AN: Chapter 9! Thank you to everyone who has stuck around to read this :) <3 <3 <3
Amazing chappie image by Marzipan at TDA <3
“Well, I should go get my things,” Granger said meekly.
I smile devilishly. “How about we make old Tulls and Zingy go get them? They’re the ones forcing us into this arrangement.”
“No, no. I can go.”
“Look, Granger. How about you just borrow some of my clothing, and tomorrow we’ll go together?”
She looked up, startled. “Umm...sure...I guess that will work. I could always ask Ron or Harry or Ginny to bring me my things.”
“Do you think Golden Trio plus one is going to be happy with you spending your nights here? I wouldn’t want them to know where I live. Merlin forbid, they might all try to live here. This place is beautiful after all.” I waved my hand grandly, and Granger rolled her eyes. I don’t know why she’s rolling her eyes. I’m perfectly serious.
“Too much green,” she commented drily.
“Nope! I’ve got some yellow and some red over there, and just a touch of blue.”
“You mean the Hogwarts banner that is mostly green, but has the smallest touch of red, yellow, and blue for the other Houses?”
Alright, yeah, so most of my room is green and silver, but haven’t you noticed how wonderfully well those two colors go together? The right shade of green and silver makes for a beautiful apartment. And yes, I have a Hogwarts banner in my house. My mum bought it for me after the war, saying that it was important I still remember who I was. It was a hard time for me after the war, and she was only trying to help. Now, whenever she comes over, if that damned banner isn’t up on the wall, she’ll blow a fuse.
“House unity and whatnot,” I replied.
Granger snorted. Not very gracefully I might add.
“Well, I’m kind of tired, so I think I’ll go on and get some sleep,” Granger said, after a long pause.
“You can go ahead and take the guest bedroom. It’s down the hall to the right.”
“Thanks,” she said, her eyes shimmering a little. “Come on, Mr. Snuggles.” Her kitten meowed contentedly from a plush green seat. I don’t blame him. That’s my favorite seat. When you sit in it you feel like you’re the king of the world. It’s as if all your food is being fed to you by beautiful women that are scantily clad, and yet, somehow you stay perfectly fit even through it all. Speaking of food, I could go for some chocolate. Being the nice person I am, I might even offer some to Granger, but alas, she has disappeared. Well, that’s her loss, isn’t it? More chocolate for me! I wonder if I can move her kitten so that I can reclaim my throne and have beautiful women feed me chocolate. Blissful. Maybe Granger will one of them too. Oh good God. I did not just say that! Maybe I ought to forgo the aphrodisiac and just go to bed...
Hermione knocked on the door cautiously. When there was no reply, she knocked a little more loudly. Finally, exasperated, she pushed the door open, and poked her head in.
“Hello?” she called.
The room was completely empty, but Hermione heard the sound of running water. She thought she ought to leave in case they were caught in a compromising situation by accident, but she noticed an entire array of photo frames on a writing desk. Unable to stop herself from this rare chance to see Draco Malfoy at his weakest, she crept into the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Approaching the desk, she was surprised to see that all his photos were rather dated apart from one or two newer ones. Most of the photos were of him as a child with his parents, a gleeful smile on his face as a butterfly flitted in front of the camera, or as his mother took him to the park. The smile was genuine. One she hadn’t seen before. She noticed one of the newest photos was of Malfoy and Rick. It was a picture from a few years ago, probably not long after the war ended.
Hermione was so engrossed by the photos, she didn’t hear the water turn off or the bathroom door swing open.
“Granger?” his voice startled her, and she let out a shriek, dropping the photo she was holding. She whirled around, only to shriek again, and cover her eyes.
“Oy, don’t turn around!” he called out, rather later than she would have liked.
“Why aren’t you wearing clothes?” she shrieked, looking down.
house, Granger! My
room! What are you doing in here?” he accused. Hermione stared resolutely at the broken photo frame, feeling her cheeks blush.
“I came to see if you were up because I wanted to go to my house and get my things!”
There was a momentary silence, and then Hermione, feeling too awkward to remain silent, said, “This isn’t my fault! You should wear a towel!”
Malfoy let out a laugh, and it almost sounded sincere. “Granger, I’m a bachelor. Do you think I really care about a towel if no one’s here to see me anyways?”
