Standard Disclaimer.  The only thing that’s mine is the story.

 

Author’s note -  Written in response for fic request #40 for the D/Hr Valentine Challenge.  (Criteria at the end.)  I found this a little more difficult to write because I usually write darker fics.  I think I wrote everything I was supposed to, or at least touched it. I know the storyline wasn’t totally original, but it’s really hard to make things original anymore. Anyway it’s not my usual genre, so bear with me.  I hope that whomever I wrote it for enjoys it. I usually spend a little more time on character development, but I had 15 days to write this and was in a hurry to get it done. 

That being said, enjoy

 

 

I’m dedicating this to my beta, Arlene.  Thank you!! :)

             

 

 

 

A Strange Turn of Events   (PG -13, just to be safe)     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            Hermione Granger was distraught. 

She hated being like this. 

She could usually solve her own problems.  She would find the answers in a book, or would make a little list or an outline, putting her thoughts onto parchment, and then analyzing it from every angle.

But this wasn’t going to be one of those problems.  The problem was whether or not she should respond to the letter. 

And what her answer would be.

 

It had started out like any other day.  She had walked into the Ministry of Magic at around 7:45.  She paused at the familiar spot where the statue used to stand.  She made her way to the elevator, and took it down to the fifth floor.  She walked down the long hallway, took two rights and then a left.  She walked into her small office and began to arrange her things on her desk.  The memo owl had already been through, as well as the regular post owl.  She glanced through her messages.  There wasn't anything that couldn’t wait.  She began to look at the post the owl had probably dropped off just minutes earlier.  There was a letter from Ginny, one from Professor McGonagall, and another one that had caused her headache in the first place.

She recognized the envelope almost immediately.  It was maroon, as they always were.  Her name was written in a large gold script.  The back of the envelope had the official Ministry seal.  She opened up the letter and read through it, as she always had, every single year.  For a minute, she wondered if it was last year’s invitation to the Quidditch World Cup Champions Ball.

Arthur Weasley had made sure that she received an invitation every year.  Of course he was the Minister of Magic, so there wasn’t a lot of problem in getting her an invitation.

            She had stressed over the envelope for most of the morning, not getting any of her work done.  She wanted to go, but she didn’t know if she could handle another year of seeing Harry, and not being the one on his side.

           

 

Harry wasn’t the same boy she fell in love with back in the third year.  He had changed, and in some ways Hermione wondered if it was not for the better.  He was still polite and well mannered, and would still go out of his way to help Hermione.

 He was also conceited and arrogant now, two things that were among the many he became after graduation.  When he joined the Wizarding world, shortly before first year, it had really disturbed Harry the way that people looked at him and acted towards him; whispering followed him everywhere.    He was known then as the boy who lived. 

When Voldemort made his return to power and Harry went public against the Ministry of Magic, the whispers continued.  ‘Lost his sanity’ some had said.  ‘Always been crazy’ others had laughed.  Then he was known as the boy who lied to get attention.

He had given his story to Luna’s father, which changed public perception about him yet again.  He was admired again, viewed as a great person by most. 

A few weeks before Harry’s graduation, Voldemort had finally returned to his full power and made his move.  Ignoring the warnings of his friends and teachers, Harry went after Voldemort and somehow managed to destroy him. No one knew what had happened, but the next day on the cover of the Daily Prophet there was a full page shot of Harry standing over Voldemort’s broken and bleeding body. War had erupted that day, the Death Eaters unsuccessfully trying to avenge their fallen master. Harry had spent a short time in St. Mungo’s, and when he was released, he had been given a new name.  He was now known as the hero that saved us all. 

Harry had been bothered by all the attention, as he always had.  Women threw themselves at his feet, begging for marriage proposals and pledging eternal devotion.  Men would bow down in front of him.  Children would chase him everywhere, begging for autographs.  The whispers were now great cheers, and they followed him everywhere he went.

