Chapter Four: Discretion is the Better Part of Valour

Hermione was in the solar when Draco finally made it downstairs, rolling his cuffs back and giving his hair a final check in the hallway mirror to ensure that his carefully-styled approximation of bed-head looked absolutely perfect - he didn't want her thinking that he had spent too much (or indeed any) time on his appearance. For some reason Granger seemed to have an absolute aversion to personal vanity, and while Draco completely one-hundred-percent didn't give a fig for any opinion but his own, he thought it a marked demonstration of his sensitivity and thoughtfulness that he would thus strive not to offend Granger's sensibilities.

He arranged himself casually in the doorway, sliding his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers and leaning at an angle that he knew showed off the lean lines of his body to their best advantage.

Not that it mattered, of course. But best to keep up appearances.

Granger seemed unaware of his presence, affording Draco a moment to take in the way the afternoon sunlight slipped down the pert curve of her nose (much more delicate than Pansy's) and settled in the really rather lovely hollow of her collarbone. Draco had just caught himself wondering, bizarrely, what it would feel like to stroke his finger across that spot on Granger's smoothly suntanned skin when she leaned to sniff at his mother's african violets, which the elves had inexplicably left indoors.

"Don't!" Draco barked, abandoning his attitude of nonchalant elegance to leap forward and wrench Granger away from the plant.

"Draco!" she yelped. "What the fu-"

"Your allergies," he explained, speaking slowly as though to a particularly idiotic child. Indeed, he could see that Granger's cheeks had turned bright pink, clearly from proximity to the flowers. He was going to murder Mimsy, his instructions had been very -

"I don't have allergies," Granger frowned; an obvious lie, given her breathlessness and the way she was blinking really rather a lot. Draco could even feel that the skin of her arms was very hot, and that she was trembling lightly against him where he was still holding her away from the plants.

"Aha," he coughed, relinquishing his grip and stepping swiftly away, his hand lifting reflexively to smooth back his hair. "Yes. Well. That's what you say but, I mean -" he gestured up and down at her "- allergies, clearly."

Granger lifted a brow. "Right," she said, setting her coffee cup down on one of the many side tables that seemed to proliferate throughout the Manor. "Okay, well." She turned towards him and opened her mouth as though to say something, before her frown returned and she seemed to turn even pinker, her eyes fixed on his chest area. Draco glanced down and realised that in leaping across the room he had managed to pull open his poorly-buttoned shirt to the bottom of his sternum.

He gave a cough and hastened to cover his dignity. "So what brings you here? You've been terribly busy the last couple of weeks, I feel like I haven't seen you in ages."

"Yes," Granger said. "I - that is, what I mean to say is. Um." She scrunched up her nose, looking uncharacteristically, and rather adorably, perplexed.

"Come on Granger," Draco folded his arms to distract himself from this unwelcome observation. "Spit it out, whatever it is. I've only got the party of the year to finish off arrangements for."

"Oh, of course," Granger nodded. "No, it was just, er, now that you're finally up, that is, I just wanted to ask…" Her voice trailed away, and for a moment they simply stared at one another.

"What?" Draco asked. His own voice, for some reason, sounded somewhat hoarse. His heart had started beating erratically, and he could feel his hands sweating. That hangover potion was definitely expired.

Granger blinked rapidly again, and then appeared to give herself a little shake. "Nothing, I mean, not nothing -" she smiled, and rolled her eyes "- just, um, whether you've given any more thought to whether you're going to have a seating plan for tonight, because I really think that if you're determined to keep your distance from Pansy then you should."

"That's - you were -" Draco shook his head slowly to clear his confusion. He wasn't sure quite what he had expected Granger to ask him, but it hadn't been that. "Well," he pronounced finally, "Pansy isn't going to think anything of this." He spoke with a confidence that he didn't exactly feel. "She must know that I've absolutely no desire to settle down, even if Witch Weekly will insist on putting me at the top of their Most Eligible Bachelors list now that Potter's taken himself off the market."

"Have you not?" Granger's voice was casual, but Draco thought he could detect an odd note to it as she turned away from him again, and concluded she must still be suffering the effects of the african violets.

"Granger, I'm sure if the right witch came along then I'd have no trouble in changing my mind, but as it is I am quite committed to the lifestyle of a single wizard-about-town."

"Right," Granger said, sounding oddly forlorn. "I mean, yes, that makes sense." She gave a sharp nod, then looked up at Draco with an unnervingly wide smile. Her eyes were oddly bright, he realised, almost teary. "Well, that was really all that I came over to say, so I guess I'll just see myself -"

"You're leaving already?" Draco asked, bemused and inexplicably reluctant to see her go.

"I've been here for an hour," Granger flashed him a wry smile. "You can get quite a lot done when you try getting up before noon, you know. You should give it a go sometime."

"I am not to be blamed if Theodore will insist on trying to give me alcohol poisoning," Draco groused. He was feeling strangely fractious. It really was just like Granger to ignore him for a week and drop in just long enough to ask him discomfiting questions about his personal life before once again leaving him in the lurch.

"Theo was here?" Granger gave him a searching look. "Did he say anything about -"

"Nothing of consequence," Draco sighed. "As per usual, his chief interest remains being as irritating as humanly possible, and going on ad nauseum about Potter and how rewarding it is to finally admit your feelings for someone -"

"Argh!" Grange made a strangled noise, and Draco looked at her in alarm. "Are you quite well?"

"Fine!" she squeaked, backing towards the door. "I'm just - I need to go and get my dress for - for the party!" She whirled away from him, hair bouncing merrily in a cloud of rich brown. "I'll see you tonight!"

"See you later!" Draco called after her, utterly nonplussed by Granger's bizarre behaviour. He stayed standing there for a minute or so longer, before squaring his shoulders. There were still a number of arrangements to be made before the evening's revelry could commence, but before that -

"Mimsy!" he yelled. "What did I say about my mother's plants?"