33Author's Note: First off, I am so sorry that it took me a while to update. I've been sidetracked by my sister's birthday and learning to drive. (I haven't crashed yet! xD) Secondly, thank you to everybody who has added this story to their story alerts or to their favorites. It makes me really happy. [: Thirdly, this chapter is so bad it depresses me, I deeply apologize. xD But I hope you enjoy it anyways! So…here we go!
Disclaimer: The likelihood of me ever owning Harry Potter is zero. Although, I do have some nice HP bed sheets. xD (I also own the random book and this fanfic.)
Ruby Skies and Emerald Oceans
Chapter Three: Charcoal Skies and Pearly Oceans
"Are you sure you would like another glass of Firewhiskey, dear? From my experience I find that other people who drink it for the first time are happy with just one glass—"
"I don't care about other people!" Hermione cut off Madame Rosmerta, glaring at the curvy barmaid through her puffy red eyes. "I just—it feels good, that burning sensation. Now I know why he always…always drank it."
"Who, dear?" asked Madame Rosmerta gently, placing another glass of steaming liquid on the counter in front of Hermione.
Hermione took a small sip of whiskey, wincing as her insides filled with the feeling that her very organs were melting into goo. "Ron," Hermione sniffed finally. "Ugh! He's such a—such a—such a bastard!" She slammed down the glass hard on the counter, the contents steaming dangerously.
The owner of the Three Broomsticks smiled sympathetically, patting the younger woman on the hand. "There, there, dear. Breakups are tough. Here have some; it'll help." She took out a bar of Honeyduke's best chocolate from a cabinet and slid the whole thing over to Hermione. "Trust me." She smiled once more before walking away to a table where a group of neighborhood hags sat.
Once the sound of Rosmerta's heels clanking against the wooden floor had become inaudible, Hermione tore off the wrapper of the chocolate bar and broke off a piece. It was…good. She broke off another piece, stuffing it into her mouth. She then took a sip of her Firewhiskey, liking the exotic taste of the two things mixing together. Maybe if she dropped the rest of the bar into her glass, then—
"Hermione Granger. What a…pleasant surprise." At the sound of her name, she looked up from staring at her glass to see the pale, pointed, face of one Draco Malfoy.
"Eggs, bacon, and toast, Rosmerta." Draco turned his attention now towards the barmaid who nodded and pointed her wand at a clean plate. She handed the plate to him, which he gratefully took. "So," he started conversationally, turning his head slightly to look at Hermione.
"What?" Hermione asked, irritated, taking a giant gulp of her drink which left only a few drops of liquid and lots of steam.
"How are—" he paused, a smirk appearing. "Firewhiskey? At 8 in the morning? Merlin Granger, last night you were abstaining from all alcoholic beverages but now…" Hermione shot him a questioning gaze. "The wedding, Mudblood, the wedding," he reminded the woman who was peering into her empty glass, as though willing more to appear.
She quickly looked at him, then back down at her glass, feeling her eyes water up. "Oh right, the wedding…" she muttered, raising a hand to her temple and rubbing it. "Excuse me, Rosmerta? Another glass please."
Draco, however, put his hand over her glass and said in a low drawl, "Maybe, Rosemerta, you could interest this young lady with a nice glass of Butterbeer instead." When Hermione turned to glare at him, he held up his hands defensively. "I think that you've been having too much to drink is all. It's pathetic really. Haven't you heard the rule of 'no drinking Firewhiskey before 5 in the afternoon?'"
"No, what kind of rubbish is that?" scoffed Hermione, glaring at her glass that was now filled with Butterbeer.
"I live my life by that rubbish. Maybe you should try too. It's unhealthy and unattractive to drink this early." There was silence between the two for a few minutes before Draco said, "Actually, I'm glad I found you Granger."
"You are?" Hermione questioned, suspicion and surprise in her voice. "Why?"
"Don't need to sound all suspicious. I actually have a favor to ask of you. A pretty big favor, but..."
Hesitantly, Hermione said, "Er…what is this favor?"
"Well, I think that this whole thing is kind of my fault, but because of the number of accidents that have been happening to Auror trainees lately," he coughed guiltily, "the Ministry has added one additional thing we have to do in order to become Aurors. Ruddy gits." He rolled his eyes. "The Auror office is creating a two month long course that is basically 'Advanced Healing and Potion Making.' The catch is that we need to be supervised by a fully fledged healer the whole time." Draco ran a hand through his hair. "It'll probably start after your day is done—around 6 in the afternoon, but it's a three hour long course." He continued speaking, looking anywhere but at Hermione. "You're the only healer I know well enough to ask. So I was just wondering if you weren't too busy and if it wouldn't be too tiring—if you could be my supervisor." A pause. "I would be really…" Another pause. "Grateful," he finished, flushing slightly.
