Passing through the Floo of her flat, Hermione found herself more than content to have a much-needed reprieve from work. She and Draco had covered a great deal of ground during their protracted afternoon together. Both professionally and personally.
There had been a number of seemingly out-of-character exchanges with the complicated wizard that she filed away in the recesses of her mind for later perusal, as she was wont to do. And now seemed as good of time as any to revisit them- and analyze them until they were choked dry of any ambiguity.
She ambled into the kitchen, tossing her cloak onto a hook along the way, only pausing to remove each shoe and slinging them one by one onto the floor in front of her settee. It felt like freedom to finally be home and on the cusp of recharging before her upcoming evening with Malfoy.
"Well, well, well- look what the cat dragged in!"
Hermione leaped backward, hitting the wall with a harsh thud. "Merlin, Ginny!" she shouted. "What are you doing here?"
"I think the better question is what aren't you doing here," she deadpanned. "Ron said you haven't been at the Ministry all afternoon and the last he saw, you were with Malfoy. So, where exactly did you run off to...for hours...alone...with the wizard you swore you detested?" She inclined her brow skeptically.
Hermione rolled her eyes, steadily advancing on Ginny who didn't even have the common decency to look guilty for breaking and entering.
"Oh, for the love of Merlin. We were working."
She reached into her cupboard, pulling out two mugs and lighting a fire under the tea kettle. Quickly working her way across the room, she deposited a cupful of Crookshank's cat food into his dish with one hand while precariously balancing a canteen of water with the other.
"Hellooooo," Ginny called, waving her hand from where she sat impatiently perched at Hermione's kitchen table. "I'm over here."
"Yes, I know. But that doesn't mean I don't still have things to do," she huffed, continuing her frenzied sweep of the kitchen.
"I think you are avoiding me because you don't want to answer the questions you know are coming your way."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione sighed sharply, reaching into her refrigerator and taking out the cream.
"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about," she replied in the pointed tone that distinctly conveyed she possessed classified knowledge.
Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and glowered at the infuriating witch.
"Well, that got your attention now, didn't it?" Her cunning grin grew even wider with the small victory.
"Ginny, I really don't have time for this. If it's not important, we can catch up over the lunch hour tomorrow."
Ginny tapped a finger pensively on her chin. "You don't have time you say? Why ever might that be? Going somewhere perhaps?" Her russet eyebrows rose questioningly.
Hermione felt her cheeks burning. "Who told you?"
"Imagine my surprise when I heard Harry was dropping off a Portkey for you and Malfoy to go to France together," she said with proud satisfaction. She leaned forward. "When exactly were you planning on telling me about your cozy little getaway?"
Hermione huffed again as she paced over to the counter and set the cream down next to the kettle. "I would have told you had I seen you. As usual, you're making something out of nothing." She began pouring the cream into the teacups until they were each filled to the top. "The trip is work-related I'll have you know." She moved to place one cup down in front of Ginny, dropping into the seat across from her. "Why does it always have to be an interrogation with you?"
Ginny smirked down into her cup and then back up at Hermione. "Were you planning on serving tea with this or is a cupful of cream what's en vogue in France this time of year?"
Hermione's cheeks flushed as she sheepishly covered her face with her hand.
"That's it! Out with it! What's the real reason you're globetrotting tonight with Malfoy?"
Hermione looked up through parted fingers. "I will tell you, but you have to promise not to tell Ron or Harry."
"I knew you were hiding something!" she bellowed, slapping the table. "And it must be juicy if I'm sworn to secrecy." Greedy eyes alight with curiosity, she hung off the edge of her seat.
Hermione sat up in her chair, brow furrowed with rapid calculation. "Malfoy and I have to go to France to pick up a book we need for our research."
"And?"
"And while we're there, Malfoy plans to tend to some family business."
"You are such a shite liar." She leaned forward, slapping the table again even harder. "You're not Portkeying with Malfoy halfway across Europe to help him tend to family business!"
Hermione despised down to the marrow in her bones how perceptive her red-headed friend was. It wouldn't surprise her in the least if she discovered she was actually a trained Legilimens.
