Duet 1 looneylunafan and shy_of_reality
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Title: Blind Date
Author: looneylunafan
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7,759
Summary: Halloween shouldn’t be all about work, especially when you have a co-worker willing to set you up on a blind date. Hermione Granger has more than a little difficulty convincing herself to go out on a such a limb; will it be worth it?
Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol and sex
Author's Note(s): I will be completely honest, my dear giftee, I have never had such trouble coming up with a plot to prompts. They weren’t bad in any way; they were simply things that I’ve never written about before! But I’m really happy with the way it turned out and I hope you are too. Thank you for the chance to work WAY out of my comfort zone.
To everyone else, the prompt I chose was to have Draco’s cousin’s girlfriend set them up on a blind date. My giftee requested I make an OC cousin, so I kind of had to stretch my brain to make Marcus and Olivia, even though they are very basic characters (I avoid original characters like the plague!)
Finally, I must bow before the amazing Ningloreth, who did a great job with keeping me on task with reminders throughout the fest AND Betad my piece when no one else was available. Any mistakes left are entirely my own.
October 2001
There were certain things about Hermione Granger that everyone knew. She was a war heroine for one, and the best lawyer ever to grace the Ministry with her skill. She was a brilliant witch and a fiercely loyal friend. She had also recently re-entered the ranks of single women, and a photograph of her long-time, red haired beau had vanished from her work space three months earlier.
“The Clarkson hearing has been moved back to next Tuesday and the three dragon egg smugglers will be arriving by Portkey from the Albanian correctional facility in an hour. Mr. Letton would like Stibbins and the two interns there to watch the trial and write up the final report.” The group of sharply dressed lawyers nodded along or flipped through the pages of court schedules and case notes. Hermione knew Monday morning meetings were everyone’s least favourite time and quickly wrapped up. “The last item is a reminder that Wednesday is Halloween. Expect a lot of minor crimes, particularly magic being performed in front of Muggles. That is all.”
The room emptied until only Hermione and a witch wearing midnight blue robes were left. The woman ran her hand along the top of her ear as if to push back a strand of her honey blonde hair, despite how tightly it was pulled back in a sleek bun, probably held in place by magic. Hermione suspected she wore it down when she was not at work, hence the habit.
“Another riveting weekly meeting,” said the woman as she rose from the chair. It was obvious she found it about as “riveting” as feeding flubberworms.
Hermione held the conference room door open for her co-worker. “It’s difficult to make extra paperwork sound like a smashing time.” Most of the incidents they would be dealing with in the coming week were petty and were unlikely to end with time in Azkaban. Last year the worst offence had been a man that charmed his jack-o-lanterns to say rude phrases to those that walked by his porch. Unfortunately a group of Muggle teenagers came across it in their effort to find a home to cover in toilet paper. They ultimately enjoyed the rude decorations, but memories had to be modified and the wizard was charged with negligence in a Muggle community.
“You know,” Olivia began again, “Halloween doesn’t have to be all about court documents. It can be fun too, if you put a little effort into it.”
“My parents were dentists; Halloween wasn’t exactly a cause for celebration.” The two women reached a door with a shiny name plate that read Hermione Granger.
“I don’t mean stealing sweets - or however those Muggle children acquire them,” said Olivia. Hermione gave her a small smile. “Seriously though, just come with me and Marcus.”
With a shake of her head, Hermione pulled out her wand to unlock the door but stayed in the hall to finish the conversation. “I don’t want to be a third wheel to you two.”
“What if I found someone for you too? I know a few people who would love to spend an evening with the famous Hermione Granger.” That statement made Hermione cringe, but Olivia pressed on. “All right, no adoring fans. But say you’ll come.”
Olivia’s light brown eyes were sparkling and Hermione knew she really couldn’t keep playing the “I need more time” card forever.
“Well…” She let out a breath. “Oh, all right. I suppose one night out can’t hurt.”
“Excellent! I have just the guy in mind; he’s a good friend of Marcus.”
Olivia turned to head to her desk that sat in a cluster of others near the elevators, but Hermione reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “Will you at least tell me who he is? Or where we’re going?”
Olivia simply laughed and shook her head. “You’ll have more fun if you don’t know. Besides, I don’t want you coming up with any excuses to back out.”
After working with her for two and a half years, Hermione had to admit that Olivia knew her pretty well; almost too well. “All right then,” she consented before walking into her office, closing the door behind her.
~~~~~~~~~
The rest of Monday was little more than a blur. Hermione had been in her office most of the day, but she had only made it through a fraction of the paperwork she normally would. Tuesday morning when she walked through her door, the new folders had been stacked on the floor as there was no room on the corner of her desk.
She knew precisely what the problem was; she hadn’t been able to concentrate. Her eyes would slip out of focus before she finished a sentence. She had had to go back and look up old information that she should have been able to recall. Her mind had been fuzzy, stuffed with worried thoughts about what Olivia was cooking up. Who was this “just the guy” Olivia knew and how would he feel about her?
Hermione slouched in her squishy office chair, something she hadn’t done in years. It shouldn’t bother her so much, the prospect of going out with somebody. So what if she had never been with anyone other than Ron? She could have a nice night out with a bloke, maybe have a drink, maybe they could dance. A hazy image of a dark figure holding her to him, with slightly too loud music playing, filled Hermione’s head. She closed her eyes, thought of his fingers on her back, her hips.
There was a sharp knock at the door. Hermione barely had time to sit upright before Olivia let herself in without waiting for invitation. “Good morning, here’s the-” she stopped short when she saw all of the pages scattered round Hermione’s work space. “Did you give yourself the day off yesterday or something? I have never seen you so backed up.”
“Oh, erm, just a large case load this week.” Hermione picked up a random file and began looking through it. It concerned Jerry Whittlebee, a man convicted of handing out acid pops to Muggle children at a carnival. He wasn’t any sort of high profile convict, but he had been arrested for three incidents on Halloween over the last five years. “In fact,” she continued, with sudden inspiration, “I will probably have to work late tomorrow night, I don’t think -”
“Hermione Granger you stop right there! You gave me your word you would come and no amount of paperwork will keep you from fulfilling that promise.” Olivia looked down at Hermione sternly. “I won’t let you keep yourself from having fun. You’re talking yourself out of it, aren’t you? Over-thinking it.”
“No, it isn’t that. I’m just worried. What if it doesn’t go well? What if this man doesn’t like me for some reason?” Hermione didn’t know much about Olivia outside work or her boyfriend, Marcus. Hermione might have fans, but there were certainly wizards out there who hadn’t benefited from the way the Battle of Hogwarts had ended...
“There’s not a wizard in the world who wouldn’t give his right arm for an opportunity with you, Hermione, you just have to give one a chance.”
Hermione fell quiet. She had given one a chance. Ronald Weasley was now in a long distance relationship with a woman who played for the same Quidditch team as Ginny. He had said some nonsense about Hermione working too hard and never being around for his games. Given that professional teams all played on the same two days a week, Hermione had a difficult time believing that his new love could commit to his games any more than she had.
“You’re thinking about Ron, aren’t you?” Olivia had dropped the stack of letters she had brought in on the floor next to the others, and was leaning a curvy hip against the edge of the wooden desk. “There are other wizards out there. Better ones! Trust me, the guy I’m thinking of will charm your socks off and make you forget all about that Quidditch player.” Before Hermione could respond, she added, “So, what are you going to wear?”
That stopped Hermione in her tracks. “Erm, robes?” Olivia hadn’t told her where they were going or what they were doing. Hermione had been hoping it would be a cosy dinner or just a drink at the Three Broomsticks.
“Oh no!” Olivia stood upright and put her hand on the desk, leaning forward so that she and Hermione were nearly nose to nose. “I said no sweets, but this is still Halloween! You must have a costume.” Hermione’s stomach flipped, but her colleague was on a roll. “You don’t want anything too bulky; you are going to be dancing a fair bit. We shouldn’t be going outside, so you don’t need to have sleeves. It is quite a posh event, so if you can incorporate a dress or other evening wear, that would be ideal. And,” Olivia adopted a look of sympathy, “don’t wear anything that might scare your man away.”
Hermione laughed nervously, not only at the thought of dressing as something grotesque, but at the mention of “her man”. Olivia took that as a good sign and concluded, “You had best get to work on all this.” She waved a hand at the piled parchment. “I’ll come back later to help if you’re still behind.”
It was meant as a kind offer, but Hermione had been put on the right track and she finished reading through, underlining, organizing, and assigning cases before the end of the day. It had to be some sort of record. Yet the rush of finishing more work than anyone in the history of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was quickly dampened by the sinking feeling in her stomach. She still had to come up with a costume, and a good one at that. Not since she’d had to select her Yule Ball gown had she felt such pressure.
~~~~~~~~~
Hermione’s original plan had been to transfigure a nice dress from her wardrobe. When she returned to her flat, she was confronted with the reality that she did not possess such a thing. Her brows furrowed as she tossed another set of Ministry-approved court room robes on the bed. The pile toppled down to the floor.
