Fixing what you broke

Chapter 19: Malfoy Manor

Chapter 19: Malfoy Manor

Notes:

I need a quick moment of character justification, because everyone seems to hate Hermione right now. I get it. Even as the person who is writing this piece and this take on her, she does seem to be a little...unfair. BUT, when I started this story I knew it would be a love triangle. I didn't plan on loving Charlie so much, but it happened and while it does seem like she is stringing him along. IT's really only the span of about a week. I think Hermione is really warring with these two sides of herself. The self she wants to be, the one who chooses Charlie, her head. And the self that she is, her heart, the one who chooses Draco. I always think this is her biggest dilemma. Is she being fair to Charlie, no. And I promise there will be resolution and absolution before the story is done. I also will not make him suffer for long! As I follow these versions of the characters, it's insanely difficult because I want to slap her at times... but just be patient in knowing that answers are coming!

We've got about 3 chapters left and then some gooey epilogue goodness. So, if you're able to, stick with me!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

She spent the afternoon panicking… laying out different clothing options and then chucking them back in her closet.

‘Dress for Dinner’ , he had said.

She could wear denims to dinner at the right spot or her work clothes. How fancy was a pureblood dinner?

She called on the only person she could think of and sent an owl off with a cryptic note, saying only “Help! Floo is open! - HG”

About 30 minutes later, as Hermione was ready to yank her curls from her head, she heard her Floo roar to life.

“GRANGERRRR!” a gloating voice hollered, “HELP HAS ARRIVED!”

She raced into her living room and Blaise was there, standing with air of superiority.

“Don’t tell me that neither one of those wizards has been able to satisfy you. I’ll tell you, the thought has crossed my mind a time or two, but alas, I can’t be the one to please you. I know, I know,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, “I am probably the only man alive who ever could fully satis--”

“Oh shut up, Blaise!” she snapped playfully, “You’re a git. What do Purebloods wear to dinner?”

“I would highly doubt you own anything appropriate,” he walked briskly past her and into her bedroom, “I’ve seen the dreadful things you wear.”

Hermione gasped and followed him barefoot into her room where she sat on the bed with a ‘hmmph’ and crossed her arms in defeat.

“Trash, trash, trash, trash…” she could hear her hangers slamming against the others and her jaw dropped in horror. “So, Pureblood dinner… I assume Astoria asked you over for dinner and drinks?” he called out to her.

“Yea, not bloody likely … Does she hate me?” she winced.

“Yes. Do you blame her?”

“No.”

“So, dinner at the Malfoy’s then?” he appeared in her closet door leaning against the frame smugly, “Nervous?”

“I want to vomit,” she flopped back on her bed and covered her face with a dramatic arm draped over it, “Tell me what to expect, please.”