“I...I’m going to go,” she muttered, her cheeks very, very scarlet. She bolted out of the room and didn’t stop running until she was in the guest room. She buried her face in her pillow until Mr. Snuggles pawed her shoulder gently.
“Oh, Mr. Snuggles, that was so embarrassing! I never want to see Draco Malfoy without adequate clothing on ever again.”
“Hey, listen, Granger,” a voice came from the doorway, and Hermione shrieked again for no particular reason. She caught sight of him in a towel, and ran to the door, slamming it in his face.
Through the other side of the door she heard Malfoy say, “Yeesh, overreaction much? Sorry about that Granger.” He paused for a moment, as if waiting for her to reply, but she remained silent. “Prudy Gryffindors,” he chuckled to himself. Hermione heard his receding footsteps. He left her sitting with her back against the door, trembling a little not only at the fact that she had just heard the impossible come out of Draco Malfoy’s mouth (an apology and a sincere one to boot!), but also that she had for a fleeting (only fleeting, she reminded herself) moment thought Draco Malfoy was attractive.
“Want some cereal?” I offered, shaking the box at Granger.
She looked at me suspiciously. “Sure,” she replied dubiously, taking the cereal at a snail’s pace. Really, if she keeps up this slow movement today, I might just get tired of it and leave her somewhere. Oh, damn. I can’t. We have to stay together. I hate rules. I hate that I have to follow them all the time now. Part of being grown-up, I suppose. Maybe I should pretend to be a student and go back to school. Then I could prance down the hallways imagining all sorts of flowers and rainbows bursting everywhere. Probably not. More likely, I’d walk to some class and get attacked by a hippogriff. Because they hate me.
“Want some milk?” I offered to the still suspicious Granger.
“What are you on about?” she demanded, standing up abruptly. I cocked an eyebrow at her and put the milk down far away from the side of the counter out of habit. I’ve cried over spilt milk before. Literally. It was an unfortunate experience. I was just about to pour some milk into my delicious cereal when Pansy Parkinson popped into the flat without warning, making me tip over all my milk on to the ground. I believe what happened was I stared at the milk, stared at the smiling Pansy, ordered her to leave, and then began to cry some very manly tears over the fact that my cereal was now dry as bread. After that, I had an apparating system set up so no one could apparate in without my consent first. It’s genius. Sometimes Rick tries to do that, and I’ll just flat out refuse him so he has to walk all the way to my flat. Genius I say.
“Hm? What?” I asked, jumping back into the present.
“I asked, ‘What are you on about?’”
“What makes you think I’m on about anything?”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Can’t I be a gentleman?”
Ouch. She didn’t even miss a beat.
“Are you going to poison me? Or murder me and then hide me in your basement? Or make me think you’re being nice only to punch me in the face later?” she motored off, not even stopping for a breath.
“Why would I punch you in the face?” I asked, surprised. What has been going on in that brilliant mind of hers?
“You tell me! You’re the one who’s going to do it!” she demanded.
“Um...I don’t know?” I said with a questioning inflection. Really, she was starting to look insane, standing there, glaring at me, when all I wanted to do was offer her some breakfast.
“It’s because you’re...you’re a ferret!”
Wait. Did she just call me a ferret? And did she just use that as a reason for why I am one day going to punch her in the face? What in the bloody hell does a ferret have to do with punching? If I’m a ferret, I can’t punch anyone anyways. Although, I bet I’d look like a bloody attractive ferret. All the lady ferrets will flock to me, and then Granger will be sorry! I’ll be getting more girlfriends than she ever will! Well, I mean, I suppose boyfriends for her. I mean, I think.
“Because I’m a ferret, I’m going to punch you in the face and hide you in my basement?” I looked at her doubtfully. She looks embarrassed as her cheeks flush pink.
“Well, I just mean, you’re despicably mean! You’re the mean, scheming Draco Malfoy who hates anyone whose blood isn’t pure. You hate everyone who isn’t up to your standards.”
I looked away, a little hurt that she still thought that of me when I had been civil to her throughout the entire assignment. I couldn’t expect her to understand. She didn’t have to deal with all the mess after the war. I left her, her mouth set in a determined line, but her brown eyes softening curiously. I turned after a few feet, meeting her questioning gaze.
AN: Let me know what you think! :)