Just as Hermione was considering sending an owl to Olivia to call the whole thing off, there was a knock at the front door. If it had been her co-worker, Hermione would have suspected that Olivia could read minds at a distance. Thankfully, it was only Ginny, stopping by to invite Hermione over.
“Harry is going out tomorrow evening with my brothers and I want no part in what those three get up to.” Ginny walked in and took a seat on the couch.
This was it, Hermione’s ticket out of the whole ordeal.
“Oh, yes, give me a moment.” Hermione dug out a quill and parchment from a nearby drawer. “I just need to cancel these other plans.”
“Did I ruin a hot date?” Ginny laughed from the sofa,, but leapt up when Hermione didn’t respond. “Absolutely not!” she cried, plucking the quill from Hermione’s hand before she had the first sentence written.
“Give that back.”
“No way,” Ginny countered, holding the writing implement close to her person. “You’ve made no attempt to see other people since the whole thing ended with Ron. You need this, Hermione.”
“But what about you? I don’t want to leave you on your own and I can go out another time.”
“Ha!” said Ginny, and Hermione knew she had lost the argument. “I’ll invite Luna to come by. Besides, I can only imagine how hard this guy has had to work to get you to agree to go out this time.”
Defeated, Hermione filled Ginny in on the details of how she had got into the situation she was in, including the fact that she had no costume. Knowing how much her friend detested the idea of not knowing exactly who you were dealing with because of her time with Tom Riddle’s diary, Hermione was hoping for a little back peddling on Ginny’s part. There was none.
“So you don’t even know who the guy is?” she asked. Hermione shook her head. “I hope he doesn’t have bad breath or something. What sort of people does Olivia spend her time with?”
Truth be told, Hermione had never seen Olivia outside of work. “It could be mountain trolls for all I know.” They both laughed.
“All right, now to get down to business,” Ginny said, leaning forward over the coffee table with her elbows on her knees. “What are you going to wear?”
“I already told you, I don’t have anything.”
“Well, let’s decide on a costume then. What about an animal?”
“Somehow an owl or a dog doesn’t scream sophistication and allure.”
“Allure, huh?” Hermione blushed at the realization that the word had come from her mouth. Ginny pushed on. “What about a cat?”
Hermione actually laughed aloud. “I’ve been down that road before; never again.”
“I don’t mean grow fur. We’ll get some cute little ears, transfigure your eyes green, and put you in a long, print dress. And perhaps a tail as well,” Ginny added as an afterthought.
That didn’t sound nearly as terrifying as Hermione’s experiences as a 12 year old. “I suppose I don’t have any objections to that,” she admitted. She was also running out of time.
“Excellent.” Without another word, Ginny dragged Hermione through the front door and they Disapparated.
~~~~~~~~~
Large, faux diamond earrings dangled from Hermione’s ears and sparkled even in the dim bathroom light. She couldn’t imagine a cat wearing such fancy stones, but she was trying to balance the feline side with the feminine. Her hair was hanging down in full sleek curls. A head band was hidden atop her head; two small, fluffy white cat ears with black spots and streaks were peeking through. Her long, silken gown had the same print from the empire waist down. Her breasts were covered by shimmering black satin that became inch wide black straps. Elbow length black gloves covered her lower arms and hands. She couldn’t imagine sporting a tail or whiskers with any sense of decorum, so she had settled for a set of contact lenses that gave her eyes the illusion of cat-like slits.
Olivia had promised to be at Hermione’s home by six forty five. “Be ready to Apparate.” Hermione wondered why she couldn’t simply be told where to meet, but then realized she didn’t want to show up on her own.
By six forty three, Hermione was trying to calm down by breathing slowly and deeply. The reflection in the mirror looked good, very good. She could do this, just one date.
There was a knock at the door and Hermione jumped, nearly falling to the floor. Another quick set of knocks; her hand was almost on the knob when fear shook her whole body. What if it wasn’t Olivia on the other side of the door? What if it was her “date”? Would she open the door to find a curly haired man with the same fashion sense as Hagrid carrying a bouquet?
Hermione stood frozen until there was a third set of knocks. “Hermione?” It was Olivia. Quickly, - so fast the hinges would likely need to be tightened when she returned, - she opened the door wide. Olivia stood there with her boyfriend. Like her, Marcus was blond, with shining blue eyes and a gently rounded face. The two wore matching white sheets fashioned into togas.
“We were going to be Egyptians,” Olivia explained, “but I couldn’t stand the thought of having dark hair.” She was more light hearted than Hermione had ever seen her before. Her loose, flowing golden hair looked positively frivolous.
“Goodness, you look gorgeous.” Olivia seemed to have noticed Hermione’s costume for the first time. “Oh, your cousin is in for a treat.” She smiled at the man at her side.
“Cousin? I thought he was just a friend,” said Hermione. She had to admit though, that anybody related to the stunning man before her would undoubtedly be good looking.
“I’ll explain when we get there,” Marcus said.
“Take my arm,” said Olivia.
Hermione stepped over the threshold, locked the door, and wrapped her fingers gently about Olivia’s forearm. A sharp crack split the air and the three figures vanished.
Hermione didn’t recognize their destination and could only assume it was a lavish private residence. The wide face of the building had at least fifty windows, each glowing in the evening darkness. Looking through those on the ground floor, she could see roughly half a dozen well-dressed individuals ascending a red carpeted Grand Staircase.
“Olivia,” Hermione’s voice wavered slightly. “Where are we?” Despite her apprehension, she followed her escorts to the double front doors, held open by two house elves. They were mirror images of one another, standing as tall and proud as their little figures would allow. Hermione was too stricken by the grandness of the Entrance Hall to make a remark about the servants.
“This is the home of Stuart and Francesca Greengrass. They’re away on holiday though. Astoria is the one that invited us.” Olivia and Marcus practically floated up the stairs without a care in the world. Hermione’s stomach clenched so hard that her feet stopped moving. Not only was she entirely out of her element in such a ritzy place, but her colleague had tricked her into attending a party hosted by a former Slytherin.
The doors were still wide open and Olivia and Marcus were already half way up the stairs. There was nothing stopping Hermione from making a run for it. Nothing except the fact she was a Gryffindor and supposed to be brave. Nothing except the fact she had already bought and was wearing a gorgeous ensemble. Nothing except the fact she had not been on what she was certain would be a lavish date, ever. With renewed vigour, Hermione practically marched her way up to the top of the stairs.
“What kept you?” Olivia whispered.
“My heel stuck on the carpet,” Hermione invented.
Olivia tisked quietly, but Hermione didn’t pay any attention. On the expansive dance floor before them were dozens of couples, all in matching costumes. Hermione gently bit her lip, realizing it would be an absolute miracle if the man she was destined to spend the evening with was dressed as a cat. It seemed this night was doomed with every obstacle possible.
“There you are, Marcus.” Hermione’s eyes went wide; it couldn’t be! “I was beginning to think you were making this mystery woman up.”
Hermione’s back was to Olivia, Marcus, and the new comer, yet she was absolutely sure she knew who that voice belonged to. Internally cursing herself for not running when she had the chance, she steeled her courage and turned around, taking in the sharp facial features and platinum blonde hair before her gaze came to rest on his grey eyes.
“Good evening, Draco.”
~~~~~~~~~
The shock that flickered in Malfoy’s eyes nudged a smile out of Hermione. If this was a strange trick being played on her, at least her childhood enemy wasn’t in on it.
“Oh, you two know each other?” Olivia sounded somewhat disheartened. “I thought you finished Hogwarts after Draco.”
“I went back to finish,” Hermione clarified. “He didn’t.”
The Malfoys had had a fair bit of face saving to do after the war. Hermione, though she had been offered countless job opportunities, hadn’t felt right leaving Hogwarts without completing seven years of schooling.
Draco had managed to compose himself once again and stepped close to Hermione. Only now did she realize he was wearing nothing more extravagant a tuxedo. “That isn’t much of a costume,” she quipped, folding her arms. Behind him Olivia and Marcus made their exit and Hermione realized this was in fact the man they had set her up with.
“May I speak with you for a moment, in private?” He asked.
The thought of being alone with Draco Malfoy was about as welcome as finding a worm in an apple, but she couldn’t foresee anything more disastrous occurring tonight and consented to follow him. They walked down a hall that went away from the dancers and then through one of the many doors that branched off of it.
“First of all,” he began as the door shut behind them, “I wasn’t told what sort of costume you’d be wearing, so I went with something that didn’t take much effort and wouldn’t stand out, so I’m a conductor.” He took a baton from his pocket and then gave her a once over. “To be honest, I doubt I could have pulled off anything cat related so well.” Was that a compliment? “Secondly, Olivia didn’t mention that you were the one I have to spend the evening with.” That was the Draco Malfoy she knew so well.
“Look here, Malfoy,” Hermione started before he could really lay into the insults. She put one hand on her hip and pointed at him with the other. “If you think I would have agreed to this knowing it was you I’d have to spend the night with, you’re out of you mind. It’s perfectly clear neither of us wants to be here with the other so I’ll just leave.” She had no reason to stick around a bunch of high society snobs anyway. Before she could turn to reach for the door, Draco rested a hand lightly on her bare shoulder.
