(drabble) when in rome
. dramionedrabble : 2010 valetine's day challenge - prompt #4: dirtiest kiss
591 w. PG-13. post-hogwarts EWE (narcissa isn't everyone's favourite future mother-in-law!)
"This is a very distasteful joke, Draco. I'm tired enough already -" Hermione's voice trails fro and aft while she's moving through the room, "-as for some reason there were piles and piles of paperwork at the Ministry today, and -"
Draco catches her and grabs her shoulders.
"Listen", his mouth twitches between a grimace and pure laughter, "stop." He shakes her lightly. "You're talking wayyy too much betimes, Hermione Granger."
"So don't listen. Go - do your stuff. Whatever you're doing these days."
This time Draco can't help himself but laugh.
"It's not a joke, I'm afraid. My mother does want to see you. And the thing is, Malfoys tend to be quite - official on such occasions." A shade passed upon his face. "I could say we're in luck my father's still in prison; otherwise we'd probably have to face the entire clan."
It's not easy for Hermione to bend her will at a snap of fingers, so they trail over a couple of days arguing more or less passionately on the topic. In the end, she balks, throwing in a bargain; she's Hermione Granger, and she doesn't like to lose.
Protocol, she hates. She's reluctantly following it at the Malfoy Manor - currently in an urgent state of decay.
"You should mend that window, you know", she whispers in Draco's ear. "There's a draught so strong I can feel my jaw clenching."
"That's because you're spiteful."
She squeezes his hand till his eyes sting.
"Oh, and Hermione", he retorts cordially, his voice slightly shaking, "we're certainly not kissing within these walls. Malfoy tradition", he shrugs. "No intimacy whatsoever."
"Because of course, you were brought in by a stork."
"Publicly, I mean. Publicly."
"Oh, did the stork bow to your parents and addressed them in witnesses' presence?"
Draco pats her on the back, half-heartedly, as Narcissa walks into the room, and he wouldn't like his mother to interpret that as intimacy. Conversation lags and limps, and soon enough Hermione is bored out of her wits. It's just estates, and money, and high-class gossip, and all she can think of is Draco's knee, so close to hers under the table.
"So there was this time, mind you, when the Greengrasses were in attendance to a very important member of the cabinet; we were there too, of course." Narcissa' s voice is plain and calm, inviting already bored guests to doze off.
"Of course there was a huge scandal, what were you thinking - don't you think it indecent, Miss Granger?"
Hermione's eyes snap open at Narcissa's direct question. She must have napped for minutes; she takes in Draco's half-amused, half-vengeful look, and checks herself.
"Um, I think I've witnessed worse", she says, sincerely enough.
She never thought Narcissa's face could turn paler; yet it does.
"Worst than kissing him in public?" she breathes, her voice shaking. Her fingers clasp the corner of a neatly-fold napkin.
"Oh, that. Well, I still hold to my opinion. There can be worse things. Like -" Hermione throws Narcissa a wicked smile, "-what I'm doing now."
Confused, perhaps appalled, Narcissa doesn't ask immediately, as if fearing the answer she might get. Finally, human curiosity prevails.
"And what exactly are you doing?"
"Well, unless you think as public only that what you can see -" she nods vigorously "-I'm scratching my inner thigh. It's rude, don't you think? Worse than kissing."
And to lend weight to her words, Hermione strokes Draco's thigh once more, under the table, and grabs a handful of him to seal the deal.
591 w. PG-13. post-hogwarts EWE (narcissa isn't everyone's favourite future mother-in-law!)
"This is a very distasteful joke, Draco. I'm tired enough already -" Hermione's voice trails fro and aft while she's moving through the room, "-as for some reason there were piles and piles of paperwork at the Ministry today, and -"
Draco catches her and grabs her shoulders.
"Listen", his mouth twitches between a grimace and pure laughter, "stop." He shakes her lightly. "You're talking wayyy too much betimes, Hermione Granger."
"So don't listen. Go - do your stuff. Whatever you're doing these days."
This time Draco can't help himself but laugh.
"It's not a joke, I'm afraid. My mother does want to see you. And the thing is, Malfoys tend to be quite - official on such occasions." A shade passed upon his face. "I could say we're in luck my father's still in prison; otherwise we'd probably have to face the entire clan."
It's not easy for Hermione to bend her will at a snap of fingers, so they trail over a couple of days arguing more or less passionately on the topic. In the end, she balks, throwing in a bargain; she's Hermione Granger, and she doesn't like to lose.
Protocol, she hates. She's reluctantly following it at the Malfoy Manor - currently in an urgent state of decay.
"You should mend that window, you know", she whispers in Draco's ear. "There's a draught so strong I can feel my jaw clenching."
"That's because you're spiteful."
She squeezes his hand till his eyes sting.
"Oh, and Hermione", he retorts cordially, his voice slightly shaking, "we're certainly not kissing within these walls. Malfoy tradition", he shrugs. "No intimacy whatsoever."
"Because of course, you were brought in by a stork."
"Publicly, I mean. Publicly."
"Oh, did the stork bow to your parents and addressed them in witnesses' presence?"
Draco pats her on the back, half-heartedly, as Narcissa walks into the room, and he wouldn't like his mother to interpret that as intimacy. Conversation lags and limps, and soon enough Hermione is bored out of her wits. It's just estates, and money, and high-class gossip, and all she can think of is Draco's knee, so close to hers under the table.
"So there was this time, mind you, when the Greengrasses were in attendance to a very important member of the cabinet; we were there too, of course." Narcissa' s voice is plain and calm, inviting already bored guests to doze off.
"Of course there was a huge scandal, what were you thinking - don't you think it indecent, Miss Granger?"
Hermione's eyes snap open at Narcissa's direct question. She must have napped for minutes; she takes in Draco's half-amused, half-vengeful look, and checks herself.
"Um, I think I've witnessed worse", she says, sincerely enough.
She never thought Narcissa's face could turn paler; yet it does.
"Worst than kissing him in public?" she breathes, her voice shaking. Her fingers clasp the corner of a neatly-fold napkin.
"Oh, that. Well, I still hold to my opinion. There can be worse things. Like -" Hermione throws Narcissa a wicked smile, "-what I'm doing now."
Confused, perhaps appalled, Narcissa doesn't ask immediately, as if fearing the answer she might get. Finally, human curiosity prevails.
"And what exactly are you doing?"
"Well, unless you think as public only that what you can see -" she nods vigorously "-I'm scratching my inner thigh. It's rude, don't you think? Worse than kissing."
And to lend weight to her words, Hermione strokes Draco's thigh once more, under the table, and grabs a handful of him to seal the deal.