Round 6, Challenge #5: Someone to Eat With
Confused about which fork to use? Generally speaking, you start with the outermost one, and work your way in. Don’t forget to put your napkin in your lap … It’s time for the week 5; Feast of Love!
Welcome all to the sumptuous 6 course meal of "Someone to Eat With”
A couple of things to remember when deciding which drabbles to vote for (most and least favorite):
Guidelines:
As a voter, you have the option of leaving a brief statement about why you voted the way you did, for both most and least favorite. Your feedback will then be given to the drabble writer (if they want the feedback) ANONYMOUSLY.
Example: Most - #40: the ending was brilliant - OR - Least - #57: the ending fell flat
Please remember writers, that you may not vote for yourselves.
Here we go for week 5!
Choose your favorite and least favorite drabbles. Favorites will receive +1 point per vote, and least favorites -1 point per vote.
Voting ends at 11:59pm, Friday, March 19th, 2010.
"We should look for someone to eat and drink with before looking for something to eat and drink..." ~Epicurus
1
Title: Hero
Author: ayane_tsurugi
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Implied Harry/Ron
Word Count: 484
Since walking through the double doors, Draco’s entire night had been whispers and disdainful looks wherever he turned. He shouldn’t have been there, and the other guests knew it just as well as he did, which is why he had yet to tell the magical menu on the table in front of him what he wanted to eat, and was instead nursing his second firewhiskey.
His was the only table with one occupant, many of the chairs moved so that people could dine with the more socially acceptable patrons of the event, and in some ways he was relieved by that fact. In others, he was relieved when he looked up to see Granger pulling out one of the remaining chairs and sliding into it. But not very relieved; it was Granger, after all.
“Strange seeing you here,” she said, and he laughed.
“Come to talk about me to my face, then? Good for you, Granger. You’ll be the first.” He raised his glass to her in mock ‘cheers’ before draining another sizeable portion of it with a grimace. He nodded to the far side of the ballroom, where Potter and Weasley were sitting side by side, their hands touching. “Don’t you have a front-page photo to pose for?”
She glanced over her shoulder and scowled. “So that the exclusive tomorrow can be ‘Brains of Golden Trio Third Wheel’? No thanks.” He snorted but said nothing, and she took the moment of quiet as an opportunity to study him. “I was very sorry to hear about your mother.”
“Me too,” he said, drawing invisible circles on the table with his glass. “If she were alive to get the invitation, she could be suffering through this, and I wouldn’t be here relying on the kindness of the open bar.”
“You had to know it’d be like this, Draco,” she said, and he looked up at her use of his first name. “Why’d you come if you knew it would be miserable?”
“You can’t be having much more fun than I am, seeing as you’re sitting at the Pariah Table voluntarily.” She just watched him and waited, and he sighed. “I had to honor her memory somehow. I mean, this is the Hero’s Gala, and she was a hero, even if I’m not.”
She didn’t say anything to that, just staring at him with some ghost of a smile on her lips. Finally, she gestured to the menu. “You should really order something. I hear the food’s great.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Have you not eaten either?”
She shrugged, then leaned forward to slide his menu across the table so that it was in front of her. “I was waiting until I had someone to eat with.”
She pronounced her order carefully, then slid it back to him. Amazed, he shook his head, then picked the first thing he saw and said it aloud.
2
Title: The Other Half
Author: vox_rowan
Rating: PG
Warning(s): none
Word Count: 476
Her hand is soft and small inside of mine, like our son’s little paw when he was tiny and new, and his smile was like the breaking of sunlight across waves.
“I want to eat pappardelle with you in Tuscany,” she whispers, and I see the echo of his smile in hers as she gazes up at me from the white pillow.
“Of course. Papparadelle, fagioli all'uccelletto, and a rich, red wine,” I murmur, rubbing my thumb over the translucent skin of her palm.
My mind jumps back, back for a moment to the old stone halls and the worn wooden tables that groaned with food each night. Her constant companions always ate with such gusto, but she was like me, tasting and savoring each bite before consuming the next.
For a moment I wonder how much more time we could have savored together if I had lifted my flagon of pumpkin juice to her across the hall, with a sly smirk as we both thoughtfully chewed the slightly overdone shepherd’s pie.
“And gateau aux pommes avec crème anglaise in Rouen.” Her voice remains soft, but she precisely enunciates the slight roughness of her ‘Rs’.