“Hang on a moment.” Hermione pulled back from his grasp, but waited to hear him out. “Look, this isn’t the greatest situation to be in, but I really would like you to stay and at least pretend to enjoy the evening with me.”
“Why?” Hermione’s dark brown eyes hardened; he was up to something.
Draco was quiet for a moment, perhaps debating how to best proceed. “Astoria and I are not on the best of terms.” Though she was positive she knew where this was going, Hermione didn’t interrupt. “I have to be here for appearances’ sake and...” He seemed uncomfortable with continuing, but she didn’t give him any help. “I need a date more than I dislike the idea of you being the said date.”
Hermione let out a small Hmph. “Well, as flattering as that request was, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”
“Please, Hermione?”
Astounding, he had the same whiny way of pleading as Ron. The thought of the red-headed git ignited a small fire in her belly. Suppose word got back to him that she had had a fantastic night with Draco Malfoy? It likely wouldn’t be true, but it was a rumour she wouldn’t mind spreading. At the very least, she and Ginny could have a good laugh over it later.
Draco took advantage of her hesitation. “Isn’t there anything you could gain from this?” he suggested. He knew better than to outright bribe her, she was too proud for that.
“I have three very firm conditions. One, you will treat this as a proper date, so you can’t parade me in front of everyone while simultaneously insulting me. Two, I do not want to get into any sort of confrontation with your friends or the Greengrasses. And three...” She paused to make sure he was paying the utmost attention to her. “No matter what actually happens between us, someone is going to get word to Ron that I had a fantastic time with you.”
It was a sneaky and underhanded way to get back at the man she hadn’t previously realized she was so angry with. Draco smirked and held out his arm. “It’s a mutual arrangement then. Let’s return to the party.”
~~~~~~~~~
It was much easier than Hermione expected to pass time with Malfoy. Though at one point she was forced to endure a conversation with his parents. She and Narcissa exchanged short pleasantries while Draco and Lucius exchanged private messages by way of half sentences and glares. Undoubtedly Lucius would have rather seen his son sitting alone in the corner than standing side by side with a woman he considered a lesser breed. Narcissa showed no hint of agitation, forever grateful for Hermione’s part in helping Harry win the Battle of Hogwarts, and thereby save her son.
“Well, that wasn’t awkward,” Hermione commented as they made their way toward a few tables laid with food and drink. Her mouth was parched and she reached for one of the tall glasses of bubbling champagne.
“It could have been much worse. Mother has finally been able to exert some control over my father when it comes to manners, at least in public.” Hermione raised her eyebrows at him over the rim of her glass. “Now then,” he took her drink from her and set it down on the table. “Before you get entirely intoxicated and I have to carry you out, would you like to dance?”
She gave him a pointed look and held out her hand. “And here I thought you took after your father in terms of manners.”
“You did say you wanted this to be a proper date, did you not?” He led her near the middle of the floor and slid his hands into the position they had both been taught in their fourth year. He reminded her of Viktor in the sturdy way he supported her frame and led with great purpose. It was a great relief that he was so easy to follow.
“Marcus never did tell me how the two of you are related. I thought Tonks was your only cousin.”
Draco came as close to blushing as Hermione had ever seen. “As it turns out, my grandfather had an illegitimate daughter.” He sent her out in a delicate spin. “She is Marcus’ mother. He isn’t entitled to any of the Malfoy estate, and he doesn’t need it anyway. Apparently the woman had a thing for wealthy men. It only came out of the woodwork when his mother thought she was passing away and felt that he needed to know the truth.” They came close to another couple and he paused again. “She is perfectly fine now; what they thought was Dragon Pox was in fact some sort of allergic reaction to foods she was eating while on vacation. It was an interesting bit of information to receive and is, of course, not something we intend to share with everyone.”
“You might want to let Olivia in on that.”
The rest of the song and the one after were accompanied by shallow conversation about work and the time since Hogwarts. Neither of them seemed willing to bring up the reasons they were literally in each other’s arms. Fate, of course, was a nasty wench and couldn’t let a good night go unspoiled.
When the pair made their way to the edge of the floor, they found themselves face to face with none other than Astoria Greengrass, pressed against a tall wizard with thick dark hair. They looked as if they’d been pulled from the Middle Ages, in deep green costumes with silver accents. Figures Hermione thought. The man even had a full size glittering sword at his side.
“Draco,” Astoria greeted him with a wide grin. “How good to see you again. And you brought a friend, Harmony, isn’t it?”
“It’s Hermione, Astoria, the Hermione who represented your sister at her hearing last year.” Hermione had entirely forgotten. Daphne Greengrass had been charged with Death Eater related activities during and after the war. It had been a complete farce, invented by an unhappy ex-lover, yet there had been enough evidence - and bribery - involved for it to make it into the courts before Hermione tore it to pieces.
“Of course. I believe I owe you great thanks.” Astoria didn’t actually thank Hermione in any way but turned her attention to the blond man. “And I trust you’re doing well, Draco. Not still spending every minute of the day and night working, I hope.”
“As your companion here will soon realize,” Draco retorted, “when there’s nothing to make you rush home, you’ll find just about anything to occupy your time elsewhere.” Astoria looked as though he had slapped her. Draco made the most of her brief silence. “Good evening to you both.”
He led Hermione away with the lightest touch on her back. His hand was barely resting on the fabric and yet she felt the heat of his fingertips, their skin separated by a thin slip of silky material. “I’d like to go outside,” she said, voicing her discomfort. “It’s a bit warm in here for me.”
She moved a little faster, trying to put even a few inches of space between them, but Draco tailed her through the room with ease, his hand remaining in place. She had intended to walk down to the first floor and step outside, but she found herself at the foot of a set of stairs leading upwards. At the top was a corridor that led to the left and a wide walkway that looked down on the party. The wall was lined with windows, just like the front of the building, but in the centre were two tall open doors.
Draco exerted a little more pressure on her back and Hermione climbed, only feeling relieved when she reached the top. Through the doors she could see a balcony which, surprisingly, was empty. The soft darkness and cool breeze of the evening dampened the noise from the party. At last, Malfoy pulled his hand away, but he followed her to the balcony’s edge. She rested her hands on the cold white stone and peered down on an expansive garden. Dark green foliage lined either side of a straight walkway that led from the back door out to a gazebo.
“This place is lovely,” Hermione whispered. She glanced to her right and saw Draco rather stony-faced. “So what was all that about?” She leaned forward on the railing, which was still cold despite the heat from her palms.
Draco grinned. “I don’t know - bad blood, I suppose.” He thought for a moment and continued, “Astoria isn’t a bad woman; she just doesn’t have anything interesting about her. She spends all of her time either wasting Galleons or gossiping. I mean,” he let out a quiet laugh, “grow up and do something with yourself.”
“Oh,” Hermione looked away from him. “The way you spoke to her, it sounded as though it was a bit more - personal than that.”
“You mean I made it sound like she was awful in the sack? Well I suppose if you’re interested in knowing about that bit of my past relationships -”
Hermione held up her hand to stop him. “No, no, not interested,” she said quickly, watching his face carefully for any sign he might continue.
“And what if I am?” Draco placed his right arm on the banister and leaned against it. His other hand was resting loosely in his pocket while his face remained expressionless.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You and Weasley. After so many years was it a big let-down or did he actually manage to accomplish something in his life?”
Hermione’s ability to think logically was obstructed by a torrent of indignant responses. Her face flushed pink, but all she could say was, “I - I - I don’t think…”
“Fine, don’t tell me, but at least let me know about Potter; everyone suspects the two of you got it on at school.”
“That’s ridiculous! Harry and I would never…” The thought of it silenced her attempt to explain. “And at school?” How horrifying.
Draco chuckled at her and shook his head. “I’m only joking, Granger, I have no interest whatsoever in how good or otherwise Ron Weasley is in bed. And yes, despite your best attempts as a Prefect, students were shagging in the castle.”
“Can we please change the subject? This really isn’t something I would normally talk about on a first date.” In fact, it had taken Hermione and Ron weeks to broach the matter.
“This isn’t a normal first date though, is it?” Draco had a point, but that didn’t change the fact that Hermione was done with the conversation; at her lack of response he changed direction. “Admit it, you’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you? The dressing up, dancing, a nice big place. I bet you even laughed a little at Astoria.”
There was silence between them as they both turned to lean on the railing. “You know,” she finally began, “this hasn’t been the disaster I thought it would be.” Draco gave her a sideways look but kept quiet. “I don’t mean…” She paused to decide what she did mean. “I suppose I wasn’t expecting to have much fun doing you a favour.”
“I’m not a complete monster, you know.” Draco had returned his gaze to the garden. Hermione’s eyes flickered to his left forearm. The mark should have vanished by now. She wanted to reach out and touch his sleeve; to say something now that the mood had so suddenly shifted.
The sound of laughter rose from the ballroom and caused the couple to swivel around. The people inside fell silent and a voice called out, “It’s a well-known fact that it takes five Slytherins to stir a cauldron; one to stir and four others to say that their father’s connections at the Ministry could get it done faster.” Again it seemed the whole room was chuckling.
