Spellbound (Dramione Smut Story)

Chapter Fourteen

Hermione

I threw the latest edition of Witch's Weekly onto my table, nearly spilling my tea and startling Ginny.

"I can't believe this!" I shrieked. "You know what I can't believe? You know what that bloody article said?"

Ginny set her tea cup onto her platter and politely opened her mouth. "Something about how Draco Malfoy ran offstage because of personal emotional turmoil and how his show is- "

In my fury, I cut Ginny off, completely ignoring everything she had said before. "Some shit about him running offstage because of 'personal emotional turmoil'- whatever the hell that's supposed to mean! And now, he's planning on just up and quitting!"

"Well, Hermione..." Ginny leaned forward, setting her tea on the table. "Maybe Draco is in legitimate pain. You swore you'd changed him... maybe you were right."

I was in such a foul mood that instead of kindly mulling over my friend's suggestion, I scoffed. "As if! This is Draco Malfoy, we're talking about."

"Hermione, he may have been an arse in school, but he still has feelings."

"Right! Feelings for me, I suppose?"

"You have his damn virginity under your belt! He was a stripper! He danced in front of hundreds, maybe even thousands of girls, and the only one he ever let into his bed was you." Ginny took a deep breath, pushing her chair away from the table. "Ring me when you've calmed down. Until then, I'm going back to Harry."

"No- Gin- I'm sorry! I just-"

"Save it, 'Mione."

She was gone with a crack. An even greater anger consumed me, eating at my sides restlessly. Everyone had turned against me. Draco used me as a play toy, Harry resented me for caring about him, and Ginny was tired of listening to it all because apparently all that I said was "redundant" and "idiotically false." Everything was beginning to change- and not in a good way.

I turned my head at a knock on the door. "Who is it?"

"Special delivery." My heart leapt as I recognized the voice. No... It couldn't be! After all this time, he couldn't have come back just because of this! I rushed over to the door and flung it open, its hinges groaning in mild complaint.

There he was, leaning against my door frame in bright purple robes, his red hair teased and- for lack of a better, less offensive term- fabulous.

"Ron?"

He flashed me the patented, mischievous Weasley smile. "Ready to kick some Malfoy arse?"

Draco

I gazed at myself in the mirror, despising every bit of my outfit, every bit of my character. For the past several weeks, my shows had been getting shorter and shorter. But the women weren't complaining! Box offices were always flooded with girls at least two hours before the boxes opened! Articles were being published left and right, claiming my emotional break-down to be the most tragic occurrence of our time! My own depressed state was turning me into a celebrity.

Nixon had approached me about it when I walked into work early this afternoon to go to makeup.

"Listen, Draco, you're bringing in massive amounts of money- and that's great and all- but I think we could get even more money if you'd actually strip tonight. Just to... you know... shake things up."

I had agreed to it, just because I was tired of people pitying me. Not only were girls constantly murmuring "poor baby," "sweet little thing," or "I bet I could fix him up in no time!" but reporters had begun chasing after me.  Asking " Draco, who dumped you?" or "Mister Malfoy, why are you in a state of such consuming depression?" even "Malfoy! Cry for the camera, won't you?" I didn't want life in the spotlight anymore. I was done with that.