“Your French still sounds like that of a schoolgirl,” I reply lightly. My throat is closing up again but I have promised her that I will smile until the end. Our son has called me cold because I have not yet shed tears. I am not angry with him. He is young and he does not know that our generation used up all our tears in The Second War.
“And St Patrick’s Day. In Chicago.”
The laugh surprises me when it bursts from my chest, filling the sterile room with its sound. She laughs as well, although it is quickly followed by a rattling cough. I move to fetch her water but she shakes her head.
“That’s not a food, Hermione. And for Merlin’s sake they boil cabbage half to death and drink green beer--Probably dyed with the same filth that they chuck in the river!”
She smiles helplessly at me, “But don’t you remember how drunk you got? You told all of those Muggles that you’d met a real leprechaun and they almost arrested you and packed you off to the asylum.”
We laugh again and I bow my forehead to touch hers. Underneath the smell of pain potions and the faint, stinging magic of healing charms I can smell the sweetness of my wife. I was never taught about gods or saints as a child, but I am praying to all of them with the passion of a zealot.
Thy lips, O my bride, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.*
“A thousand more meals,” I murmur fervently, “A thousand thousand more.”
*Song of Solomon, 4:11, English Revised Version
3
Title: A Proposal
Author: terrayn
Rating: PG
Warning(s): none
Word Count: 493
There was a creaky, old swing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
It reminded him of that eighth summer when he'd flown so far and so long he didn't recognize the place for a Muggle playground until he'd touched down, rain-battered and exhausted. A grimy girl peeked out from under the dented slide and stared at him, gap-toothed.
"How'd you do that?"
"Do what?" he said, shoving the broom behind him.
"You flew."
"No, I didn't."
She teetered fully into view, grubby hands tight around her skirts, and nodded at the rickety wood plank strung up by rusty chains. "Sometimes, I pretend I can fly, too."
He puffed out his chest. "I wasn't pretending," he told her, forgetting all about secrecy and no-magic-in-front-of-Muggles.
She jabbed a finger at him. "Prove it."
Draco eyed her. He'd been warned about dirty Mudbloods and how they could make you sick if you got too close, but this was a matter of pride. This was a challenge. "Get on, then."
He slid onto the broomstick and hauled her after him. Then he shot into the air and she dangled behind him, knobby fingers digging into his ribs, incoherent gasps in his ear. They scooped the air above the crumbling swing-set, hovering over the worn park. "There, see!" he shouted, triumphant.
He pivoted to catch her expression and his breath caught at the stunned wonder in her wide eyes. "I'm flying," she breathed. "I'm flying!"
When it was over, Draco never saw the little girl again, but something about her face stayed with him. What for him was something ordinary and commonplace was Magic to her, and he'd felt so proud to chip off a piece of that intangible wealth and share it with someone who had so little. He had sparked her inexorable joy, him.
"That was nice of you," said Granger, as she fell back down to earth, planting her heels into the dirt below the swing. "What happened between eight and eleven to turn you into a git?"
Draco clasped the metal links above her shoulders and she swung her legs forward, tipping her head back to meet his gaze. "I don't know. It's easy to believe propaganda about yourself when you're surrounded by ancestors and riches you had nothing to do with. You forget none of it means a damn and you're just a freeloader. But it's all hollow. Fool's gold when there's no one else."
He watched her eyelids drift slowly closed in the cool breeze. "Is that what this is about? Realizing you're the ruler of an empty kingdom?" she murmured.
"No," he said, tracing the ridges of her collarbone, each soft breath prompting one of his own. "Just looking for someone else to see, feel, eat, breathe-be stunned in wonder with."
Granger turned and pressed her cheek against his chest, a rueful smile curving her mouth. "Ah," she said. "Good answer. Mine is too. Yes, I'll have you. Yes."
4
Title: Al Dente
Author: hathorx
Rating: PG
Warning(s): none
Word Count: 496
It had been a long and stressful day at work and as Hermione reached her flat, all she could think of was the relaxing, hot bath awaiting her.
Stepping through her front door, she spotted her boyfriend greeting her with a smirk and realised her evening wouldn’t be as peaceful and quiet as she had planned.
Unluckily for her, he was wearing an apron.
“Since you’ve been working late every night this week, I decided, to make dinner,” Draco announced, looking quite pleased with himself.
Hermione felt her stomach clench in horror at the thought of Draco’s cooking.
