The Fractured Flame | Draco Malfoy Love Story

Chapter Five: Dinner and Dessert?

"What does this have to do with dinner?" She inquired, still frowning. "You can owl me the notes and I can get back to you."

"Because I have a very important meeting to get to with no time to retrieve the notes from the Manor." Draco's tone was short, amusement and mirth no longer like dancing blue flames in his eyes. His eyes were back to being cold and grey. "And if I tolerated Potter for a few hours last night, I'm sure I can survive an hour with you. I'm not going to give you time to think. Tell me now. Are you in or are you going to go back your life of kissing the Ministry's feet; begging for them to listen to your grievances?"

Hermione crossed her arms, raising her chin defiantly. "Fine. I'm in. And Malfoy?"

"What?"

She reached forward and snatched the strawberry macarons from his hand, replacing them with the sample box. "Bring pizza... And cheesy sticks."

The curly haired brunette brushed passed him without another word. She was not privy to the slight shake of his head and the small, genuine grin that fell on his lips when she was out of sight.

Dinner and Dessert?

Draco had sent her an owl, stating that he'd be late. Looking at the digital numbers on the oven, Hermione didn't classify 10:43 at night as being late. If dinner was supposed to be at seven, then they could have rescheduled. She even offered to, but the stubborn wizard was adamant that he'd be there soon.

Obviously she should have bought him a dictionary because her interpretation of 'soon' did not match his, and she doubted that she was the one in the wrong. Crookshanks was curled up in a throw blanket that laid at the end of the sectional. The orange half-Kneazle feline was particularly cranky with how they weren't in bed asleep already.

DING-DONG

A nervous feeling flitted through her. Hours ago, she'd been dressed in her nicest pair of slacks and a modest long-sleeved blouse. Casual for a strictly business dinner. An hour ago, she'd had enough of being uncomfortable in her own apartment, and threw on a pair of sage green cotton pajama pants and an old white t-shirt. He was hours late and she wasn't trying to impress him. She should have felt silly for even trying.

Opening the door, Hermione was surprised by two things. Well, actually three things.

1. Draco had still picked up pizza at this ungodly hour and indicative by the smaller package on top... He'd remembered to buy her cheesy sticks.

2. He hadn't changed from the matte black suit he'd been wearing earlier. It made him appear much more pale and more like a cruel prince again. Then again, Draco Malfoy would always be in his villain era according to the public's opinion of him. He looked dangerous in all black and Hermione distinctly remembered him wearing these sorts of suits all the time in their fifth year. Was it to hide his Dark Mark the entire time?

3. There was a large bruise forming on the underside of his jaw and though the fabric was black, a few spots of blood were dried into his collar.

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed, "Did you get into a fight? What happened?"

"Glad to see you dressed up for me, Granger." He said wryly, dodging the question, "May I come in?"