The Silver Envelope

Draco's Guest

"Mr. Malfoy, please wake up!" came a frantic, squeaky voice from somewhere nearby.
Draco mumbled and rolled over, shoving his pillow over his head to block out the sound.
The rasp of curtains being drawn back met his ears, then the door to his closet opened and Ignoma began opening drawers and cupboards.
"What's going on?" Draco groaned. "What time is it?"
"Mr. Malfoy is going to be late for his appointment!" Ignoma squealed.
"What 'ppointment?" Draco mumbled, confused. The bright light coming from his window discombobulated him. He squinted at the clock on his bedside table. It was almost three in the afternoon.
"Mr. Malfoy can't stay in bed today!" Ignoma said, yanking on his hand. "Mr. Malfoy has an appointment and they're going to arrive at any moment! Mr. Malfoy needs to clean himself up!"
Sighing, Draco rolled out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom. He couldn't recall scheduling an appointment for today, but time had been a little fuzzy lately. It was probably with his solicitor, or maybe John from the Department of Mysteries.
Either way, he had to admit that his funk needed to end soon. He couldn't stay in bed moping for the rest of his life. Or staying up late, writing useless letters that would never reach the eyes of their addressee. It was time he moved on if not in truth, at least in appearance.
He had just come out of the shower and dressed in a crisp black shirt and trousers when the buzzer of his front door sounded. With damp hair and bare feet, Draco made his way over to answer the door, wondering vaguely where Ignoma had got off to.
But the person on the other side of his door was not his solicitor. Nor was it John from the
Ministry.
Hermione Granger, wearing a large jumper with jeans and old trainers, stood waiting for him in the hallway of his building, looking more nervous than he had ever seen her.
A beat of silence passed, then she spoke.
"Hi," she said, her voice sounding higher than usual.
"Hello," he responded, his voice still gravelly from sleep.
She took in his damp hair, his fresh clothes, his bare toes. As if she had spotted something too personal to look at, she averted her eyes.
To her own feet, she said, "Can we speak?"
"Sure," Draco said robotically, moving aside to allow her entry.
Hermione examined his flat with sharp eyes, taking in the black stone floors, the sleek, silver finishes, the large windows with a spectacular view of the city below.
"I've never pictured where you lived, but if I had, I would have pictured exactly this," she said.
Draco didn't know how to respond to that.
"Will you excuse me for a moment?" he asked.
Hermione nodded, and he slipped back to his bedroom.
"Ignoma!" he hissed, looking for the tiny elf. "Ignoma, you miserable little sneak! Where are
you?"
His whispers did not draw the conniving little creature out from her hiding spot. Giving up, he summoned a pair of black socks and shoes, then used his wand to dry his hair. With a deep breath he went back out into the living area
Hermione had made herself at home on the wide sofa that faced his mantle. It was so strange, seeing her warm brown curls and softly curved figure in his cold, angular penthouse suite. The contrast made him feel off-balance.
"Sorry about that. Ignoma rather... neglected to properly prepare me for your visit," he said, choosing a seat on a steel chair nearest the window, the better to see Hermione's face.