“Dinner, really?” she exclaimed, struggling to keep her tone neutral. “Oh, what a shame! Unfortunately, I had a really late lunch with Ginny and -”
“Nonsense, I’m sure you’re famished,” he told her, kissing her lightly on the lips before taking away her bag and coat. “I even made your favourite, spaghetti and meatballs.”
Hermione was slightly impressed he’d actually remembered it was her favourite dish. Still, however tempting it was, she remembered the first time Draco had ever cooked breakfast for her and how she had spent the week in bed with food poisoning. The image of his scrambled eggs was still fresh in her mind and it kind of… well, made her sick.
“Listen, Draco,” she started, trying to come up with an appropriate excuse as he disappeared into the kitchen. “I’m pretty tired tonight and simply want to take a bath. I’m sorry but -”
“And there’s chocolate fudge cake, of course.”
Hermione shut up and made a beeline for the kitchen. Call her crazy, but somehow that she couldn’t resist.
She was surprised to find everything already prepared on the table including a couple of lit candles placed between the two plates for effect.
She quickly sat down and Draco filled up her plate. “The lady is served.”
She smiled back at him. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“A couple of dogs eating in the backalley of a restaurant, how could I not?” he answered with a look of disgust causing her to laugh.
At the sight of the delicious food on the plates, her stomach seemed to change its mind and Hermione finally tucked in…
Or rather, crunched.
“Draco, how long did you leave the spaghetti in the boiling water for?” she asked, putting her fork back down.
“I’m not sure, not very long,” he answered, crunching loudly. “I was told they had to be al dente.”
“Well they’re al dente alright,” she muttered to herself. She could feel several bits of spaghetti still stuck to her teeth and suddenly dreaded the idea of tasting Draco’s chocolate fudge cake.
Surely there was a way to talk him out of it.
And then it hit her.
“Draco,” she crooned, sliding her foot up his leg. “How about we skip dinner all together and have dessert in the bedroom instead?”
She knew her plan had worked when he looked up abruptly and grinned wolfishly.
5
Title: You found me.
Author: open_atclose
Rating: PG
Warning(s): None.
Word Count: 360
"I am starving," Hermione moaned quietly to herself, skipping into the next pub she saw, hungry enough to eat anything that wouldn't give her food poisoning. She wasn't too sure about haggis, the Scottish dish of choice, so she crossed that off the list, but as she looked up at the menu posted above the bar, her brown eyes caught a pair of pale orbs that were very familiar.
Furrowing her brow gently, Hermione abandoned the food line and walked cautiously over to the man who had been watching her since she'd stepped inside, stopping just in front of his table. She crossed her arms over her chest protectively as Draco raised one thin eyebrow at her, keeping silent. It was clear by his expression that she had not been invited to his dark corner, and as such he wasn't going to venture the first awkward hello.
"Hello, Draco," Hermione said, as if reading his mind, and he inclined his head with more grace than the witch ever realised he was capable of. "What brings you to Scotland?"
"Oh you know, fresh air, change of scenery. England was getting too small for the likes of me." His voice was the same low, slow drawl, and Hermione noticed that it still managed to send shivers up her spine that had nothing to do with the December chill. She nodded, at a loss for what to say next, when her stomach rumbled, loud enough for Draco to hear apparently, as that blasted eyebrow rose again.
Ignoring the expression on his face, and the voice whispering in her ear that sounded strangely like Ron, Hermione lifted an eyebrow of her own and gestured her head back to the menu.
"Have you eaten? They say you should always look for someone to eat and drink with before looking for something to eat and drink...".
Draco stared at her, the moment stretching into eons before he shook his head somewhat grudgingly.
"I'm not hungry," he said flatly, noticing how his heart seemed to lurch at the disappointed expression on Hermione's face. A moment longer, and his resolve weakened.
"I wouldn't mind the drinking part, though."
6
Title: Movie Night
Author: bookishwench
Rating: G
Warning(s): Spoilers for Lady and the Tramp
Word Count: 499
“Muggle kids sit and watch these things for hours?” Draco asked, eyeing the boxes from the DVD rental store suspiciously.
“Yes,” Hermione replied.
“I don’t get it,” Draco said, poking one of the plastic cases. “The picture on it is sweet in a twee sort of way, but hours staring at this thing?”
“Not the box, silly!” Hermione said, giggling. “You put it in a DVD player and watch a movie on the telly.”
Draco was still frowning at it, his gaze shifting back and forth between the Disney films Hermione had rented and her.
