Nicest Thing

A/N: This was a fun chapter to write as well – not as fun as the previous one. I find that my muse is happy churning along if I enjoy writing chapters. Might type up chapter 14 before the day is out. Maybe.

margaritama – I enjoyed writing the fight scene too – I had imagined it in my mind way before I wrote the chapter and just HAD to have it in the chapter!

ginnylovesharry07 – Your wish is my command! I do love it when I read stories I like during lunch too! So I totally understand it!

SomewhatGlutinous – it’s everyone who constantly reviews that I love makes me think my story is good enough that some one is willing to comment on every couple of chapters. =)

Songs:
Lily Allen – Who’d Have Known ***
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8bIr-9EJoJM

Lily Allen – Fuck You *****
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ITZBBV8Syg

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***
The early morning sun began to peak through Hermione’s newly hung lacey white curtains – that may or may not have reminded her of her grandmother’s own lacy curtains, with the exception that hers actually went with the room and didn’t look like it came from a nursing home. Birds outside began singing their little songs – indicating that spring were very much alive, even if it were summer.

The rays of the sun slipped low onto her cold hardwood floor and slowly crept up to her large king sized bed. Why she needed such a large bed confused her as she always slept on one side but she did enjoy the occasional times where she indulged her inner child by running and throwing herself onto it.

As the sun hit her heavy lidded eyes, Hermione let out a loud groan. Her throat scratched and felt dry – as if she had one too many to drink – but she never drank. One sip of wine here and there was sufficient to wet her pallet but other than that, she remained content with fizzy drinks or butter beer. Smacking her lips after a strained yawn, Hermione scrunched her face and rolled onto her side. Her hand traced over the lone spot beside her – which lay untouched. Strange.

She didn’t remember getting home after the abysmal night with Cormac. All she remembered was dumping ice on his smug face and standing outside where…Draco. Her eyes shot open and she literally jolted from her bed. Bad. Bad thing. Her head was swirling around as if her entire brain had turned to mush. Bringing the back of her hand to her forehead, she groaned. A fever. She rubbed her eyes and let out a strangled cough trying to remember exactly what happened.

She remembered falling but not hitting the ground. Warm secure arms wrapped around her. Crookshanks prattling around under her while she was carried to her room. His hands. His calloused hands tracing over her soft skin, pulling at the pins in her hair, setting her shoes off to the side and…Hermione looked down and let out a horrified groan. She was in her pajamas – which wouldn’t have been so bad considering she liked to sleep in pajamas but the fact that Draco had stripped her of her cloths. Bad. Bad night.

“Bugger!”

Hermione flopped back onto the bed and pulled her blankets over her head, fighting back the blush across her face. Crookshanks pried the door open a little and weaseled his was through the crack; only to jump onto the bed and crawl on his belly toward her. He mewed loudly, pushing his squashed face against her covers as if to tell her to get up.

“You let him in the house, didn’t you?” Hermione groaned, peaking through a little bit of her blankets at the bright green eyes of the cat. “How could you do that to me?”

Crooks merely mewed and sat on his haunches as if to say ‘what did you expect me to do?’ He was one bloody intelligent cat and she hated him for it, but loved him more. Hermione tucked her head under the blanket again and groaned. She wanted to go back to sleep and pretend nothing every happened – not to mention prayed to Merlin that Draco had enough sense to skidaddle before she woke.

The door opened and her eyes widened under the blanket. Oh sweet Merlin, no. Please it let be anyone else but him. Cormac would suffice. She peered over her blankets cautiously – feeling like a stubborn child – but sighed as the person carrying a tray of tea wasn’t Draco, or Cormac. It was Harry.

“Good morning, ‘Mione,” Harry said in an unusually chipper voice.

He smiled when Hermione let out a groan and flopped onto her back, prying the sheets from her body. Crookshanks wormed his way from under the pile that had fallen on him and curled up under the pillow beside her, falling into a slumber.

“How long have you been here?” She asked with a scratchy yawn as Harry handed her the tray.

Only Harry seemed to understand the need for a morning tray – he was raised by Muggles and thus could maneuver over her kitchen with easy. The smell of breakfast made her feel a little ill but when she realized that it was Mrs. Weasley’s famous chicken noodle soup she suddenly didn’t feel so ill.

“I got here about an hour ago,” Harry answered, “Ginny wanted me to get dressed as soon as I got the call…”

“The call?” Hermione asked, taking several delicious sips from the bowl as Harry sat in a wicker chair beside her, sipping some tea.

“Yeah. Malfoy…er…Draco floo’d us last night,” Harry explained, cautiously choosing his words as he watched Hermione, “Said you fainted outside the Ministry gala. Of course, the entire wizarding world knows what happened there.”

“I suppose they do,” Hermione grumbled, prying apart a muffin to dip into her soup. “Bet all the blokes are going to try and steer clear from me, heh.”

