Preferably Dinner But He's Open To Lunch
A quick aguamenti aimed at his pointy, aristocratic face served as his wake-up call.
“What is-Granger? What are you doing? This shirt is mulberry silk!”
“No, this shirt is attached to a body which is in a place it doesn’t belong.”
Although bewildered and looking more than a little peeved, a grin slowly started to form on his face.
“If you wanted me to take it off, you only had to say the word.”
Well at least this conversation gave Hermione one thing-nightmare fuel for the next week. The minute picture alone was enough to make her cringe.
“Going blind actually wasn’t on my agenda for today. Now, if you would please remove yourself from my office, we can reconvene this conversation at another time.”
Draco’s grin didn’t move. Neither did his feet, to Hermione’s annoyance.
“No, I don’t think I will. After all, I had a proposal.”
“Which I already declined.”
He didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed. On the contrary, he looked like a kid in a candy shop. Hermione, as the daughter of dentists, really didn’t like the turn this conversation was taking. She opened her mouth to vaguely threaten him with another hex, but he beat her to the punch.
“I can get you the promotion.”
Hermione froze. The promotion, the one she had been tirelessly working towards-the one she had nearly blown her chances at not ten minutes prior-he could get her that promotion? Fortunately, her brain caught up before she could do something she’d regret, like thank him. This is Draco Malfoy. Draco-came-out-of-the-womb-a-slytherin-Malfoy. There has to be a catch. Perhaps he’s trying to gather favors in anticipation of the moment he needs to dump another project on her. Surely, he’s just trying to force her into his debt. That’s got to be it. Yet, Hermione couldn’t help but hope. This was the promotion. It wouldn’t hurt to hear him out, right? Even if this is some backwards-blackmail scheme on his part, it wouldn’t hurt to hear what he knows.
“I’m listening.”
His grin somehow grew. He looked almost giddy. Hermione still didn’t like it.
“I happen to be in a position in which I could, possibly, perhaps, attempt to help you procure the position.”
“There was a lot of ‘possibly’ in that sentence.”
“Everything is hypothetical.”
“Well, in this hypothetical scenario, in which you could possibly help me, what would I definitely owe you?”
Draco took on an offended look, placing his hand on his heart. He stood, peering down at Hermione with a manufactured innocence.
“Oh, my dear Hermione, do you think so little of me that I would try to extort your vulnerable position?”
Hermione didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
Draco didn’t look offended now. He looked vaguely proud, in fact.
“Well, my dear Hermione-”
“-yeah, that’s got to stop-”
“-you’d be correct. Everything comes at a price, after all.”
That good-for-nothing-slytherin. No matter if she was in the same situation she certainly would have asked for something in return, we’re talking about Draco now. The Draco holding her-and it was hers-promotion over her head.
She crossed her arms. If he wanted to play, she would play.
“Name the price.”
'Ah', Draco thought, 'the little lion finally showed her teeth.'
“Keep in mind, this is a one-time offer. Pass it up and-poof-it’s gone.”
“Name the price, Malfoy.”
Draco didn’t smile, per say, but she could have sworn the corners of his mouth lifted even infinitesimally.
“One date. Preferably dinner, but I’m open to lunch. You go on one date with me, and the promotion’s yours.”
Hermione was fairly certain her brain had ceased to function for at least a minute. Two, if she was being honest. It wasn’t as if she considered herself repuslive. Her dates with Michael Corner and Andrew Goldstein had proved that. It wasn’t the idea that anyone was attracted to her that was astonishing, it was the fact that he was attracted to her. Well, he at least wanted to go out on a date. Preferably dinner, but he was open to lunch. Hermione covertly pinched herself. Okay, not dreaming.
“You…want to go out…with me?”
It wasn’t the most eloquent sentence she had ever uttered, but it did communicate her confusion. He didn’t give her a moment more to think before he replied.
“Yes. As a bonus, if you’re afraid this is an elaborate attempt to murder you, we can do it in a public place.”
The idea of murder hadn’t even crossed Hermione’s mind. 'Oh my Godric,' she thought, 'was this an elaborate murder scheme? No, who would foil their own murder scheme before it’s even in motion? Not a murder scheme then, what is the deal? Maybe he genuinely is attracted to me?' She quickly discarded that option, it was practically laughable. There has to be another reason.
“Helloooo. Earth to Granger.”
Draco had spoken, and as Hermione looked up she was faced with the image of him staring right back, waving his hands in front of her face. He was standing directly in front of her now, and from the annoyance displayed on his face, had been trying to capture her attention for quite a while now.
“Oh, my apologies. It seems my brain ran off there for a second. I believe we were discussing when you would vacate my office.”
“Actually, I believe we were discussing our upcoming dinner.”
“I thought you were open to lunch.”
“I’ve decided I want dinner.”
“And I’ve decided I want you to leave. I have indulged your silly habits, and now I’m done. Malfoy, I actually have work to do if I want that promotion. Work that doesn’t include you.”
She angled her body enough to let him pass by her, motioning to the door.
“I do like talking with you, I really do. But you must be going now.”
Draco merely blinked at her. She expected him to throw out one last sentence, one last-ditch effort to continue the conversation, but he simply sighed.
“Alright, alright. I got the message. I’ll leave you to your work.”
He squeezed past her and continued on to her door frame, before pausing.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten though, Granger. I can still get you the promotion.”
With that, he slinked out of her office and down the hallway. Hermione refused to believe the emotion she felt watching him leave was sadness, but it wasn’t exactly joy. Instead, she walked behind her desk and looked at the wreckage Draco had left in his wake. A broken quill, crumpled paperwork and shuffled notes littered her desk. Thoughts about her feelings regarding Draco could wait, she had work to finish.
Two hours later and her workspace was spotless, her paperwork was complete, and her lunch break was long-gone. Having finished her to-do list, her thoughts once again turned to the poncy prat himself.
He wasn’t insufferable. He was even bearable at times, she would categorize their verbal sparring as bordering on fun. That said, she didn’t think he was interested in her. He hadn’t made any indication or offhand quote that he even noticed she was of the opposite gender. No, all of their conversations had been strictly work-related. Could she have missed the signs? Perhaps he had been in love with her this whole time and she hadn’t even noticed. Now that idea was laughable, she thought, Draco Malfoy, the pureblood prince, in love with me, the muggle-born peasant. No sodding way.
So, he wasn’t in love with her. He wasn’t interested in her. Why, then, had he asked her to dinner? There has to be another motive-a project he’s looking to dump on her, a proposal he needs her consultation on. Yes, that has to be it. They had always done this in one of their respective offices, perhaps he simply wants to make this meeting a tad bit more formal. No romance involved, just the meeting of two minds. Draco would receive counsel on his project, and Hermione would get her promotion. It’s a win-win. For some reason though, she couldn’t stop the tiny butterflies in her stomach at the thought of Draco Malfoy wanting to take her to dinner.
Oh, Merlin, Ginny was going to have a field day when she found out. For that matter, Ron was going to have a heart attack when he found out.