Out On The Town | By : flamingmoth Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 2332 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or settings in Harry Potter. I make no money from this story. |
Draco finished buttoning his shirt and reached for the set of plain but expensive black robes that he had planned to wear for their big evening. He paused for a moment, fingering the cloth and wondering dryly if their meal would end abruptly with him being splattered with her drink, as had happened at their very first dinner out. She was highly temperamental, and after three years he still hadn’t gotten the hang of handling her. Every time he thought he’d figured things out, some new development would come along and he’d be right back to square one. He wondered if he’d ever feel adequate to the task.
He lifted his gaze to the window. Outside, on the lawn of Malfoy Manor, the shadows had grown long in the deepening twilight. One of the enchanted, ornamental gazing-globes had begun to glow in response to the disappearance of the day. It put him in mind of the Divination classroom back at Hogwarts. If he had foreseen where he was going to wind up ten years after leaving school – married to a tempestuous, know-it-all Gryffindor -- he would probably have hurled himself out of the tower window.
The thought amused him, but after a moment, Draco sighed. Part of him wanted nothing more than to just stay in and relax. He was tired; it had been a long day, and he wasn’t sure he was up to this, even knowing what he and Hermione would probably be doing later that night – but he’d promised, after all.
It didn’t take a Trelawney to predict that this evening had a great deal of potential to be disastrous. She’d been in a foul mood all afternoon, alternately shouting or lapsing into sullen silence, so his mother had said. Thinking of this, Draco slipped his arms into his robes and fastened them up the front as if donning armor for a fight with a dragon. Deep down, however, he knew that this tyrant who ruled his heart would always have the better of him in the end.
* * * * *
They had spent so little time together in the past couple of weeks that at first, it was almost disorienting. This couldn’t be his girl walking beside him with her honey-brown curls bouncing. He still had trouble believing it was true – that she was a Malfoy, and everyone who saw them together would know that she was his.
She told him what she’d been doing all day, and he listened and nodded and smiled, trying to figure out if he was pleased or worried that she’d gotten hold of Lucius’s wand and made sparks dance out of the end of it. He’d have to remind his parents to be more cautious. Although Narcissa tried to act as if minding her all day wasn’t the burden that it really was, Draco knew that it was sometimes a bit much for his mother.
She let him seat her with little fuss at the restaurant – not a very formal one, of course, but quite good enough – and he began to think that maybe this wouldn’t be a disaster after all. His swell of love and pride was suddenly deflated, however, when she grew annoyed after he’d ordered both of their meals. His attempts to placate her rapidly devolved into low but urgent pleas to calm down, as her voice rose and finally dissolved into loud sobs.
Finally, he was forced to rise and go round the table. First, he flicked his wand and cast a Silencing charm around them, thus forestalling the ignominy of having the maître d’ come over and do it. Kneeling by her seat, he entreated her in a low, firm voice. The brown eyes were rimmed with red now; tears gushed down her face and he felt his heart cramp at the sight, even as his irritation rose. Withdrawing his handkerchief, he gently wiped her tears away. She turned her head to avoid his touch, flailing as he tried to pin her hands down. Finally, pressing his own lips tightly together, Draco was forced to reach out and grab her chin to wipe off what looked to be an enormous runnel of snot making its way down from her nose.
He heard a titter behind him. Draco fought the urge to cringe in embarrassment. Gods, this was a nightmare…but he was a Malfoy, even now, even after everything. So he ignored the pitying looks and smirks he could feel directed at him from the other patrons. He did feel smug that he’d had the foresight to move her water goblet out of the way before it could be thrown at him, but it was a hollow victory given that half of Wizarding London had just witnessed a humiliating family drama.
“Merlin, what is the matter with you?” he murmured wearily as the attention of the other diners drifted back to their own affairs. Of course, she didn’t answer. He had a flash of memory – holding her, gazing into her eyes with perfect love and understanding. When had she gone from that adoring soul to this completely insane creature?
If I didn’t love her so much, I would kill her right this instant, he thought, as a waiter swooped in with a glass of Firewhisky for him, and two plates which he set on the table. More worn out than he wanted to admit by this unwanted duel, Draco rose to his feet and resumed his own seat. But then, as she began to eat, her brown eyes looking across at him with open candor and trust, a rush of shame overcame him and he felt like the most horrible wizard alive. Not even Voldemort could be any worse. She couldn’t help it, after all, and it wasn’t as if this sort of thing hadn’t happened before.
* * * * *
After dinner, he made a spur-of-the-moment decision and Transfigured his robes into a jacket and her pink robes into a dress. Instead of strolling around Dumbledore Park, which he felt was overly chilly for this early autumn evening, they went to see a Muggle movie which was rather too noisy and frenetic for Draco’s taste. It was some animated affair having to do with fairies and elves – most of which were nothing like the nasty little brutes with which Draco was familiar. But it was either that or a horribly inappropriate alternative which involved a lot of guns and things being blown up. Draco knew that he would not be in any shape later to soothe her nightmares all night long if he were so unwise as to drag her into that one.
She seemed to enjoy the film they saw, however, and she stayed calm and acted like a reasonable human being. He was immensely glad that he wasn’t forced to escort her out of the theater midway through, and he tried to enjoy the film for her sake. The Sugar Quill (enhanced with a calming charm) that Draco had purchased before they left Diagon Alley might have had something to do with her lack of restlessness, too. In the dark it looked remarkably like a Muggle candy cane.
He recalled a conversation many years ago about what Muggle portrayals of witches and wizards said about them. Hermione believed that Muggles displayed a childlike innocence and wonder about magic, even if it sometimes scared them. Draco, on the other hand, felt that if Muggles knew of their existence, they would lose no time in exploiting magical folk in any way they could. His evidence for this had been the fairy godmother in Cinderella.