Draco was the first to speak. “Isn’t that one of those Weasleys?”
Hermione, disbelieving, ran back inside. She could see George standing on a wooden box almost directly below her and about to tell another joke. Her eyes scanned the crowd and quickly found the only other natural red head in the room.
She pulled back from the banister only to push up against Draco’s chest. “Sorry,” she said, jumping away as though he had an electric current running through him. She spun around and her heel slid on the polished stone floor. Without a word Malfoy reached out and caught Hermione just below her shoulders.
The two just looked at one another for a moment.
“Hermione! Draco! There you two are, do come join us.” From below Astoria had taken a brief moment of quiet to call out, directing everyone’s attention to the slightly shaken couple. Her lips curled into a wicked grin.
Time seemed to pause, long enough to allow George, Ron, and Harry, who had been speaking with someone near the far staircase, a moment to catch on.
“What the - ”
“Oi!”
“Hermione, what are you doing?” Ron’s voice prevailed, though all three had looked up expectantly. The party guests hungrily watched what was unfolding.
“She’s standing, Weasley, what does it look like?” Draco drawled.
Everyone but Ron and Hermione laughed; Ron was red faced and Hermione held a gloved hand over her open mouth.
Then Ron said something back, but Hermione couldn’t hear it. All she could focus on were the smirks and sneers aimed in her direction. Mercifully Draco didn’t continue the fight once he saw her discomfort. They were on display, a show, something he wanted to end.
“If you’d like to have a civilized conversation, you can meet us up here and let everyone else continue having a pleasant time,” said Draco. His jaw muscles tightened and Hermione was certain he wanted to add a nasty insult.
Had he been alone, Ron may have pulled any number of rash stunts, but Harry and George had manoeuvred themselves to his side and quickly talked him into agreeing to Draco’s suggestion. They parted the crowd with ease and met the couple at the top of the stairs. Draco gestured down the corridor. Hermione lagged just long enough to look back. Most of the guests had returned to dancing or eating, but a pair of hard green eyes locked on hers and she knew; this was all Astoria’s doing.
~~~~~~~~~
Ron’s composure lasted only long enough for George to perceptively place a silencing charm on the room they chose. The younger brother wheeled around and pointed his wand at Malfoy’s nose. “Just what do you think you’re doing, ferret face?”
Draco didn’t flinch, or even reach for his own wand. He calmly replied, “Well, I was taking Hermione on the nicest date she has ever been on until you so rudely interrupted.”
Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to insult the person holding him at wand point, but Hermione suspected that Malfoy intended to take it much further.
“You’re lying!” Ron half shouted. George and Harry shared looks of disbelief but remained in the background. “That isn’t true, Hermione, is it? Tell me you lost a bet or something.” Ron tightened his grip on his wand and glared at the man before him. “What happened, Malfoy? Couldn’t find any witches walking Knockturn Alley to bring along?”
“Ronald!” Hermione had stamped her foot. Ron snapped his head her way and Draco, faster than a blink, swiped the wand from Ron’s fingers. Harry and George both pulled out their own wands, despite the fact that Draco was only holding Ron’s behind his back. “Knock it off, all of you! You’re behaving like children.”
All four men stared at her, but none of them made a move. “Draco, give Ron his wand back,” she instructed. “Ron, George, Harry, put yours away. We came up here to talk, not to have a duel.” She placed her hands on her hips in a Mrs. Weasley fashion until they all grudgingly did what she asked.
“First of all, Draco and I are here together by mutual agreement, not because I lost a bet or was slipped a potion. Now, why are you three here?” Hermione folded her arms just below her chest and gave them all an expectant look.
Harry was the first to speak up. “We were at the Three Broomsticks, and Hannah came over and said there was an owl there with a letter for us. Well, for me and Ron, but George was with us.” The other two nodded along but Hermione looked sceptical. “Anyway, it was from the Greengrasses asking us to come to the party. We didn’t have much else planned for the night, so we figured why not.” Ron and George nodded more forcefully than before.
“So, gents,” Draco interrupted, “what we have here is a jealous and unhappy ex-girlfriend of mine using the three of you to make fools of Hermione and myself in front of all her friends. Thanks for that.”
Nobody said anything for a moment. Ron seemed to be working out which aspect of the evening was most infuriating. Then George actually took a step forward. “It seems to me that we might want to focus on a little bit of payback, and let Ron and Draco continue their pissing contest later.”
Hermione didn’t want them to continue their fit at all, but George did have a point; retaliation was certainly in order. “But what can we accomplish in the next hour or so?” She asked.
“Hermione, my dear,” George took a few more steps toward her and threw an arm around her bare shoulders, “you look fabulous by the way.” Her cheeks tinged pink when she remembered she was still in costume. “If there is one thing I can do in three minutes flat, it’s come up with a plan that will end in raucous laughter.”
~~~~~~~~~
Many witches and wizards would have left the Greengrass residence around eleven, but they all knew that sooner or later Hermione and the others would return and perhaps another shouting match would ensue. Astoria had been sporting a smug grin ever since the incident. When Ron Weasley emerged and marched down the stairs looking thoroughly bitter, she couldn’t stop herself from gliding over to him.
“I hope everything was sorted out,” she consoled, holding a drink in her hand. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know about Hermione and Draco.” She let out a fake sigh. “They are so cute together, aren’t they?” At the same time, the topic of their conversation could be seen leaning against the wall at the entrance to the corridor. Their heads were close together and their hands were linked loosely between them.
“Oh so cute,” Ron grumbled. His brow furrowed as the two seemed oblivious to the world.
“You don’t still have feelings for Hermione, do you?” Astoria pried, watching Ron’s emotions play out, and the reactions of those around her. “It must be hard to watch the two of them like that.”
Draco leaned forward and whispered in Hermione’s ear. She giggled and sighed. It was enough to make Ron ill. There were whispers circulating through the party guests. “I certainly wouldn’t let him take her if I were you. I mean, she was yours first, right?”
“You know what,” Ron seemed to brighten up, “you’re right.” He looked up the stairs and shouted, “Hey Malfoy, you can go ahead and have her, I prefer a more sophisticated woman.” He turned on Astoria with hungry eyes. She didn’t have more than a second to process his words before he had covered her mouth with his.
A collective gasp went up, and a light flashed. Astoria gave a muffled scream and her wine glass shattered on the ground, splashing dark liquid on the hem of her dress. Even as she pushed Ron back, all those viewing the scene burst out laughing. Astoria’s hair was mussed from the struggle and she looked positively livid. She scanned the top of the stairs, expecting to find Hermione and Draco, but instead found the other Weasley holding a camera and sporting a cheeky grin.
“I’m certain the tabloids will love that one.” George tapped the device with his wand and it was vanished away. “Come, dear brother,” he said, sliding down the handrail, “I would imagine that Miss Greengrass would like to enjoy the rest of her party.”
They quickly made an exit before Astoria could do much more than stammer. Harry was already waiting down by the door, having slipped down another staircase and the three Apparated to Harry and Ginny’s home. They immediately burst out laughing and Harry put a hand on his best mate’s shoulder. Ron was wiping his mouth with his sleeve to rid it of the Slytherin taste. “You really took one for the team, Ron. Do you think Serine will mind?”
“Nah.” Ron shook his head. “She doesn’t read any of that published garbage. And if she does catch wind of it, I’m sure she’ll understand.” He looked back and forth. “Where’s Hermione? Weren’t they supposed to follow us here?”
~~~~~~~~~
Back at the Greengrass residence, Astoria was trying to regain some composure and shoo her guests from the ballroom with grace. The man she had spent the evening with had mysteriously disappeared before the debacle. She put her hands on her hips and went searching for the wizard who should have hurled curses at that damned Ronald Weasley.
Though the plan had been for Draco and Hermione to follow the others, Draco changed their course once they emerged out of a side door of the estate. “Take us to your place instead,” he instructed, squeezing her hand.
Worried Astoria would be hot on their trail, Hermione took his direction and concentrated hard on the alley that ran along the side of her building.
“Why did we come here?” she whispered after peeking around the corner to make sure no Muggles were close by. “We were supposed to follow the boys.”
“Hush a moment, will you?”
He gently touched his nose to hers, and his eyes fluttered closed. They were even closer than they had been when they were putting on a show for everyone. Hermione held very still while his fingers lightly danced at her waist. His spicy scent inflamed her senses and she suddenly felt dizzy. She stumbled forward and he wrapped a protective arm around her.
“I thought it would be a nice gesture to walk to your front door,” he murmured.
Hermione allowed him to lead her up to the door with their arms linked together.. “Thank you,” she said, and stepped away, smiling. She pulled out her wand and tapped the knob. It clicked and she reached for the door, but Draco caught her hand.
Ever so gently, he peeled off her long glove and touched his lips to her bare skin...
"Look for my owl,” he told her, turning away with a smirk. “Goodnight, Hermione.”
Though he walked back toward the alley, Hermione didn’t hear him Apparate away until she had entered her home and locked the door. Looking down at her hand she smiled; she must thank Olivia for bringing two such unlikely people together.