“Trouble seems to love you,” Harry grinned, causing Hermione to laugh a little, “But, anyway. Draco floo’d and said you had fainted and that he didn’t know who else to call. Ginny offered to come by but he said he could take care of you…”

Hermione snorted.

“He was awake all night. Apparently, you had a really bad fever and he contemplated on taking you to St. Mungos it was so bad.”

Suddenly she didn’t feel like snorting or making any other comments about Draco. She looked up from her soup and stared at Harry’s all-knowing look. She may have been a know-it-all when it came to knowledge and books, but he was a know-it-all when it came to life. Go figure. Hermione fought her initial reaction of asking a million questions and settled with a subtle shrug.

“What does he care anyway?” Hermione sniffed, taking a sip of orange juice that sat to her right. She handed Crookshanks a piece of her muffin and watched his head dart out to eat it before darting back under the pillow.

“He cares, Hermione.” Harry said quietly, apparently trying not to pry into her life. “He looked a mess when I came.”

“He got pummeled by Cormac McLaggen, of course he looked a mess.” Hermione brought her eyes to his and stared at him. “What?”

He just shook his head, “I left some pepper-up potion for you. I have to get going to work.”

Hermione notice the small potion bottle that sat next to another muffin and nodded. She hated that stuff but it was a lot better than taking Muggle methods of healing a fever. Harry picked his saucer and empty tea cup.

“Harry?” Hermione found herself blurting out before her mind even thought of what to say.

Harry turned as he reached the door and held it open when Crookshanks bounded out from under the pillow and out the opening.

“Nevermind.”

“Take care of yourself, ‘Mione. We expect you for dinner next Saturday. James is getting pretty big and I think Ron is spoiling him too much,” Harry smiled and gave her a nod before leaving.
She heard the faint pop in the hall way, indicating that she was once again alone.

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Hermione felt considerably better after forcing her stomach to ingest the pepper-up potion and was now standing in her front lawn watering her flowers. Her eyes were glazed over as she watched Draco’s green and silver pinwheel spin when the water touched it. Images of him flashed in her head causing her to think she must have been conscious at one point during that night of her illness. She could see his concerned face – despite his black eye looking rather purple – but other than that he looked fit. She imagined him looming over her; a cool cloth to her forehead, him sitting in that same wicker chair Harry had sat.

“It’s ok,” he has said, dabbing her forehead, “Just sleep.”

“Draco,” Hermione remembered purring, shifting in her bed, “You hit…Why…”

“You’re delirious,” Draco murmured, pressing the cloth against her forehead.

“No…you’re delicious not me,” Hermione felt her cheeks go red when she remembered that and wanted to slap her head.

He smiled at her but said nothing. Her eyes closed and when they opened again Crookshanks was curled in his lap and his head bobbed up and down trying to stay awake. She remembered raising her hand and he coming to her in a flash, their fingers intertwining. Then she remembered slapping him but it wasn’t too hard and she had no knowledge as to why. He didn’t look angry, from what she remembered – which wasn’t much. She heard him whispering to her, but she couldn’t understand a word he was saying. The last thing she remembered was him kissing her forehead. His warm lips pushed against her sweaty skin. Just the thought sent shivers up her spine and caused her cheeks to flush.

She heard Crooks mew loudly and broke from her daze, her eyes widening.

“Oh shit!” She had flooded his favorite flower bed and groaned in annoyance. Hermione pulled her wand out and muttered a spell, making the flower bed dry once more. Her eyes darted around for a second before she decided that she spent enough of her morning watering the grass and plants.

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After showering and getting ready for work, Hermione stopped as she passed the kitchen table. Taking two steps back, Hermione looked down at an envelope that sat beside her bowl of fake fruit. She frowned and looked around before reaching out for it. Flipping it over, she saw her name scrawled in perfect letters across the center of the envelope in familiar text. Next to the envelope was a single flower, a lily – which happened to be her favorite flower. It sat beside the envelope with a lilac ribbon tied around it. Picking it up, Hermione brought the flower to her nose and inhaled. She smiled.

The clock to her right began to chirp and she broke her concentration. She was going to be late. Pocketing the note and putting the flower into a glass of water from the kitchen, Hermione rushed to the hearth and stood in the dying flames. She pulled out a packet of floo powder and threw it at the ground shouting the Ministry. Instantly bright green flames enveloped her and she was sent spiraling to her destination.

The Ministry looked just as it had before yet the large projection now showed Draco Malfoy slamming Cormac McLaggen’s fat head into the ground with pure evil in his eyes. The title read something silly that Hermione hardly paid attention to. As soon as she walked past it the images changed to Hermione throwing a bucket of ice onto McLaggen and his face contorting in a mixture of fury and shock. She couldn’t help but smirk at that, especially when a few colleagues stopped and looked at her.

When she raised her eyebrow, they scattered off. Hermione clearly was not a witch to be messed with. One man, Dennis – who had been pestering her for a date – ducked into an office when she walked by and only looked out when she walked past. Another, who she didn’t remember the name of, rose from his seat to try and speak to her but she was not in the mood for subtle talks.