"Look," she sighed, massaging her puckered forehead. "I can't exactly tell you the whole sordid affair, but I am telling you the truth. I'm helping him with some family business...in a way...by accompanying him to his parents' house." She trailed off as the latter part, "as his girlfriend," ended in a bit of a muffle, but unfortunately, Ginny heard it loud and clear.
"Sweet Salazar's saggy ballsack!" she shouted loud enough for Hermione's entire block of neighbors to overhear. "Did you just say what I think you did?"
"I know." She glanced warily away from Ginny. "It's an atrocious plan...horribly ill-advised, in fact. But I promised him I would go and you know I never renege on my word."
Ginny's eyes continued to widen with every word while her jaw lay slack on the table. "I have no idea how you got yourself into this, but Ron is going to have kittens when he finds out!"
Her eyes snapped back to her meddling friend. "I know. That's why you can't tell him."
"Holy shite." She shook her head back and forth for so long Hermione thought it may fall off her neck and roll onto the floor. "Why on earth would Malfoy ask you to go to France masquerading as his girlfriend?"
"He didn't exactly ask me, per se...it was more Theo's idea. It sounds way worse than it actually is," she added, flapping her hand blithely in front of her face. "First of all, we won't even be gone long and secondly, the whole reason for going is just to prove a point to Malfoy's family that he should have a say in who he courts. They've practically dedicated their lives to auctioning him off to the highest bidder. It's awful, really."
"Oh, you'll be proving a point, I'd say- that dear ol' Lucius is still very much capable of murder." She crossed her arms on the table, casting Hermione a severe look. "He will Avada you on the spot if he thinks you've ensnared his precious Pureblood heir."
Hermione sighed. "I appreciate the concern, but from what I've heard, Malfoy's father has mellowed quite a bit over the past several years. I mean, he tends a garden, if you can believe that." She fought to hold back her laughter.
Ginny snorted. "That I would have to see to believe. So, what time are you leaving, anyway?"
Hermione checked the kitchen wall clock. "Soon. Malfoy will be by here at five."
Just then the kettle on the stove emitted a piercing whistle.
"Oh, shite! I completely forgot about our tea!" She leaped out of her chair while Ginny sat with an amused look on her face.
"There is no time for tea if you are out of here at five. You better get your butt in gear."
She hastily set the kettle on a trivet, shaking her head and sheepishly peering back at Ginny. "I may need a glass of wine to settle these nerves. I've been so out of sorts today."
That was all the encouragement Ginny needed. She launched herself toward the liquor cabinet, flying past Hermione as quickly as a wayward snitch. "Merlot or chardonnay?" she asked before deciding for herself that the occasion called for both.
"I probably shouldn't-"
"Oh, you most definitely should." She reached up on her tiptoes to grab two wine goblets from the cabinet and began filling each to the brim with the burgundy liquid. "No one should walk into a snake pit without a little liquid courage," she proclaimed, handing Hermione her glass.
Seeing her hesitation, Ginny reached out to give the stem of her glass a gentle nudge until the rim met Hermione's lips. "There you go. A couple more swallows and you'll be ready to take on the world." When Hermione rolled her eyes, she continued, "Now, what are you wearing?"
"I don't think it really makes a difference," she replied, immediately recognizing the aghast look on Ginny's face to mean that it most certainly did make a difference.
Ginny grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and led her mercilessly through the sitting area into Hermione's bedroom where she unceremoniously deposited her on the bed.
"I could have predicted you'd say that. Now, wait here until I come out," she said, traipsing into her wardrobe and rifling through its abysmal contents. "When's the last time you saw the inside of a boutique?" Hermione heard her holler from the depths of the closet.
She took a rather considerable draw of her wine and swallowed it down in one gulp. Dealing with Ginny when she was in the midst of one of her personal-stylist frenzies all but required it.
"I already told you, tonight is nothing formal. A simple pair of slacks and a jumper is all I really need," she called back, before forcefully swallowing another mouthful of merlot.
Ginny emerged with a mound of clothing hung helter-skelter over her arm.
"Did you find something?"
Ginny dumped the oversized heap onto the bed next to Hermione, blowing a few loose hairs out of her face. "Yes. I found something...I actually found a lot of somethings...that need to be thrown into the rubbish bin this very second!"
