Trials Undercover
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
7,049
Reviews:
28
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
7,049
Reviews:
28
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The make-over
Trials Undercover
By Cakeisnice
Chapter 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I also do not sneak into my back yard at night, waiving a stick, casting incantations at the nearby trees. While wearing a cape. Never.
***************************************************************************
Hermione climbed out of the grand fireplace at Malfoy Manor and brushed the ash off of her clothes. As she straightened up, she couldn’t help but gasp. She had entered an enormous entrance hall complete with a magnificent chandelier throwing light across the immaculate marble floors. Directly ahead was a grand staircase leading up to the first floor, so wide it could easily fit fifteen people standing next to each other. Hallways leading to the rest of the house were at either side of the stairs. The walls were decorated with big, colourful paintings and beautiful artwork was placed everywhere, either in niches in the walls or on pedestals.
It was breathtaking. Hermione stood in silence and just stared at her surroundings for a while. It wasn’t until several minutes later that she noticed Malfoy had deserted her without a single word, her suitcase still standing on the floor in front of her. Darn rude tosser, she thought, glaring at the suitcase, as if it was entirely its fault. What was she supposed to do, sleep on the floor?
Suddenly a dry cough came from behind her and she spun around, almost reaching for her wand. An ancient-looking man stood before her, wearing a musty old suit and white gloves. Right, she thought, of course they have a butler. She couldn’t exactly expect the almighty purebloods to actually do things for themselves.
The old looking butler was staring at a point above her head, and his nose was wrinkled, as if he smelled something nasty. It seemed as though even the servants thought muggle-borns were below them.
“May I take your bags, miss and show you to your room?” His voice was cold and even, but he still wouldn’t look at her.
“Of course,” she said smiling warmly and trying to catch his eyes. “Thank you.” At least she could show some manners, she thought stubbornly and handed him the bags. But he simply ignored her, turned, and led the way upstairs.
She followed him up and along a long hallway, just as impressive as the entrance hall. She was gazing around so intently that she almost walked into the butler as he came to a halt in front of a heavy wooden door.
“These are your rooms, miss,” he said shortly, leaving her suitcases and marching away. She shot him an annoyed look, then opened the door, grabbed her suitcases and entered her new room. She let out an involuntary gasp. It was beautiful. Straight ahead stood a huge four poster bed with soft, crimson satin sheets. On the wall to her right was a big dresser in dark wood, and to her left, a small table with drawers and a huge mirror adorned with various ornaments on its frame. A gorgeous painting of a waterfall and field full of flowers, where a beautiful white unicorn was prancing hung on the wall beside the bed.
She walked over to it, and stood admiring it for a moment. She froze as she suddenly heard a familiar drawl from the doorway behind her.
“Like your new accommodations, Granger?” She could almost hear him smirking. She closed her eyes briefly in silent acknowledgment.
“They’re OK,” she lied, not turning around but gazing fixedly on the painting.
“Oh, please, spare me the understatement;” he said in a mocking voice. “We all know this is way above your standards. We had planned to get you rooms that were more like what you are accustomed to, but there just wasn’t time to dig a hole in the yard.”
Hermione turned with her face distorted in fury, her fists clenched at her side.
“Shut your pie hole, Malfoy,” she sputtered. “I wouldn’t even come near this house if I didn’t have to, you disgusting, arrogant prat.”
“Manners, Granger,” he drawled lazily. “I was just stating the obvious. Remind me later that I should teach you some decent curse words. You sound pathetic.” His smirk became an evil grin.
“My curse words are just fine thank you,” Hermione said stiffly. “Why are you even here? Did you want something?”
“We are going to Diagon Alley. I’m leaving in five minutes. You will be ready by then.” He gave her one last smirk and closed the door, turning with a swish of his robes worthy enough of their former Potions master.
Darn! That bloody makeover. A feeling of dread came over her. Horrible images of curling irons, make-up kits and waxing strips floated around in her brain. She shuddered, knowing that it had to be done, because even though she would never admit it, she was not the kind of girl Draco Malfoy normally dated. She braced herself for what was sure to be one of the most agnonizing afternoons of her life. She checked her appearance quickly in the mirror, although she knew that nothing had changed. Smoothing a few wrinkles out of her clothes, she opened the door to see the twitchy little ferret leaning insolently against the wall across from her room, his eyes closed.