Someone asked Harry in an interview what he wanted to do with his life.  He had offhandedly said that he would like to play professional Quidditch someday.  Within five minutes, he had seven different owners from seven different teams begging him to join.  Harry had tried out with all the teams, and eventually decided to play with the Chudley Cannons, much to Ron’s delight.  He had been given a ridiculous starting salary, and his own private changing room.  They had changed the name of the home stadium to the Potter Quidditch Arena.  The next day, Harry had mentioned to Ron that he wanted to start looking for someplace to live.  Within an hour, there were hundreds of owls flying overhead; giving Harry directions to free rental properties, and some wizards gave Harry the keys to their own properties. 

It all seemed incredibly silly.  Harry was overwhelmed at first.  He didn’t understand what all the excitement was about.  He got upset about it, and blew up more than once.  But no matter where he went, it was there; the insanity that came with being Harry Potter.  After a few months, he started to bend. 

Slowly, very slowly Harry adapted to his new found ‘god’ status.  He never paid for a thing, ever.  He got free clothes, free room, free food and free Quidditch equipment.  He had witches and wizards that volunteered to be his wait staff which he agreed to.  He never waited in line at a restaurant.

And then there were the women.  In the beginning, Harry had been single and enjoyed it.  Cho had been his one and only love.  Sometime after his first professional match, Harry was accosted by several beautiful young witches.  Most people used their imagination as to where he was taken.  From that point on, Harry was always seen with a stunning witch on his arm, sometimes two. 

Ron and Hermione too had enjoyed Harry’s new found celebrity status.  They were happy that things were finally looking up for their friend.  But about the same time, both of them realized that it was all going to his head.  Both of them started to spend less and less time with him.  But it wasn’t so easy for Hermione to just forget about him.  She knew she had had a crush on him for a while, but as Hermione spent less time with Harry, the aching in her chest got worse.  Her admiration for him now bordered more on obsession.  She clipped every mention of him out the newspaper and kept them in several scrapbooks in her bedroom.  She wrote him often and he would return the letters, sometimes.  But she had never told him how she felt.

She had told Ron.  They were at Hermione’s new flat, celebrating her new job.  They had opened a glass of champagne and had toasted her good fortune.  Between the two of them, they finished off the bottle and started in on a second. 

            “Hermione, I’m so happy for you.  You’ve got a great job and a great place to live.  Now all you need is a great guy to be with.”  Ron told her.

            Hermione blushed, worried that maybe Ron was confessing something she didn’t want to hear.  “Well Ron, I don’t know if I have time for a guy right now.   With work and all, I don’t know how much free time I’ll have.  I’m flattered, but…”

            Ron scoffed, and interrupted.  “Whoa, wait a minute.  You think I’m trying to…”  He laughed again, a little more girly than usual.  ‘The champagne must be getting to him’ Hermione thought. 

            “Um Hermione, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to make you think anything like that.  I… uh… have a confession, actually.

I’m… gay.  I’ve been seeing Justin Finch-Fletcherly for a while now.”

            Hermione sat in stunned silence, letting the news sink in.  She looked at her friend in a different way now, but she took his hand and squeezed it in hers, showing her support.  “I’m glad you confided in me Ron.  I’m happy for you.  I guess since you confessed something to me, I could confess something to you too.”

            Ron’s expression changed.  “You’re gay too?  Who’s the lucky lady?  Justin has a younger sister, and she’s single.”

            Hermione slapped his knee.  “No Ron.  I’m in love with Harry.”

            Ron looked at her, a strange expression on his face, almost as if he couldn’t focus on her face.  “Um Hermione, if you’re in love with Harry, then you’re not gay.”

            Hermione laughed at her dense friend, knowing he was drunk.  “No Ron, I’m not a lesbian.”

