All characters and canon situations belong to JK Rowling and I make no money from the writing and publishing of this story

Of Red Hearts and Ruby Lips- by AnneM

(Written for Granger Enchanted's Musical Valentine's Day Challenge 2011 - prompt - "You were meant for me," he whispered and wrapped his long elegant fingers in her mass of curly hair. "And I was meant for you, Granger. The quicker you come to accept it, the happier we'll all be."

Hermione sat alone in the restaurant, amidst a sea of 'happily ever after' couples and she took a deep breath in longing. Her date wasn't coming. She was being stood up on Valentine's Day, of all days. Using the red cloth napkin that was folded neatly at her table setting, she wiped away the ruby red lipstick she wore especially for this occasion and pondered a cold, hard fact. She wanted to be in love.

Actually, she thought she might already BE in love, but it was with a man who was already in love with someone else, as well as in love with himself. She smiled as she contemplated that last thought, twisting her napkin in her fingers as it draped across her lap. Her eyes drifted toward the entryway and suddenly, there he was, handsome as ever, the person she was just thinking of, the person who filled her every waking hour and every nightly dream.

No, it wasn't her date. It was the man she thought she loved - Draco Malfoy.

He walked into the restaurant with a self-assurance that bordered on cliché. Some might call his walk a 'swagger'. Hermione called it his 'magnetic' walk for it always drew every eye in the room his way. She often teased him about it. There was something about him, something innate, which caused women naturally to swoon over him and men naturally to envy him. And he knew it too, the arrogant bastard.

Still fiddling with the napkin on her lap, not wanting him to see how anxious she was tonight, of all nights, she looked down and said a silent benediction to the stars above that he wouldn't see her. She prayed that he would walk by her without noticing. One quick glance up would tell her if her prayers were answered.

Steadying her nerves, she looked up and her eyes met eyes of liquid molten steel, grey and sparkling, twinkling and alive. She cursed the stars, the moon, the planets, and everyone who had ever inhabited them that he not only noticed her but that he also, apparently, was coming her way.

Draco walked into the restaurant with a self-assured, conceited strut that was feigned, even though Hermione always teased him about it and some people called it a 'swagger'. She once told him that she was certain he was born with it and that surely he practiced it in his sleep. The only thing he did in his sleep was dream of her.

She was always saying something witty or charming to him. No, that was a lie. She was always saying something caustic and biting to him, but he loved that about her. Most people fawned all over him – be it out of fear or a sick sense of wanting something from him, but not her – oh no - She always told him the absolute, unequivocal truth, or at least her version of it.

He had seen her the moment he stepped into the restaurant. He always knew where she was. It was as if his heart was imbedded with a compass and she was his constant North. Wherever she was, he was sure to follow.

With his head held high and his feigned 'who gives a damn' attitude adorning his expression, he drifted past the other dinners, (the stupid, lovesick fools), and went straight to her table. Leaning against it with one hip, he looked down, grabbed her napkin right off her lap and out of her fretful fingers and greeted her with his customary, "Hey, Granger."

Heaven help him, but she was so beautiful. Her lips still wore the stain of ruby red lipstick. Her eyes were bright and looked up at him longingly. Her lilac dress was tasteful enough to be considered stylish and sexy enough to make him want to pull her right out of it until she wore nothing at all.

A man could dream.

She sighed. Long. Loud. Almost obnoxiously so, and then she asked, "Why are you here? You aren't to be here. Where's my date? Are you checking up on me?"

"As if!" he chaffed, sounding offended. Although of course, he was checking up on her, in a way, but not in the way she imagined. What was the harm of it? When she gave him a look of total disbelief, he announced, "I arranged this little blind date for you, so if I want to check up on you, check up on you I shall do!"

What he was really doing was following through with his Valentine's Day plan, but she didn't need to know that for the time being. He lifted his wrist, checked his expensive Rolex, and said, "The chap is woefully late. Perhaps he's standing up you, sweetheart."

"He's your mate," she snapped, "If he's so rude to do that, it's your fault. Why didn't you set me up with a punctual sort, instead of a bedraggled, delinquent tosser?" Taking her napkin back from his hand, she snapped it at him and added, "I knew it was wrong to arrange a blind date on Valentine's Day, of all days. Too many expectations and all of that rubbish."

He was going to crack a joke, but she looked a bit on the distressed side, as well as very beautiful. So he sat down in the empty seat beside her, not opposite, as he wanted to be as close to her as he could get, and said, "He's a right sodding, little bugger anyway, so to hell with him, I say."

"He's your best friend!" she fired off.