Hermione bit her lip. She had to admit that seeing an embarrassed Draco asking politely for her help was a first time thing. It almost made her agree. Almost. "Do all of the trainees attend the class at the same time?"
"Yeah. Makes sense doesn't it? I mean…I know Weasel will probably—"
"I can't," Hermione cut him off. "Sorry. I've just been tired and busy. You know—the hospital."
"Oh, okay." Draco shrugged with a cold indifference, before jeering, "Speaking of which…please, do not tell me that you're going to the hospital soon, you'll end up cursing somebody's brain right out of their skulls…"
For a second, she was at a loss for words—surprised at the sudden change of character. "Well…well…I never liked drinking much, but I think that this is a special exception," she muttered, still having not taken a sip of her non-alcoholic beverage, "And today's my day off."
"Well, if it's your day off, then why don't you go out to eat breakfast with Weasley? I don't know how much he would enjoy seeing his beloved hammered." He dangled a piece of bacon over his mouth, nibbling at it.
"I am not hammered. I only had two glasses. Not to mention the fact that I have an amazing amount of self control…Plus," she sniffed, "I don't think that Ronald really cares about what happens to me anyways."
He cocked his head sideways, chewing thoughtfully, "What do you mean Weasel wouldn't care? I thought you two were like this." He crossed the middle finger and index finger of his left hand, holding it in her face.
Annoyed, Hermione swatted his fingers away. "Well, if you must know Malfoy, Ron and I broke up last night." Draco's mouth dropped open, which was extremely unattractive as it was still full of food. "Oh gross. Close that thing right now. Anyways, after the wedding…" She retold the whole story to him, rich with details, as her lip quivered and salty tears made their way down her cheek.
"Weasel-bee cheated on you with Astoria?" He gave a harsh laugh. "He is pathetic, really. Sure, she is prettier than you and probably more experienced—"
Hermione let out a wail, feeling worse and worse every time Draco opened his food filled mouth to speak. "I'm a damsel in distress, Ferret. If you can't say anything comforting, then you should just sod off." She did a very rude hand gesture with the hand that wasn't clutching her glass of Butterbeer.
"You should get drunk more often, it sure makes my mornings interesting," he smirked, buttering his toast.
"I am not drunk!" Hermione exclaimed, slamming her glass of Butterbeer onto the wood surface with so much force that half of the liquid sloshed out of the glass and onto the counter.
Draco rolled his eyes, cleaning the mess with a quick "Scourgify" and a lazy wave of his wand. "Right. That would explain why you're spilling out your heart's contents to me while sobbing like a two year old denied ice cream," he said, sarcasm oozing from every word.
"Ha ha," she said humorlessly, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her wrinkled dress robes.
After finally getting home the night before (the shocking events had affected her in a way she hadn't known possible, causing her to lose the ability to Apparate, which forced her to take muggle transportation), Hermione had decided against showering or changing, deciding instead to just collapse on her unmade bed, fully clothed. That morning, when the brunette awoke with a headache the size of France and puffed eyes, Hermione only brushed her teeth and splashed water over her face before Apparating to the first place that came to mind—the Three Broomsticks.
The blonde man, currently using his wand to shape his scrambled eggs into one large and lumpy yellow lion, shot a sidelong glance at his companion. "Damn Granger, you look like you just got out of a three month imprisonment in Azkabam," he said, as if reading her mind.
Hermione glared at him, partially because his comment stung and partially because she knew he was right. She touched her hair, which had been perfectly styled the day before, and was now back to its normal bushy frizzball state. She didn't need a mirror to know that her eyes were red, puffy, small, and surrounded by purple bags. I really should have taken my makeup off before I fell asleep last night, she thought, or at least changed. Honestly. I mean what would Ron—oh that's right. Nevermind.
"You're right," she sighed finally, suddenly wishing for a shower.
"Of course I'm right," Draco smiled smugly. "I would say 'filthy Mudblood,' but I don't think I need to." His smug smile grew and he earned a glare from Hermione.