THE END
Title: Blind Date
Author: looneylunafan
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7,759
Summary: Halloween shouldn’t be all about work, especially when you have a co-worker willing to set you up on a blind date. Hermione Granger has more than a little difficulty convincing herself to go out on a such a limb; will it be worth it?
Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol and sex
Author's Note(s): I will be completely honest, my dear giftee, I have never had such trouble coming up with a plot to prompts. They weren’t bad in any way; they were simply things that I’ve never written about before! But I’m really happy with the way it turned out and I hope you are too. Thank you for the chance to work WAY out of my comfort zone.
To everyone else, the prompt I chose was to have Draco’s cousin’s girlfriend set them up on a blind date. My giftee requested I make an OC cousin, so I kind of had to stretch my brain to make Marcus and Olivia, even though they are very basic characters (I avoid original characters like the plague!)
Finally, I must bow before the amazing Ningloreth, who did a great job with keeping me on task with reminders throughout the fest AND Betad my piece when no one else was available. Any mistakes left are entirely my own.
October 2001
There were certain things about Hermione Granger that everyone knew. She was a war heroine for one, and the best lawyer ever to grace the Ministry with her skill. She was a brilliant witch and a fiercely loyal friend. She had also recently re-entered the ranks of single women, and a photograph of her long-time, red haired beau had vanished from her work space three months earlier.
“The Clarkson hearing has been moved back to next Tuesday and the three dragon egg smugglers will be arriving by Portkey from the Albanian correctional facility in an hour. Mr. Letton would like Stibbins and the two interns there to watch the trial and write up the final report.” The group of sharply dressed lawyers nodded along or flipped through the pages of court schedules and case notes. Hermione knew Monday morning meetings were everyone’s least favourite time and quickly wrapped up. “The last item is a reminder that Wednesday is Halloween. Expect a lot of minor crimes, particularly magic being performed in front of Muggles. That is all.”
The room emptied until only Hermione and a witch wearing midnight blue robes were left. The woman ran her hand along the top of her ear as if to push back a strand of her honey blonde hair, despite how tightly it was pulled back in a sleek bun, probably held in place by magic. Hermione suspected she wore it down when she was not at work, hence the habit.
“Another riveting weekly meeting,” said the woman as she rose from the chair. It was obvious she found it about as “riveting” as feeding flubberworms.
Hermione held the conference room door open for her co-worker. “It’s difficult to make extra paperwork sound like a smashing time.” Most of the incidents they would be dealing with in the coming week were petty and were unlikely to end with time in Azkaban. Last year the worst offence had been a man that charmed his jack-o-lanterns to say rude phrases to those that walked by his porch. Unfortunately a group of Muggle teenagers came across it in their effort to find a home to cover in toilet paper. They ultimately enjoyed the rude decorations, but memories had to be modified and the wizard was charged with negligence in a Muggle community.
“You know,” Olivia began again, “Halloween doesn’t have to be all about court documents. It can be fun too, if you put a little effort into it.”
“My parents were dentists; Halloween wasn’t exactly a cause for celebration.” The two women reached a door with a shiny name plate that read Hermione Granger.
“I don’t mean stealing sweets - or however those Muggle children acquire them,” said Olivia. Hermione gave her a small smile. “Seriously though, just come with me and Marcus.”
With a shake of her head, Hermione pulled out her wand to unlock the door but stayed in the hall to finish the conversation. “I don’t want to be a third wheel to you two.”
“What if I found someone for you too? I know a few people who would love to spend an evening with the famous Hermione Granger.” That statement made Hermione cringe, but Olivia pressed on. “All right, no adoring fans. But say you’ll come.”
Olivia’s light brown eyes were sparkling and Hermione knew she really couldn’t keep playing the “I need more time” card forever.
“Well…” She let out a breath. “Oh, all right. I suppose one night out can’t hurt.”
“Excellent! I have just the guy in mind; he’s a good friend of Marcus.”
Olivia turned to head to her desk that sat in a cluster of others near the elevators, but Hermione reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “Will you at least tell me who he is? Or where we’re going?”
Olivia simply laughed and shook her head. “You’ll have more fun if you don’t know. Besides, I don’t want you coming up with any excuses to back out.”
After working with her for two and a half years, Hermione had to admit that Olivia knew her pretty well; almost too well. “All right then,” she consented before walking into her office, closing the door behind her.
~~~~~~~~~
The rest of Monday was little more than a blur. Hermione had been in her office most of the day, but she had only made it through a fraction of the paperwork she normally would. Tuesday morning when she walked through her door, the new folders had been stacked on the floor as there was no room on the corner of her desk.
She knew precisely what the problem was; she hadn’t been able to concentrate. Her eyes would slip out of focus before she finished a sentence. She had had to go back and look up old information that she should have been able to recall. Her mind had been fuzzy, stuffed with worried thoughts about what Olivia was cooking up. Who was this “just the guy” Olivia knew and how would he feel about her?
Hermione slouched in her squishy office chair, something she hadn’t done in years. It shouldn’t bother her so much, the prospect of going out with somebody. So what if she had never been with anyone other than Ron? She could have a nice night out with a bloke, maybe have a drink, maybe they could dance. A hazy image of a dark figure holding her to him, with slightly too loud music playing, filled Hermione’s head. She closed her eyes, thought of his fingers on her back, her hips.
There was a sharp knock at the door. Hermione barely had time to sit upright before Olivia let herself in without waiting for invitation. “Good morning, here’s the-” she stopped short when she saw all of the pages scattered round Hermione’s work space. “Did you give yourself the day off yesterday or something? I have never seen you so backed up.”
“Oh, erm, just a large case load this week.” Hermione picked up a random file and began looking through it. It concerned Jerry Whittlebee, a man convicted of handing out acid pops to Muggle children at a carnival. He wasn’t any sort of high profile convict, but he had been arrested for three incidents on Halloween over the last five years. “In fact,” she continued, with sudden inspiration, “I will probably have to work late tomorrow night, I don’t think -”
“Hermione Granger you stop right there! You gave me your word you would come and no amount of paperwork will keep you from fulfilling that promise.” Olivia looked down at Hermione sternly. “I won’t let you keep yourself from having fun. You’re talking yourself out of it, aren’t you? Over-thinking it.”
“No, it isn’t that. I’m just worried. What if it doesn’t go well? What if this man doesn’t like me for some reason?” Hermione didn’t know much about Olivia outside work or her boyfriend, Marcus. Hermione might have fans, but there were certainly wizards out there who hadn’t benefited from the way the Battle of Hogwarts had ended...
“There’s not a wizard in the world who wouldn’t give his right arm for an opportunity with you, Hermione, you just have to give one a chance.”
Hermione fell quiet. She had given one a chance. Ronald Weasley was now in a long distance relationship with a woman who played for the same Quidditch team as Ginny. He had said some nonsense about Hermione working too hard and never being around for his games. Given that professional teams all played on the same two days a week, Hermione had a difficult time believing that his new love could commit to his games any more than she had.
“You’re thinking about Ron, aren’t you?” Olivia had dropped the stack of letters she had brought in on the floor next to the others, and was leaning a curvy hip against the edge of the wooden desk. “There are other wizards out there. Better ones! Trust me, the guy I’m thinking of will charm your socks off and make you forget all about that Quidditch player.” Before Hermione could respond, she added, “So, what are you going to wear?”
That stopped Hermione in her tracks. “Erm, robes?” Olivia hadn’t told her where they were going or what they were doing. Hermione had been hoping it would be a cosy dinner or just a drink at the Three Broomsticks.
“Oh no!” Olivia stood upright and put her hand on the desk, leaning forward so that she and Hermione were nearly nose to nose. “I said no sweets, but this is still Halloween! You must have a costume.” Hermione’s stomach flipped, but her colleague was on a roll. “You don’t want anything too bulky; you are going to be dancing a fair bit. We shouldn’t be going outside, so you don’t need to have sleeves. It is quite a posh event, so if you can incorporate a dress or other evening wear, that would be ideal. And,” Olivia adopted a look of sympathy, “don’t wear anything that might scare your man away.”
Hermione laughed nervously, not only at the thought of dressing as something grotesque, but at the mention of “her man”. Olivia took that as a good sign and concluded, “You had best get to work on all this.” She waved a hand at the piled parchment. “I’ll come back later to help if you’re still behind.”
It was meant as a kind offer, but Hermione had been put on the right track and she finished reading through, underlining, organizing, and assigning cases before the end of the day. It had to be some sort of record. Yet the rush of finishing more work than anyone in the history of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was quickly dampened by the sinking feeling in her stomach. She still had to come up with a costume, and a good one at that. Not since she’d had to select her Yule Ball gown had she felt such pressure.
~~~~~~~~~
Hermione’s original plan had been to transfigure a nice dress from her wardrobe. When she returned to her flat, she was confronted with the reality that she did not possess such a thing. Her brows furrowed as she tossed another set of Ministry-approved court room robes on the bed. The pile toppled down to the floor.