“Hello, Hermione,” he said, trying to keep up with her as she maneuvered through the crowd, “What are you doing later?”

“Working,” Hermione responded, feeling a little better when he slumped back or got stuck behind a large man who worked with Mr. Weasley.

She passed the Auror division and spotted Harry lecturing a few new recruits while Ron was busy stuffing his face with a few muffins. They both turned and looked at her as she walked past to go to the elevator. Ron grinned – his teeth filled with blueberries – and Harry waved. She waved back and pointed to her teeth where Ron nearly stumbled back upon realizing he had food all over his mouth and teeth. Hermione giggled and walked into the elevator where room had been made to accommodate her.

Once off, she walked past Gretel, who didn’t have any messages for Hermione, but she didn’t care. Opening her office, Hermione almost dropped her satchel onto the ground as some one stood in the center of the room – some one she didn’t want to see at all.

“Hermione,” Cormac said lightly, smiling at her.

He wore a darker version of Draco’s robes she had last seen him in and knew in an instant that he was trying to mimic the prick – especially because he had slicked his hair back and wore dark dragon hide gloves. In his hand was a bouquet of Hermione roses – how unoriginal. He held them out for her but she merely brushed past him and to her desk.

“Can I help you, McLaggen?” Hermione said in her most professional voice as she possibly could.

“I wanted to see you, I hope you don’t mind,” Cormac said quietly, closing the door behind her.

“I’m a very busy person. If it doesn’t have to do with Dobby’s Law then I suggest you get on with it and let me have my day of peace,” she couldn’t believe how civil he was being, especially when he pulled her chair out for her to sit in.

She hesitated, wondering if he were going to pull it out more for her to fall but took the seat anyway. He didn’t pull it out more but rounded the table and stood in front of her while she poured her papers out.

“About last night,” Cormac looked a little nervous, which he should as Hermione had just pulled her wand out and tapped it onto the table – making sure he saw it. “I apologize for my actions. It was completely uncalled for.”

“I’d say, is that all?” Hermione asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“No it’s not,” Cormac cleared his throat, “I would like to take you to lunch to make up for being such a…a..”

“Prat? Blaggard? Idiot?” Hermione offered, quirking an eyebrow as Cormac’s face turned red.

“Yes, which ever you choose for me is fitting,” He looked around awkwardly, “But all the same, I think it’d be best if I treat you to lunch. I’m not that bad of a guy. I just let my head get to me.”

“No thank you,” Hermione replied happily, although she tried to hide her tone with one that meant she was busy, “I’m terribly busy might have to skip lunch.”

“Well, I’m free all week. If you can’t go out, I’d happily bring lunch to you,” he piped up, his eyes wide hoping for something, anything.

Hermione didn’t budge. She didn’t want anything to do with Cormac McLaggen anymore. Once a prat, always a prat.

“Let me set it to you straight, McLaggen,” Hermione said lightly, looking up to him now, “I don’t want to go to lunch with you…ever. Hopefully you can understand that.”

“You’re being unreasonable,” Cormac pleaded, looking as if he were about to get onto his knees and beg, “I just want to take you to lunch – what’s so wrong with that?”

“Everything,” Hermione said, her voice a little louder now, “You asked me to accompany you to the Ministry gala and you proceeded to steer me around like a nameless cow because of my name. You insulted my acquaintances and started a fight. Not to mention those words that I shall not utter again. You are a cad and I never want to hear from you again.”

Cormac’s face twisted into something that reminded her of the time Harry got a vomit flavored Bertie Bott’s beans. He gripped the edge of the desk and shook, making her a little worried that he’d flip her desk but he didn’t.

“It’s no wonder why you’re still single, witch!” Cormac snarled, “You are positively the most annoying, unattractive bitch I have ever laid eyes on. Do you not comprehend how many women are begging for me to date them and here I am offering to take you out!”

Hermione merely inhaled and stood, her hand lightly touching her wand – although she didn’t need it.

“If that is how you feel, then fine. Please, leave,” she said through gritted teeth – although it didn’t sound it.

“You…you…” Cormac looked as if he were about to explode, “My father was right about you. No etiquette! No charm! Nothing! You’re going to be an old maid for the rest of your life and if you think I’d EVER think about asking you out again you’re strongly mistaken!!!!!”

Hermione quirked her eyebrow, “Is that a promise?”

She felt an evil grin spread across her lips as he fumbled back with shock at her words. She was in no mood to let him believe that she’d actually want to beg him for a date – if she wanted a date she would drag Neville out somewhere or just accept Dennis’ advances but even then she’s perfectly capable of being alone and happy.

He turned on his heel and stormed out of her office, only to reveal the entire office had crowded around her door trying to listen to the conversation. He turned bright pink but Hermione remained calm and collected. Gretel was snickering behind Cormac’s back and winked at Hermione – who merely nodded at her and sat at her desk, finishing her work.