A/N: Hello! I'm sorry it took forever for me to come back to y'all. My laptop busted. I tried to have it fixed, but as it turns out, it's a lost cause, so I had to wait for the opportunity to acquire a new computer. I got it at an asset sale from the local community college for ten bucks. Nice, huh? Plus, my future brother-in-law had a copy of Windows XP we are using, so I am now using WordPad instead of Word. Oh, well, can't have everything.
I was keeping a list of people who reviewed my story and what they had to say, but unfortunately, over the holidays and with my wedding coming up, it has been lost. I won't be able to do the 'recognize-everyone-for-how-awesome-they-are-thing' for a while, so I apologize for that.
So, now that I've gotten all that over with, I'd like to get on with the story, and hope everyone isn't too terribly confused by my new pen name. Enjoy, and Happy St. Patrick's Day!
He was standing in the hall right in front of the painting of Black's mother. He was so frustrated and overwhelmed he decided to vent some of his frustration by punching the painting. After all, he knew it wouldn't be able to yell at him. As soon as he did, the moth-eaten curtains flew backward, revealing the woman, screaming who knows what, looking absolutely livid at not being able to voice her opinions. He took a step back and realized how funny she looked and chuckled a little. Suddenly he realized that not all feelings were completely crappy; this one was kind of nice. He also remembered how good he felt when he woke up with Hermione lying next to him.
Hermione. She has got to be one of the most infuriating women in the world. I just don't see how anyone can stand to be around her for very long. First she's okay, then she's a bitch, then she's okay again, then she flies off the handle, then she's nice. What...? He couldn't even finish the thought, he was so exasperated. He continued down to the kitchen to see what else was going on.
Hermione was running around the kitchen, making sure the pasta wasn't sticking and the chicken was thoroughly cooked.Ginny was setting places at the table, while Paul examined the silver and listened to Ginny's stories about Hogwarts. Paul had graduated a year before Ginny started school (with Charlie, as a matter of fact), and occasionally threw in a few of his own stories about goings on while he was there. They were laughing, and it was starting to get on Hermione's nerves.
Why is he such an asshole? All I was doing was trying to be nice, be a friend, and what does he do? He becomes Malfoy all over again. Well, if that's how he wants it to be, that's the way it will be. She sighed. Was he ever going to get it through his head that he wasn't alone anymore? Probably not. He's a boy, after all.
Ginny was still laughing at a joke Paul had told her involving a witch, a hag, and a priest when she looked up and saw the surly look on Hermione's face. Knowing it had something to do with Draco, she stood up and walked over to the fire, where Hermione was adding chocolate to the steaming milk. She jumped when Ginny placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Oh, Merlin, Gin, don't scare me like that!"
"I didn't do it to scare you, I did it to find out what the problem is."
"It's -" Hermione couldn't say anymore. Damn jinx.
Ginny smiled. "Ha ha ha. I know there's a problem. I'm your friend. I'm here to help. Talk to me." To her surprise, she saw tears welling up in her friend's eyes. "Mione, what's going on? What's wrong?"
"Oh, Gin, it's -" Just then, Draco walked in to the room. Hermione gasped and turned back to the fire. Ginny's suspicions were confirmed.
"It's going to work out. You'll see," Ginny whispered, then walked over to the door, where Draco seemed to be frozen to the spot. Hermione looked up and saw a faint glimmer of fear in his eyes. Her heart almost melted; she hated to see people afraid. That's why she was part of the Order. She was trying to help get rid of one of the biggest fears the wizarding community in general had faced in the last thirty years. She nearly walked over to him, to tell him it would be all right, when he looked up and caught her eye. She saw something there she couldn't readily identify, but it scared her a little. She turned back to the fire and stirred the pasta.
"Well," she called, "dinner will be ready in about ten minutes. Go tell the others, will you, Gin?" She nodded and stood up. Hermione heard her tell Paul to get up.
"Does it really take two people to go down the hall?"
"Shut up and let's leave them... alone for a minute, okay?" Ginny hissed back. Hermione heard the scrape ofa chair on the floor and then the dull thud that meant the kitchen door was shut. She continued to stir the pasta. She was staring in to the flames of the fire when she heard Draco clear his throat, followed by a murmur, then a cough, then silence. She turned around.
"Sorry, didn't catch that. What did you say?"
"Me?" Draco looked startled. "I didn't, er, say, um, anything. Nothing at all." He turned a dull pink. Hermione knew he had, but wasn't going to push it. She shrugged her shoulders and turned back to the fire.
A minute passed, then two. Why is he here if he isn't going to say anything? I can't stand this. Why are boys so STUPID? She turned back around to face Draco again.
"Are you sure you didn't say something?" she asked.
"N- um, er, well, yeah. I did, actually."
"Well, what was it?"
"Oh, um, nothing important."
"Well, obviously it was to you, otherwise you wouldn't have said it."
"Yeah, well, I-" he broke off and sighed.
Hermione was becoming a little concerned about him, against her better judgement. "What is it? Is there something wrong?"
Draco was trying to gather the courage to repeat what he had already said. Is she pretending she didn't hear me just to make me say it again? If she is, well... she better not be.
He sighed again, then looked up. Her eyes were filled with concern, but also seemed to be a bit cool. Maybe she's still mad at me for yelling at her. If she's still mad, though, why's she so concerned? Damn women. All these emotions and feelings. How do they do it without going mad? HEY, maybe that's why they ARE mad, they can't handle feeling all that stuff all the time and that's why they're insane. He felt pretty proud of himself for coming up with that one.