She looked uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry for dropping by on such short notice. I wanted to write, but I wasn't sure what to say," she explained.
"It's alright," Draco said.
"Tea, madam?" came a sweet, high-pitched voice from near the kitchen.
Ignoma walked in carrying a tray above her head that was wider than she was tall, laden with a silver tea service and what looked to be fresh biscuits.
"Oh, um, yes please," Hermione said, allowing the elf to pour her a cup. With expert precision, Ignoma managed to graciously serve the both of them while deftly avoiding the daggers Draco was glaring at her. With a low curtsy, she left, and Draco could have sworn he saw a satisfied little smile on her face. That little
"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, noticing the look of bitterness on his face.
"Oh, um, yes. I'm fine."
Draco sipped his tea, feeling awkwardness settle over them.
Hermione opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. Draco did the same.
"I read your last letter," Hermione finally said. "And I wanted to tell you that I believe you."
Something heavy, something that had been pushing down on Draco's heart for the past several weeks, suddenly lightened.
"You do?" he said, sounding skeptical.
Hermione looked down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap.
"I've behaved monstrously," she said, not meeting his eyes. "Of course you didn't break us up on purpose. It's been coming on for a long time, and if it hadn't been the flowers, it would have been something else. I...I'm so sorry, Draco.
Draco didn't know whether to throw his fist in the air or rush over to her and take her in a tight embrace. As a compromise, he sipped his tea.
She looked over at him.
"Can you ever forgive me?" she asked.
Oh, how delicious. Hermione Granger, begging for his forgiveness. He could have sweetened his tea with the mere idea of it.
"Perhaps," he said noncommittally, setting down his cup. "As you said, you've behaved monstrously. I don't really know if I can be friends with you, after this."
She blanched with shame and regret, looking down and shaking her head.
"I'm so sorry, Draco, truly," she said thickly, moments away from tears. "Please, if you-"
Draco interrupted her by standing suddenly, walking over to where she sat, and lowering himself right next to her. He took her chin in his hand, lifting her to look at him, and gave her a wicked
smile
"Got you, Granger," he murmured.
Hermione's mouth popped open with a little "Oh."
God, she was so close. All he wanted in the world right now was to lean in and take that little O mouth for his own. He tensed his jaw, fighting the strong urge
As Hermione's eyes slid down to look at his mouth as well, Draco realized he needed to take control of himself immediately before he did something extremely stupid. With great effort, he released her face and moved himself away from her, giving them both space enough to recover.
"Of course I forgive you, Hermione," Draco said lazily, leaning back against the armrest of the sofa, feeling more at ease than he had in weeks. "It's only fair, since you've forgiven me for far worse transgressions. And besides," he added with a smirk, "you were absolutely right to suspect me. I'm honestly a little annoyed with myself for not thinking of it first. The little weasel had it coming.
Hermione's mouth popped open again, this time in anger. But she seemed to find it hard to be truly angry with him, as the corners of her mouth started to slip upward. Smiling despite herself, she shook her head, trying to seem cross with him and failing miserably.
"You're awful, you know that?" she said.
Draco's mouth tugged up on one side. Instead of responding, he reached over to retrieve a biscuit from the tray, finding that his appetite had suddenly improved.
Hermione let out a breath of relief.
"Well, good. Now that we've got that out of the way," she said, her tone turning businesslike as she adjusted herself, the better to face him. "How would you like to help me make Ron horrifically
jealous and angry?"
Draco dropped the biscuit he had been holding.
"What?" he said, convinced he must have misheard her.
Hermione bit her lip briefly. Draco tried not to look at the plump lip, caught between her teeth. He failed.
"The thing is, I have a huge benefit for S.P.E. W. coming up. The Christmas Charity Ball. A bunch of other organizations have teamed up to host it, and they're counting on me to help make it successful. The problem is, since Wesley's Wizard Wheezes is a major sponsor of S.P.E.W., Ron will be in attendance. And according to Ginny, he's planning on bringing a date," she explained.
"What's that got to do with me?" Draco drawled, feeling as though he was missing something
obvious.
"Well," Hermione said, looking very nervous. "I sort of told Ginny that I also have a date. But I
don't
Her eyes bored into him, waiting for him to understand what she meant. Suddenly, it clicked.
"You want me to be your date?" he said. "Have you lost your very keen mind, Granger?"
Hermione blushed, whether at the compliment to her intellect or at the prospect of going on a date with him, he didn't know.
"I know it's, well, a bit rash," she began.
"It's bloody diabolical, is what it is," Draco said, unable to stop himself from smiling. "God, I can already imagine the look on Weasley's face when he sees me with you." Hermione's cheeks deepened to a shade reminiscent of a ripe plum.
"So, you'll do it then? You'll be my date to the Christmas Ball?" she asked.
Draco smiled with evil delight.
"Hermione, it would be my pleasure to accompany you to the ball."