           

 

 

            She sat at a solitary table, picking at her lunch.  The invitation was still bothering her.  She wanted to go and see her friend and congratulate him on another great season.  She wanted to see some of the other players and other ministry members that would be there.  She knew she would enjoy herself.  But then she would sit in the corner and stew in her own jealousy while she watched Harry dancing with a beautiful woman.  She knew that she was prettier than she gave herself credit for, but these girls were near goddesses.  Every one of them was near perfect.  Every year that Hermione had gone, she ended up leaving early, trying to hold back the tears.  Why couldn’t that be her in his arms? 

            She was getting ready to return to work when an idea popped into her head.  What if she became beautiful and charming and graceful?  What if she could turn herself into one of those ladies that Harry enjoyed being with?  She had 2 weeks, could she pull it off?

            She suddenly became excited.  She could do it.  She would read about every beauty charm she could find. 

 

            Hermione quickly headed to her favorite book store, and bought the first 3 books she could find.  She eagerly headed back to her office, excited to begin her transformation. 

 

            She walked into the office and dumped the book clumsily onto her neat desk.

            “Do you mind?  Some of us are trying to work here.”  She heard a voice say from behind her.

            “Sorry Draco.”  She told him.  “What are you working on now?”

            Draco sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.  “Moody and Trixie intercepted a shipment that had Wolfesbane, troll mucus and eel intestines.  They wanted me to compile a list of any of the known spells that could be made with those ingredients.  So far I’ve got 18, but I haven’t even touched the dark spells yet.”  He looked up at her.  “I should have known that you were out book shopping on your lunch break.”  He laughed and returned to his work.

            Hermione laughed with him.  Their relationship had been much smoother lately.  When the two of them had been assigned to the same office shortly after graduation, the sparks had flown.  Literally.  They had both thrown a few dozen hexes at the other, and they finally managed to start their office on fire.  It had taken both of their superiors to threaten their jobs before they agreed that their childish behavior had to stop.

            There had been a quiet truce.  After a few months there was an awkward friendship, and then it just became a comfortable one.  Every so often Draco would bring her back lunch, or she for him.  They had gone out for drinks once after a particularly bad day.  There had even been one day when Draco had stopped by her flat when she had been sick with the Terelian flu, and made her pumpkin soup.  They had both learned to respect each other and work together.

            Hermione glanced at Draco working so hard, and then glanced at her in box.   Nothing.  Of course the two of them had different positions.  He was a potions research specialist who did things like read old texts and search for new ways to make old potions.  Even in the wizarding world, resources were limited and substitutions needed to be made.  Draco found the substitutes and sent them to the lab to be made.

 Hermione’s title was Modification research specialist.  When crazy Mrs. Carhop had accidentally transfigured her cat into an ottoman, she had to figure out the reversal spell.  Her work was a little more sporadic, but she was always getting busy work from her superiors.  She had also been mentoring Hogwarts students, tutoring the ones that needed help in McGonagall’s class.

            She took one last look at Draco, smiled and opened up the first book.  ‘A Modern Witches Guide to Beauty Charms.’

She read through the book cover to cover, realizing this wasn’t what she wanted.  She had learned most of this in the sixth year from Ginny.  She wanted something more permanent.  She picked up the second book, and the third.  She cursed at herself for not at least reading through the books before she bought them.  She tossed the last book onto her desk in disgust. 

            Draco glanced up from his work, looking slightly amused.  “Problems, Granger?” 

            She rolled her eyes at him.  “Yeah, I’ve got a problem.  What do guys want?”

            He dropped his quill on the desk and looked at her.  “Huh?  What do we want for dinner?  What do we want out of life?”  He leaned back in his chair, his eyes full of amusement.  He enjoyed watching this ‘scatterbrained’ Granger.

            “What do men want in women?  What do they like?  What don’t they like?”  Hermione asked her office mate in frustration.

            Draco thought about it for a minute.  “Every guy wants something different.  Some guys like the quiet type, some like the smart type.  Some only go for looks.  It depends.  Are you asking what I like?”