Just as Hermione was considering sending an owl to Olivia to call the whole thing off, there was a knock at the front door. If it had been her co-worker, Hermione would have suspected that Olivia could read minds at a distance. Thankfully, it was only Ginny, stopping by to invite Hermione over.
“Harry is going out tomorrow evening with my brothers and I want no part in what those three get up to.” Ginny walked in and took a seat on the couch.
This was it, Hermione’s ticket out of the whole ordeal.
“Oh, yes, give me a moment.” Hermione dug out a quill and parchment from a nearby drawer. “I just need to cancel these other plans.”
“Did I ruin a hot date?” Ginny laughed from the sofa,, but leapt up when Hermione didn’t respond. “Absolutely not!” she cried, plucking the quill from Hermione’s hand before she had the first sentence written.
“Give that back.”
“No way,” Ginny countered, holding the writing implement close to her person. “You’ve made no attempt to see other people since the whole thing ended with Ron. You need this, Hermione.”
“But what about you? I don’t want to leave you on your own and I can go out another time.”
“Ha!” said Ginny, and Hermione knew she had lost the argument. “I’ll invite Luna to come by. Besides, I can only imagine how hard this guy has had to work to get you to agree to go out this time.”
Defeated, Hermione filled Ginny in on the details of how she had got into the situation she was in, including the fact that she had no costume. Knowing how much her friend detested the idea of not knowing exactly who you were dealing with because of her time with Tom Riddle’s diary, Hermione was hoping for a little back peddling on Ginny’s part. There was none.
“So you don’t even know who the guy is?” she asked. Hermione shook her head. “I hope he doesn’t have bad breath or something. What sort of people does Olivia spend her time with?”
Truth be told, Hermione had never seen Olivia outside of work. “It could be mountain trolls for all I know.” They both laughed.
“All right, now to get down to business,” Ginny said, leaning forward over the coffee table with her elbows on her knees. “What are you going to wear?”
“I already told you, I don’t have anything.”
“Well, let’s decide on a costume then. What about an animal?”
“Somehow an owl or a dog doesn’t scream sophistication and allure.”
“Allure, huh?” Hermione blushed at the realization that the word had come from her mouth. Ginny pushed on. “What about a cat?”
Hermione actually laughed aloud. “I’ve been down that road before; never again.”
“I don’t mean grow fur. We’ll get some cute little ears, transfigure your eyes green, and put you in a long, print dress. And perhaps a tail as well,” Ginny added as an afterthought.
That didn’t sound nearly as terrifying as Hermione’s experiences as a 12 year old. “I suppose I don’t have any objections to that,” she admitted. She was also running out of time.
“Excellent.” Without another word, Ginny dragged Hermione through the front door and they Disapparated.
~~~~~~~~~
Large, faux diamond earrings dangled from Hermione’s ears and sparkled even in the dim bathroom light. She couldn’t imagine a cat wearing such fancy stones, but she was trying to balance the feline side with the feminine. Her hair was hanging down in full sleek curls. A head band was hidden atop her head; two small, fluffy white cat ears with black spots and streaks were peeking through. Her long, silken gown had the same print from the empire waist down. Her breasts were covered by shimmering black satin that became inch wide black straps. Elbow length black gloves covered her lower arms and hands. She couldn’t imagine sporting a tail or whiskers with any sense of decorum, so she had settled for a set of contact lenses that gave her eyes the illusion of cat-like slits.
Olivia had promised to be at Hermione’s home by six forty five. “Be ready to Apparate.” Hermione wondered why she couldn’t simply be told where to meet, but then realized she didn’t want to show up on her own.
By six forty three, Hermione was trying to calm down by breathing slowly and deeply. The reflection in the mirror looked good, very good. She could do this, just one date.
There was a knock at the door and Hermione jumped, nearly falling to the floor. Another quick set of knocks; her hand was almost on the knob when fear shook her whole body. What if it wasn’t Olivia on the other side of the door? What if it was her “date”? Would she open the door to find a curly haired man with the same fashion sense as Hagrid carrying a bouquet?
Hermione stood frozen until there was a third set of knocks. “Hermione?” It was Olivia. Quickly, - so fast the hinges would likely need to be tightened when she returned, - she opened the door wide. Olivia stood there with her boyfriend. Like her, Marcus was blond, with shining blue eyes and a gently rounded face. The two wore matching white sheets fashioned into togas.
“We were going to be Egyptians,” Olivia explained, “but I couldn’t stand the thought of having dark hair.” She was more light hearted than Hermione had ever seen her before. Her loose, flowing golden hair looked positively frivolous.
“Goodness, you look gorgeous.” Olivia seemed to have noticed Hermione’s costume for the first time. “Oh, your cousin is in for a treat.” She smiled at the man at her side.
“Cousin? I thought he was just a friend,” said Hermione. She had to admit though, that anybody related to the stunning man before her would undoubtedly be good looking.
“I’ll explain when we get there,” Marcus said.
“Take my arm,” said Olivia.
Hermione stepped over the threshold, locked the door, and wrapped her fingers gently about Olivia’s forearm. A sharp crack split the air and the three figures vanished.
Hermione didn’t recognize their destination and could only assume it was a lavish private residence. The wide face of the building had at least fifty windows, each glowing in the evening darkness. Looking through those on the ground floor, she could see roughly half a dozen well-dressed individuals ascending a red carpeted Grand Staircase.
“Olivia,” Hermione’s voice wavered slightly. “Where are we?” Despite her apprehension, she followed her escorts to the double front doors, held open by two house elves. They were mirror images of one another, standing as tall and proud as their little figures would allow. Hermione was too stricken by the grandness of the Entrance Hall to make a remark about the servants.
“This is the home of Stuart and Francesca Greengrass. They’re away on holiday though. Astoria is the one that invited us.” Olivia and Marcus practically floated up the stairs without a care in the world. Hermione’s stomach clenched so hard that her feet stopped moving. Not only was she entirely out of her element in such a ritzy place, but her colleague had tricked her into attending a party hosted by a former Slytherin.
The doors were still wide open and Olivia and Marcus were already half way up the stairs. There was nothing stopping Hermione from making a run for it. Nothing except the fact she was a Gryffindor and supposed to be brave. Nothing except the fact she had already bought and was wearing a gorgeous ensemble. Nothing except the fact she had not been on what she was certain would be a lavish date, ever. With renewed vigour, Hermione practically marched her way up to the top of the stairs.
“What kept you?” Olivia whispered.
“My heel stuck on the carpet,” Hermione invented.
Olivia tisked quietly, but Hermione didn’t pay any attention. On the expansive dance floor before them were dozens of couples, all in matching costumes. Hermione gently bit her lip, realizing it would be an absolute miracle if the man she was destined to spend the evening with was dressed as a cat. It seemed this night was doomed with every obstacle possible.
“There you are, Marcus.” Hermione’s eyes went wide; it couldn’t be! “I was beginning to think you were making this mystery woman up.”
Hermione’s back was to Olivia, Marcus, and the new comer, yet she was absolutely sure she knew who that voice belonged to. Internally cursing herself for not running when she had the chance, she steeled her courage and turned around, taking in the sharp facial features and platinum blonde hair before her gaze came to rest on his grey eyes.
“Good evening, Draco.”
~~~~~~~~~
The shock that flickered in Malfoy’s eyes nudged a smile out of Hermione. If this was a strange trick being played on her, at least her childhood enemy wasn’t in on it.
“Oh, you two know each other?” Olivia sounded somewhat disheartened. “I thought you finished Hogwarts after Draco.”
“I went back to finish,” Hermione clarified. “He didn’t.”
The Malfoys had had a fair bit of face saving to do after the war. Hermione, though she had been offered countless job opportunities, hadn’t felt right leaving Hogwarts without completing seven years of schooling.
Draco had managed to compose himself once again and stepped close to Hermione. Only now did she realize he was wearing nothing more extravagant a tuxedo. “That isn’t much of a costume,” she quipped, folding her arms. Behind him Olivia and Marcus made their exit and Hermione realized this was in fact the man they had set her up with.
“May I speak with you for a moment, in private?” He asked.
The thought of being alone with Draco Malfoy was about as welcome as finding a worm in an apple, but she couldn’t foresee anything more disastrous occurring tonight and consented to follow him. They walked down a hall that went away from the dancers and then through one of the many doors that branched off of it.
“First of all,” he began as the door shut behind them, “I wasn’t told what sort of costume you’d be wearing, so I went with something that didn’t take much effort and wouldn’t stand out, so I’m a conductor.” He took a baton from his pocket and then gave her a once over. “To be honest, I doubt I could have pulled off anything cat related so well.” Was that a compliment? “Secondly, Olivia didn’t mention that you were the one I have to spend the evening with.” That was the Draco Malfoy she knew so well.
“Look here, Malfoy,” Hermione started before he could really lay into the insults. She put one hand on her hip and pointed at him with the other. “If you think I would have agreed to this knowing it was you I’d have to spend the night with, you’re out of you mind. It’s perfectly clear neither of us wants to be here with the other so I’ll just leave.” She had no reason to stick around a bunch of high society snobs anyway. Before she could turn to reach for the door, Draco rested a hand lightly on her bare shoulder.