“I’m ready, we can go now,” she said. He opened his eyes slowly and let his gaze wander up and down her body before coming back to rest on her face. He sighed deeply and Hermione could almost hear his quicksilver eyes rolling in his head. “This is never going to work,” she heard him mutter to himself, before he met her gaze.
“Fine. Lets go.”
Hermione pressed her lips together, but said nothing and followed him out into the hallway. He was so obnoxious! She didn't look THAT bad. As she walked behind him, she couldn’t help but noticing his elegant features. He had broad shoulders and muscular arms, his back was straight and his walk was lazy yet arrogant. He wore an expensive looking grey suit with a black shirt. His blond hair was shining warmly in the lamplight, and she thought to herself that if she hadn’t known what an arse he was, she might even find him attractive. Not that she would ever admit it. Nope. Not even under threat of having to eat a blast-ended skrewt.
“Stop ogling me.”
What?! Hermione almost stumbled in her own feet, shocked out of her reverie. How could he have known? She blushed and looked away, while following him down the stairs. Stupid poof.
Down in the entrance hall, he strode right over to the big marble fireplace. Without even looking at her, he took a handful of floo powder from a jar on the mantelpiece and disappeared into the green flames, uttering the words “The Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley.”
Hermione followed him into the fireplace, threw the powder and said the same words before clasping her mouth shut and keeping her elbows firmly to her side. Travelling by floo powder was never comfortable. After spinning around for a moment, she climbed out into the shabby-looking bar and brushed off her clothes. She looked up to discover Malfoy leaning casually against the wall, scrutinizing her.
“What?” she asked him suspiciously.
His face changed in an instant, an amused smirk suddenly gracing his lips.
“I was just hoping you’d fall on your face." He shrugged. "Not my lucky day I suppose.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. This was getting old. “What are you doing here, anyway? I hope you’re not here to watch the ugly duckling turn into a swan. Because I will not allow it.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he drawled, his smirk growing wider. “They're not miracle workers you know. Besides, I have some errands to run. I’m quite an important person," he sneered, his chest puffing proudly. "People rely on me.”
Hermione just snorted loudly in disbelief, passed him and went out into the back alley. She quickly found the right brick and tapped it with her wand. The gate opened and she entered the busy streets, not glancing back once to see if he followed.
She eventually found the beauty parlour, took a deep breath and entered. Let the torture begin. A bell rang as she opened the door, and she had to squint her eyes because of the harsh glow coming from the glaringly pink decor. Pink everywhere. Pink curtains, pink chairs, pink walls. It was like she had been swallowed by a gigantic pink pygmy puff.
Everyone in the room looked up at her. Their eyes widened. She could even hear someone gasp. There they were, the people she couldn’t stand. Upper class, filthy rich, stuck up Barbie dolls, who never had to work one day in their life. And they all looked at her as if she was from a different planet.
Sure, she didn’t wear make up, and hadn’t been at the hair dresser for about a year. Maybe her nails looked like they’ve been fighting with the lawn mower and perhaps her clothes didn’t exactly follow the current fashion, but she wasn’t the freak show they all saw and thought of her as.
A woman in pink robes finally stepped up to her. She smiled falsely.
“Do you need any help, dear?” her tone suggested that Hermione needed all the help in the world.
“Er…” Hermione blushed, vividly aware of all those eyes on her. “I’m here for a make-over. Just minor improvements.”
“Yes… minor,” murmurerd the woman somewhat sarcastically. “Just sit down here, and I’ll be with you in a moment.”
***************************************************************************
Hermione stood up and looked in the mirror. She couldn’t help but smile approvingly. It was a big improvement. Her eyebrows had been plucked to perfect arches, and her eyes stood out more, with dark brown eyeliner, brown eye shadow, and mascara that had been applied with a light hand. Her cheekbones were highlighted by bronze rouge and her full lips were red and glossy. Her hair had been coloured a darker, more vivid brown, and straightened so that it fell gracefully down her shoulders. She had learned a spell to do that, so that she could straighten it when she needed to. She also had had a manicure and pedicure. Hermione felt beautiful for the first time in her life.
She grabbed the make-up kit she had bought, paid and walked out into the street. Then she headed for Madam Malkins, enjoying some of the first interested glances she'd ever received from the male persuasion.