"Well, let's see you break up with somebody who you thought loved you more than life itself and care about personal hygiene. But," Hermione added, feigning a thoughtful expression. "I doubt that something insignificant like having your heart broken and stepped on by ten giants would affect you much, seeing as you care about how you look more than you could ever care about another human."
Draco raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Almost got poetic there for a second, Granger." He flipped his bangs obnoxiously and lazily cut his lion shaped scrambled eggs.
"Wait! When did your eggs become a lion? And why are you stabbing it? You annoying—"
He smirked, shoving some of the yellow mush into a fork. "Want some?" was all he said, pointing the utensil in her direction.
The disgusted look that crossed her face made it pretty obvious that she would not be eating breakfast foods shaped like lions for a very long time. "Ugh, you're such a Slytherin."
Draco shrugged, stuffing the food into his mouth. "So, what are you gonna do about Weasel?" he finally said when he had swallowed. He spoke as though they had been discussing this matter the whole time.
"What do you mean?" Hermione scrunched up her nose in confusion, eying one of the half pieces of toast that were on Draco's plate.
He handed over one of the triangular pieces of bread to her and she accepted it, wide eyed. "You're welcome." He allowed a small grin to flicker momentarily on his lips, obviously amused by her shock. A few seconds later, he had gone back to viewing her with his usual mask of indifference. "What I mean is: Are you gonna get over losing the lamest guy on the planet any time soon?" Hermione shrugged, buttering her toast. "Well, it's obvious that this has hurt you on a deep psychological level. What's with that look? I know big words too you know. Anyways, what I mean to say is how about some nice…revenge?"
"Revenge?" Hermione repeated, as though saying it would help her make sense of the craziness coming out of Draco's mouth.
"Revenge!" Draco exclaimed, somewhat irritated now, as he had expected Hermione to understand the second the words left his mouth.
"I don't understand." Hermione tilted her head slightly and saw him open his mouth, but she cut him off by retorting with, "And how about you stop saying the word revenge. Repeating a word over and over again won't help me understand the concept any better."
The boy sneered, leaning on his stool so his weight was supported solely by the back two legs. "Hermione 'I-Swallow-Every-Book-I-Touch' Granger doesn't understand something? Merlin, where is Rita Skeeter when you need her? I'm sure this could make the front page of the evening Prophet."
"If you fall backwards and bash your head open, I'll be laughing you know," Hermione smirked from her stool that had all four legs on the ground.
Draco's sneer grew and he slowly lowered so that all four legs of the stool solidly stood on the ground. "Malfoys don't bash their heads open."
"No, you're right; they enlarge them to the size of a giant's torso."
Gray eyes glared at unblinking brown ones and after a few seconds, Draco turned his face to stare uninterested at some funny dressed wizards. Hermione almost audibly sighed in relief: His cold, calculating gaze was enough to unnerve anybody at nine in the morning.
"Anyways, revenge," he said. She shot him a look, knowing that he only said the word to annoy her. "What I mean is…if Weasel hurt you this bad, then you ought to pay him back." Something glimmered in Hermione's eyes. "You should do something to make him feel so bad for cheating on you, he'll be begging for mercy or for you back by his side."
"And when he does that…I'll crush him as bad as he crushed me." The glimmer in Hermione's eyes evolved into a hungry glint of desire for revenge.
Her words and the look in her eyes apparently either amused or freaked out Draco, because his eyes grew wide and his blonde eyebrows disappeared high up his forehead. "Er—Granger…you okay? I'm starting to think that I'm a bad influence, because you are acting very Slytherin."
"I'll take that as a compliment." Hermione smugly ran a hand through her hair to flip it (very Draco-ish she thought), but when her fingers got tangled in the mess she realized exactly why she had never attempted this particular maneuver before.
A minute of finger and hair untangling later, the woman said, "The only problem is I have no idea how to…how to…" A dazed, far off expression took over her face and she allowed the sentence to trail away to nothingness.
Unimpressed by this, Draco threateningly pointed a piece of strawberry jam covered toast in her direction. "What?" he snapped.
"Well, I was just remembering this book I finished reading a few weeks ago…one of those sappy romance novels."
He snorted, "Never really took you as the girl to read about other people's stupidity and drama."
"Well, Kendra actually lent it to me; she picked it up in Flourish and Blotts and really enjoyed it. I sometimes like to read feather light stories and it wasn't too bad. Yes, I know. Shocker right?"
