False Pretense

The Kooks – She Moves in her Own Way
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m6-QM0_Prp0


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So Much for Courage
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Hermione paced like she had during the N.E.W.T.s outside the Great Hall. She didn’t know what brought her here, beyond the need to pummel Draco to an inch of his life, but she was here. Wearing her casual robes, a light cloak with black comfortable slacks and a nice red blouse, Hermione fiddled with a strand of her long whiskey colored hair. She chewed on her bottom lip as a student darted out of the hall and nearly collided with her.

“Oh, sorry professor,” he said lightly with a small bow before bounding out toward the other students.

“What are you doing, Hermione?” she said to herself, turning on her heel to pace some more, “You’re an idiot for going along with this. He’s a sodding prat and here you are trying to be cool. You’re not cool. You’re a professor for Merlin’s sake.”

“Talking to yourself?” came a voice from directly behind Hermione.

She swung around and jumped at how close Draco was to her. He grinned, pocketing his hands into the pockets of his dark gray slacks. She exhaled and twisted her face to, what she thought was a scowl, but probably looked as if she had eaten a crate of Flobberworms.

“No,” Hermione answered pointedly, throwing her hair over her shoulder, “I’m here. So let’s just go and get this over with.”

“You sound like you don’t want to go on a date with me,” Draco cooed, turning slightly as he grinned at her.

“What? This isn’t a date, Malfoy!” Hermione barked, having to move twice as fast to keep up with his long legs. “This is tea and conversation. That is nothing remotely similar to a date.”

“Tea and conversation?” Draco quirked an eyebrow and laughed, “You’ve been reading way too many romance novels as of late.”

“I do not read romance novels,” she growled, looking at the ground as if it had Malfoy’s ruddy face printed all over it.

Ok, so she had indulged in a little bit of smutty romance novels Ginny sent her. It wasn’t as if she were taking notes…ok maybe a little bit of notes. The way some of these women acted was beyond superfluous and just not realistic. And don’t get her started on the ‘romantic lead’ characters. A bunch of over grown bimbos in her opinion. With they long flowing hair, taut muscles and bright shining eyes. Like any one would want some one like that.

“Are you even listening to me?” Draco asked as they reached the carriages, “Or are you off counting cauldrons in your head?”

“Urgh,” was all she was able to muster as Draco pulled the door open for her to get in.

She climbed in and grimaced at the small cabin. She didn’t remember it being so…tiny…and cramped. But that was years ago and she hadn’t been to Hogsmeade with an annoying blond git before, so everything was small in retrospect. Draco climbed in afterward and closed the door, opting to sit across from her. Good.

He did, however, lift his leg and rest in on the bench she sat on. His body slumping slightly as he sat. Now, he didn’t look much like a teacher, but rather the boy she had loathed in school. His cobalt eyes stared at her for ages as she looked at him, some kind of competition to who would break first ensued. Hermione lost, miserably. Draco quirked his eyes brows and waggled them suggestively, causing her face to flush and her to stare out the window.

When the carriage came to a complete stop, Hermione made no hesitation to get out of the cab. She climbed out quick enough and brought her hand to her hair, flattening it down after rushing so quickly. Draco stepped out as calm and casually as he normally had, adjusting his shirt slightly. He brought a hand beneath Hermione’s elbow and steered her in the direction of Hog’s Head instead of Three Broomsticks.

“I thought we agreed on butter beer,” Hermione noted, moving in said direction.

“We could, if you want all of your students to know you’re on a date with the Dark Arts professor,” Draco grinned, letting go of Hermione when she gaped at him.

“This is not a date, Malfoy,” she gritted, clenching her jaw as they reached the dark tavern.

Draco leaned over and pulled the door open, his breath brushing against her neck, “If that’s what you think, then so be it.”

She huffed and entered the tavern, scrunching her nose slightly at the odd odor. She didn’t remember it looking so dreary when she, Harry and Ron began Dumbledore’s Army all those years ago. The door closed tightly behind her and she felt Draco standing beside her, pulling his gloves from his hands by his teeth.

“Ah, Draco!” an elderly woman, whom Hermione guessed was one of the better looking hags she had ever seen, waved at him from her table.

She sat with greasy hair that stuck up like the bottom of a broom, her make-up smeared over her lips in a long line of red, and she was literally covered in warts. Sitting beside her were a few goblins and other unsavory characters. Hermione backed up a little but felt Draco’s hand on her lower back, guiding her to another table.

“Merna,” he greeted the hag with a curt nod.

“Oh, she’s lovely,” Merna the Hag said nodding to Hermione, “Deliciously lovely.”

“Yes, very much so,” Draco smiled, “She’s also Hermione Granger.”

Complete utter silence. Hermione looked around awkwardly as all eyes were on her. A sudden feeling of dread filled the room but Draco merely raised his hand and waved nonchalantly. The sound of her shoes against the wood floor clicked with each step, filling the awkward silence with little steps. The hair on the back of her neck rose as she passed a table of dark robed travelers, their eyes locked onto her own. Draco, who seemed more at ease than she, led Hermione to a secluded table where as soon as they sat, the room returned to normal.

“That was…” Hermione said quietly, pulling her jacket off, “Odd.”

“Not every day a war hero waltzes into a tavern known for their unscrupulous patrons,” Draco answered, draping his own jacket over the back of his chair, “I think Merna likes you though.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and leaned over to look at the hag. She was there, staring at her with malicious eyes glimmering under the light of the bar. Shivers were sent up her spine, causing her to sit up straight and clear her throat. Draco sat and grinned. He brought an arm out and rested his elbow onto the back of his chair.

“Don’t worry, she won’t curse you or anything,” Draco said, “Not when you’re with me.”

“Oh, I feel so safe now,” Hermione replied sarcastically, leaning back against her seat. “I highly doubt they serve normal butter beers here.”

Draco snorted, “And here I thought you were adventurous. Maybe teaching Transfiguration has made your nerve go wonkers.”

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, “Excuse me? Do you not see me sitting in a tavern with my most hated enemy, surrounded by people who probably followed the Dark Lord?”

He leaned closer and looked around, “And? Is that supposed to impress me?”

She sneered and placed both hands on the table, “I’m not trying to impress you, Malfoy. I don’t even know why I’m here with you in the first place.”

“Because I’m devilishly handsome, rich, powerful…oh yeah…” Draco grinned, “And you love shagging me.”

“Puh-lease!” Hermione scoffed, “Like I said, a one time mistake.”

“From my count it was three times,” Draco held up three fingers, “Not one.”

“There won’t be a fourth then,” she conceded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Why?” he asked, tapping the table, “Afraid you might like a little danger?”

“Malfoy,” Hermione groaned, “I’ve seen enough danger since I was eleven, and you are hardly anything dangerous.”

“Just like you’re hardly courageous. So much for being a Gryffindor,” he grinned, “What was that motto? Oh yeah, where the brave of heart dwell. My arse. More like where chickens dwell.”

Hermione’s upper lip sneered as she parted her lips to rip him a new one. Too bad a chubby bald man scrambled to the table with a tray.

“And what can I get you love birds?” he asked with a heavy lisp.

“I think the girl would like a butter beer,” Draco nodded to Hermione, “I’ll take firewhiskey.”

“Alrighty,” he said, pulling the tray under his arm, “Firewhiskey and but---“

“Make that another firewhiskey,” Hermione interrupted, glaring at Draco, “We’ll see who’s courageous, Malfoy.”

“Counting on it, Granger.”