Sequel to The Lottery.
The Date
Flashback:
"10 Galleons to the winner," Blaise said, grinning ear to ear.
Draco frowned.
"What mate? Not high enough for you?"
"I'm sick of betting money," he groaned. "It's boring. Why not put something real at stake?"
"Like what?" He hated when his best friend had ideas like this. He was always the one who ended up screwed and humiliated.
"Pride," Draco said softly, his all too famous smirk gracing his Slytherin lips. "The winner gets to choose what the loser will have to do."
Blaise hung his head, praying that his chessmen cooperated this time.
End Flashback:
Hermione sat at the foot of Ginny's bed, her head in her hands.
"Didn't Harry warn you?" she laughed, her head buried in her dresser. The Weasley family may not have had a lot of money, but Harry sure did, and he lavished it on Ginny like there was no tomorrow. At first Ginny was completely against it, having been so humbled by her family, but after a few months, when Harry continued to insist, she gave in and she had the wardrobe to show for it.
"Yes, well, I didn't see this as an option," Hermione sighed, falling back onto the mattress. "They were supposed to taunt me, not bid on me!"
"Malfoy made a very generous bid."
"Don't remind me. I still can't believe I have to do this. Aren't there laws against dating animals?"
"Oh 'Mione." Ginny finally came out of the wardrobe, her arms full of an array of colors and fabrics. She laid them over the back of her vanity chair and lifted up the top one. "Hey. Sit up. You need to pick something out."
"Can't I just—"
"We've talked about this, Hermione," she sighed. "No you cannot just wear your school robes. This is a date, no matter who with."
"But—"
"No. Come on. Sit up."
Hermione obliged, begrudgingly, and hoisted herself back to a sitting position. It was going to be a long afternoon, and an even longer night.
It was 8:27. In three minutes Draco would be down in the entrance to the castle, waiting for her, for their date. And she was no closer to understanding why he'd bother to place such a high bid on her, of all people. Surely Pansy, his long time girlfriend, was the best option if it was about the money, the prestige. Which meant, horrifyingly enough, that it wasn't.
"You look great," Ginny assured her as they both took in her reflection in the full-length mirror.
"I'd rather not," Hermione sighed. "Why should I look good for him?" After the first hour of outfit-choosing, Hermione had begun to refer to Draco as him. It was just too weird to keep saying Malfoy. It made it more real somehow.
Hermione took one last look in the mirror before Ginny grabbed her arm to escort her down to the common room, where both Harry and Ron awaited eagerly. Their eyes were all over her immediately, along with those of nearly every other boy in the dormitory. Seamus gave her a sympathetic smile; his date was tonight as well, and with Cho Chang. He had a handkerchief ready in his pocket incase she started crying out of the blue. Not that he expected her to cry, but no one could forget fifth year when Harry had dated her.
"Hermione," was all Ron could say, his freckles disappearing beneath his weighty blush. Last night she had looked amazing. Tonight, well, tonight there were no words to describe her beauty. Her hair was pulled back into a bun on the top of her head, with a few loose curls framing her face by her ears. Her outfit, which was where most of the boys' attention was, was a tight-fitting black salsa dress with the smallest accent of tiny blue flowers. Around the bottom was a row of the same color blue ruffle, and coming out from the inside was a hint of the slightly darker blue tulle. For shoes she wore simple black Mary Jane's, only these ones had severe stiletto heels.
"Where are you two going?" Lavender balked across the room.
Hermione's cheeks were on fire. She bowed her head and whispered, "Dancing."
Complete confusion painted everyone's faces.
There was a deep fog-like silence.
And then a knock at the portrait hole.
"I thought I was meeting you at the entrance," Hermione said bitterly as she came through the portrait, her dress concealed by her heavy cloak. After all, it was February.
"I changed my mind," he said matter-of-factly, that same smirk from the night before etched upon his face. He offered her his arm, but she refused and stomped (as much as she could in her heels) ahead of him.
"What's this place you're taking me to?" she asked once they were seated in a carriage outside the castle. For an instant she caught a glimpse of Seamus and Cho boarding their carriage, and then they were gone, and she was completely alone with Draco Malfoy. "I don't remember any dance clubs in Hogsmeade."
"That's because we're not staying in Hogsmeade," he laughed. "What sort of date could a person have in that grubby excuse for a town?"
"Then where are we going?" She was beginning to grow nervous. Perhaps Draco's motives for bidding on her were directly linked with Voldemort. What if he was taking her somewhere to kill her?
Hastily she felt for her wand, sighing deeply when it was at her hip, where she'd left it.
"Don't worry so much, Granger," he laughed. "Hogwarts will have its precious Head Girl back later this evening."
