In the Era of Innovation

Chapter 7

All for Show

It was late Thursday night or technically Friday morning, when she felt a disturbance in the wards at Grimmauld Place. She had of course carefully helped Harry establish the wards when they moved in and was thus privy to an itchy tingle when unfamiliar people passed through the wards.

"Oh, good, you're up." Harry said coming up the stairs when she ventured outside of her room.

"Good morning, Hermione," came Luna's voice from the bottom of the stairs.

"She's gotta hide out here for today. Some people are not going to be very happy when a certain law gets passed. You better stay in too." Harry was in full-Auror mode.

"What's this all about?" she asked.

"Oh, I found some things in the department. Someone tried really hard to hide them. But I think the department has its own way of doing things. It was time for it to be found."

"What is it?"

"The research about blood."

"Are you sure you want to know, Hermione? I mean, it's better if you don't. In case someone tries to interview you." Harry said, a frown between his brows.

"If I'm going to help protect Luna I should hope I would get to know. Otherwise, there's nothing to keep me from going to work today."

"Alright, Luna you can tell her. I'm going to strengthen the wards." Harry stalked away.

"Well, I was following a weirnbuckle one day-"

"A what? Nevermind."

"And it kept bringing me around to this one spot near the brain room. It was a great bookcase, but it smelled like grass, which I thought was odd, considering books don't usually go rolling around in the grass. Or maybe I've just never seen them do such a thing…"

"Of course not." Hermione folded her arms.

"As I was perusing the titles, I tripped over something. I'm fairly certain it was a brownie, but I couldn't get a good look at it before it disappeared because I fell into the bookcase."

"Into the bookcase?" Hermione asked.

"Oh yes, It was a bit of a tight fit. But there were some very curious files there. Research someone had spent years working on, tucked away in that secret space. So I contributed the research to be published."

"But what was it?"

"Oh, it was very good, very thorough. I didn't even really have to add any research of my own, thought I did, to confirm at least some of the findings."

"I'd be skeptical too, if I just happened upon some research that said…?"

"That if purebloods only mate with purebloods, wizards and witches will decline in population. Well, it already has, of course. Then, there's the war. Well, there isn't much magical blood left, and the chances of squibs rise the 'purer' the blood is said to be."

"But that's great. I mean, terrible too, but it means that the ideological values that the last war was fought on were erroneous. It's a perfect way to end the pureblood propaganda for once and all. That's brilliant. But of course, some people wouldn't be too happy to hear this information."

"That's why Harry sent me here. The research is in Kingsley's hands, but it's got to be kept safe, and I have to be alive, when the research is presented to the Wizengamont on Saturday."

When Luna had been thoroughly exhausted by Hermione's questions, Hermione bid her to sleep in one of the guest rooms just as the sun was starting to rise. Hermione, fully awake, settled in down in the cellar to work on her own current project, of which she was finally ready to test her theory and create the potion.

The interesting thing about potions, she thought, was the myriad of possibilities that were available with each and every step. Every altercation, a simple stir, a precisely timed delay, the fineness of the chopping of an ingredient, any of these could drastically change a potion. It also scared Hermione. What worked in theory, in her calculations, would still have to be fine-tuned by experimentation. While Hermione was very good at following directions, most potion-creation required not only the practical skills, but also the intuition to fiddle with the subtlies when necessary. It thoroughly frustrated and exhausted her that there was no way she would be able to get the potion right the first time.

Later that afternoon, a package came from a large snowy owl.

Hermione thoroughly checked it for curses and the like, and finding nothing untoward, opened the small note.

Pick you up at seven.

DM

The note contrasted starkly with the only other romantic date-reminder letter she had ever received. She almost preferred the concise directness evidenced here.

Then she opened the box.

She pulled out a long satin dress in a deep burgundy color. It felt divine between her fingertips.

She felt the fury rise, surging through her veins. All she saw was the red of the dress. If he thought he could imply that she Hermione Granger, lowly muggleborn, had no taste, no dress to wear that was good enough to be seen on a date with him, the Lord Malfoy, then he had better hope his dueling skills were up to par. It was infuriating, to be so insulted!

Just as Hermione's hands were itching to write a nasty letter (and encode it with a few curses), she caught her image in her mirror. Her face was as red as the dress; her eyes narrowed in…meaness. She forced herself to calm down. She was acting like Harry or Ron, jumping to conclusions before she had all of the facts or really thought it through.

If Malfoy had wanted to insult her, he would've sent a Slytherin green or silver dress, and perhaps in a cut that wouldn't flatter her body so much or show too much skin. And a dress to him was just an article of clothing, a trinket that didn't even register on the ledgers of the Malfoy's expenses.