"Merlin, if you give it that kind of review, maybe I'll pick it up too. What's the title?" asked Draco in a mock girly voice.
Shivers ran through her body and she prayed that Draco was never this creepy again. "If you must know, it's called Charcoal Skies and Pearly Oceans." He blinked at her, mouth twitching. "Yes, it is a rather strange name…but it kind of makes sense once you read it."
"Really now?"
"The story is about a dark hearted girl, whose aura is often described as charcoal black, and a very kind and pure boy, who is described throughout the story as having a pearly white aura. I don't get it much myself, but I guess the title has a nice flow, even if it's only slightly relevant," Hermione frowned.
Draco looked contemplative for a few seconds before he snapped back to reality, a sneer newly plastered on his face. "So, tell me, why are we discussing this book that was clearly written for lonely middle aged witches?"
"Because." Hermione looked meaningfully back at the sneering man. "It gave me an idea." She paused, more for dramatic effect than anything else. "In the story, charcoal girl's boyfriend breaks up with her. Feeling hurt, but still very much in love with him, she devises a plan to get him back. She enlists the help of her friend—pearl boy. To make a medium sized story short: they pretend to be together in order to make the boyfriend jealous."
"And then what happened?"
"Well, I can't tell you what happens in the end, it would spoil it for you," Hermione smirked.
"Yeah, because I would read that annoying and original idea-less book. Let me guess, she ends up falling for the pearl guy," he said.
A sound like that of a buzzer came out of Hermione's wand. "That is incorrect! She actually ends up with her boyfriend, like she had planned."
"Talk about character undevelopment and anticlimaxes. So," he eyed her carefully, "what idea are you cooking up in that large brain of yours?"
Another compliment! Hermione grinned despite the aching feeling in her heart (and her head too…an after-effect of the Firewhiskey?) "I'm glad you asked," she said finally, still grinning. "I'm going to go find a guy to pretend and be my boyfriend. Just to make Ron angry and jealous. He's a very jealous person…very…and that will be working to my advantage. For once."
"But, who would volunteer to be your fake boyfriend? Because, no offense, once you take your abnormal sized brain out of the equation…you're not really much of a catch, Granger," he chuckled.
Hermione, offended by this, considered flinging the crust of her toast at the laughing Draco. "Don't be a prat, Ferret. I'm sure I could find somebody. Somebody who could be very convincing. Somebody who wouldn't get attached to me. Somebody that would make people gossip about our relationship. Somebody Ron sees a lot. Somebody who would easily rile Ron up. Somebody like…" The gears in Hermione's brain were turning very quickly. "Somebody like you," she finished, surprised herself by the words that had just come out of her mouth.
The pumpkin juice that Draco had been calmly drinking during her "out loud thinking time" came flying back out of his mouth and nose. He made a choking sound and Hermione patted his back, wide eyed and concerned. When he had finally regained his composure, he swatted Hermione's hand away and slammed his goblet onto the table.
"Are you out of your bloody mind?" he whispered, mortified, glaring at her. There was a silence between the two of them before Draco burst out laughing: A loud, forced, obviously fake, "nutcase-status crazy" laugh. All chatter and noise ceased in the crowded room. Even Rosmerta's red high heels had stopped clanking, though this was due to the fact that the owner of the shoes had also stopped clanking around. Hermione was looking at Draco with the same expression she wore when he had been choking.
As quickly as it had come, the laughter had stopped and Draco had said louder than was necessary, "You're joking right? That was a joke?" He hesitantly laughed again.
A group of teenagers in the corner yelled something about Draco needing special care at St. Mungo's and he had yelled back to them a string of insults and swear words—some that Hermione had never heard used before, but that made many of the older wizards mutter about kids and their manners. One glare from Draco later, all the noise and chatter had returned and the two 21 year olds were left in a staring contest.
"I wasn't joking," Hermione finally replied, an amused smile tugging at her lips, when she looked away from his stare.
"But—but—" Draco stuttered. "Do you have any idea what this will do to my reputation? It will be everywhere. The Wizarding World loves their fresh dose of gossip and they'll slurp it up. What about my parents? Do you not understand that all the rumor creating, people crushing magazines—Witch Weekly, The Magic Generation, Wizard Today—all have the best journalists. I mean these people have a way of finding out everything and they'll publish anything as long as it's interesting and somewhat plausible. It's like an army of little Rita Skeeters!"
