Draco paced around the dining room like a caged tiger. He couldn't believe that he was being stood up in his own house! It's been three days since Granger had locked herself up in the Gold Room. And she hasn't come out since. Although he had instructed his elves to never send her any food unless she left her room, he was sure that Tinder had purposely turned a deaf ear on him and was slipping her daily meals.
That's what you get for hiring house elves who think they know better than you! Tinder had been with the family since his great, great grandfather had been in diapers, so he had grown as arrogant as his masters. After the war, he and his mother had decided to free all of their house elves. A few left, but the majority remained, not really having anywhere to go. His mother took pity and let them stay on the condition that they would each receive a galleon for every month of service (that's as much as the house elves were willing to take, anything more and they would start banging their heads on the floor).
Tinder, being the eldest and wisest (and sassiest, he scoffed), was more like the majordomo. He's never really openly defied Draco, but he had a way of circumventing his master's wishes to align them more with his own. However, since the old elf's ways were usually much better than his, Draco never complained.
Until now. Tinder was spoiling his plans of making Granger's life miserable. He must be made to realize that Granger was not a friend, but an enemy. Or a former enemy, at least, but still not a friend! One would think that she was the new mistress of Malfoy Manor with the way the ancient elf fawned after her. He'd been like that ever since Granger had regained consciousness after being blasted away by the Manor's wards. The old elf seemed to have taken a shine on the 'helpless' girl.
Hah! Helpless? He could think of a thousand words to describe Granger but 'helpless' would not be one of them. Draco's fingers graced his nose, unhappily recalling the punch that Granger had given him on their third year at Hogwarts. Helpless my arse, he snorted.
He had put his foot down tonight. He ordered Tinder (threatened him with dismissal, actually) to inform 'Mistress' Hermione (that's how Tinder referred to her now) that she must have dinner with him or he'd be forced to let her starve. Tinder returned, red-faced, with a note from Hermione saying that she'd rather starve than eat with him.
The nerve of that twit!
"Master, food is getting cold," Mimsy whispered beside him.
He scowled down at the elf, his mind too preoccupied with thoughts of Granger that he did not notice Mimsy trembling as she took a tentative step away from him.
What's she trying to prove by hiding inside that room? Aren't Gryffindors supposed to be brimming with bravado?
Bravado...bravery...
He smirked as he started to formulate a devious plan to flush out the Gryffette. Without a word, he stalked away and headed for the East wing.
Let's see if you're a true Gryffindor at heart, Granger!
The house elves cleaning the chandelier in the hallway looked at each other, scratching their heads as they followed their Master's progress. Never before had they seen him walk with such a bounce in his step. And humming, too!
Draco stopped in front of the ornate door of the Gold Room and knocked.
No answer. He knocked again - louder this time.
"The door's open, Fifi," came the cheerful voice from within.
Aha! So...she's on friendly terms with Fifi, eh?
He wasn't really surprised by that. Granger's always been kind to the Hogwarts house elves. She'd even tried to free them all one time, darned bleeding heart! Good thing all his house elves were there of their own volition, otherwise, he might find himself in the middle of a mutiny!
He gently turned the knob and peeked inside. Scanning the room, he saw Granger sitting on the window seat...knitting! What was she knitting? Looking down at the basket beside her feet, he saw dozens of tiny socks and hats. He almost laughed when he realized who they were for.
Damned bleeding Gryffindor heart! Too bad, Granger. Even if my house elves were still under the enslavement of House Malfoy, they wouldn't take your socks and hats. They've got better taste than that!
He sneered as he took on the bright and cheerful yellows, pinks and orange bundles in her basket. Still...a part of his frozen heart seemed to thaw at the sight of her lovely face scrunching up in concentration...her chestnut curls gleaming in the sun...her luscious, pink lips pouting slightly...as if waiting to be kissed. He wondered how they would feel against his own...
Wait...WHAT? Damn you, Draco! Take your mind out of the gutter! You really need to end your self-imposed celibacy!
Cursing silently for nearly forgetting his real purpose in coming here, he flung the door open so violently it slammed against the wall with a bang. Granger jumped out of her seat, her knitting needles pointed at the source of the noise like a wand.
"MALFOY! What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"
"This is my house, Granger. I have every right to be here," he drawled.
Stop looking at her flushed cheeks and pink lips, Draco, for Salazar's fucking sake!
Hermione stood there glaring at him, her eyes flashing, her cheeks tinted red, her lips slightly parted as if preparing to harangue him, yet all Draco could think about was if she was as feisty as this in bed...and how he'd like to see if she really was!
STOP IT, DRACO! It's just your hormones acting up! Remember why you're here!
Willing himself to discard images of Hermione writhing in pleasure, Draco leaned against the door frame and folded his arms across his chest.
"You made me wait for more than an hour," he said.
Hermione tilted her head, her brows knitting together. Then, as the meaning of his words dawned on her, her lips tilted into an adorable smirk.
ADORABLE? GET A GRIP, MAN!
"I didn't ask you to wait. I believe I made it clear in my note that I'd rather starve than eat with you."
True. But he still waited, thinking that it was an empty threat. He should've known better.
"Really? And why is that, Granger? Scared?"
She gasped and turned a deeper shade of red.
"What did you say?"
"I asked if you're scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Me, of course!"
"You wish, Malfoy!"
"Well, why wouldn't you have dinner with your host like a civilized person?"
"Civilized? Hah! You're the one who's holding me captive here! Now, who's got a problem with civility, Malfoy?" she huffed, turning her back on him to look out the window.
Draco noted the stiffening of her spine. He chuckled inside. She's getting angry.
Nearly there, Draco. Nearly there.
"I told you, it's the Manor that's holding you prisoner, not me. Do you think I enjoy playing host to the Bookworm Know-It-All and Bestfriend of Saint Pothead?" he snarled.
"Why did you want to have dinner with me then?" she whirled at him.
"I just wanted to confirm my theory," he said.
"What theory?"
"That the reason why you hadn't left this lovely room for three, whole days is because you're afraid of me."
"WHAT? I AM NOT AFRAID OF YOU, FERRET!"
"Really?"
"YES, REALLY!"
"Then prove it, Granger. Be at the dining room in five minutes. If you're not there then I'd know that the War Heroine Hermione Granger is still afraid of Death Eaters. Even deformed and limping ones," he said, chuckling malevolently as he turned on his heels and headed down the hallway.
Several loud crashes were later heard from the Gold Room.
Shite! She really is a feisty one! I wonder if...SHUT UP, DRACO!
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