Merry Christmas Mr. Malfoy (Book 1)

Chapter 16 : Perfect Reality

Perfect Reality

The slightly opaque, yellowish liquid sloshed to the sides of the bowl, threatening to spill over as the shapes of noodles began to edge towards the surface. Grey eyes glittering with disgust, Draco glowered childishly down at the bowl before him, glaring with such strength that the watcher, Hermione, feared the bowl might blow up in any second.

"Draco, stop glaring at the soup; it won't hurt you," she snapped after several minutes of watching the grown man glower. "It's bloody soup!"

"It does not look appetizing," he grumbled.

"I'm not a bloody chef; I just thought of any canned soup and that's what appeared in the cupboard."

"I don't want it," he whined, sniffling pathetically.

Rolling her eyes, she resisted the urge to slam her fist down on the coffee table. "Draco Malfoy, you will eat that damn soup because I bloody well say so. I don't care if it looks appetizing or not, I don't care if you want it or not, you're sick, and sick people eat soup," she snapped, having dealt with his childish whining for a good ten minutes already.

Draco Malfoy was really quite annoying when ill.

Eyeing her with a mixed sense of pride and irritation, Draco arched a brow in the brunette's direction before tossing her an award winning smile. Not that Hermione would be handing out awards any time soon. "Let me just ask you one more question."

"Do I have a choice? You'll ask it anyways," she sighed, rubbing her face.

"Why do we even have to eat chicken noodle soup? I mean, when you're sick, you ought to be getting more nutrients and vitamins in your body, and there are a lot more things out there with more nutrients in them than soup."

The entire world seemed to halt on its axis as Hermione's jaw slowly dropped open. Her heart slowly thundered to a temporary halt as time stood still. Every movement slowed down, every little thing decreased in speed, until suddenly time sped right back up again.

"I...what...did you just ask me an intelligent question?" she gawked, absolutely flabbergasted.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" he replied with a rather knowing, condescending smirk. His eyes held a puckish glow that suddenly unnerved the brunette. "A salad would have far more important nutrients in it than this, or even a good, hearty vegetable soup. Why is it that Muggles always have chicken noodle when, compared to the alternatives, it is the worst thing one should have considering nutrition?"

"I...I don't...I'm not...Oh hell," she muttered, wishing her hair was loose so that she could run her hands through it. "Just eat the damn soup, drink your bloody tea, and shut the hell up."

"But I do make a good point, don't I?" he said, gesturing towards her with the spoon.

"Either you shove that soup into your mouth or I will, and I won't be nice about it. Pick one," she snapped, moving away the annoying prat and making her way into the kitchen.

He grinned to himself, dipping the spoon into the soup. 'I knew it; Malfoys are always right.'

Hermione, all the while, busied herself in the kitchen. She had a plan and she was not going to let Draco's childishness ruin it for either of them. She had everything she needed right here with her, the laptop, the stack of discs, the food and drink, and a cozy blanket. Hell, she even had the perfect location.

All she needed was for Draco to shut his trap, eat his soup, and let her continue on with developing her plan.

Munching on a cookie, one of the last from the batch she had made on Monday, Hermione considered her options of what to eat for lunch while the git slurped his soup. Debating briefly, she finally made a decision and began the process of boiling some pasta. While she listened to the water bubble rapidly, she chose to ignore Draco's complaints.