Frank the Soda Fountain guy instead. She took the time to pack me food, and she went out of her comfort zone to try to impress me. It makes me feel valuable and that I'm worth more than social status.
"Thank you, Hermione." I murmur, catching the sound of her light laugh. Her eyes glint under the light of the screen as she turns to look at me.
"You're welcome, Draco. You know, when you moved in next door I was really upset, but I guess you're not half-bad after all." She looks back at the advertisement, gesturing slightly at a beautiful woman in a low cut dress who is talking about her pimple cream's effectiveness. "Merlin. Sometimes I really wish that I could look like that." She whispers, more to herself than to anyone else.
I frown in the dark, wondering why on earth this confident pretty girl would want to look like any old Muggle woman. "You shouldn't think that! You're great the way you are." I blurt out before I can stop my own stupid mouth. Oh, crumbs! I cannot believe that I just said that aloud.
She gives me a funny look, her face almost unreadable in the gloom. "Really?" She asks simply, looking away as if declining a response. I sigh and take a sip of my cold drink, trying to counteract the sudden warmth flooding my body. I don't have anything for Hermione—I really don't! It's just that she's so—she's so perfect. "Ooh! It's starting!" Her dark fingers tighten around the arm rest of her chair, and she takes a deep breath.
"What is this called again?" I whisper.
"The Paperboy. I only picked it 'cause the main guy has a hot nose." She squeaks. I instinctively touch the tip of my own nose, wondering if she judges men by that feature only.
"Interesting." I admit with a wry laugh. In the dark, I can feel her fingers entwine with mine as the feature begins.
"That was so… FREAKING AWESOME!" Hermione slaps her legs and does a sort of jig around me. I clutch my stomach, feeling nauseous from the ninety-seven minutes of murder that I just sat through. Her white sundress swirls around her as she bounces up and down on the balls of her feet, her wild hair tumbling across her shoulders. "Wow. I have the jitters—that is my new favorite movie. That was incredible. Wow, am I ever exhilarated."
"Glad you liked it." I sigh. I wasn't frightened by the film, but I can't deny that I'm disgusted. "Hermione… how could you enjoy watching that little boy destroy so many people's lives without a second thought? I just don't understand." When she had selected a horror movie, I had expected a film with demons or werewolves, or something like that- not a movie about a sociopath twelve year old!
Hermione halts, staring at me with slight concern. "I'm sorry, Draco. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to… Well, I sort of got carried away. You do have a point. You see, Muggles watch movies with death nearly every day of our lives… and maybe we get a bit desensitized. You are okay, right?"
"Yeah, I'm good. Just a little surprised that people watch that kind of thing for fun. I don't want to dampen your day though." I blush. I'm not a sensitive kid, and I've never considered myself to have qualms with death… but maybe I'll take more time to think about that kind of thing next time I see the obituaries in Mum's Muggle newspaper. I just hope that I'm not coming off as a wuss in front of Hermione.
To my surprise, she seizes my hands, gazing into my eyes with adoration. "Thank you, Draco. I'm glad that you really do have a heart after all." Before I know what's happening, she jumps to her tiptoes and presses her soft lips to my cheek.
A/N: I also don't own the film that Draco and Hermione just went to, so don't sue me. Please review! Oh, and if you like Draco Malfoy love stories, please check out my completed story "The Abuser". Have a lovely day!