            Hermione sighed, knowing that there wouldn’t be an easy way out of this.  “Ok.  Well, it’s like this.”  She got up from behind the desk and walked around to the front, leaning against it.  “There’s a guy that I’ve had a crush on for a while.  No, I haven’t told him.  But I don’t think I’m his type.”

            “How do you know what his type is?”  Draco asked.

            “Because he’s always with these gorgeous, classy, aristocratic, women.  Last time I looked in the mirror, I didn’t qualify.  So I’m trying to figure out a way to become what he wants.  And so far I’m having no luck.  I bought these books, but they aren’t telling me what I want to know.”

            Draco looked at her a minute.  “Do you really think that’s what Harry likes?  Beautiful women?”  He asked her.

            “How did you know I was talking about him?”  She asked.

            “I pay attention.”  He smiled at her.

            Hermione returned the smile, and crossed her arms across her chest, putting herself into deep thought mode.

 

            It was only a few seconds later when she thought of a fantastic idea.

 

            “Draco, you can help me.”  Hermione told him, excitement in her voice.

            “Help you with what?  Getting Harry?”  He asked, slightly confused.

            “Yes, in a way.  You can make me into a lady.”  Hermione said.

            “Um, in case you haven’t noticed mother nature kind of deals with that, Hermione.”  Draco told her.

            “No, that’s not what I mean.  I mean you’ve grown up around class your whole life.  All you would have to do is show me how to be charming and alluring and desireable.”  Hermione smiled at him.

            Draco smirked at her, and then he realized that she was serious.  “Why can’t you ask one of your friends?  What about Ron or Ginny?”

            “Ginny is in Romania studying dragons with her brother.  Ron is… well… I don’t think I should ask Ron.”

            Curiosity peaked, he asked why.

            “Because Ron is gay.  I think his view on women might be a little skewed. 

            Draco laughed loudly.  “Weasley is gay?  Oh that’s too funny.  Maybe you should ask him.  Maybe he was harboring feelings about Harry during school.  You two could compare your favorite qualities about him.”

            Hermione punched his arm, somewhere between being playful and trying to hurt him.  “Seriously Malfoy.  Will you help me?”

            Draco sighed and closed his eyes, more for the affect than anything else.  “Do you really think this is what Harry wants?  I mean, if he doesn’t accept you for who you are… alright.  I’ll help you.  Meet me at my place tonight after work.  We’ve only got two weeks.”

 

 

 

 

            Draco turned on the lights in his small apartment, getting ready for her arrival.  Hermione’s fourth class was tonight, and he needed to get things arranged.

            He had lived in this apartment for about 3 years now.  It was nowhere near as large as the opulent mansion from his youth.  When his mother and father were both killed, he had inherited everything.  The bank accounts, the large sums of money, the mansion and everything in it.  He had dismissed the house elves, sold almost all the belongings in the house and sold it to the first person who saw it.  He hated the house and all the memories it held.  His relationship with his parents had been almost non existent.  The only reason they had conceived Draco was to improve their image in the wizarding world.  After he was born, the couple continued to tour the world, leaving Draco with his nanny.  They both attended high society parties where everyone talked about the Dark Lord, while they sent Draco to boarding schools in far away countries.  When the war started right after Draco’s graduation, Lucius was one of the first killed.  Narcissa’s body was discovered a few days later.

            Draco hated his family name and everything that it stood for.  He hated the way that people cringed when he said his full name.  He didn’t think twice when he sold his parents belongings.  He didn’t want anything to do with that house.  His few memories were all on the sad side, and almost all of them involved his nanny, or a house elf.

            Unknown to all in the wizarding world, Draco was the wealthiest wizard in recent history.  He chose not to spend it or flaunt it.  He had purchased his apartment with money that he had saved on his own.  He had gotten his job by lying on his application and using a few disguise charms.  He wanted to earn something for once in his life.  Draco thought it was more rewarding to say that it was his apartment and his furnishings and his job.  Not something his father had done for him.  He had also made sure to incorporate his life with muggle ways, something his father would have never approved of.