“Then there’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. To Muggles, witches are either dispensaries of every desire, no matter how ridiculous or trivial -- or else they’re rotten, evil old hags. Where’s the innocence in that, Granger?”
Hermione had only smiled and said, “Someday you’ll see things my way,” with that know-it-all tone that used to fill him with annoyance.
Tonight, however, he saw the excitement lingering on the pretty face of the brown-eyed witch he held tightly as they left the theater after the end of the movie. And Draco felt, just for a moment, that perhaps she wasn’t entirely an enigma.
* * * * *
Draco had never ridden the Knight Bus, but he had promised her that they could this time and he wasn’t about to go back on his word, even though Apparating would have taken far less time. So, as they stood on the sidewalk of a quiet London street, he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his wand, and stuck it out to the side. She watched him avidly. Everything to do with magic fascinated her. It always had, he knew.
Within seconds, there was a horrible SCREECH, the smell of burning rubber, and the Knight Bus stood before them. Its door whooshed open and the gangly, scarred man who served as its conductor peered suspiciously out at them. His eyes widened when he saw Draco Malfoy standing there, but warmed when he caught sight of who Draco was with.
“Mind your feet there, luv,” Shunpike urged. He extended a hand to assist her, but was rebuffed as she climbed aboard and headed off between the rows of beds without even waiting for Draco. As he stepped onto the bus after her, he caught sight of a gold ring on the conductor’s left hand. Draco lifted his eyes to meet the man’s knowing, even sympathetic gaze, which caught him a bit off-guard.
The old Draco would have sneered at this bit of familiarity. He wasn’t that snobby boy anymore, though, Malfoy sangfroid or no. He was ready to acknowledge that he was only human, too – Hermione had had a lot to do with that, after all. So he let his mouth turn up at the corners, and was secretly gratified to hear Shunpike chuckle lowly as he hurried down the aisle.
* * * * *
At first she had refused to stay seated, which meant Draco had to constantly grab her to keep her from falling and hitting her head as the bus made its nauseating, lightning-fast journey through half a dozen towns and cities. After what seemed like hours, she fell asleep with her head on Draco’s lap. The few passengers nearby who were awake gave them indulgent looks at the sight of her curls strewn over his knee. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was rather later than he’d meant to be out. He was glad when the bus came to a sudden halt which nearly threw them both into the aisle, and the gangly conductor announced, “Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor.”
At that, some of the other passengers roused themselves, peering apprehensively around bedposts and from beneath quilts as Draco rose and, without even thinking about it, picked her up in his arms and carried her off the Knight Bus. He stepped down onto the gravel of his own driveway and felt a burst of exhausted relief as the gates swung silently open. Despite the near-explosive departure of the Knight Bus behind them, she did not wake as he made his way down the long drive. Merlin, she was heavy, though he’d never admit it out loud.
There would be no need to cast Silencing charms around the bedroom tonight, he thought ruefully.
Before he got to the front door, it opened and a figure clad in a silken dressing gown halted meaningfully in the doorway, arms crossed. Bugger. It was as if he was fifteen again, coming home drunk as a centaur from Pansy’s birthday party.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” a voice called through the darkness.
“Shh, you’ll wake her.” He ascended the steps and paused in the front doorway as well. “Had a frightful time at the restaurant, unfortunately, but the rest of the evening went well,” he whispered, hoping to cut off an argument before it got started. Fortunately for him, the ploy worked. “Went to a movie then rode the Knight Bus. Yes, I actually got on it,” he said in answer to the stare of disbelief this statement evoked. “It wasn’t as bad as Potter made it out to be.”
“All right. I’m glad you had a good time, then.” Hermione’s annoyed tone vanished. She leaned up and kissed him. “Lyra’s been excited about ‘going to London with Daddy’ for days. She really misses you – misses us both, when we’re as busy as we’ve been lately. Thank God your mother agreed to look after her. She’s gone back to Aix with your dad,” she added. “She sends her love.”
“Are you finished with that business at work?” Draco asked, referred to the project Hermione had been spending almost all her evenings on for the last fortnight.
“We just got it wrapped up. I’m so glad! I’ve missed both of you.”
“Me too.” They looked down at Lyra’s small face as she slept peacefully in her father’s arms. Hermione turned and went back inside, and Draco followed her into the front hall of the manor. “I just don’t understand how she’s gotten so big so fast. It seems like only yesterday that Weasley burst into my office shouting that you were in labor and I ought to come at once.” Draco cocked an eyebrow. “She tried to slap me tonight, you know, the way you did at school, and again when I first asked you to that Ministry ball.”
After five years of marriage, Hermione’s smirk was a nearly identical copy of Draco’s own. “She knows what a snake her father is, even if she loves you madly.” She pulled the front door shut behind her. “Come on, let’s get her to bed. It’s late.”
Hermione said no more, but Draco knew his wife’s mind well enough by now to catch what she didn’t say. He groaned softly with regret. “I’m sorry. I’m too tired, sweet. She wore me right out.” His smile was wry. “I never thought another woman would come along whom I’d try so hard to please as I have you, but here she is.”
“Yes, well,” Hermione whispered, drawing closer to them, “you’re stuck with us both now. Aren’t you glad?”
Draco did not reply, but the look he sent Hermione from his silvery eyes said everything that he wished to say. He leaned over and tenderly kissed her. Together, they mounted the grand staircase of the manor, climbing through the quiet darkness to their rooms. Perhaps tomorrow night, Draco thought sleepily, he and Hermione could get to work on making yet another tyrant who would rule his heart too.
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