She had a hard time picking out dresses. Either they were drowned in lace or they showed way to much skin. In the end she picked out a classic black cocktail dress with a silver waist and a long strapless blue dress with white edges. When she went to the counter to pay, she was aghast at the total. She stood gaping at the beautiful blonde witch with the fake, condescending smile, in horror. There was no way she could afford this!
Suddenly she smelled a familiar cologne. She frowned, trying to recognize it.
“Put it on my tab, Candy,” came an aristocratic drawl she was all too familiar with. Malfoy!
The woman smiled sweetly. “Of course Mr. Malfoy,” she cooed, batting her eyelashes at him. How appropriate that her name was Candy. All the syrupy sugary sweetness oozing from the witch was giving Hermione a cavity!
Hermione looked around angrily. “I can take care of it myself, Malfoy,” she sneered at him. She would not let him pay for her like some cheap slag. Even if she had to starve for a year.
Malfoy just looked at her face for a moment, an astonished look on his face. Then it seemed he pulled himself together, because the usual smirk appeared on his face.
“I’m sure you can, Granger,” he said smugly, “but I feel I should do my part in this….assignment. It is, after all, my good looks that are forcing you to make these drastic changes.”
The woman behind the counter looked confused, staring back and forth between the two of them.
“Fine!” Hermione grabbed her bags and stalked outside. She waited for him there, uncomfortable with the idea of returning to his home without him. He strolled out a few moments later, looking pleased. She glared at him. If she were miserable, then by Merlin, he was going to be too.
She slid her arm into his, smiling falsely and batting her eyelashes at him the way she'd seen Ginny do to Harry on occasion.
He looked down at her, disgusted.
“What?” She asked sweetly innocent. “I am supposed to be your fiancé, aren’t I?”
He sneered. “Remind me to burn this suit when we get home.”
But as they walked down the street together, he didn’t look that uncomfortable at all.
***************************************************************************
My third chapter! Finally! Took me a while, I’ve been a bit busy, but here it is at last. Eh, if anyone cares…:p
Thank you to my wonderful BETA, Brandy (Anathema), who perfected this chapter..:)
And thankyou for all the wonderful reviews!
Please review some more, I beg you! I love reviews, no matter what they say, it inspires me and keeps me writing. So do me the favour and please leave a few words of encouragement.
Till next time, god speed..:)
By Cakeisnice
Chapter 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I also do not sneak into my back yard at night, waiving a stick, casting incantations at the nearby trees. While wearing a cape. Never.
***************************************************************************
Hermione climbed out of the grand fireplace at Malfoy Manor and brushed the ash off of her clothes. As she straightened up, she couldn’t help but gasp. She had entered an enormous entrance hall complete with a magnificent chandelier throwing light across the immaculate marble floors. Directly ahead was a grand staircase leading up to the first floor, so wide it could easily fit fifteen people standing next to each other. Hallways leading to the rest of the house were at either side of the stairs. The walls were decorated with big, colourful paintings and beautiful artwork was placed everywhere, either in niches in the walls or on pedestals.
It was breathtaking. Hermione stood in silence and just stared at her surroundings for a while. It wasn’t until several minutes later that she noticed Malfoy had deserted her without a single word, her suitcase still standing on the floor in front of her. Darn rude tosser, she thought, glaring at the suitcase, as if it was entirely its fault. What was she supposed to do, sleep on the floor?
Suddenly a dry cough came from behind her and she spun around, almost reaching for her wand. An ancient-looking man stood before her, wearing a musty old suit and white gloves. Right, she thought, of course they have a butler. She couldn’t exactly expect the almighty purebloods to actually do things for themselves.
The old looking butler was staring at a point above her head, and his nose was wrinkled, as if he smelled something nasty. It seemed as though even the servants thought muggle-borns were below them.
“May I take your bags, miss and show you to your room?” His voice was cold and even, but he still wouldn’t look at her.
“Of course,” she said smiling warmly and trying to catch his eyes. “Thank you.” At least she could show some manners, she thought stubbornly and handed him the bags. But he simply ignored her, turned, and led the way upstairs.
She followed him up and along a long hallway, just as impressive as the entrance hall. She was gazing around so intently that she almost walked into the butler as he came to a halt in front of a heavy wooden door.
