So Long Sweet Summer

Chapter Seven

Fine Dining

A knock sounded at Draco's door at too early an hour the next morning. As he pulled himself from his bed, blonde hair sticking up every which way, one could hear him grumbling. Something about 'bloody mornings', 'ungodly hours of the day' and 'who gets up at ten in the morning in the summer?'

He wrenched open the door to his chambers, a scowl apparent on his face. It looked quite ridiculous on him however, what with his bedraggled appearance. Glaring down at the tiny house-elf outside of his door, he was even more annoyed when he noticed the thing was trying not to laugh at him.

"Sir is requested downstairs," the tiny creature was able to choke out. "Master and Mistress would like to see Sir before they leave." With one final glance at the ludicrous looking Draco, the house-elf snapped its fingers and promptly disappeared.

Dragging a hand through his hair, only to make it stand up even more, Draco turned back into his chambers, again muttering, although this time about 'insolent little creatures.'

Draco had completely forgotten that today was the day his parents would be leaving. He knew that they were heading off to Italy - why, he didn't know and didn't ask. His father hated curiosity and so if they didn't supply the information, Draco pretended not to care.

He hauled himself over to the floor length mirror on the opposite side of his room. Grimacing at his appearance, he quickly waved his wand and with a few muttered words, his hair was in place, all traces of sleep gone, and he was dressed in his presentable long black robes emblazoned with the Malfoy crest.

He trekked through the corridors of the Manor, amusing himself by accidentally thumping on the frames of still sleeping portraits. The indignant cries that followed him down to the main foyer of the Manor made him feel slightly better at being up so early. As he descended the staircase to the front hall, he could see his parents engaged in a whispered conversation by the fireplace where they would floo out. Hoards of house-elves were dashing about the room, making the final preparations for their departure. His parents would not travel anywhere without their own brigade of house-elves. His mother liked things done 'just so' and she did not trust any but her own strictly trained elves to look after it.

As he made his way towards them, their conversation ceased and they turned to face their son. His mother immediately began fussing with him, tugging on his shirt collar, and adjusting his robes. Her tutting disapproval annoyed him to no end, but the knowledge that soon she would be out of his hair for a few weeks allowed him to put up with it.

"We've left you Tutici to cook," his mother commented as she smoothed down her son's hair. "I know how much you love his food."

Draco had to suppress a grimace, no matter how many times he tried to tell his mother, she always forgot. He absolutely despised that creature's cooking. It had a strange obsession with seafood and thus, that was all it would cook. Draco loathed seafood, in all shapes and sizes. Just the smell of cooking salmon and he would be bolting from the room to find the nearest loo. Draco had a feeling that either he was going to be starving for the next little while, or else he would have to force himself to either beg Granger for food, or visit a Muggle restaurant. The latter seemed like a better choice.

Lucius put a hand on his wife's shoulder. "We're ready to leave, Narcissa," he announced. She nodded silently and placed a single kiss on top of her son's head. To him, her movements seemed almost robotic.

"You're breakfast is waiting in the dining room, Draco," she said quickly before turning to go. Before Draco knew it, his parents were off in a swirling of green flames, flanked by their slew of house-elves.

The once busy foyer was suddenly silent, too quiet for Draco. Taking his time, he meandered across the room towards the dining room. Pulling the large double doors open, the smell of fish assaulted his senses. Draco gagged as he noticed a large platter of kippers adorning the table. Plugging his nose and trying not to be sick, he dashed from the room, through the entrance hall and burst outside into the bright sunshine. Collapsing on the front porch, he gasped for fresh air, trying to rid his nostrils of the horrendous stench.

He had no choice, absolutely no choice whatsoever. Draco would have to go and get Muggle food. He sighed with resolve. There was no alternative. Well, one - he could go and ask Hermione to make him something. 'Right, just as soon as Voldemort turns to the light side,' Draco thought as he began the trek towards the Muggle village.

He wasn't as irked today while the Muggles bumped and jostled him as he wound his way through the streets of the town; over-exposure to Hermione, most likely. It took him awhile to find his bearings amidst the summer crowds, but soon enough he came upon a little café on one street corner. The outdoor patio looked quite crowded, with waitresses rushing about among the patrons. He stepped inside, a curious gust of cool air coming over him, and noticed that the inside was much less busy. There were a few empty tables scattered about, one in a far back corner, which he quickly snagged.

He immediately regretted his choice. It may have been far away from any other occupants of the restaurant, but his table was right next to the entrance into the kitchens. He could hear the shouts of the cooks and clinking of the dishes and cutlery above all else. Wincing, he stealthy pulled out his wand and muttered a quick silencing charm at the kitchen door. The clatter from the kitchens ceased moderately and he regained the ability to be able to hear his own thoughts again. Draco had just picked up the menu, after thoroughly sneering at the tacky red and white checker table cloth, when a waitress came up to his table.

"Hello, Sir," she greeted him, Draco not even bothering to look up. "My name is Hermione and I will be your waitress today."

Draco groaned out loud and leaned back, purposely banging his head against the wall behind him. He looked up just in time to see her cheerful demeanour fade away and be replaced with glaring eyes and a grimace. Her skin had also gone eerily pale, but he could see the red splotches of her anger beginning to emerge.

"OK, Malfoy," she spat, placing her hands on her hips. "Are you stalking me, or is fate playing one huge practical joke?"