"Doesn't mean I would write him a good character reference, if pressed to do so," he joked.

Hermione rested her chin on her hand and said, "Do you know what your problem is, Draco Malfoy?"

Smiling, he reached over, placed his hand on her neck, his fingers lingering on her sweet skin, his thumb rubbing back and forth under her hair, as he asked, "Do tell me, you always do."

She wasn't sure she could now that he was basically caressing her neck. Where was she…oh yes…? "Your problem is that you're not a good friend."

That struck him to the heart! He pulled his hand out from her tangled mass of glorious brown curls, placed both hands on his chest and said, "Ah, you've stabbed me right in my little, red, beating heart with that one, Granger. How am I not a good friend? Didn't I agree to set you up on a date tonight? Isn't that something a friend would do? I can't help it if my other friend is a swine."

He lifted her glass to his lips and took a drink, only to sputter the liquid out with a look of disgust. "What the hell is this?" He grabbed her napkin again and dabbed at his mouth and then his jacket, tie and trousers, where most of the offensive liquid leaked.

"Water," she laughed.

"Water? It's Valentine's Day! You should have champagne, or the very least, wine. Who drinks water?" he moaned.

"The entire world," she continued, "or else they die."

He snapped at the waiter, ordered champagne and then steaks for both of them, and then sat back, crossed his legs, and folded the napkin across his lap. "Do you know what your problem is, love? Do you have any clue as to why I fixed you up with Marcus Flint?" he asked sincerely.

She genuinely thought about that question and then answered, "Because you secretly hate me and you're a bastard without a heart, even though you claimed a moment ago that I stabbed you in it?"

"Remind me not to ask you to ever give ME a character reference either," he mumbled, before answering, "No; I fixed you up with Marcus Flint because you need to live a little. You need to get out and experience the world. You do nothing but eat, sleep and work. You are boring, dear Granger. Boring, boring, boring." In his mind, he added, 'and I could never hate you, because I think I love you.'

Hermione said nothing to his put down, because for one thing, he was right. She was in a rut. A routine that was terribly unfulfilling and she didn't know how to get out of it. She went to work everyday at the Ministry of Magic, and then, every night she went home. Ever since she broke up with Ron almost a year ago, she never dated. She hadn't had sex in…goodness…she couldn't even recall when she'd last had sex. She even had the same thing for lunch every day!

The only variation to her boring schedule was her recent reconnection with the man sitting beside her.

Around October, she accompanied Harry to St. Mungo's after he obtained an injury at work. That led her to wait in the waiting room. While waiting, she saw a familiar looking blond man talking to a very pretty witch with long dark hair, who was apparently a Healer. After the man kissed the pretty woman goodbye (on the lips, no tongue, thank goodness) he started to walk away only to stop and glance down at Hermione as she sat on a settee in the corner of the waiting room. He said, "Goodness Gracious, its Hermione Granger, in the flesh."

To which she replied, "Holy crap, its Draco Malfoy, also in the flesh."

He sat down and they started talking. They talked until the very Healer in which Draco had kissed earlier, discharged Harry. It ended up that this woman, named Jen, was dating Draco. That night the four of them went for coffee and continued to talk. Soon, a tentative friendship began between Draco and Hermione.

Harry and Draco still seemed to dislike each other as much as ever, so Hermione only saw Draco when Harry was busy with Ginny or Ron. Draco still HATED Harry, so that worked well for him, too. Likewise, he only popped around Hermione's flat or her office when his girlfriend worked late or the like.

They had a playful rapport. They challenged each other, talking art, music, literature and the like. Mostly, they had fun teasing each other. She liked to point out his flaws. He liked to point out hers. Every time they saw each other, they would have at least one conversation that contained the lines, "Do you know what's wrong with you?" and then they would go to great lengths pointing out the foibles and defects of the other.

Around Christmas, Hermione realized that she was in love with him. The moment came suddenly, and it hit her like an anvil over the head. They all went ice-skating three days before the Holidays. Hermione had fallen on the ice and while everyone else skated past her and laughed, he stood behind her and hoisted her up so tenderly. Draco had been honestly sweet and kindhearted with her, when he could have been so unbearably cruel. He wasn't anything like the spoiled brat he had been as a child.

Humiliated and embarrassed, more than she was hurt, she tried to hide a few errant tears as they fell from her eyes. Brushing a tear from her cheek, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently before skating away.

Hermione felt completely bowled over. She wanted that! Not a pale imitation either, but THAT. She wanted Draco Malfoy to be that way with her ALL THE TIME, because she was in love with him!