“These are your rooms, miss,” he said shortly, leaving her suitcases and marching away. She shot him an annoyed look, then opened the door, grabbed her suitcases and entered her new room. She let out an involuntary gasp. It was beautiful. Straight ahead stood a huge four poster bed with soft, crimson satin sheets. On the wall to her right was a big dresser in dark wood, and to her left, a small table with drawers and a huge mirror adorned with various ornaments on its frame. A gorgeous painting of a waterfall and field full of flowers, where a beautiful white unicorn was prancing hung on the wall beside the bed.
She walked over to it, and stood admiring it for a moment. She froze as she suddenly heard a familiar drawl from the doorway behind her.
“Like your new accommodations, Granger?” She could almost hear him smirking. She closed her eyes briefly in silent acknowledgment.
“They’re OK,” she lied, not turning around but gazing fixedly on the painting.
“Oh, please, spare me the understatement;” he said in a mocking voice. “We all know this is way above your standards. We had planned to get you rooms that were more like what you are accustomed to, but there just wasn’t time to dig a hole in the yard.”
Hermione turned with her face distorted in fury, her fists clenched at her side.
“Shut your pie hole, Malfoy,” she sputtered. “I wouldn’t even come near this house if I didn’t have to, you disgusting, arrogant prat.”
“Manners, Granger,” he drawled lazily. “I was just stating the obvious. Remind me later that I should teach you some decent curse words. You sound pathetic.” His smirk became an evil grin.
“My curse words are just fine thank you,” Hermione said stiffly. “Why are you even here? Did you want something?”
“We are going to Diagon Alley. I’m leaving in five minutes. You will be ready by then.” He gave her one last smirk and closed the door, turning with a swish of his robes worthy enough of their former Potions master.
Darn! That bloody makeover. A feeling of dread came over her. Horrible images of curling irons, make-up kits and waxing strips floated around in her brain. She shuddered, knowing that it had to be done, because even though she would never admit it, she was not the kind of girl Draco Malfoy normally dated. She braced herself for what was sure to be one of the most agnonizing afternoons of her life. She checked her appearance quickly in the mirror, although she knew that nothing had changed. Smoothing a few wrinkles out of her clothes, she opened the door to see the twitchy little ferret leaning insolently against the wall across from her room, his eyes closed.
“I’m ready, we can go now,” she said. He opened his eyes slowly and let his gaze wander up and down her body before coming back to rest on her face. He sighed deeply and Hermione could almost hear his quicksilver eyes rolling in his head. “This is never going to work,” she heard him mutter to himself, before he met her gaze.
“Fine. Lets go.”
Hermione pressed her lips together, but said nothing and followed him out into the hallway. He was so obnoxious! She didn't look THAT bad. As she walked behind him, she couldn’t help but noticing his elegant features. He had broad shoulders and muscular arms, his back was straight and his walk was lazy yet arrogant. He wore an expensive looking grey suit with a black shirt. His blond hair was shining warmly in the lamplight, and she thought to herself that if she hadn’t known what an arse he was, she might even find him attractive. Not that she would ever admit it. Nope. Not even under threat of having to eat a blast-ended skrewt.
“Stop ogling me.”
What?! Hermione almost stumbled in her own feet, shocked out of her reverie. How could he have known? She blushed and looked away, while following him down the stairs. Stupid poof.
Down in the entrance hall, he strode right over to the big marble fireplace. Without even looking at her, he took a handful of floo powder from a jar on the mantelpiece and disappeared into the green flames, uttering the words “The Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley.”
Hermione followed him into the fireplace, threw the powder and said the same words before clasping her mouth shut and keeping her elbows firmly to her side. Travelling by floo powder was never comfortable. After spinning around for a moment, she climbed out into the shabby-looking bar and brushed off her clothes. She looked up to discover Malfoy leaning casually against the wall, scrutinizing her.
“What?” she asked him suspiciously.
His face changed in an instant, an amused smirk suddenly gracing his lips.
“I was just hoping you’d fall on your face." He shrugged. "Not my lucky day I suppose.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. This was getting old. “What are you doing here, anyway? I hope you’re not here to watch the ugly duckling turn into a swan. Because I will not allow it.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he drawled, his smirk growing wider. “They're not miracle workers you know. Besides, I have some errands to run. I’m quite an important person," he sneered, his chest puffing proudly. "People rely on me.”
Hermione just snorted loudly in disbelief, passed him and went out into the back alley. She quickly found the right brick and tapped it with her wand. The gate opened and she entered the busy streets, not glancing back once to see if he followed.