            He had to run to a thrift shop to pick up the thing he had needed for tonight’s lesson.  He pulled out a tablecloth from a drawer and spread it out over the bare kitchen table.  He began to place the settings in their proper order, next to the plate.  Once he was finished with that, he waved his wand in the direction of his CD player.  The faint sounds of Tchaikovsky started coming from the speakers.  Glancing at his watch, he realized that she would be here soon, and made his way into the kitchen to start dinner. 

 

            Dinner had gone better than some of the other classes.  Hermione discovered that she didn’t really care for caviar, but that she did enjoy escargot.  Today’s lesson had been on the finer points of dining with the elite.  Hermione had argued that she already knew how to eat and had good table manners.  Draco had shown her what she needed to improve them.  Hold the fork like this, and cut your meat like that.  Chew, swallow, and then repeat.  They had taken their glasses of wine into Draco’s living room, and were getting ready to continue the lesson from yesterday.  Conversation.

            Hermione had argued the need for that lesson.  Loudly.  She yelled at Draco and told him it wasn’t a joke.  He told her that she definitely had the conversation part down pat, but that now she needed to make it classier.  Hermione had learned to hold her tongue and keep her mouth shut.  Opinions were not always appreciated.  Especially by women.  He had briefed Hermione on current events of the wizarding world.  They were both up to date on the happenings since they both worked in the Ministry of Magic, but as Draco showed her, sometimes the conversation wasn’t exactly the norm.  It was almost a gossip of sorts.  Everything revolved around who you know.  And every sentence always began with ‘I was talking to my brother, so and so’. 

            Their first class had been walking, sitting, and how to carry yourself in a crowd.  Their second class had been about current events.  The third had been about proper conversation.  Hermione had done well in each ‘lesson’, picking up on the finer points quickly.

            Draco began to explain the finer points of professional Quidditch.  Hermione groaned, a smile crossing her lips.

“Come on Draco.  I went through seven years of this with the guys.  I think I’ve probably heard of every Quidditch play and strategy known to man.”

“Hogwarts Quidditch, yes.  Professional Quidditch is a little bit different.  There’s new slang, and there’s different moves being developed at every game.  Have you been reading any magazines lately?  Or been to a game?”

Hermione conceded, and they spent the next three hours going over Harry’s teammates and opponents, their strengths, their weaknesses and 101 uses for a bludger.

 

They had both been quiet for a few minutes.  Draco took a sip of his wine and looked at Hermione.  “Are you really sure that this is what you want to do?” He asked her.  “Are you sure that this is the type of woman that Harry wants?”

Hermione bit her lip, and then responded.  “No, I’m not sure.  All I know is that every time I see him, he’s with someone beautiful and classy.  The women I see him with are always wearing beautiful jewelry, and they always have beautiful manicures.  All of them are regal and graceful and can walk in a pair of heels.”

Draco looked at her for a moment.  “How many Quidditch balls have you actually been to?”  He asked her.

A blush slowly crept into her cheeks.  “Three.  The first one I was so nervous that I spent most of the night in the bathroom trying to compose myself.  The second time I went with Ginny, and she had just broken up with Neville again, and was pretty upset.  So we spent most of the night in the bathroom.  The third time I had to work late, so I missed the dinner.”

Draco studied her quietly.  “How did it happen?”  He asked, and she knew what he was referring to.

She smiled as the memories came back.  “I had a crush on him in our first year, when he saved me from the mountain troll.  Ron was there too, but I only had eyes for Harry.  Later that year, the three of us went to find the sorcerer’s stone. Harry saved everyone from Voldermort and that’s really when the crush became something else.  I was always too scared to tell him how I felt.  When Harry saved everyone from Voldermort in the second year, I really considered him my savior.  It was him alone that saved me.  At least that was how I saw it.  Third year I didn’t know how to act around him.  During our fourth year, I saw a way to get Harry jealous.  I went to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum.  I had seen the way that Harry and Ron both acted when he was around and thought that it would make him jealous and come running to claim me.  He didn’t.  I guess my crush on him has just been festering ever since.  I know, it sounds crazy but when I’m around him I never know what to say or do.  And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell him.  I just hope that he’ll notice the new me.”