“A movie is one of those things where you see the story as it’s happening, right? And it moves like a normal picture book?” Draco asked.
“Yes, only Muggle picture books don’t move,” Hermione said.
“Well, fine, I suppose I’ll watch since you’ve provided popcorn and Chinese food,” Draco said.
“How charitable of you,” Hermione said with a sigh as she popped the disc into the player.
Draco’s eyes widened as the movie began.
“But, those are drawings! Plain Muggle drawings! And they’re moving! And talking!” he said, reaching out to touch the screen.
“Don’t do that!” Hermione said sharply.
“Why? Will I hurt them?” he asked, looking concerned.
“No, but you’ll leave fingerprints all over the screen,” Hermione said, embarrassed at her over-reaction. “I suppose it is rather like magic if you’ve never seen it before.”
“Bloody close, yeah,” Draco said, hunkering down on the sofa with one hand stuck in a bowl of popcorn next to him and nibbling distractedly on a spring roll in the other, eyes glued to the screen.
Hermione was becoming very amused as Draco found it impossible not to comment on the antics of Lady and Tramp, starting with what an idiot Jim Dear was to stick the puppy in a hat box with no air holes and leading up to Tramp’s multiple bad accents as he explained all the different restaurants he frequented when begging for food. However, once Tony started singing “Bella Notte,” he settled down.
“Am I crazy or is this scene romantic?” he asked. “I mean, it’s two dogs. Actually, it’s a picture of two dogs, but it’s really quite… nice.”
Hermione blushed. She’d forgotten how tender this scene was, but her subconscious had probably picked this movie precisely for that reason. When Lady and Tramp wound up eating the same strand of spaghetti, leading to a kiss, Hermione self-consciously stuffed her hand into the popcorn bowl to give herself something to do.
She really hadn’t intended on grabbing Draco’s hand in the bowl.
He blinked, but he didn’t shift his gaze from the screen. As Tramp gave Lady his meatball, Draco’s fingers curled tentatively around Hermione’s.
They sat that way for the rest of the film (except when Draco needed it to wipe a speck of dust from his eye when Tramp was nearly crushed), their hands a buttery mess and their skin burning from the salt, but neither of them cared.
ooo
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Welcome all to the sumptuous 6 course meal of "Someone to Eat With”
A couple of things to remember when deciding which drabbles to vote for (most and least favorite):
Guidelines:
- Which drabble best incorporates the prompt?
- Is the drabble clever, different, fresh? Does it evoke an emotional response (good or bad)?
- Does the drabble contain grammar, canon or spelling errors?
As a voter, you have the option of leaving a brief statement about why you voted the way you did, for both most and least favorite. Your feedback will then be given to the drabble writer (if they want the feedback) ANONYMOUSLY.
Example: Most - #40: the ending was brilliant - OR - Least - #57: the ending fell flat
Please remember writers, that you may not vote for yourselves.
Here we go for week 5!
Choose your favorite and least favorite drabbles. Favorites will receive +1 point per vote, and least favorites -1 point per vote.
Voting ends at 11:59pm, Friday, March 19th, 2010.
"We should look for someone to eat and drink with before looking for something to eat and drink..." ~Epicurus
1
Title: Hero
Author: ayane_tsurugi
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Implied Harry/Ron
Word Count: 484
Since walking through the double doors, Draco’s entire night had been whispers and disdainful looks wherever he turned. He shouldn’t have been there, and the other guests knew it just as well as he did, which is why he had yet to tell the magical menu on the table in front of him what he wanted to eat, and was instead nursing his second firewhiskey.
His was the only table with one occupant, many of the chairs moved so that people could dine with the more socially acceptable patrons of the event, and in some ways he was relieved by that fact. In others, he was relieved when he looked up to see Granger pulling out one of the remaining chairs and sliding into it. But not very relieved; it was Granger, after all.
“Strange seeing you here,” she said, and he laughed.
“Come to talk about me to my face, then? Good for you, Granger. You’ll be the first.” He raised his glass to her in mock ‘cheers’ before draining another sizeable portion of it with a grimace. He nodded to the far side of the ballroom, where Potter and Weasley were sitting side by side, their hands touching. “Don’t you have a front-page photo to pose for?”
She glanced over her shoulder and scowled. “So that the exclusive tomorrow can be ‘Brains of Golden Trio Third Wheel’? No thanks.” He snorted but said nothing, and she took the moment of quiet as an opportunity to study him. “I was very sorry to hear about your mother.”
“Me too,” he said, drawing invisible circles on the table with his glass. “If she were alive to get the invitation, she could be suffering through this, and I wouldn’t be here relying on the kindness of the open bar.”
“You had to know it’d be like this, Draco,” she said, and he looked up at her use of his first name. “Why’d you come if you knew it would be miserable?”
“You can’t be having much more fun than I am, seeing as you’re sitting at the Pariah Table voluntarily.” She just watched him and waited, and he sighed. “I had to honor her memory somehow. I mean, this is the Hero’s Gala, and she was a hero, even if I’m not.”
She didn’t say anything to that, just staring at him with some ghost of a smile on her lips. Finally, she gestured to the menu. “You should really order something. I hear the food’s great.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Have you not eaten either?”
She shrugged, then leaned forward to slide his menu across the table so that it was in front of her. “I was waiting until I had someone to eat with.”
She pronounced her order carefully, then slid it back to him. Amazed, he shook his head, then picked the first thing he saw and said it aloud.
2
Title: The Other Half
Author: vox_rowan
Rating: PG
Warning(s): none
Word Count: 476
Her hand is soft and small inside of mine, like our son’s little paw when he was tiny and new, and his smile was like the breaking of sunlight across waves.
“I want to eat pappardelle with you in Tuscany,” she whispers, and I see the echo of his smile in hers as she gazes up at me from the white pillow.
“Of course. Papparadelle, fagioli all'uccelletto, and a rich, red wine,” I murmur, rubbing my thumb over the translucent skin of her palm.
My mind jumps back, back for a moment to the old stone halls and the worn wooden tables that groaned with food each night. Her constant companions always ate with such gusto, but she was like me, tasting and savoring each bite before consuming the next.
For a moment I wonder how much more time we could have savored together if I had lifted my flagon of pumpkin juice to her across the hall, with a sly smirk as we both thoughtfully chewed the slightly overdone shepherd’s pie.
“And gateau aux pommes avec crème anglaise in Rouen.” Her voice remains soft, but she precisely enunciates the slight roughness of her ‘Rs’.
“Your French still sounds like that of a schoolgirl,” I reply lightly. My throat is closing up again but I have promised her that I will smile until the end. Our son has called me cold because I have not yet shed tears. I am not angry with him. He is young and he does not know that our generation used up all our tears in The Second War.
“And St Patrick’s Day. In Chicago.”
The laugh surprises me when it bursts from my chest, filling the sterile room with its sound. She laughs as well, although it is quickly followed by a rattling cough. I move to fetch her water but she shakes her head.
“That’s not a food, Hermione. And for Merlin’s sake they boil cabbage half to death and drink green beer--Probably dyed with the same filth that they chuck in the river!”
She smiles helplessly at me, “But don’t you remember how drunk you got? You told all of those Muggles that you’d met a real leprechaun and they almost arrested you and packed you off to the asylum.”
We laugh again and I bow my forehead to touch hers. Underneath the smell of pain potions and the faint, stinging magic of healing charms I can smell the sweetness of my wife. I was never taught about gods or saints as a child, but I am praying to all of them with the passion of a zealot.
Thy lips, O my bride, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.*
“A thousand more meals,” I murmur fervently, “A thousand thousand more.”
*Song of Solomon, 4:11, English Revised Version
3
Title: A Proposal
Author: terrayn
Rating: PG
Warning(s): none
Word Count: 493
There was a creaky, old swing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
It reminded him of that eighth summer when he'd flown so far and so long he didn't recognize the place for a Muggle playground until he'd touched down, rain-battered and exhausted. A grimy girl peeked out from under the dented slide and stared at him, gap-toothed.
"How'd you do that?"
"Do what?" he said, shoving the broom behind him.
"You flew."
"No, I didn't."
She teetered fully into view, grubby hands tight around her skirts, and nodded at the rickety wood plank strung up by rusty chains. "Sometimes, I pretend I can fly, too."
He puffed out his chest. "I wasn't pretending," he told her, forgetting all about secrecy and no-magic-in-front-of-Muggles.
She jabbed a finger at him. "Prove it."
Draco eyed her. He'd been warned about dirty Mudbloods and how they could make you sick if you got too close, but this was a matter of pride. This was a challenge. "Get on, then."