“Hang on a moment.” Hermione pulled back from his grasp, but waited to hear him out. “Look, this isn’t the greatest situation to be in, but I really would like you to stay and at least pretend to enjoy the evening with me.”
“Why?” Hermione’s dark brown eyes hardened; he was up to something.
Draco was quiet for a moment, perhaps debating how to best proceed. “Astoria and I are not on the best of terms.” Though she was positive she knew where this was going, Hermione didn’t interrupt. “I have to be here for appearances’ sake and...” He seemed uncomfortable with continuing, but she didn’t give him any help. “I need a date more than I dislike the idea of you being the said date.”
Hermione let out a small Hmph. “Well, as flattering as that request was, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”
“Please, Hermione?”
Astounding, he had the same whiny way of pleading as Ron. The thought of the red-headed git ignited a small fire in her belly. Suppose word got back to him that she had had a fantastic night with Draco Malfoy? It likely wouldn’t be true, but it was a rumour she wouldn’t mind spreading. At the very least, she and Ginny could have a good laugh over it later.
Draco took advantage of her hesitation. “Isn’t there anything you could gain from this?” he suggested. He knew better than to outright bribe her, she was too proud for that.
“I have three very firm conditions. One, you will treat this as a proper date, so you can’t parade me in front of everyone while simultaneously insulting me. Two, I do not want to get into any sort of confrontation with your friends or the Greengrasses. And three...” She paused to make sure he was paying the utmost attention to her. “No matter what actually happens between us, someone is going to get word to Ron that I had a fantastic time with you.”
It was a sneaky and underhanded way to get back at the man she hadn’t previously realized she was so angry with. Draco smirked and held out his arm. “It’s a mutual arrangement then. Let’s return to the party.”
~~~~~~~~~
It was much easier than Hermione expected to pass time with Malfoy. Though at one point she was forced to endure a conversation with his parents. She and Narcissa exchanged short pleasantries while Draco and Lucius exchanged private messages by way of half sentences and glares. Undoubtedly Lucius would have rather seen his son sitting alone in the corner than standing side by side with a woman he considered a lesser breed. Narcissa showed no hint of agitation, forever grateful for Hermione’s part in helping Harry win the Battle of Hogwarts, and thereby save her son.
“Well, that wasn’t awkward,” Hermione commented as they made their way toward a few tables laid with food and drink. Her mouth was parched and she reached for one of the tall glasses of bubbling champagne.
“It could have been much worse. Mother has finally been able to exert some control over my father when it comes to manners, at least in public.” Hermione raised her eyebrows at him over the rim of her glass. “Now then,” he took her drink from her and set it down on the table. “Before you get entirely intoxicated and I have to carry you out, would you like to dance?”
She gave him a pointed look and held out her hand. “And here I thought you took after your father in terms of manners.”
“You did say you wanted this to be a proper date, did you not?” He led her near the middle of the floor and slid his hands into the position they had both been taught in their fourth year. He reminded her of Viktor in the sturdy way he supported her frame and led with great purpose. It was a great relief that he was so easy to follow.
“Marcus never did tell me how the two of you are related. I thought Tonks was your only cousin.”
Draco came as close to blushing as Hermione had ever seen. “As it turns out, my grandfather had an illegitimate daughter.” He sent her out in a delicate spin. “She is Marcus’ mother. He isn’t entitled to any of the Malfoy estate, and he doesn’t need it anyway. Apparently the woman had a thing for wealthy men. It only came out of the woodwork when his mother thought she was passing away and felt that he needed to know the truth.” They came close to another couple and he paused again. “She is perfectly fine now; what they thought was Dragon Pox was in fact some sort of allergic reaction to foods she was eating while on vacation. It was an interesting bit of information to receive and is, of course, not something we intend to share with everyone.”
“You might want to let Olivia in on that.”
The rest of the song and the one after were accompanied by shallow conversation about work and the time since Hogwarts. Neither of them seemed willing to bring up the reasons they were literally in each other’s arms. Fate, of course, was a nasty wench and couldn’t let a good night go unspoiled.
When the pair made their way to the edge of the floor, they found themselves face to face with none other than Astoria Greengrass, pressed against a tall wizard with thick dark hair. They looked as if they’d been pulled from the Middle Ages, in deep green costumes with silver accents. Figures Hermione thought. The man even had a full size glittering sword at his side.
“Draco,” Astoria greeted him with a wide grin. “How good to see you again. And you brought a friend, Harmony, isn’t it?”
“It’s Hermione, Astoria, the Hermione who represented your sister at her hearing last year.” Hermione had entirely forgotten. Daphne Greengrass had been charged with Death Eater related activities during and after the war. It had been a complete farce, invented by an unhappy ex-lover, yet there had been enough evidence - and bribery - involved for it to make it into the courts before Hermione tore it to pieces.
“Of course. I believe I owe you great thanks.” Astoria didn’t actually thank Hermione in any way but turned her attention to the blond man. “And I trust you’re doing well, Draco. Not still spending every minute of the day and night working, I hope.”
“As your companion here will soon realize,” Draco retorted, “when there’s nothing to make you rush home, you’ll find just about anything to occupy your time elsewhere.” Astoria looked as though he had slapped her. Draco made the most of her brief silence. “Good evening to you both.”
He led Hermione away with the lightest touch on her back. His hand was barely resting on the fabric and yet she felt the heat of his fingertips, their skin separated by a thin slip of silky material. “I’d like to go outside,” she said, voicing her discomfort. “It’s a bit warm in here for me.”
She moved a little faster, trying to put even a few inches of space between them, but Draco tailed her through the room with ease, his hand remaining in place. She had intended to walk down to the first floor and step outside, but she found herself at the foot of a set of stairs leading upwards. At the top was a corridor that led to the left and a wide walkway that looked down on the party. The wall was lined with windows, just like the front of the building, but in the centre were two tall open doors.
Draco exerted a little more pressure on her back and Hermione climbed, only feeling relieved when she reached the top. Through the doors she could see a balcony which, surprisingly, was empty. The soft darkness and cool breeze of the evening dampened the noise from the party. At last, Malfoy pulled his hand away, but he followed her to the balcony’s edge. She rested her hands on the cold white stone and peered down on an expansive garden. Dark green foliage lined either side of a straight walkway that led from the back door out to a gazebo.
“This place is lovely,” Hermione whispered. She glanced to her right and saw Draco rather stony-faced. “So what was all that about?” She leaned forward on the railing, which was still cold despite the heat from her palms.
Draco grinned. “I don’t know - bad blood, I suppose.” He thought for a moment and continued, “Astoria isn’t a bad woman; she just doesn’t have anything interesting about her. She spends all of her time either wasting Galleons or gossiping. I mean,” he let out a quiet laugh, “grow up and do something with yourself.”
“Oh,” Hermione looked away from him. “The way you spoke to her, it sounded as though it was a bit more - personal than that.”
“You mean I made it sound like she was awful in the sack? Well I suppose if you’re interested in knowing about that bit of my past relationships -”
Hermione held up her hand to stop him. “No, no, not interested,” she said quickly, watching his face carefully for any sign he might continue.
“And what if I am?” Draco placed his right arm on the banister and leaned against it. His other hand was resting loosely in his pocket while his face remained expressionless.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You and Weasley. After so many years was it a big let-down or did he actually manage to accomplish something in his life?”
Hermione’s ability to think logically was obstructed by a torrent of indignant responses. Her face flushed pink, but all she could say was, “I - I - I don’t think…”
“Fine, don’t tell me, but at least let me know about Potter; everyone suspects the two of you got it on at school.”
“That’s ridiculous! Harry and I would never…” The thought of it silenced her attempt to explain. “And at school?” How horrifying.
Draco chuckled at her and shook his head. “I’m only joking, Granger, I have no interest whatsoever in how good or otherwise Ron Weasley is in bed. And yes, despite your best attempts as a Prefect, students were shagging in the castle.”
“Can we please change the subject? This really isn’t something I would normally talk about on a first date.” In fact, it had taken Hermione and Ron weeks to broach the matter.
“This isn’t a normal first date though, is it?” Draco had a point, but that didn’t change the fact that Hermione was done with the conversation; at her lack of response he changed direction. “Admit it, you’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you? The dressing up, dancing, a nice big place. I bet you even laughed a little at Astoria.”
There was silence between them as they both turned to lean on the railing. “You know,” she finally began, “this hasn’t been the disaster I thought it would be.” Draco gave her a sideways look but kept quiet. “I don’t mean…” She paused to decide what she did mean. “I suppose I wasn’t expecting to have much fun doing you a favour.”
“I’m not a complete monster, you know.” Draco had returned his gaze to the garden. Hermione’s eyes flickered to his left forearm. The mark should have vanished by now. She wanted to reach out and touch his sleeve; to say something now that the mood had so suddenly shifted.
The sound of laughter rose from the ballroom and caused the couple to swivel around. The people inside fell silent and a voice called out, “It’s a well-known fact that it takes five Slytherins to stir a cauldron; one to stir and four others to say that their father’s connections at the Ministry could get it done faster.” Again it seemed the whole room was chuckling.