“Do you really want to change for someone else?  Wouldn’t you be happier if he fell in love with you for who you are?”

Draco asked.

            Hermione sighed. “I’ll just be happy when I finally have the affections of a really great guy.”

            Draco cleared his throat.  “Alright, tonight is Thursday.  I can’t meet with you tomorrow night, but I’d like to meet up Monday night.  I’d like to see what you plan on wearing.”

            “You can’t meet tomorrow night?  You got a hot date?”  Hermione asked jokingly.

            “No, I volunteer at St. Mungo’s.”  Draco told her.  “Most of the patients are kind of comatose, but I talk to some, and read to others.  Sometimes I play exploding snaps with the kids, or Wizard Chess with the older wizards.”

            Hermione smiled warmly.  “I had no idea you did that Draco.  How long have you been doing that?”  She asked.

            “I’ve been doing that for about four years.  Ever since my father put them there.  I don’t ever want to be compared to him; I figured that was a good way to start.”

            Hermione stood and gathered her things.  Draco rose to let her out.  She leaned up to his cheek, and gave him a small kiss on the cheek.  “Thanks for everything Draco.  I don’t know what I would do without you.”  She quickly left, shutting the door behind her. 

            Draco stood there for a few seconds, and then slowly he raised his fingers to his cheek to graze the spot where Hermione’s lips had just been.

 

 

            Hermione stood in front of her full length mirror in her bedroom.  She ran her hands over her dress, trying to smooth out the invisible wrinkles.  She turned one way and then the other, frowning at her reflection.  Draco stood watching her look at herself.  He looked up and down, and frowned.        

            She raised her eyebrows at him.  “What?  You don’t like it?”  She asked him.  “It’s the nicest dress I have.”

            Draco replied with something resembling a smirk.  “It’s not that.  It’s just that I don’t think red is your color.  I was thinking more along the lines of this.”  Draco snapped his fingers and a box appeared on her bed.  She spun around and gasped.  She carefully pulled the lid off the box and then quickly turned around to face Draco. 

            “Are you kidding?  This is fairy satin.  Do you have any idea how expensive that is?”  She asked incredulously.

            He smirked at her.  “Uh, yeah I think I do.  I paid for the dress.  Go try it on.”

            Hermione squealed and Draco shuddered as she grabbed up the box and hurried into the bathroom.

            It was only a few short minutes later when Hermione came out of the bathroom, and Draco suddenly couldn’t breath.  She was stunning.  It was almost like the dress was made for her.  Hermione hurried over to the mirror to see her reflection. Even she couldn’t believe how good it looked on her.  The dress was made from a sheer material that was almost translucent.  

But then the dress would shimmer.  Almost like a prism, the dress almost seemed to change color with every movement.  It was cut low in the front with a respectable V that accentuated her cleavage without looking slutty.  The dress also had a low cut back, and a provocative slit up one side. 

            Draco finally found his voice.  “Not bad Granger.”        

            “Draco, I don’t know what to say.  It’s too much.  I can’t ever repay you…”  She began.

            He cut her off.  “You don’t need to.  Forget it.  Just consider it repayment for all those years that I was mean to you at school.”  He looked up and down at her again, stopping at her hair which she had pulled into a ponytail.  “What are you going to do with your hair?”

            “I hadn’t really thought about it.”  She said.