For Draco, it was a bit more gradual. It was the little things that Hermione did that made him start to think that things were lacking in his relationship with his girlfriend. For instance, Jen never seemed to care what he liked or didn't like. She didn't take time to notice little things.

If he cut his hair differently Jen never noticed, but Hermione always noticed right away. If he bought a new shirt (which he did frequently, so that might be a bad example) but still, Hermione always noticed and his girlfriend never did. Hermione knew the names of his favourite Quidditch teams, even though she hated the sport! Jen hated the sport as well, so that was her excuse as to why she didn't know his team or their colours or their standings in the playoffs.

Hermione knew the name of the current book he was reading, because she suggested it to him. Jen once made a joke to her friends that Draco was too dumb to read, but at least he was pretty.

One night, when a large group of them had gone out to dinner, Jen placed her mushrooms on Draco's plate and Draco leaned over and said, "I don't like mushrooms."

Jen said, "I thought you did."

To which Hermione said, "No, he doesn't. He tells you he hates them every time you order them on pizza, too."

Yes, it was a little thing, because it was only mushrooms after all, but shouldn't a girlfriend know a boyfriend hated mushrooms over a woman who was merely a friend? Moreover, shouldn't a girlfriend think a bloke was pretty and smart?

It all came to a blinding conclusion on a ski trip they took with Scarhead, little Weaslette, the Weasel, his new girlfriend, and Granger after the New Year. It was late at night and everyone went to bed early, tired from a day of skiing and other pursuits. Draco thought he was the only one awake, so he went to the library of the rented chalet, deciding to have a late-night brandy, when Granger walked into the room.

A silent conversation ensued between them, which upon later scrutiny spoke volumes. It had been louder than a clanging gong, in the fact that it made Draco fully aware of his intense feelings for the woman he had grown up hating and ended up loving.

She walked into the library and first thing she did was smile at him, though she said nothing, for nothing needed to be said. He smiled in return and nodded toward the decanter on the sideboard, asking silently if she wanted to share in his wallowing with a drink of her own. She shook her head no and pointed her chin toward the bookshelf, indicating she wanted a book to read. He smiled again, walked over to the bookshelf, and ran his fingers along the spines of the books, to help her pick out an appropriate (or perhaps an inappropriate) title.

She walked up beside him, shoulder touching shoulder, and did the same, her finger running along the spines of the titles on the books beside him, almost as if she were mocking him. The scent of her invaded his senses and intoxicated him more than the drink in his hand. She smelled like jasmine, roses, wine, and a perfectly ripe Hermione Granger. The warmth from her body warmed him more than the brandy. He felt a heavy stupor begin to put him under a spell, so to pull him out, he pulled out a book and held it up for her approval.

She turned to look at him, her breasts touching his arm lightly, and looked at the title and then at his face. She made a look of utter annoyance and shook her head no, almost emphatically so. He shook his head back and forth, mocking her, and placed the book back on the shelf. Standing directly behind her now, he noticed for the first time that she was in a long, plush robe, that did nothing for her shape or form, yet it was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen. He wanted to run his hands all over it, up and down her arms, over her back, around the front, on her hips and bum, and then in her hair, all the time making her silence turn into moans of pleasure.

She continued to look at the books before her, and he continued to do the same. Her hand reached up to a shelf high above her just as his hand did the same. They reached for the exact same book at the exact same time.

She turned, looked up at him, and they both laughed. He tugged the book out and handed it to her, his eyebrows up in a question. She smiled again, shook her head yes. His eyes sparkled and gleamed and he wanted to kiss her. My stars, he wanted to kiss her so badly. Then she did something that sealed his fate. She clutched the book to her chest, leaned upwards, and kissed his cheek, then ran out of the room.

Draco pressed his hand to his face, and finished two more glasses of brandy before he had the nerve to go to his own room. There were many examples like that, but all of them added together, caused Draco to re-examine his relationship with Jen and right after that trip he told her he couldn't carry on any longer.

The thing was, she didn't cry or seem to care in the least.

It had been almost a month since he had broken up with Jen but he was waiting to tell Hermione. Waiting for her to realize that she loved him as much as he loved her. He knew she was highly intelligent, but it seemed she was woefully stupid concerning love, so he decided to give her a small push, thus the 'fake' blind date in which they now found themselves.

The waiter brought the champagne and two flutes and as he opened it with a pop, Draco asked, "To what shall we toast?"

"Where's Jen?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend on Valentine's Day? You don't need to baby sit me. Marcus Flint stood me up, but I'm fine, really, I am. You must have plans. Go on, Draco, go on." Hermione stood to leave.

Draco took her wrist in his hand. "Sit down, Granger." She stared down at him, her chest heaving, her eyes glaring, and he could see her swallowing hard, biting back some sort of remark, though he didn't know if it were scathing or not. "Please," he added.

She sat down.

Taking a gulp of his champagne he admitted, "Jen and I have parted ways."

She gasped. "You broke up with her on Valentine's Day?"

He gave her an incredulous look, threw her napkin on the table from his lap, and said, "Why do you assume that I'm the one that broke up with her!"

She gasped anew, her hand to her mouth and she revised, "You mean she broke it off with you on Valentine's Day?"

He looked at his lap and shook his head. "The girl is so dense." He looked back at Hermione and said, "Do you know what your problem is? You assume the worst of me. You always have and always will."

"How is me asking if SHE broke up with you, on today of all days, assuming the worst of you? I rather think it's assuming the worst of her," she pondered, leaning back in her seat, crossing her pretty little legs, folding her arms around her waist, and gave him a stern glare.

"Oh," he answered, seeing her logic. He cleared his throat. "The truth is, I did break it off with her, but I did it after our ski trip last month."

She started to gasp again, leaning forward, mouth open, but Draco leaned forward faster and placed his hand over her mouth. "Don't gasp again, please. You sound as if you're losing all your air."

She removed his hand, keeping his wrist in her grip, and asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "I just did."

"Do you know what's wrong with you?" she asked. "You hide things. You manipulate things. Did I even really have a date with Marcus Flint tonight, or was this just your way of telling me about you and Jen?"

He thought for a moment, though he knew the answer. "It was a sick ploy to tell you about Jen and me," he admitted.

"Draco Malfoy!" she hissed. "You're despicable!"

He took another drink of champagne and quipped, "So be it. I can live with that."

Turning her head toward the wall, millions of questions funneled through her brain, pushing and pulling to come to the front, all trying to get out at the same time, but the one she REALLY wanted to ask, she knew she wouldn't ask. She wanted to ask, "Did you do this because you love me as much as I love you?" yet…that was ridiculous, wasn't it?

She felt his hand on her chin. He was pulling her face back toward him and he said, "Are you really angry with me?"

Shrugging, she declared, "Not really, but answer this, why did you wait to tell me?"

"Do you know what your problem is?" he asked. She waited for him to tell her. He looked to his left, then to his right. He placed his long and elegant fingers in her mass of curly, brown hair and whispered, "You were meant for me and I was meant for you Granger. The quicker you come to accept it, the happier we'll all be."

Looking at him expectantly, she asked, "And how is that a problem?"

"Oh, it's not," he assessed with a smirk. "It's more a statement of fact. I love you, Granger, and I should have just said so, but do you know what my problem is?" He still had her hair in his hand, but he moved it lower, down her back, and edged his body to the end of his seat so that he was sitting almost nose to nose with her.

"Do we have enough time for me to list them all?" she joked.

He ignored her and continued, "My problem is that I wanted you to tell me first, because I'm not as self-assured as you seem to think I am. My swagger and conceited confidence is all a front."

Smiling at him, she placed both arms around his neck. "Do you know what my problem is?" she asked in return.

"I'm afraid of that question, so I'll just say no," he smiled, leaning forward to kiss one cheek, then the other.

She almost melted into a puddle right before him. Gripping his shoulders, she continued, "My problem is that I sometimes ignore the obvious and I often think of others before myself."

"You're selfless, is that what you're saying?" he asked, kissing her lips lightly, slanting his lips over hers for a mere breathe of a kiss before leaning away.

"Yes, selfless. If you had wanted Jen forever, I wouldn't have interfered," she proclaimed, her hand cupping his cheek.

"Now I must make a proclamation," he leveled, "for I know what your greatest problem is. Your selflessness, but sweetheart, you just so happen to be in love with the most selfish person on the face of this earth, so I think I can cure you of that." He kissed one eye, then the other.

She sighed, a happy sigh this time, and complained, "Do you want to know what your biggest problem is, Draco Malfoy?"

"Of course," he prodded, "but I'm waiting with bated breath to hear your version of it."

"Your biggest problem is that you don't see yourself as you truly are. You're a wonderful, caring, loving, and giving, man and I love you very much."

He moaned and said, "Well, just don't tell anyone, alright? Not the loving me part. You can shout that from the rafters, but don't tell anyone my good points. I have a reputation to withhold, or uphold, whichever the case may be, Granger."

He stood up from his seat, pulling her up as well, into his arms, and he placed his mouth upon hers. It was perfection. Neither of them had a problem with that.

The End