Draco was the first to speak. “Isn’t that one of those Weasleys?”
Hermione, disbelieving, ran back inside. She could see George standing on a wooden box almost directly below her and about to tell another joke. Her eyes scanned the crowd and quickly found the only other natural red head in the room.
She pulled back from the banister only to push up against Draco’s chest. “Sorry,” she said, jumping away as though he had an electric current running through him. She spun around and her heel slid on the polished stone floor. Without a word Malfoy reached out and caught Hermione just below her shoulders.
The two just looked at one another for a moment.
“Hermione! Draco! There you two are, do come join us.” From below Astoria had taken a brief moment of quiet to call out, directing everyone’s attention to the slightly shaken couple. Her lips curled into a wicked grin.
Time seemed to pause, long enough to allow George, Ron, and Harry, who had been speaking with someone near the far staircase, a moment to catch on.
“What the - ”
“Oi!”
“Hermione, what are you doing?” Ron’s voice prevailed, though all three had looked up expectantly. The party guests hungrily watched what was unfolding.
“She’s standing, Weasley, what does it look like?” Draco drawled.
Everyone but Ron and Hermione laughed; Ron was red faced and Hermione held a gloved hand over her open mouth.
Then Ron said something back, but Hermione couldn’t hear it. All she could focus on were the smirks and sneers aimed in her direction. Mercifully Draco didn’t continue the fight once he saw her discomfort. They were on display, a show, something he wanted to end.
“If you’d like to have a civilized conversation, you can meet us up here and let everyone else continue having a pleasant time,” said Draco. His jaw muscles tightened and Hermione was certain he wanted to add a nasty insult.
Had he been alone, Ron may have pulled any number of rash stunts, but Harry and George had manoeuvred themselves to his side and quickly talked him into agreeing to Draco’s suggestion. They parted the crowd with ease and met the couple at the top of the stairs. Draco gestured down the corridor. Hermione lagged just long enough to look back. Most of the guests had returned to dancing or eating, but a pair of hard green eyes locked on hers and she knew; this was all Astoria’s doing.
~~~~~~~~~
Ron’s composure lasted only long enough for George to perceptively place a silencing charm on the room they chose. The younger brother wheeled around and pointed his wand at Malfoy’s nose. “Just what do you think you’re doing, ferret face?”
Draco didn’t flinch, or even reach for his own wand. He calmly replied, “Well, I was taking Hermione on the nicest date she has ever been on until you so rudely interrupted.”
Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to insult the person holding him at wand point, but Hermione suspected that Malfoy intended to take it much further.
“You’re lying!” Ron half shouted. George and Harry shared looks of disbelief but remained in the background. “That isn’t true, Hermione, is it? Tell me you lost a bet or something.” Ron tightened his grip on his wand and glared at the man before him. “What happened, Malfoy? Couldn’t find any witches walking Knockturn Alley to bring along?”
“Ronald!” Hermione had stamped her foot. Ron snapped his head her way and Draco, faster than a blink, swiped the wand from Ron’s fingers. Harry and George both pulled out their own wands, despite the fact that Draco was only holding Ron’s behind his back. “Knock it off, all of you! You’re behaving like children.”
All four men stared at her, but none of them made a move. “Draco, give Ron his wand back,” she instructed. “Ron, George, Harry, put yours away. We came up here to talk, not to have a duel.” She placed her hands on her hips in a Mrs. Weasley fashion until they all grudgingly did what she asked.
“First of all, Draco and I are here together by mutual agreement, not because I lost a bet or was slipped a potion. Now, why are you three here?” Hermione folded her arms just below her chest and gave them all an expectant look.
Harry was the first to speak up. “We were at the Three Broomsticks, and Hannah came over and said there was an owl there with a letter for us. Well, for me and Ron, but George was with us.” The other two nodded along but Hermione looked sceptical. “Anyway, it was from the Greengrasses asking us to come to the party. We didn’t have much else planned for the night, so we figured why not.” Ron and George nodded more forcefully than before.
“So, gents,” Draco interrupted, “what we have here is a jealous and unhappy ex-girlfriend of mine using the three of you to make fools of Hermione and myself in front of all her friends. Thanks for that.”
Nobody said anything for a moment. Ron seemed to be working out which aspect of the evening was most infuriating. Then George actually took a step forward. “It seems to me that we might want to focus on a little bit of payback, and let Ron and Draco continue their pissing contest later.”
Hermione didn’t want them to continue their fit at all, but George did have a point; retaliation was certainly in order. “But what can we accomplish in the next hour or so?” She asked.
“Hermione, my dear,” George took a few more steps toward her and threw an arm around her bare shoulders, “you look fabulous by the way.” Her cheeks tinged pink when she remembered she was still in costume. “If there is one thing I can do in three minutes flat, it’s come up with a plan that will end in raucous laughter.”
~~~~~~~~~
Many witches and wizards would have left the Greengrass residence around eleven, but they all knew that sooner or later Hermione and the others would return and perhaps another shouting match would ensue. Astoria had been sporting a smug grin ever since the incident. When Ron Weasley emerged and marched down the stairs looking thoroughly bitter, she couldn’t stop herself from gliding over to him.
“I hope everything was sorted out,” she consoled, holding a drink in her hand. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know about Hermione and Draco.” She let out a fake sigh. “They are so cute together, aren’t they?” At the same time, the topic of their conversation could be seen leaning against the wall at the entrance to the corridor. Their heads were close together and their hands were linked loosely between them.
“Oh so cute,” Ron grumbled. His brow furrowed as the two seemed oblivious to the world.
“You don’t still have feelings for Hermione, do you?” Astoria pried, watching Ron’s emotions play out, and the reactions of those around her. “It must be hard to watch the two of them like that.”
Draco leaned forward and whispered in Hermione’s ear. She giggled and sighed. It was enough to make Ron ill. There were whispers circulating through the party guests. “I certainly wouldn’t let him take her if I were you. I mean, she was yours first, right?”
“You know what,” Ron seemed to brighten up, “you’re right.” He looked up the stairs and shouted, “Hey Malfoy, you can go ahead and have her, I prefer a more sophisticated woman.” He turned on Astoria with hungry eyes. She didn’t have more than a second to process his words before he had covered her mouth with his.
A collective gasp went up, and a light flashed. Astoria gave a muffled scream and her wine glass shattered on the ground, splashing dark liquid on the hem of her dress. Even as she pushed Ron back, all those viewing the scene burst out laughing. Astoria’s hair was mussed from the struggle and she looked positively livid. She scanned the top of the stairs, expecting to find Hermione and Draco, but instead found the other Weasley holding a camera and sporting a cheeky grin.
“I’m certain the tabloids will love that one.” George tapped the device with his wand and it was vanished away. “Come, dear brother,” he said, sliding down the handrail, “I would imagine that Miss Greengrass would like to enjoy the rest of her party.”
They quickly made an exit before Astoria could do much more than stammer. Harry was already waiting down by the door, having slipped down another staircase and the three Apparated to Harry and Ginny’s home. They immediately burst out laughing and Harry put a hand on his best mate’s shoulder. Ron was wiping his mouth with his sleeve to rid it of the Slytherin taste. “You really took one for the team, Ron. Do you think Serine will mind?”
“Nah.” Ron shook his head. “She doesn’t read any of that published garbage. And if she does catch wind of it, I’m sure she’ll understand.” He looked back and forth. “Where’s Hermione? Weren’t they supposed to follow us here?”
~~~~~~~~~
Back at the Greengrass residence, Astoria was trying to regain some composure and shoo her guests from the ballroom with grace. The man she had spent the evening with had mysteriously disappeared before the debacle. She put her hands on her hips and went searching for the wizard who should have hurled curses at that damned Ronald Weasley.
Though the plan had been for Draco and Hermione to follow the others, Draco changed their course once they emerged out of a side door of the estate. “Take us to your place instead,” he instructed, squeezing her hand.
Worried Astoria would be hot on their trail, Hermione took his direction and concentrated hard on the alley that ran along the side of her building.
“Why did we come here?” she whispered after peeking around the corner to make sure no Muggles were close by. “We were supposed to follow the boys.”
“Hush a moment, will you?”
He gently touched his nose to hers, and his eyes fluttered closed. They were even closer than they had been when they were putting on a show for everyone. Hermione held very still while his fingers lightly danced at her waist. His spicy scent inflamed her senses and she suddenly felt dizzy. She stumbled forward and he wrapped a protective arm around her.
“I thought it would be a nice gesture to walk to your front door,” he murmured.
Hermione allowed him to lead her up to the door with their arms linked together.. “Thank you,” she said, and stepped away, smiling. She pulled out her wand and tapped the knob. It clicked and she reached for the door, but Draco caught her hand.
Ever so gently, he peeled off her long glove and touched his lips to her bare skin...
"Look for my owl,” he told her, turning away with a smirk. “Goodnight, Hermione.”
Though he walked back toward the alley, Hermione didn’t hear him Apparate away until she had entered her home and locked the door. Looking down at her hand she smiled; she must thank Olivia for bringing two such unlikely people together.
THE END