            He walked up behind her.  “Allow me.”  He pulled out his wand and muttered a few words.  Her hair twisted and spun itself into a soft French twist.  A few wispy tendrils framed her face.  She stood and stared at herself and couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked.  She saw Draco standing right behind her in the reflection of the mirror, and saw the same look in his eyes.  She felt butterflies in her stomach and quickly walked towards her dresser, digging for her jewelry box.  She found a pair of earrings that actually matched the dress pretty well, and added them to the ensemble.  She walked back towards the mirror and glanced at her reflection.           

            She smiled and said “Eat your heart out Harry Potter.”  They both laughed.

 

 

 

            The night before the ball, they decided to have one last run through.  They met at his house after work.  The dinner was excellent, the conversation was great and Hermione carried herself like a woman of high society.  Draco was proud of himself, but still didn’t agree with what she was going to do.      

            They finished dining and Draco cleared the dishes.  He poured two glasses of wine and offered one to her.  She reached for the glass just as he had shown her.  She lifted the glass and sipped, just like she was supposed to. 

            Suddenly, Draco’s brow wrinkled.  “I saved the best lesson for last.” 

            Hermione looked at him, confused.  “I haven’t learned everything?  What else is there?” 

            Draco waved his wand in the direction of his stereo.  Soft music started to flow from the speakers.  Draco reached over and took Hermione’s glass from her, placing it on the coffee table next to his.    He took her hand and walked her over to the center of his living room.  He placed her left hand on his shoulder, his right hand around her waist, and clasped her left hand in his.  He shifted so that they were closer together, and began to move his feet. 

            “One two three, one two three.  Follow my lead.  If you get confused, just make small steps and move where he does.  One two three, one two three, yeah like that.”

            The two of them began to dance more confidently.  Their movements had become more fluid and graceful.  Hermione finally gathered the nerve to look away from her feet and look up into his face.  She looked into his eyes and noticed for the first time the blue speckles in the gray iris.  She smiled at him, and he smiled back.  He began to spin around a little now, throwing some different steps into the dance, and Hermione kept up with him at every step.  He gazed into her chocolate brown eyes and felt his insides churning.

            The song ended and they broke apart.  Suddenly there was awkwardness and a silence between them.

            She offered her hand to him, and then pulled it back.  “Well wish me luck tomorrow.  See you at work on Monday.”  She stepped back from him and before he could say anything, she apparated from his living room.

            “Hermione, wait…” but she was already gone.

 

 

 

            ‘They should be having dinner right about now’ Draco thought to himself.  He was still upset with himself for not going after her. ‘Why didn’t you go after her?’ he kept thinking to himself.  ‘Easy.   Because she doesn’t want you the way you want her.  She wants him.  Harry bloody Potter wins again and the dumb bullock doesn’t even realize it.’  Draco poured himself another glass of wine.  Did it really matter if he got drunk?  Not really.  He had two days before he needed to go to work.

Maybe he wouldn’t get drunk.  Maybe he would just drink until he forgot about how she had felt in his arms.

           

 

            Draco awoke to the sound of birds chirping.  ‘Stupid fucking birds’ he thought. ‘Why are they so cheerful all the time?’  His body adjusted to his surroundings, and he slowly opened his eyes.  He had fallen asleep on a lounge chair on his patio.  A bottle of wine was nearby, half full.  He tried to swallow but the cotton mouth that comes with a long night of drinking had set in.  He got up for the chair and went to get a glass of water and a couple of ‘Henderson’s Quick Hangover Remedy’s’.  When he walked into his living room, he froze.  There was someone stretched out on his couch.

            His discomfort forgotten, he went to the body on the couch and gently shook her arm.  “Hermione?” he called.

            Her eyes opened and she blinked several times.  She sat up half way, and then burst into tears.  She wrapped her arms around him.  He shifted and sat up.  She looked down at the ground and started sniffling.