She would wear it, she decided. Because truly she didn't have anything to wear since she had been cooped up all day…and oh, but maybe she should stay and keep an eye on Luna.

When she approached Luna and Harry about it however, Ginny was there in the kitchen cooking (or heating up some of her mother's cooking) and demanded point blank that Hermione try not to weasel out of a date. When Ginny was set on something, there was no hope for escape.

***

***

He apparated them to the meadow.

It was still twilight, and the first few stars would be showing up soon. He led her to the small pavilion he had set up with a nice dinner for two.

"Something wrong?" he asked. "Allergic to salmon?"

"No, I just- I'm a bit surprised is all."

He raised an eyebrow, though he knew very well what she was surprised about.

"I figured you take me to some fancy restaurant where the photographers would have a field day."

"That would be exciting, but I figured you didn't like the spotlight."

"But, you bought me this dress."

He felt a slow widening of his mouth. Maybe I don't want anyone else to see you in it. "Well, we wouldn't want to waste the dress, it would certainly garner you a photo in next week's issue."

"And you as well."

"Can't forget about that. But, if we're going to make a public appearance, say, for dessert, we can't just be amicably strolling around the Alley. No, if a Malfoy does anything, he is always the center of attention, and make no mistake, all eyes will be on you and I and it will be quite the entertaining story. A story meriting a featured article. And I think it will be my turn to play the damsel in distress." He felt a grin coming on. "Ready to give them a show?"

"Now, what do you mean?"

"If I told you every detail, that would spoil most of the fun."

"Now I'm not quite sure I want to go with you at all." She folded her arms across her chest.

"Ah, but I know your weakness. Curiousity," he let the word linger on his tongue. He could see it eating away at her, sharpening her sweet intakes of breath. "And I intend to make full use of your weaknesses."

"Alright then, I'm ready," she saud, rising from her seat. "I'll meet you there."

"Wait."

He rushed over and slipped his arm around hers before she could protest and whisked her away.

"That was not very gentlemanly," she scolded.

"It was very wizardly though. A wizard always apparates his witch when they are out together."

"And I won't be called your witch."

That was certainly the right button to press, he thought smugly. Now, not too hasty, and calm her down on the walk over to the ice-cream parlor. We want to make sure there are witnesses.

"Then I shall offer my arm, Miss Granger, and you've no obligation to take it."

"Thank you for the offer. I am quite well on my own."

They carried on languidly. He had apparated them far down the street so that they had a better chance of picking up a photographer.

"You don't think, that it might be more interesting, to anyone passing by, if we were to be arm-in-arm?"

He held out his arm again, calmly, steadily. And she took it. As soon as she looked forward, he had a difficult time suppressing the feelings of victory. He had always reveled in the small things.

A curious man gave them a strange look, then slowed his pace as he walked across the street.

Draco let her order first, mint chocolate chip and for himself he choose vanilla. He paid for it, ignoring her as she scrambled through her purse for change. He pretended not to see her add it to the tip jar.

They found a spot outside. The man who had been following them since Ollivander's was still there, perched on the stoop of the bookshop. He had a curiously bulky knapsack.

Hermione had her wand out in an instant, trained by the war.

"Jumpy, are we?" he asked with a smirk.

"Just cautious," she said, putting her wand back it it's holster even as she kept the man in eyesight.

"Yet, you're on a date with me, Draco Malfoy, a bearer of the Dark mark. How can you trust me, to apparate you several places, to get so very close to you?" He let his voice get dangerously low, his body held still like ice.

"I know you didn't have a choice with the mark, Malfoy. I know you didn't want to kill-"

"How do you know for certain? Wanting and being able to do something are quite different sides of the galleon."

"Harry was there."

"And Harry tells you everything I suppose," he sneered. "Including the night when he found me in myrtle's bathroom and nearly killed me."

"Yes, he told me how you were crying about being forced to do-"

"Oh, yes. So I am a geld, no longer dangerous, just a lost and lonely boy, your new pet project, your object of pity. Everyone will say how noble you are, how generous and kind, to take pity on a poor lost soul."

"Oh, you're clever though, Malfoy, such a Slytherin, you can twist any words, any situation to your advantage."

"And that's what will always drive us apart, isn't it? The discrimination of a silly Sorting Hat."

"What will always drive us apart are the years you spent tormenting me because of my blood!" She finally struck out, throwing her little plastic spoon at his face. The ice cream, mostly melted by now, splattered across his chin and dripped onto his robes.

He quickly transfigured several rocks behind her into Marshmallows, distracting her by standing up very slowly. She did the same. He summoned the lot of them, and then banished them into her mouth, stuffing it full.

In the meantime as she spit out or chewed the marshmallows, the pins from her hair began flying out and attacking him with short, sharp jabs.

