Twenty Two. Lovey-Dovey with Grangie.

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One would think that Draco Malfoy had enough of terrible situations, but, no, Merlin kept on cursing him with more terrible situations. As of now, he was stuck between convincing Hermione Granger to do something AND convince his mother to spare him. Life couldn't get tougher.

"Grangie, come on, please! My mother will kill me if I don't bring you," he said from outside her bathroom door. He had been convincing her to go to a party his mother was hosting. She was inside, taking a shower after her day at the hospital. Draco had wanted to join her, but was refused. Fuck my life, he thought.

"Draco, I am not in the mood for a party. Why don't you take Harry or someone else?" she yelled from the other side.

"Because, my dear Grangie, Harry Potter is not my girlfriend! You are my girlfriend and my mother wants me to bring a date. And you want to know something else? I want you to as my date too," he argued.

"Well, Draco, we can't do that, because the press is going to be there," she said sounding closer. The next minute she was outside, dressed in one of his shirts and shorts. She saw him looking at her with a sweet expression and she blushed.

"Please, Hermione," he whispered and pulled her by the waist. "Just this once, please."

"Draco, it's not about the party. Every reporter from every magazine is going to be there. It's not a small party, you know?"

"But, um, don't you think we should reveal ourselves to the public?" he asked hesitantly. He had been the one who wanted to hide their relationship, but now he thought it was time. I mean, he was sure about his feelings for Hermione. He no longer felt ashamed of himself. He no longer wanted him to hide them.

"Draco, are you sure?"

"Yes, Hermione, I am sure," he whispered.

"I mean, I don't mind. I did tell you we could go to Diagon Alley on a date last month and you refused. I don't mind being seen without you. I would love to be seen with you, Draco," she said and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Are you sure, 'Mione? People talk and I don't want them to talk crap about you," he said looking in her eyes.

"I am sure, Draco."

"And you aren't saying that because I am forcing you?"

"If Bellatrix Lestrange couldn't force me into submission, I doubt you could do that, Draco Malfoy," she grinned. "I am absolutely, one hundred percent sure about this."

"Good, that's bloody marvellous! But in case you change your mind, let me know, please?"

"Yes, I will, I promise," she whispered and kissed his cheek.

"That's like my girl," he teased. Hermione hated being called that. So did Draco, but he loved teasing her more.

"Shut it, Malfoy," she warned. "So, what's the dress code for the party?"

"Um, I think you might have to wear a gown. It is an evening dance or something, I am not sure. I tend to zone out while mother is talking," he replied.

"Is she sending invitations?"

"She told me has already sent yours," he said.

"I haven't checked my post in ages!" Hermione sort of shrieked and moved away from him. She went to the living room and settled on the couch with a fairly thick pile of letters. She looked through each of them very carefully, laughing, sighing, or slightly growling after reading their contents.

"Did you get mother's invite?" he asked sitting next to her.

"Yes, I am going to look at it now. Or better, why don't you open it for me, please?" she asked without looking up at him.

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