            “Hold on a minute.  Let me get us both a cup of coffee and then you can tell me all about it.”  She nodded.  She was still sniffling, but seemed to have calmed down.  Draco headed to the bathroom, found his head’s desire, and swallowed them quickly.  The relief was almost immediate.  He wasn’t sure that he wanted to listen to Hermione’s problems today, and he was equally sure that he didn’t want to hear about them with a headache.  He splashed some water on his face.  Feeling better, he went to the kitchen and started to make a large pot of coffee.  He had a feeling this was going to be a long day.  ‘We worked so hard.  What had happened?’  He thought.

            He put the pitcher of coffee, milk and sugar on a tray and carried them into the living room. He placed them on the coffee table and sat down next to her.  She had composed herself a little more, and had stopped crying.  They each took a mug and began to fill it with their necessary condiments.  Both of them sipped at the warm drink, not wanting to talk.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it, and she didn’t know where to begin.

            “How long have you been here?”  He asked her.

            “I got here around four.  I had been walking around downtown, and I didn’t really know where else to go. So I came here.  I didn’t want to wake you up.  You looked like you had a bad night.”  She said, her voice barely reaching him.  She wouldn’t make eye contact with him. 

            He swallowed what was left, and poured himself another cup.  “So the party went that badly, huh?”

            “Actually no, the party itself was great.  I felt so at ease among the other guests.  I did everything just like you told me.  I think a lot of people actually liked me.  I felt like a natural.”  She smiled, looked up at him and quickly returned her gaze to her lap.  “The dinner was wonderful and I met some really interesting people.  I finally got up the courage to go and say hello to Harry.”  She blushed and continued.  “I think it’s safe to say that he liked the dress too.  It was like I had always imagined it would be.  He actually started to ignore his date.  He hung on my every word.  He thought that I was appealing and sexy and classy.  He started to flirt with me. I was so excited.” 

            She took another drink, and then the tears started to slowly make their way down her face.  “Then the music started, and people started to dance.  He asked for my hand, and then escorted me onto the dance floor.  He held me in his arms and I thought I was in heaven.”  She stopped.  He waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. 

            “What was the problem then?”  He asked, not quite understanding.

            She looked up then, tears staining her face.  “He wasn’t you.  I felt so safe and protected in his arms, but I couldn’t concentrate.  All I could think of was how much better it felt in your arms.  I pulled myself from him and left the dance floor.  He kept asking me what was wrong, if I felt ok.  I told him I just needed some fresh air.  I went out onto one of the open balconies, and he followed me.  He started to touch me, and then he pulled me into his arms and kissed me.”  She looked up at him and it was all he could do not to grab her himself.  “I’ve always dreamed of him kissing me like that.  But I stopped and pushed him away.   I kept wishing that it was your lips against mine.”  She looked down again.  “I left the party, and wasn’t really sure where I should have gone.  So I walked around for a few hours. That’s been the only thought in my head for a while now.  I wanted to come here and tell you what happened, while I still had the courage to.  I know it doesn’t change anything between us, but I wanted you to know that you didn’t fail in training me.  I failed when I fell for you.”

            Neither one of them spoke.  Minutes passed and he finally reached over and took her hands into his. 

            “I’m glad you told me.  I wasn’t sure how I was going to tell you.”  He said.

            “Tell me what?” She asked her voice full of hope.

            “Tell you that Potter is a bloody fool to not see what I’ve seen all along.”  They both smiled and he reached up to wipe the tears off of her cheeks with his thumbs.  He pulled her face into a gentle kiss and both of them sighed.

            Draco stood and took Hermione’s hand.  He led her towards his bedroom, and Hermione willingly followed.

 

            Their coffee got very cold.

 

 

~Fin~

 

FIC REQUEST #40:

Rating(s) of the Fic: Any

3 - 5 Things to Include in the Fic:
1. Love but a slow development of a love theme, and jealousy.
2. I'd like regret (as in if Harry was in love with Hermione and now she's with Draco, he regrets it. She doesn't take him back though.)
3. Ron bashing
4. Humour
5. Original Plot

What Not to Include in the Fic:
Bondage, sadism, death of main character, non-con, incest

 

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