"Hey!" he said. "I have delicate skin!"

"Wouldn't want to hurt your poor pureblooded porcelain skin," she taunted. She could be very vindictive. He had a feeling she was taking this a bit too seriously. Did she not remember his challenge earlier?

He transfigured a stone behind her into a large rubberduckie, and sent a tripping jinx her way. When she dodged the jinx she fell backwards over the duckie. It gave a loud, long squeak.

She summoned something from her purse, distracting him with a blasting curse first. He jumped behind the table. He wasn't sure how he was going to be able to end this before Aurors got involved.

He was face-to-face with a shiny metal object. It had two parts that opened and closed together and he wasn't sure he liked the snapping sound at all.

"What it that?" he yelled.

"A stapler. But I wouldn't suppose a pureblood like you to know anything about muggle devices."

"It hurts!" he yelped as the snapping part caught the webbing between his fingers.

Seriously, he had sent marshmallows and rubberduckies her way and she sends him all manner of sharp objects meant to cause pain.

"Well, you've hurt me," she said in despair.

He jumped out from his hiding spot, dodging the stampeller-thingy. He caught it with a freezing charm and it fell to the ground before them.

Even as he felt the crowd gather around them, he could only look at her, there, starkly against the night, her hair illuminated by the streetlamps in dark gold, her eyes wet and glistening.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "I'm sorry that I hurt you. I'm sorry for all the times I followed the stupid rules of my ancestor's ideologies and called you names that should've been meaningless. Just because you were better than me and they thought you hadn't the right to be. I'm sorry that I felt forced into doing these things but didn't have the courage to stand up to my father and him. I'm sorry."

The crowd had come around closer, now that the fighting seemed to be over.

"I forgive you. You were doing what you thought you had to do in order to survive. You have the chance now to be your own person. And that is why I want to know you, Draco Malfoy, not because I want revenge or I feel sorry for you."

He took her hand, and did the thing he had been tempted to the first time he saw had met with her. He kissed the soft skin, barely brushing his lips against her knuckles.

"Shall we depart?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yes, I think so." She looked around at the crowd, seemingly only now noticing the whispers and glances, the flash of the bulb.

He offered his arm once more, and she took it.

They were bombarded with questions and flashbulbs as they made their way to the closest apparition point. They ran like giddy children over the cobblestone road.

When they arrived back at the meadow (he didn't quite feel like ending the night just yet), she turned around in a fury.

"Why didn't you warn me you were going to bait me like that?" she asked, cheeks flushed.

"Well, then your reactions wouldn't have been half as interesting. They say you're the smartest witch of our generation, I assumed you would've caught on a bit quicker."

"And it was all for show."

"Certain to be the object of all gossip this week. I hope its worth all these little pricks and cuts you left me." He examined his bleeding hand.

"They're not that bad," she said, coming up behind him.

"I send you delicious marshmallows and cute rubberduckies and all I get in exchange is sharp pointy objects torturing me."

"Well, you wanted it to look real. You could've warned me instead. Here, let me see your cuts," she said.

He showed her the worst of them on his delicate hands. She pulled something out from her purse (just how large was that thing?) and dabbed some dittany on his wounds.

"All better?" she asked, her face dangerously close to his. Her hair, which had fallen out of the bun when she sent the pins after him, was even closer to him, comforting him with that fresh scent. It smelled like apples, just like the orchard, after it rained.

Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline from fighting that made him feel invincible. Maybe it was the lifting of quite a bit of his guilt and worries. Maybe it was blood loss from her torturous devices. Whatever it was, it made him feel like he was on a broom again, gliding in the night air.

The evening had chilled, and he noticed the goose bumps spreading across her arms.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"No," she said. "Maybe."

He put his arm around her, letting the fabric of his robes drape over her. "I meant my apologies though, that part wasn't just for show."

"Good, I wouldn't want to take back my offer of forgiveness."

Her lips moves softly, so flushed and so close to him. Maybe he had courage now.

"I think it's time to go home," she said.

"Not until you promise me another date. Tomorrow."

"So soon?" she furrowed her brow.

"Maybe I can't get enough of you," he whispered.

"That's not very healthy, Malfoy." She shrugged out of his embrace, took a couple steps away, turned and took one step toward him again.

"Are you trying to segue into a kiss?" he asked hopefully, leaning forward. She look startled, her eyes wide.

"Maybe another day," she said, with a bit of nervous laughter. "Goodnight." She disapparated away before he could protest.

He was left with the stars, glaring down at him like he imagined the eyes of his ancestors blazed.

***

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating, I've been sick, but still having to work. I hope you enjoy this; I was prompted by MKSFRXD's Fight Challenge in the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum here on ff. Please leave a review, I promise to reply and update quicker!