Hermione set her wine glass down on the nightstand and snatched the paisley blouse off the top of the pile, clutching it to her chest. "I love this shirt. I wore it to Everard Battings' book signing."
Ginny yanked it from her hands and tossed it back onto the heap. "That was fifth year!" she barked. "No, I can't allow this calamity to continue. Now, stand up." Clutching her gruffly by the arm, she hoisted her upright, dragging her to stand in front of the floor-length mirror. She gave her a once-over with scrutinizing eyes, before sighing. "Shite, we have our work cut out for us- and not nearly enough time to do it."
"You're making way more out of this than need be. You did hear me say we are only going there to pick up a book, did you not?"
Ginny waved her wand at Hermione's modest work attire, transforming her no-frills pencil skirt and blouse into a black A-line dress that stopped just above the knee. "Book or no book, if you're hanging off the arm of Draco Malfoy, you better look the part. Otherwise, his parents will eat you alive."
Hermione looked at her reflection in the mirror and gasped. "A dress!" she protested. "Ginny, I most certainly am not wearing this!"
By then, Ginny had already moved on to spelling her hair into a tight chignon with a few loose tendrils and transfiguring a pair of trainers into a strappy pair of high heels. "Here, put these on," she said, thrusting them into Hermione's slackened hands.
She held them limply at her side, growing more and more flustered with each unwelcome addition. "I'm telling you, this is way too much."
Ignoring her protests, Ginny made quick work of spelling her makeup to give her cheeks a faint rosy glow. With another sharp flourish of her wand, her chocolate eyes popped with the dusting of a smoky shadow and her lips suddenly matched the color of her wine.
Ginny stood back to admire her at arms-length. "Wow. You look fucking stunning." She snatched the shoes from Hermione's hands, crouching down to the floor and all but shoving her feet into them one by one. Standing up, she gave her friend another once over before exhaling. "So, what do you think?"
When Hermione opened her mouth to speak, Ginny cut in. "Wait, I almost forgot." She darted over to Hermione's jewelry chest and rifled through its contents. Deciding on a silver-plated Victorian swirl necklace, she swiftly clasped it around Hermione's neck. "There." She peered over Hermione's shoulder into the mirror, fully taking in the fruits of her labor.
Hermione sighed. "It's beautiful, Ginny, but I still think it's too much."
"Better to be over-dressed than under-dressed where the Malfoys are concerned. I wouldn't be surprised if they walk around their house dressed in tuxedos and ballgowns, to be honest," she said, chuckling to herself. Her mirthful eyes met her friend's reflection in the mirror. "Honestly, Hermione. You look stunning. If you don't succeed in passing for Malfoy's girlfriend, you most definitely will at the very least catch the wizard's eye."
Hermione looked startled. "I'm not trying to catch Malfoy's eye," she defended, feeling a warm blush creep up her neck.
"Maybe not. But would it really hurt if you did?" She eyed her with a wicked grin.
Hermione's blush turned a deep shade of violet. "Ginny, it's not like that. We are-"
"You can't tell me you haven't noticed how deliciously that man fills out a pair of dress pants." When Hermione's jaw fell open and she began to protest, the maddening witch continued unimpeded. "He is far more attractive than any wizard even has the right to be. You have to have noticed how all those years of playing Quidditch have paid off." When she saw the look of utter astonishment on Hermione's face, she shrugged unapologetically. "What? Just because I'm dating Harry doesn't mean I'm dead. I still recognize an appetizing wizard when I see one."
Hermione shook her head, slipping past Ginny to retrieve her wine glass from the nightstand. "You speak of him as if he's a piece of meat."
"Hey, I just call it how I see it."
"Well, somehow his ill-tempered personality has prohibited me from doing the same." She felt a pang of guilt coursing through her as she remembered her brief ogling of the obstinate wizard earlier that day.
"Well, some lucky witch is going to snatch him up." With a flick of her wand, she vanished the pile of outdated clothing from Hermione's bed.