Hermione cleared her throat, making him realize he'd been staring in to her eyes for the last three minutes while he worked all that out in his head. The look in her eyes also made him remember what it was he needed to tell her. His palms started to sweat and his mouth went dry. He took a deep breath.
Hermione was getting a little irritated. He was just sitting there, staring at her. He wasn't saying anything. He was barely breathing. I've got better things to do than stand here and stare into his eyes all night.
Really? I wasn't aware that you had any plans, her conscience threw in.
Ah, shut up. I'm not talking to you right now. I'm busy.
Yeah, I know. Staring in to his eyes.
Sod off, you, Hermione thought.
She was in the process of trying to pry her eyes away from his when he finally spoke.
"ImsorryImsuchassholeyoureallyniceandImsorryforeverythingIcalledyouandwanttobeyourfriendcanyoupleaseforgiveme?"
"What?" Hermione thought she heard 'I'm sorry' and 'asshole', so she had a pretty good idea what he meant, but she was going to make him say it. Properly, so she could savor every single word.
"I said, I'm sorry that I'm such an asshole. You're really nice and I'm sorry for everything I've called you, and I want to be your friend. Can you please forgive me?" He sounded kind of believable, but he had a little smirk on his face. Hermione guessed that meant he thought he had her all figured out and now that he knew the rules, he would find a way to win this game.
"I don't know," she replied.
"What do you mean, you don't know?" Draco cried.
"Exactly what it sounds like. I don't know if I'll forgive you. I'll have to think about it."
Draco almost fell out of his chair. He'd never, never, apologized like that before. He'd never had to. All he had to do was say 'I'm sorry' and everything had returned to normal, with a new toy or privelege or whatever. And all she could say was 'I don't know'? What the FUCK was that about?
"Why?"
"Why what? Why do I have to think about it? Because you don't really mean it. Maybe, if you can convince me you mean it, I'll forgive you. Until then, no. I will NOT just accept lip service. You have to mean it. You don't sound like you mean it. Furthermore, you aren't acting like you mean it, either. When you apologize to someone, you don't smirk at them. You look... well... sorry."
"But-"
"No. You'll just have to figure out how to make me believe you're sorry -REALLY sorry - and apologize properly. Until then, well, I don't really have anything to say to you." With that, she turned back to the fire.
Draco was absolutely stunned., He started to get angry at her again, but remembered what happened last time he had gotten angry and took it out on her. He ended up being his usual asshole self, which didn't endear him to her at all. Shit. Now what?
At that moment, everyone filed in for dinner and sat down at the table. Since he didn't have the opportunity to think about what he could do to make things better, he stared at his plate.
Dinner went well enough. There was enough food for everyone, plus leftovers for the two people who ended up on guard duty that night. Everyone was civil, and there was plenty of dinner conversation, so there were no awkward silences. After dinner, they all went to the drawing room to relax. Six of them started a card tournament, which left Ginny and Paul still chatting and Draco, who was lost in his thoughts. He was still trying to figure out a way to show Hermione he was truly sorry. Suddenly, it dawned on him. Ginny. Hermione's best friend. Why didn't I think of that before? Duh. He stood up and crossed the room to where Ginny was sitting on a love seat at an angle from Paul, who was in a squishy armchair. Both were done in emerald green chintz and trimmed in silver. Ginny's red hair on the green upholstery put him in the mind of a Christmas elf. He chuckled a bit, which caught the pair's attention.
"Come out of your funk yet, Malfoy?" Ginny teased him.
"Ha ha, very funny. A little, but I need your help."
Ginny looked a bit surprised. "My help? What for?"
"Well, it's about Hermione."
"Ohhhhh." Ginny's eyes were sparkling now. "Let me guess. You got pissy with her, she told you off, you 'fake' apologized, she told you off again, and now you're trying to get out of the doghouse. Am I right?"
Draco's jaw hit the floor. "But - you haven't even talked to her! How-?"
"I'm a girl. That's how."
"Fair point, Ginny." Paul's eyes were also twinkling a little now.
"Please, Ginny, will you help me?" Draco was practically begging her.
"Depends. Are you sorry for whatever you did?"
"Yes." Draco didn't even hesitate.
"Well, okay. But you can't come to me to fix everything, okay? This is a trial offer. Got it?"
"Yeah, okay, fine. Now, what do I do?" Draco was getting desperate.
"Well, for starters, Paul and I are going to do security duty tonight, which means Hermione isn't, and neither are you. Therefore, you have time tonight. The sooner you do it the better, understand?"
"Okay."
"Now, here's the plan." Ginny scooted over, patted the seat beside her, and started whispering to Draco. Occasionally, Paul would throw in a comment or suggestion. About ten minutes later, Draco stood up, stretching.
"Are you sure that's going to work?" Draco asked.
"Yes. I'm certain. Even if you screw it up a little bit, it should still work. Do you remember everything?"
"Yeah, I think so. Most of it, anyway."
"Good. Well, I think we're going to go sign up for that tournament now, eh, Paul?"
"Oh, yeah, sure. Whatever." They stood up and moved over to the card table where four people were playing Euchre. They sat down with the two not playing, which included Hermione. Draco paused in the doorway, looking at her. Her hair was still falling softly incurls down her back, and she was laughing. I don't think I've ever seen anything so... beautiful. He blinked. Beautiful?
"Yes, beautiful." He smiled a little and moved out of the room and up the stairs, where he would set Mission: Please Forgive Me into action.
A/N: If you've never heard of Euchre (pronounced 'you-cure'), you're not alone. It's mostly a Michigan game, which if you'd looked at my profile, you'd know that's where I'm from. Why are they playing a Michigan game in England? Cause I decided they would. Wanna know how to play? Email me and I'll try to explain it.
Warm fuzzies,
Kat