Breakfast at Hermione's

Breakfast at Hermione's

Chapter Two

The sun was glaring; Hermione slipped on her sunglasses as she strolled down the street. Her new neighbour seemed a nice enough person, and he was fairly attractive too: blonde haired, tall, self-assured. She hadn't inspected him closely, but he had appeared to have a permanent scowl on his face. Well, Hermione decided, perhaps she could change that.

Drake had reminded her of someone she'd once known - but she couldn't place who. The thought nagged her as she made her way through the cobbled lanes. I have to go back, she thought, stopping. Hermione stood in place for a few seconds, pondering her next move. She glanced idly at her watch, and started in realization. "Oh no!" she exclaimed, and hurried towards her destination.

*

Draco shook his head to wake himself from his stunned stupor. Hermione Granger - of all the people in the world - was to become his neighbour. Unbelievable. He would never have thought he'd set eyes on her again once they'd graduated from Hogwarts. Now, they were living next door to one another.

When had she changed so much anyway? She certainly knew how to dress, and with class, which was more than he could have said about her back at Hogwarts. Her clothes weren't cheap either; they had the distinctive style Draco recognized from his mother's own wardrobe. And no one could fault either Narcissa Malfoy's taste or her budget. Hermione's dress was marked with the emblem of his mother's favourite designer; she had several wardrobes full of Samunair Vientoi's garments.

Draco was curious as to why Hermione had just left him in her apartment. Wasn't she worried that he could be a burglar or some raving lunatic? She had changed, that was undeniable, but he found it hard to believe she had changed so much that she would leave a stranger unattended in her home. She must have installed some sort of enchantment around the flat and he was intrigued as to which one she had used.

Taking an interesting-looking book off the nearest bookshelf (he later discovered she also had a library as well as the several bookcases in each room), he proceeded out the front door.

"Oof!" he exclaimed as the book came flying back and socked him in the stomach, leaving him winded. Groaning, he stumbled back into the carpeted foyer, clutching his middle. Trust Granger to use a Theft Barrier spell, he thought. Only she'd use one of the most advanced ones out there - but then, she always was rather violent when offended. He grunted as he stood up, remembering the time she had assaulted him in their third year.

He glanced around the flat. Rolling his eyes at the mess, he thought back to their conversation. It was typical of her to believe in the freedom of house elves. Potter must have really rubbed off on her concerning Dobby. Draco frowned as the memory came back to him - his father had been in a rage all that week over the loss of his house elf. Draco hadn't seen his father liked that since his grandfather had died when he was nine years old, leaving most of his vast fortune to Draco's aunt. Cassius Malfoy had cursed Lucuis, saying that he was a waste of a son and a disgrace to the Malfoy name, having served Lord Voldemort. Then, Cassius had proceeded to give his possessions to one of his daughters, Carina - the daughter who, ironically, had cut ties with her family, denouncing their long association with Dark Magic. At the end of his life, old Cassius himself had changed his way of thinking, and in an unexpected move, cut Lucius' inheritance completely.

Draco's father had forbidden him to ever have contact with his Aunt Carina after she had forsworn the name of Malfoy - at his sixth birthday party. A few days later, he had found a package on his bed from his aunt. She had written a letter apologising for ruining his birthday, saying she hoped her gift was enough to make up for it. Inside the layers of luxurious wrapping paper was a limited edition of his favourite storybook, complete with gold-edged pages and hand-painted illustrations. Draco had treasured that gift far above his others on that birthday, and even now it was one thing from his childhood he had never gotten rid of. He had never shown it to his father or his mother, for fear they would confiscate it. His Aunt Carina had always been his favourite; while he'd been spoiled by all of his various rich relatives, never at a loss for expensive gifts, he had received very few that were given genuinely from the heart, including his gifts from his parents. Carina's absence from his life had been too early on to hurt very deeply, but he had felt the void all his life.

A car honked loudly outside, startling Draco from his reverie. He peered out the apartment's window to see who it was. Narcissa Malfoy stood on the footpath, elaborately dressed in luxurious silk, a whirlwind of tropical colours. Beside her was to George, their family chauffeur, no doubt responding to his employer's chattering in his usual respectful tones. Draco made his way downstairs to greet his mother.

"Draco darling," she cooed. "How are you? Have you settled in yet? Did you see that gorgeously dressed woman who just walked down the street? She was wearing a green Vientoi - one of his newest creations! I've been planning on getting one myself," she declared.

Draco nearly choked on his saliva when his mother announced Hermione as a "gorgeously dressed woman". His mother would faint if she realised that Hermione was, in fact, a Muggle-born. He didn't think she would ever be able to comprehend that a Mudblood could possibly know anything about Wizarding designer wear.

"No, I didn't see that woman," he lied. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"To see how my darling son is, of course!" she said, planting moist kisses on both of Draco's cheeks. "You are still coming to the Charity Ball tonight, aren't you? You promised me, Draco."

"Yes, mother. I am."

"Your father will not be able to attend. He has business affairs," she said briskly.

Draco wasn't sure if she meant "business affairs" as in business, or if she was singling out the latter word. It was common knowledge to him that both his parents had affairs. They both loved one another, but sought others' company from time to time. Draco couldn't understand their casual approach to infidelity, and had vowed long ago never to have an extramarital affair. He wasn't quite sure he believed in the fairy-tale, swept-off-their-feet, passionate and will-last-a-lifetime marriage, or even if he believed in love. Lust, he knew, existed. However, marriage seemed more of a bond of companionship than of love...

"I should go and get ready then. I have an appointment in," Narcissa glanced at her diamond-studded watch, "half and hour. See you at eight o'clock sharp. Don't be late," she warned, caressing her son's cheek.

George stepped round the limousine and opened the door for his mistress. Narcissa glided inside and opened the window. "Draco? Could you wear that exquisite tux I bought you at Christmas? I'll have it sent over. There's someone I want you to meet tonight."

"Oh, mother," Draco groaned.

"Now, Draco - you're twenty-four years old. The prospect of marriage is looming over your head and your father and I can't have you marry just anyone. We have a list of those select few - the right sort, you know - and you'll meet the first girl tonight. She's a stunner, I promise. You won't be disappointed." She closed her window without waiting for a response, and the limousine sped off.

Draco watched the car travel further and further away until it was a tiny speck in the distance. I guess I'd better get ready, then. His previous thoughts of Hermione Granger were a million miles away as he walked up the steps to his new home.