She sneered at him and turned her head to look out the carriage window. In a few moments they would reach Hogsmeade village. And after that…only he knew.
"Madrid!" Hermione gasped as they Apparated directly in the middle of a bustling evening town square.
"Where else would we go dancing?" He rolled his eyes and took her hand forcefully. Growing up a pureblooded wizard, Draco was accustomed to the normal wizard dances, all slow, all formal and all (in his and most everyone else's option) boring. A few years ago his now ex-girlfriend Pansy introduced him to the kind of dancing he soon grew very fond of. It had its roots in Madrid, Spain, in a small dance club at the heart of the city. A wizard club, of course, and carefully hidden from prying muggle eyes.
"But Malfoy," she whispered, her eyes growing in size every time something new caught her attention. "This is unbelievable."
"Draco," he said firmly.
"What?" She turned to face him, breathless with excitement. She had never been to Spain, never met any Spanish wizards. This was certainly going to be an interesting night.
"My name," he said looking directly into her eyes. She felt a cold, unavoidable shiver pass through her. The kind only a Slytherin could cause. And yet the feeling of dread that usually accompanied it was somehow absent. "It's Draco. Use it." It was definitely a demand, not a request, as he had said the night before. She felt another shiver and stepped back.
"I've never been to Spain," she said, glancing around. The colors, the energy, the people—it was all so overwhelming. And Draco, of all people, had brought her here! She almost couldn't wait to see the look on Ginny's face when she told her.
"It's worth the potential trouble we could get in," he said with a hint of laughter. "I assure you." He pulled her back to him and they began to walk through the crowded streets of downtown Madrid.
"Why are you doing this, Draco?" she whispered, her tongue fuzzy with the use of his first name. Not that she hadn't said it before, but to say it to his face? Everything seemed to be so different so quickly.
"If you don't know by the end of the night," he said, his hand slipping from hers to rest on her waist; she was now as close to him as she'd ever been, "ask me again."
Flashback:
Draco stared at the ruin of a chessboard in disbelief. Since when did Blaise beat him? At anything?
"Not so cocky now, huh Draco?" his best friend laughed, giving him a good-natured slap on the back.
"What spells did you use, Zabini?" he hissed. He had not expected this. He could only imagine what he would be made to do.
"None, I assure you." And again he laughed. He was enjoying this far too much.
Draco could not keep his eyes off the board, his pupils twice their normal size. It just didn't make any sense. He had been winning, he'd had Blaise right where he wanted him. But that was the flaw, wasn't it? He'd been paying too much attention to his own actions and none to those of his friend. He'd lost fair and square, and it was his own fault.
"Very well," Draco sighed, defeated and already ultimately humiliated. "What shall it be? Streaking through the Great Hall? Wearing a dress to classes?"
Blaise's eyes gleamed with revenge. Not that he wanted to cause Draco harm, but he'd been embarrassed long enough. It was Draco's turn. And this was going to be good.
End Flashback:
For the second time in two days Draco couldn't keep his eyes off of something. Only this time, the object had eyes as well and could see him staring.
"Ginny made me wear it," Hermione said sheepishly as she hung her cloak on a peg in the mudroom of the club. "I think it's a bit much."
"It's…" Saliva caught in his throat. He tried to say something, anything but what he was thinking. "…perfect." But, alas, it was impossible. She was far too gorgeous. How could he have ever looked passed that?
"You don't look bad either," she said to hide her embarrassment at his compliment. And she wasn't lying. In fact, she'd never seen him look so good. It was difficult for her to keep her eyes in check as well. For pants he wore simple black slacks with black dress shoes, but on top he had white button-up dress shirt, a sleek black tie, and black suspenders, complete with a black fedora. Simple, fashionable, beautiful. He was the definition of sexy.
"Er…Shall we?" He offered her his arm, and for the first time she accepted, and they walked out into the pounding music of Club El Secreto.
It didn't take long for Hermione to discover what a phenomenal dancer Draco was, his body swaying to the music in perfect rhythm, and bringing her along with him as though she actually knew what she was doing. After a good thirty minutes of intense dancing, the couple exited the floor for some drinks to cool themselves off. At the bar, neither said a word, save to order.
"Ah, una canción lenta," said the bartender. Hermione didn't know what that meant, and so she smiled and continued sipping on her drink, which was starting to give her a little buzz. "Amigo," he said to Draco, who was listening as though he knew Spanish. "Usted debe estar bailando con su dama."
"Desgraciadamente, ella no es mi dama."
Hermione gasped without meaning to. Draco knew Spanish?
The bartender smiled, gave Draco a pat on the arm, and said, "Entonces hágala suyo."
"You know Spanish?" Hermione asked, setting her empty glass down.
He shrugged. "Yeah," he said, then stood and extended his hand to her. Hermione, noting the slowness of the music, was thankful for the lighting: it hid her blush.
Once on the dance floor again, it was a different story. No more swinging and twirling and crazy feet. Draco wrapped his arms almost protectively around Hermione's small frame, his cheek resting on the top of her head, as they moved to the somber notes. It didn't matter how close they were, or that they were enemies. They were alone, in another country, and—dare they think it!—enjoying themselves. It was more than Dumbledore could have asked for with inter-house unity.
The end of the night came all too soon. Draco got them back to Hogsmeade in time for the carriages to Hogwarts, and so no one was the wiser of their departure from the country. Silence blanketed the ride back to the castle, and Hermione was simply dying to say something, anything to show her gratitude for such a nice and unexpected evening.
On the way to Hogsmeade they had sat across from each other, cold and indifferent. Now, after having been so close all night, they sat right beside each other, their hands touching ever so slightly on the seat.
"Draco," she whispered, turning to face him. She was stunned to find that he was looking right at her.
"Hmm?" She could feel his breath, warm with alcohol. But not too much. Just the right amount.
"Thank you. For tonight. I never thought I'd have such a good time with…well, you."
"Yes, it's very difficult for girls to resist my charm," he said with a smirk. She shoved him playfully, only to lose her footing and topple into him. "Now, now, Hermione," he laughed. "I don't think I paid that much."
She froze, her muscles tensing.
"What?"
"The date," he said. "I didn't pay—"
"No," she said, her hand on his knee. "You said my name."
"I—No."
"Yes," she said, unable to hold back her smile. "You did." And then she did the last thing she expected to do. She leaned in to kiss Draco Malfoy. Only it never happened, for at that moment the carriage came to a halt, sending her back to her original sitting position.
"I'll walk you up," Draco said, clearing his throat.
She nodded and allowed him to help her from the carriage. Cho and Seamus were nowhere to be seen.
"I really did have a great time, Draco. I still can't believe where we went."
"I try," he said with a shrug.
"But why?" And there it was, the question again.
He only smiled, a real smile, and took hold of her wrist. She was confused at first, until he gently pulled her to him and finished what she'd started in the carriage.
"Good night Granger," he said, and gave her one last kiss on the cheek.
"Good night," she echoed at his retreating footsteps. "Malfoy."
Slowly she touched her fingers to her lips. They were still warm and a bit moist from his kiss, which had been both gentle and urgent, as if he'd been waiting a lifetime to kiss her.
Smoothing down her dress, Hermione stepped through the portrait hole. Ginny would never believe her. And maybe that's why she decided to keep their secret kiss just that. Secret.
Flashback:
"I'm waiting," Draco groaned. "What are you cooking in that foul head of yours?"
"Since you asked," Blaise laughed, sitting back. He was definitely going to enjoy this. "It's threefold."
Draco gestured for him to continue. He just wanted to get it over with.
"One, you will bid at the Valentine's Day raffle tomorrow night."
"Alright." He would bid on Pansy, easy enough. Sure they were broken-up, but what did that matter? It wasn't like he was going to choose anyone from a different house. Especially not with who was available. No one he wanted to be caught dead with.
"Two, you will choose her under the influence of Veritaserum."
"Ok." Again, he saw no problem. Pansy, of course.
"And three, you will also have to take the Veritaserum for the entirety of the date."
"Fine," Draco said, collecting his chessmen. "But I don't see how this is going to hurt my pride. You're weak at this revenge thing, Zabini."
"Very well, Malfoy," he laughed. "We'll see about that. But I have a feeling I know you more than you know yourself."
"Is that a fact?"
"Just wait and see, my friend. Come tomorrow night you will learn things about yourself you never knew."
End Flashback:
Well, that's my story:) There might still be a few kinks to work out, but that's the main of it. I hope everyone liked it. What did you think of how Draco ended up picking Hermione? And when do you suppose the Truth Serum wore off? Heehee!
REVIEW!
P.S. The Spanish I used was from so it's not completely accurate. This is what I wanted to be said:
"Ah, a slow song," said the bartender. Hermione didn't know what that meant, and so she smiled and continued sipping on her drink, which was starting to give her a little buzz. "Friend," he said to Draco, who was listening as though he knew Spanish. "You should be dancing with your lady."
"Unfortunately, she is not my lady."
Hermione gasped without meaning to. Draco knew Spanish?
The bartender smiled, gave Draco a pat on the arm, and said, "Then make her yours."