She eventually found the beauty parlour, took a deep breath and entered. Let the torture begin. A bell rang as she opened the door, and she had to squint her eyes because of the harsh glow coming from the glaringly pink decor. Pink everywhere. Pink curtains, pink chairs, pink walls. It was like she had been swallowed by a gigantic pink pygmy puff.
Everyone in the room looked up at her. Their eyes widened. She could even hear someone gasp. There they were, the people she couldn’t stand. Upper class, filthy rich, stuck up Barbie dolls, who never had to work one day in their life. And they all looked at her as if she was from a different planet.
Sure, she didn’t wear make up, and hadn’t been at the hair dresser for about a year. Maybe her nails looked like they’ve been fighting with the lawn mower and perhaps her clothes didn’t exactly follow the current fashion, but she wasn’t the freak show they all saw and thought of her as.
A woman in pink robes finally stepped up to her. She smiled falsely.
“Do you need any help, dear?” her tone suggested that Hermione needed all the help in the world.
“Er…” Hermione blushed, vividly aware of all those eyes on her. “I’m here for a make-over. Just minor improvements.”
“Yes… minor,” murmurerd the woman somewhat sarcastically. “Just sit down here, and I’ll be with you in a moment.”
***************************************************************************
Hermione stood up and looked in the mirror. She couldn’t help but smile approvingly. It was a big improvement. Her eyebrows had been plucked to perfect arches, and her eyes stood out more, with dark brown eyeliner, brown eye shadow, and mascara that had been applied with a light hand. Her cheekbones were highlighted by bronze rouge and her full lips were red and glossy. Her hair had been coloured a darker, more vivid brown, and straightened so that it fell gracefully down her shoulders. She had learned a spell to do that, so that she could straighten it when she needed to. She also had had a manicure and pedicure. Hermione felt beautiful for the first time in her life.
She grabbed the make-up kit she had bought, paid and walked out into the street. Then she headed for Madam Malkins, enjoying some of the first interested glances she'd ever received from the male persuasion.
She had a hard time picking out dresses. Either they were drowned in lace or they showed way to much skin. In the end she picked out a classic black cocktail dress with a silver waist and a long strapless blue dress with white edges. When she went to the counter to pay, she was aghast at the total. She stood gaping at the beautiful blonde witch with the fake, condescending smile, in horror. There was no way she could afford this!
Suddenly she smelled a familiar cologne. She frowned, trying to recognize it.
“Put it on my tab, Candy,” came an aristocratic drawl she was all too familiar with. Malfoy!
The woman smiled sweetly. “Of course Mr. Malfoy,” she cooed, batting her eyelashes at him. How appropriate that her name was Candy. All the syrupy sugary sweetness oozing from the witch was giving Hermione a cavity!
Hermione looked around angrily. “I can take care of it myself, Malfoy,” she sneered at him. She would not let him pay for her like some cheap slag. Even if she had to starve for a year.
Malfoy just looked at her face for a moment, an astonished look on his face. Then it seemed he pulled himself together, because the usual smirk appeared on his face.
“I’m sure you can, Granger,” he said smugly, “but I feel I should do my part in this….assignment. It is, after all, my good looks that are forcing you to make these drastic changes.”
The woman behind the counter looked confused, staring back and forth between the two of them.
“Fine!” Hermione grabbed her bags and stalked outside. She waited for him there, uncomfortable with the idea of returning to his home without him. He strolled out a few moments later, looking pleased. She glared at him. If she were miserable, then by Merlin, he was going to be too.
She slid her arm into his, smiling falsely and batting her eyelashes at him the way she'd seen Ginny do to Harry on occasion.
He looked down at her, disgusted.
“What?” She asked sweetly innocent. “I am supposed to be your fiancé, aren’t I?”
He sneered. “Remind me to burn this suit when we get home.”
But as they walked down the street together, he didn’t look that uncomfortable at all.
***************************************************************************
My third chapter! Finally! Took me a while, I’ve been a bit busy, but here it is at last. Eh, if anyone cares…:p
Thank you to my wonderful BETA, Brandy (Anathema), who perfected this chapter..:)
And thankyou for all the wonderful reviews!
Please review some more, I beg you! I love reviews, no matter what they say, it inspires me and keeps me writing. So do me the favour and please leave a few words of encouragement.
Till next time, god speed..:)