"More like some unlucky witch is going to be doomed to a lifetime of dizzying mood swings," Hermione countered, tipping her wine glass back to drain its contents. "Although I suppose objectively speaking, he has filled into his features quite well." Her voice trailed off as Ginny moved to pluck her glass from her hands.
"Looks like you need a refill!"
"Oh, no, I'm fi-"
But by then, Ginny was already dragging her by the elbow back to the kitchen and depositing her into one of the dining chairs.
Hermione let out an audible groan as she eyed the witch filling her wine goblet to the top of the rim. "I don't want to be pissed by the time Malfoy gets here," she protested, shaking her head.
"Oh, hush. You'll be fine," she said, handing her the glass and raising hers to clink against the edge. "Cheers! To the most fetching witch France has ever seen!"
Ginny spent the next twenty minutes trying to bait Hermione into divulging more about her relationship with the enigmatic wizard, but unfortunately for her, there wasn't much to tell. Hermione swore their relationship remained professional and to Ginny's dismay, remarked that at times it still proved tenuous. Despite the minor breakthroughs they'd had, it was far from the juicy dish she craved.
She checked her watch. "Well, I suppose if it's all the same, I'll leave you to your salacious evening with the Slytherin prince."
Hermione snorted, moving to stand and momentarily swaying on her feet. Ginny grabbed her, holding her steady and fixing her with a pointed stare.
"Don't take any shite off of those two. I don't care how much you've heard they've changed. An erumpent doesn't lose its horn."
Hermione nodded imperceptibly, regaining her composure. "Don't worry. I can more than handle myself. And if all else fails, I'll transfigure them both into beetles and stopper them into a flask for all eternity."
Ginny threw her head back in laughter before enveloping her friend in a hug. "Gods, that's what I love about you."
When they parted ways at the Floo, Hermione was actually thankful her friend had decided to entrap her- not only were her frayed nerves effectively anesthetized, but she had adorned her in attire that admittedly she would have been unable to assemble herself. The clock on her mantle showed ten minutes until five, prompting Hermione to make one last trip to the loo for a quick refresh.
No sooner had she closed the door to the washroom, her Floo roared to life with a dashing wizard dressed all in black emerging from the flames. He scanned the sitting room, craning his neck to see into the kitchen. Without a trace of Granger in sight, he took several calculated steps forward, calling out, "Hello? Granger?"
From just beyond the hallway, he heard a faint reply. "Yes! I'm in here. I'll be out in just a moment."
Draco continued scanning the room, this time for the mangy mongrel, hoping beyond hope he'd escape being ambushed like he was the last time he was there. So far, it looked like he was in luck.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," Hermione breathed, rounding the corner, "I just-" She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the dapper wizard standing before her.
When his eyes landed on her, suddenly the lifetime of formal education in propriety and refinement inadequately equipped him to school his features. His eyes widened as he unapologetically looked her up and down. He cleared his throat, eventually managing to break a few words loose. "Looks like you failed to get the memo that tonight is not a formal affair."
She shifted on the spot, tucking a loose tendril behind her ear. "I have a very good excuse for looking like this, actually. Ginny cornered me," she began and stopped as if to say those three words were really the only ones necessary. But seeing as he didn't know Ginny like she did, she elaborated. "Ginny has a bit of a flair for fashion- and let's just say when she discovered I'd be going out this evening, she pretty much accosted me." She smiled sheepishly, internally cursing Ginny for causing her to stand there feeling like a foppish fool on display.
"Well, it looks like for once a Weasley made a worthwhile contribution to the world. You clean up rather nicely, Granger."
"As do you," she said, mirroring the same objectionable reluctance to give an outright compliment.
"And in the time that has passed since I last saw you, you haven't had a change of heart? Now may very well be your last chance to come to your senses."
Hermione smirked as she grabbed her beaded bag and transfigured it into a clutch. Reaching over to gather a cover-up from her coat rack, she replied airily, "I'm actually rather looking forward to seeing the expression on your father's face when he sees who's draped across your arm."
"How very Slytherin of you," he mused, reaching out that very arm for Hermione to take.
She grasped his elbow with practiced ease, muttering, "Lead the way," before hastening toward the door, down a flight of stairs, and into the alleyway outside her flat.
