Ten out of Ten by Morriganmercy

Day 5

- NOT MY STORY! All credit goes to @morriganmercy on a03!

When Hermione woke on the morning of the fifth day, she resolutely determined that her reaction the previous night had been a fluke of some kind; simply the power of suggestion combined with possible hunger-induced hallucinations. Whether or not Malfoy was conventionally attractive—a subject on which she had no personal opinion—mattered little in the scheme of what she needed to do. And it certainly had no bearing on the proposition she planned to make to him that day.

As she passed by the sitting room, she found Malfoy standing in front of the powered-off television with his arms crossed.

He looked up as she entered and indicated the black screen with a jerk of his head. "If this is supposed to be art, I don't get it."

Hermione sighed as she took in the dozens of open VHS and DVD cases spread over the carpet. Luckily he didn't seem to have actually separated any of them from their covers, he had just opened each one to look inside.

"It's not art," she said simply. There was no way she was explaining television to Malfoy before coffee. "At least, not when it's like that."

His brows rose at that cryptic statement, but he didn't ask for clarification.

Hermione turned her back on him, trusting that he would clear up the movies the same way he had restored everything else he had inspected throughout the house so far. She put the kettle on and began spooning coffee grounds into the french press.

"Hermione."

Her shoulders tensed. "What, Malfoy?"

"What's with the signs?"

She glanced up to find him looking past her head at the wooden placard above the doorway leading into the little room that housed the washer and dryer. Stamped across it were the words Bless this mess in artfully faded block letters.

Before she could answer, his eyes shifted to the one on the wall next to her. It read But first... coffee with the 'o' in the shape of a little cup.

She had already noticed him eyeing the one above the kitchen table that proclaimed Together is our favorite place to be.

"Erm, my aunt lives in Arkansas," she said as though that was explanation enough. "She sends them. She thinks they're funny."

"Are they?"

Hermione looked back at him. "Are they what?"

"Funny."

"I don't know," she said in exasperation, switching off the kettle. "They're silly, but that doesn't mean some of them don't have good advice."

"There's one in my room that says Be the reason someone smiles today."

"Yeah, well, I won't hold my breath," Hermione muttered.

He chuckled, and she turned to face him while the coffee steeped.

"Have you had any luck?" she asked, suppressing a yawn. "With the volumes on marriage bonds?"

The smirk slid off his face at once. "No, I haven't."

Hermione shook her head. She'd been up most of the night again, but she hadn't found anything either. Other than a knot of anxiety which seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her gut. She hadn't realized how much she'd been relying on the idea of a quick and impersonal consummation until the prospect had been taken away from her. She hadn't really thought about the details, but she'd assumed that it wouldn't be so terrible to just let it happen. With the lights off. Mostly still clothed. Probably from behind.