"Must be that damn fate," Draco muttered under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Hermione said indignantly.

"Food, Granger!" Draco exclaimed, wincing as he raised his voice a little too loud. "Get me some food for Merlin's sake!" If it were possible he sunk even further back into his booth, trying to hide from the glances of curious Muggles.

"Of course, Malfoy," Hermione bit out between clenched teeth. "But what sort of food would you like?" Draco knew that if they weren't in plain site of Muggles and if she were willing to risk her job, she would have strangled him right then and there. This thought didn't comfort him much, even though it should have brought an air of normality back into their, however messed up, relationship.

"Meat," he ground out, shuddering at the though of the kippers sitting on the table back at the manor. "I want meat," he reiterated, glaring at the witch. She finally walked away, muttering under her breath. He only caught a few words which sounded quite similar to 'prat' and 'wanker'.

When Hermione returned, she practically threw a glass of some strange, fizzing, brown liquid at him. Draco sniffed apprehensively at it and wound up in a coughing fit as some of the carbonated bubbles went up his nose. Hermione was still standing there watching him, a bemused expression on her face. Shooting her a look of utter contempt, Draco bravely took a sip of the foreign beverage - and promptly spit it back out.

"What is this disgusting atrocity, Granger?" he demanded.

"Muggle cola," she replied simply. "It's probably one of the most popular drinks."

"It's filth," he exclaimed, wrinkling his nose. The drink was too sweet, too syrupy for his tastes. Pumpkin juice, lovely, slightly bitter, pumpkin juice was what he needed.

"Get me some pumpkin juice," he ordered her.

She gave him an incredulous look. "Muggles don't drink pumpkin juice, Malfoy," she stated.

Draco was practically grinding his teeth in annoyance. "Then get me some water!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, Master," she replied sarcastically.

When his meal finally arrived, Draco didn't even take the time to insult the 'common' food she had chosen. Instead he stuffed the hamburger in his mouth like a starving man and sighed in contentment.

"You are such a pig," Hermione commented, wrinkling her nose as she watched a drip of ketchup run down his chin.

"I was hungry," Draco sneered when he swallowed his mouthful. "Your service is entirely too slow here."

He watched her closely as he ate, not entirely sure why. She flitted about the restaurant, taking orders and chatting amicably with the customers. It was obvious that some were regulars; he could catch snippets of their conversations. Hermione pointedly ignored him, never coming over to his table. He had to finally swallow some pride and actually wave her over - something Malfoys never did in restaurants - to get the check.

Hermione looked at him strangely when he handed over his coins. "Malfoy!" she exclaimed. "You can't pay with Galleons in a Muggle restaurant!"

"Take it or leave it, Granger," he replied, getting up from the table. "It's the only money I have."

"Fine," she ground out. Hermione pocketed his wizard coins and replaced them with a couple crumpled bills from her pocket. "You owe me, Malfoy."

He was just opening his mouth to reply back, when an older woman behind Hermione cleared her throat.

"Sorry to interrupt, Hermione," she said, casting an uninterested glace at Draco, "but Hannah has just come in, so you can take your break now if you wish - we should be able to handle the floor for awhile."

Hermione smiled at the lady. "Thanks, Kathy. I'll be out on the patio if things get too crazy."

Kathy nodded at her and continued on into the kitchens. Draco made a move to leave, but Hermione promptly stopped him.

"Not so fast, Malfoy," she called out as he turned his back. "I need to talk to you about something."

Draco gave her a look of annoyance. "I think I've had quite enough of your company for one day, Granger."

Hermione returned his look. "It will take all of 5 minutes, I promise," she stated. "Just go out to the patio, I'll be there in just a minute." Not bothering to wait for a response, she spun on her heel and disappeared into the back of the restaurant.

Draco contemplated just leaving, but he had to admit to himself that he was slightly curious as to what she so desperately had to tell him. Thus, against his better judgement, he made his way outside and took a seat at a minuscule green plastic table.

A short while later, Hermione appeared, a thin black sweater thrown over her uniform with one of the disgusting 'cola' drinks and a salad in hand. She settled herself down at the table with him, and shoved a forkful of lettuce into her mouth.

Draco wrinkled his nose at her as she continued to eat and take the occasional sip of cola. Finally, he grew impatient. "What is it that you want, Granger? I have better places to be."

Hermione glared at him as she swallowed a mouthful of salad. She gently wiped the corners of her mouth with a serviette before folding her hands in front of her on the table.

"I'm going to be frank with you, Malfoy," she started.

"This isn't about me witnessing you bawling your eyes out last night?" Draco asked, in a bored tone.

He saw her purse her lips in aggravation. "Yes. It is," she replied curtly. "If you dare speak word of it to anyone, I will make your life miserable."

Draco snorted in amusement at her weak threat. "I highly doubt there is anything you could do make my life miserable, Granger."

She just shrugged. "Well at least I warned you," she replied, taking a sip of her drink.

As he watched her return to eating, Draco figured their conversation was over. He stood from the table and began to walk away. Part of him was expecting her to call after him, to tell him that they weren't done talking. He paused at the gate leading off of the patio, but she made no move to make him stay. Feeling slightly put out, and not entirely sure why, Draco banged the metal gate closed harder than he intended to, and walked off.