He looked around the pub, a wild look in his eyes, as though expecting one hundred grinning Rita Skeeters and their Quick Quotes Quills to jump up from behind a potted plant.
Hermione however, smirked. "Exactly."
The blonde man's mouth fell open in shock. "What?" he bellowed. "You are out of your mind. Granger I can't—I don't want—I'll get dirty!"
"Look, Malfoy," Hermione hissed, her outrageously bushy hair and red puffy eyes making her look more threatening than normal. This whole "Malfoy acting like a nervous mess to get out of being a pawn in her scheme" thing was getting old fast. Also, though it was probably caused by the Firewhiskey, she felt a sudden rush of something a lot like adrenaline enter her blood stream.
"I'm not asking for you to fall in love with me," she continued coolly, "I'm just asking you to do a little bit of er—business with me."
"Business?" Draco inquired, running a hand casually through his hair. He acted so calmly now that it was though the Grade O Malfoy Flip Out had not even happened. His eyes slightly lifted with that of interest. He propped his elbows on the table so that his hands—his fingers loosely intertwined—made a perfect resting place for his pointed chin.
"Yes, business," Hermione nodded slowly. "I really need your help Malfoy. The more that I think of it, the less crazy this whole plan becomes."
"What do I get?"
"I'll pay you," she offered, having a feeling that he would shoot down this offer in a second.
And she was not disappointed. "Granger, I have access to so much money that I could not work another minute and still be able to live a good life until I die. If I'm going to go through this torture…I better get something good out of it." He chuckled almost greedily. "And no," he added, when Hermione opened her mouth to speak, "the satisfaction of Weasel King being angry, jealous, and publicly humiliated is certainly not good enough for me. Though, I would pay to see it."
Hermione closed her mouth unhappily and grinded her molar teeth in concentration. "Would you do it in order to help bring joy and happiness back into my life?" He snorted, not even bothering to answer with words. "Yeah…I knew it."
All her other ideas which included a year supply of cauldron cakes, writing a book about him, and being his personal slave for a month—which almost tempted Draco though (much to Hermione's annoyance) he said that he already had a House Elf—were shot down immediately by the former Slytherin.
"Ugh," said Hermione, reaching the end of her patience with the man and finally losing that post-Firewhiskey adrenaline buzz. "How about I treat you for free at the hospital and—" She stopped talking and her mouth opened in an O shape.
Draco said nothing, but growled impatiently, having also reached the end of his patience.
She could have hit herself. How could she have forgotten about it until just now?
"Your favor!" Hermione said, somewhat excited again. Draco tilted his head slightly. "I'll do it. If you need a healer to watch over you so you can become an Auror—I'll be that healer."
"Really?" asked Draco, apparently having forgotten temporarily about what the reason was behind Hermione's sudden agreement. "That would be great. I really don't enjoy working with people I don't know and healers are bloody annoying."
"I'll be that healer," she continued as though uninterrupted, "if and only if you pretend to be my boyfriend or interested in me or whatever."
Draco bit his lip. "I have a feeling that I'll end up involved in your crazy antics no matter how many offers I deny. So…" He paused, looking over at Hermione as though sizing her up. "I might as well take you up on the only thing I want. I guess I'm in." But under his breath he murmured, "Crazy witch."
The brunette woman absolutely beamed at him, ignoring his under the breath remark. "It's a deal." She stuck out her hand and he grasped it quickly, but then let go, wiping his hand on his robes as though he had just touched something dirty. Hermione rolled her eyes. "We'll probably have to work on that."
"So…how is this going to work anyways? Don't we need somebody on the 'inside'…to feed the Weasel Git lies about us." he cringed at the word. "Other than whatever media coverage we'll be able to receive that is. But I mean…what would be the point of going on dates if Weasel can't see us on them? This isn't Hogwarts you know; it's harder in the real world."
Hermione's face fell as her eyebrows knotted together in concentration. "You've got a point…" She was silent for several minutes, thinking hard. Finally she spoke, a small satisfied smile on her lips. "I think that I have some ideas…"
Author's Note Again: Yay! So, I guess…it didn't turn out half bad, although it was all set in one place and was kind of slow. ^^;; Heh, heh. But on the bright side…the plot is starting. I mean…sure the end of last chapter was the catalyst…but now it's starting, it's really starting! I hope that everything so far has sounded…plausible…and if not, please tell me. Oh and also: How do you like the way I not-so-subtly tried to provide some sort of explanation to my pretty random title? lol.
With that said—please review. [: