Fic: Lost in Austen
Title: Lost in Austen
Word Count: 1,984
Pairing: Draco Malfoy / Hermione Granger
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Only the plot is mine
Summary: Hermione and Draco debate on the worthiness of Austen's heroes
Author's Notes: Lost in Austen is a funny and delightful create your own adventure type of story written by Emma Campbell Webster, focussed on (as you can guess) Jane Austen stories. You take on the role of Elizabeth Bennett, and your mission is to make the right decisions throughout the story so as to end up making an advantageous marriage (read: love and money and not necessarily in that order). Depending on the choices you make, you may not end up with Mr. Darcy, but with Mr. Knightley from Emma, or Captain Wentworth from Persuasion, or horror of horrors, die a bitter old virgin with nary a marriage proposal to your name! The characters referenced in relation thereto are the copyright of Emma Campbell Webster and Riverhead Books. Alas, poor Ms Austen is already of out of copyright.
Beta: catcachoo from PI
Hermione Granger laughed out loud at the ending she encountered on page 111 of Lost in Austen. Killed by a book, and one on sermons, no less! An end most befitting the sanctimonious Mr. Collins. She chuckled to herself again. Ah, there was nothing like coming home to a good book on a Friday evening.
“Going crazy in your old age, Granger?” a familiar voice drawled, amusement clearly laced in its tones.
Hermione stopped laughing and turned to face her former school nemesis and current co-worker in the International Magical Office of Law at the Ministry of Magic. He grinned at her, his grey eyes full of mischief in that long pointy face of his. It had been nine years since the War had ended and Draco Malfoy still looked as long and pointy as he had when they first met on the train to Hogwarts. It was not to say he did not look attractive; he was, in fact, considered quite good looking by some witches (and even some wizards): he had filled out his previously slender build and had grown much taller. Even Hermione, not one to be drawn in by looks, admitted (though only to herself) that Draco Malfoy did indeed get better with age. However, the nose was still sharp, as were the cheekbones, and the chin continued to remain as pointy as it ever was.
Hermione rolled her eyes at Malfoy. “Haha. Very funny, Malfoy. I was laughing to myself, if you must know, because of this book.” She waved said book in the air. “The same book you gave me for my birthday.” She suddenly frowned. “What are you doing in my apartment, anyway? Did you forget we’ve finished the project?”
Draco Malfoy looked at the bushy haired witch in front of him and strongly resisted the urge to wave his wand in an attempt to get her hair into some semblance of order. Instead, he gracefully settled his long frame onto the couch beside Granger, deftly plucking the book out of her hands and ignoring her scowl.
Three years of being colleagues in the same office with their respective rooms next to each other had provided a new dimension to their relationship. From enemies, they had slowly but surely become friends. As they were both intelligent and had work styles that complemented each other, they were forced by circumstance (or rather, by their head of department) to work together. It was from there that past grievances were finally forgiven, prejudices were let go and a healthy respect for the other (though it was grudgingly given at first) had grown.
“No. I’m not the one descending into senility and old age.” Draco grinned at her. She scowled. “I just thought we could go out for dinner, seeing I didn’t get to see you much at your birthday party on Tuesday, what with Potty and Weasel hogging you the whole night.” He settled himself comfortably next to Hermione. “And not to mention that Smith chap constantly trying to ask you out on a date,” he murmured to himself.
“Let’s see,” Draco said, glancing at the page Hermione was at and ignoring her scowling face and muttered imprecations about hexing his pointy chin until it poked him in the eye. That last caught his attention. “Really, Granger. What is it with you and my chin? I think it’s quite manly, myself.” Ignoring her snort of disgust and the poke of her elbow into his tummy, he continued and leered at her. “You obviously have very strong feelings about it. Can’t get enough of me, eh?”
Hermione threw her hands up in the air. “Honestly, Draco. Give me the book.” She attempted another try at the book and failed. “Merlin, you’re as irritating and as full of yourself as Mr. Collins in Pride and Prejudice.”
“Collins?! I thought I was more of a Mr. Darcy, what with my fine, tall person, handsome face, noble mien and ten thousand a year,” Draco quoted from the book, still managing to evade Hermione’s grasping hands and keeping a wary eye out for her bony elbow. He liked to think he had abdominal muscles of steel but obviously Granger’s elbow must have been made of titanium. It had hurt where she poked him. It also hurt, a little bit, when he found out she thought he was like that annoying, holier than thou irksome character, Mr. Collins. Why, he was a Mr. Darcy! At the very least, he should be Mr. Wickham, who admittedly was a degenerate but still a good looking, charming bloke; but surely not Mr. Collins! Brightest witch of our age, indeed! Hmph!
Hermione could sense that Draco was not too happy with the comparison she’d made and instantly felt guilty. Truth be told, she had gotten very fond of Draco Malfoy. She wasn’t sure how it happened, but it did. She’d gone from thinking of him as her enemy and a forced-to-work-with colleague, to someone she liked and respected, to a friend. And now, now to something more that she herself was just the tiniest bit afraid of admitting.
It had started off innocently enough: tight deadlines to come up with a draft of a new treaty to propose to the International Confederation of Wizards had meant late nights in the office together, which in turn had meant dinner after work together, and meeting up over the weekends to discuss the draft, which in turn had meant spending time in her apartment or in his. Once the discussions were over, they had moved on to discussing other things and had taken the chance to have lunch or dinner or tea together.
That had been five months ago.
Last week, they had finished the draft: the late nights at the office were over and so, too, the lunches and teas and dinners. Life had returned to normal. Only she hadn’t. She had gotten used to having him around her. He was someone to converse intelligently with, someone who shared common interests with her. They’d moved on to different projects and the only time she’d seen him outside of work the past week was at her birthday party, three nights ago. Having heard enough of how she loved Jane Austen, especially Pride and Prejudice, he’d given her a create your own Jane Austen adventure story book.
She had missed him, and despite his snarky comment about her age and the hijacking of her book, she was really happy to see him tonight.
Gathering her courage (I’m a bloody Order of Merlin, First Class. I have courage!) because she knew Draco would never let her forget it, Hermione apologised and tried to assuage what she perceived as Draco’s hurt pride. “Fine, not Mr. Collins then,” she said begrudgingly. Remembering that she wanted to soothe his hurt pride, she added, “What about Mr. Knightley, in Emma? He was supposed to be good looking, eh?”
Draco smirked, glad to at least have Granger admit he was good looking. He decided to be contrary though; he enjoyed baiting her. And really, she apologised - he should be milking it for all its worth! “Mr. Knightley? You must be joking! He’s old, and furthermore, he’s a nag. According to this book, if you married Mr. Knightley, you’d be a loser. So, I’m unable to accept your apology, Granger.”
“What rot! Give me that book,” Hermione exclaimed.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Draco sang, still keeping the book out of her reach. “I must insist on being likened to a proper hero: someone young, rich, good looking, well-mannered. Noble.” Draco tapped his finger on his lip. “Someone like, hmm, let’s see. Mr Darcy,” he proclaimed triumphantly.
Hermione glowered and said, “Honestly, Draco, this is silly. Why on earth do you want to be Mr. Darcy? He’s an arrogant chap and quite the snob when he wants to be.”
Draco cocked his head at her and decided it was time to come clean, Malfoy pride be damned. He had realised for some months now that he was extremely attracted to Granger. Seeing Smith that night try to make the moves on what he perceived was his (or, well, soon to be his) girl had prompted him to make a clean breast of it and get her for himself. Besides, he suspected she might be interested in him as well (Malfoy pride at work here), having caught her staring at him with soft smiles when she thought he wasn’t looking.
He cleared his throat. “Why do I want to be Mr. Darcy? Well, because, out of all Austen’s heroes, he’s the best one: good looking, good breeding, lots of money. And there's the fact that he goes and gets the girl he wants. Well, he does it in a rather roundabout fashion, but he does all those things for her. But the most important reason is that he’s your favourite Austen hero. And that’s what I want to be. Well, not your favourite hero, but your favourite, er, man.” Your favourite man? Your favourite man?? Where’s the Malfoy pride? Put like that, where’s the famous Malfoy charm? Gak! Draco mentally winced at his choice of words.
“Draco,” Hermione said wonderingly, and hoping against hope she was right, “are you trying to ask me out?”
“Merlin, woman! Yes, I thought that was pretty obvious.” Draco scowled.
A feeling of extreme happiness burst inside Hermione’s chest. Confident now that he was attracted to and liked her, she dared to tease. “Why didn’t you just say so? Or get me a copy of Persuasion instead?”
“Persuasion? So I can grovel like Captain Wentworth - ”
“Oh hush, Draco.” She smiled shyly at him. “I was teasing. I’ve liked you for quite a while. We are like Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy, aren’t we? It took Elizabeth Bennett a long time and she had to overcome a few prejudices of her own to see that she and Darcy were good together. What I am trying to say is that I think we’re good together, too. I know that our relationship has been one that was fuelled by hatred and prejudice in the past and no small amount of pride, on either side. But that has changed; we’ve changed. We’ve gotten to know each other so well, especially during the last few months, and I think I’ve gotten to know the real you, as you’ve gotten to know the real me. So, yes, I’d like to go out with you.”
Draco smiled with a decidedly wicked glint in his eye and decided to pay her back for the Persuasion comment. Time to regain the Malfoy pride. Plus, it always amused him no end to see Granger lose her temper at him. She got all red and flushed and he was curious to know how far down that flush went. Did it go past her neck, to her breasts and - er, okay, need to get back to the plan. He cleared his throat. “Good, because I’ve already made reservations for tonight at eight at Nobu.”
At Hermione’s sudden frown, he added, knowing it would infuriate her all the more, “You know, this took considerably less time that I thought it would.” He pretended to check his fingernails, eagerly awaiting her outburst and said, casually, “I already knew you liked me.”
A hard smack on the shoulder was his reward. Merlin, this woman liked it rough! All the better, he smirked to himself. “Malfoy! Why, you arrogant, high-handed, overbearing - mmfph!”
Deciding it was now time to finally regain the (almost lost) Malfoy pride, Draco shut Hermione up the best way he knew how: by expertly kissing her into silence.
Finis