He slid onto the broomstick and hauled her after him. Then he shot into the air and she dangled behind him, knobby fingers digging into his ribs, incoherent gasps in his ear. They scooped the air above the crumbling swing-set, hovering over the worn park. "There, see!" he shouted, triumphant.
He pivoted to catch her expression and his breath caught at the stunned wonder in her wide eyes. "I'm flying," she breathed. "I'm flying!"
When it was over, Draco never saw the little girl again, but something about her face stayed with him. What for him was something ordinary and commonplace was Magic to her, and he'd felt so proud to chip off a piece of that intangible wealth and share it with someone who had so little. He had sparked her inexorable joy, him.
"That was nice of you," said Granger, as she fell back down to earth, planting her heels into the dirt below the swing. "What happened between eight and eleven to turn you into a git?"
Draco clasped the metal links above her shoulders and she swung her legs forward, tipping her head back to meet his gaze. "I don't know. It's easy to believe propaganda about yourself when you're surrounded by ancestors and riches you had nothing to do with. You forget none of it means a damn and you're just a freeloader. But it's all hollow. Fool's gold when there's no one else."
He watched her eyelids drift slowly closed in the cool breeze. "Is that what this is about? Realizing you're the ruler of an empty kingdom?" she murmured.
"No," he said, tracing the ridges of her collarbone, each soft breath prompting one of his own. "Just looking for someone else to see, feel, eat, breathe-be stunned in wonder with."
Granger turned and pressed her cheek against his chest, a rueful smile curving her mouth. "Ah," she said. "Good answer. Mine is too. Yes, I'll have you. Yes."
4
Title: Al Dente
Author: hathorx
Rating: PG
Warning(s): none
Word Count: 496
It had been a long and stressful day at work and as Hermione reached her flat, all she could think of was the relaxing, hot bath awaiting her.
Stepping through her front door, she spotted her boyfriend greeting her with a smirk and realised her evening wouldn’t be as peaceful and quiet as she had planned.
Unluckily for her, he was wearing an apron.
“Since you’ve been working late every night this week, I decided, to make dinner,” Draco announced, looking quite pleased with himself.
Hermione felt her stomach clench in horror at the thought of Draco’s cooking.
“Dinner, really?” she exclaimed, struggling to keep her tone neutral. “Oh, what a shame! Unfortunately, I had a really late lunch with Ginny and -”
“Nonsense, I’m sure you’re famished,” he told her, kissing her lightly on the lips before taking away her bag and coat. “I even made your favourite, spaghetti and meatballs.”
Hermione was slightly impressed he’d actually remembered it was her favourite dish. Still, however tempting it was, she remembered the first time Draco had ever cooked breakfast for her and how she had spent the week in bed with food poisoning. The image of his scrambled eggs was still fresh in her mind and it kind of… well, made her sick.
“Listen, Draco,” she started, trying to come up with an appropriate excuse as he disappeared into the kitchen. “I’m pretty tired tonight and simply want to take a bath. I’m sorry but -”
“And there’s chocolate fudge cake, of course.”
Hermione shut up and made a beeline for the kitchen. Call her crazy, but somehow that she couldn’t resist.
She was surprised to find everything already prepared on the table including a couple of lit candles placed between the two plates for effect.
She quickly sat down and Draco filled up her plate. “The lady is served.”
She smiled back at him. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“A couple of dogs eating in the backalley of a restaurant, how could I not?” he answered with a look of disgust causing her to laugh.
At the sight of the delicious food on the plates, her stomach seemed to change its mind and Hermione finally tucked in…
Or rather, crunched.
“Draco, how long did you leave the spaghetti in the boiling water for?” she asked, putting her fork back down.
“I’m not sure, not very long,” he answered, crunching loudly. “I was told they had to be al dente.”
“Well they’re al dente alright,” she muttered to herself. She could feel several bits of spaghetti still stuck to her teeth and suddenly dreaded the idea of tasting Draco’s chocolate fudge cake.
Surely there was a way to talk him out of it.
And then it hit her.
“Draco,” she crooned, sliding her foot up his leg. “How about we skip dinner all together and have dessert in the bedroom instead?”
She knew her plan had worked when he looked up abruptly and grinned wolfishly.
5
Title: You found me.
Author: open_atclose
Rating: PG
Warning(s): None.
Word Count: 360
"I am starving," Hermione moaned quietly to herself, skipping into the next pub she saw, hungry enough to eat anything that wouldn't give her food poisoning. She wasn't too sure about haggis, the Scottish dish of choice, so she crossed that off the list, but as she looked up at the menu posted above the bar, her brown eyes caught a pair of pale orbs that were very familiar.
Furrowing her brow gently, Hermione abandoned the food line and walked cautiously over to the man who had been watching her since she'd stepped inside, stopping just in front of his table. She crossed her arms over her chest protectively as Draco raised one thin eyebrow at her, keeping silent. It was clear by his expression that she had not been invited to his dark corner, and as such he wasn't going to venture the first awkward hello.
"Hello, Draco," Hermione said, as if reading his mind, and he inclined his head with more grace than the witch ever realised he was capable of. "What brings you to Scotland?"
"Oh you know, fresh air, change of scenery. England was getting too small for the likes of me." His voice was the same low, slow drawl, and Hermione noticed that it still managed to send shivers up her spine that had nothing to do with the December chill. She nodded, at a loss for what to say next, when her stomach rumbled, loud enough for Draco to hear apparently, as that blasted eyebrow rose again.
Ignoring the expression on his face, and the voice whispering in her ear that sounded strangely like Ron, Hermione lifted an eyebrow of her own and gestured her head back to the menu.
"Have you eaten? They say you should always look for someone to eat and drink with before looking for something to eat and drink...".
Draco stared at her, the moment stretching into eons before he shook his head somewhat grudgingly.
"I'm not hungry," he said flatly, noticing how his heart seemed to lurch at the disappointed expression on Hermione's face. A moment longer, and his resolve weakened.
"I wouldn't mind the drinking part, though."
6
Title: Movie Night
Author: bookishwench
Rating: G
Warning(s): Spoilers for Lady and the Tramp
Word Count: 499
“Muggle kids sit and watch these things for hours?” Draco asked, eyeing the boxes from the DVD rental store suspiciously.
“Yes,” Hermione replied.
“I don’t get it,” Draco said, poking one of the plastic cases. “The picture on it is sweet in a twee sort of way, but hours staring at this thing?”
“Not the box, silly!” Hermione said, giggling. “You put it in a DVD player and watch a movie on the telly.”
Draco was still frowning at it, his gaze shifting back and forth between the Disney films Hermione had rented and her.
“A movie is one of those things where you see the story as it’s happening, right? And it moves like a normal picture book?” Draco asked.
“Yes, only Muggle picture books don’t move,” Hermione said.
“Well, fine, I suppose I’ll watch since you’ve provided popcorn and Chinese food,” Draco said.
“How charitable of you,” Hermione said with a sigh as she popped the disc into the player.
Draco’s eyes widened as the movie began.
“But, those are drawings! Plain Muggle drawings! And they’re moving! And talking!” he said, reaching out to touch the screen.
“Don’t do that!” Hermione said sharply.
“Why? Will I hurt them?” he asked, looking concerned.
“No, but you’ll leave fingerprints all over the screen,” Hermione said, embarrassed at her over-reaction. “I suppose it is rather like magic if you’ve never seen it before.”
“Bloody close, yeah,” Draco said, hunkering down on the sofa with one hand stuck in a bowl of popcorn next to him and nibbling distractedly on a spring roll in the other, eyes glued to the screen.
Hermione was becoming very amused as Draco found it impossible not to comment on the antics of Lady and Tramp, starting with what an idiot Jim Dear was to stick the puppy in a hat box with no air holes and leading up to Tramp’s multiple bad accents as he explained all the different restaurants he frequented when begging for food. However, once Tony started singing “Bella Notte,” he settled down.
“Am I crazy or is this scene romantic?” he asked. “I mean, it’s two dogs. Actually, it’s a picture of two dogs, but it’s really quite… nice.”
Hermione blushed. She’d forgotten how tender this scene was, but her subconscious had probably picked this movie precisely for that reason. When Lady and Tramp wound up eating the same strand of spaghetti, leading to a kiss, Hermione self-consciously stuffed her hand into the popcorn bowl to give herself something to do.
She really hadn’t intended on grabbing Draco’s hand in the bowl.
He blinked, but he didn’t shift his gaze from the screen. As Tramp gave Lady his meatball, Draco’s fingers curled tentatively around Hermione’s.
They sat that way for the rest of the film (except when Draco needed it to wipe a speck of dust from his eye when Tramp was nearly crushed), their hands a buttery mess and their skin burning from the salt, but neither of them cared.
ooo
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