9. Chapter 9

Edited 7/29/2021

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The next day, Draco rolled out of bed in crumpled clothes and with a grumbling stomach. He groaned. He must have fallen asleep right after he got home from meeting Hermione. Standing up, he meandered over to the kitchen section of his hotel room. He grabbed some toast, buttered it, and was just taking a bite when he realized something.

The toast nearly slipped through his fingers.

He had slept through the night, without any dreams or nightmares. His mind had been blank for the entire evening. Draco took a deep breath, wondering if this, itself, was a dream. But no, he was awake. And he was free - of the fear, of the terror. He felt as if he didn't have a care in the world. His mind was unshackled from things that had been pressing down on it for years. Draco felt pure ecstasy course through him.

He had a dreamless sleep. He couldn't even remember the last time that had happened.

The moment the thought drifted through his mind, he knew that it was a lie. Draco could easily remember the last night this he had a dreamless sleep. It had been his last night without any worries or cares or problems. It had been the last night he slept as a normal child. It was the night before his life, and the lives of everyone in the wizarding world has drastically changed.

June 23, 1995 was the night before the third task of the Tri-wizard Tournament, and the last peaceful night of Draco's life. He was a normal teenager, his only cares being whether or not he was failing Transfiguration. The next night, he found himself thrust into adulthood.

When Potter had landed in the middle of the stands, clutching the lifeless body of Cedric Diggory, Draco had felt cold wind rush through the air. The boy wonder was shouting about Voldemort's return. The second the words left the chosen one's lips, Draco had frozen. He knew it was true. Potter may be an attention-seeker, but he would never lie about this.

The letter Draco received from his father later that evening was only proof of what he already knew.

From there on out, every night he was plagued with nightmares of the Dark Lord and dreams of power. He never again had a dreamless sleep, especially not in the last seven years. Until last night. It seemed now, all these years later, his mind was finally free. He had endured so much hardship, and now, the burden had been lifted. He breathed in, treasuring the feling. He felt slightly disoriented in the bliss. Then, he looked at the clock. Draco came crashing back down to earth.

It was six fourty-five. It was six fourty-five, pm. Damn it! The Slytherin had managed to sleep for nearly twenty-four hours. How the hell had he done that, when even several weeks before, he found himself waking every few hours from raging nightmares. Well done Draco, he thought with irritation. Sleeping for 24 hours straight, that requires skill. He reveled in the level of sleep he had just received, until the repercussions hit him.

He had managed to sleep through an entire day of work. That was a lot of time missed since he was starting a new office. Even more serious than that, he remembered his agreement with Hermione. He had approximately fifteen to get ready and pick her up. Draco took a deep preparation breath and became a whirlwind of activity.

He scarfed down the rest of his toast, closely followed by a glass of water so he didn't pass out. Brushing breadcrumbs of his shirt, he rushed to the bathroom and had the quickest shower of his lifetime. He used magic to dry his hair, which made him cringe. He usually took such care of it, letting it dry naturally and using several products on it to keep it healthy. But now, he simply had no time.

Draco ran over to his suitcase and grabbed the tuxedo he had brought over from England. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys always travelled with a tuxedo. You never knew which high class party you could be invited to. He threw it on. It took him five minutes to get the bowtie on. His fingers were shaking in the hurry, so he managed to strangle himself instead of making the traditional bow. The strangled look wasn't in this year, so he had to redo it several times before managing to get it right. Draco ran back to the mirror and quickly fixed his hair.

When he deemed himself satisfactory for screwing with the muggle Weasel, he picked up the address Hermione had given him, and glanced at the clock. It was now six fifty-seven. Time to go.

As he rushed out the door, the amazingness of his night prior popped into his head once more. He had been missing out on sleep for about ten years. It seemed that being with Hermione had relaxed him so much, that all the stress of the past decade had just seeped out of him. Now his body was trying to catch up on all the sleep it had missed.

Thank wizard god for Hermione, he found himself thinking. She had helped him without even trying. This woman, he mused, rushing to the elevator.

A thought crossed his mind, and he smirked. She had helped her, and now, he was going to help her. As the elevator took him downwards, he took out Katie's phone, and made one final call, before heading to Hermione's.

He arrived at a townhouse somewhere in downtown Toronto. He could see the CN tower just a few blocks away, standing tall over the city. He stood mesmerized for several moments before remembering what he was supposed to be doing. Draco walked up to the door numbered 12 and knocked three times. He was only standing there for a few seconds before Hermione opened the door. Draco began to say hello, but the words got caught in his throat.

Hermione was normally quite an attractive woman; Draco recognized that. She was very pretty in her everyday life. Actually, she was so pretty normally that, secretly, Draco thought there was no way for her to become more beautiful.

Challenge completed.

Her hair was left down, for which Draco was thankful. She looked majestic whenever it was down. Her hair was one of her best features. The brown curls were cascading down her back. Her skin was tan, and glowing, from happiness or makeup, Draco did not know. She was wearing a strapless dark green dress that went down to the floor. There were silver jewels accentuating various parts of her body.

Draco's mouth went dry. The dress was straight, and a slit went up from the ground to about mid-thigh. The heels she was wearing made her legs go on for kilometres.

Draco's mouth was now as dry as sandpaper.

Hermione noticed the direction of his gaze, and her smirk grew more pronounced. Draco pulled his eyes away from her body and up to her face. Her eyes were bright; her lashes full, bushing her face each time she blinked. Her lips were looking particularly luscious this evening. How had he never noticed them before? Hermione, overall, was wearing minimal makeup. She obviously didn't need any. Draco tried to find a word to describe her appearance.

Glorious seemed to stick.

"Ummm….you look great," Draco stuttered, his heart hammering. She let out a giggle, but Draco barely noticed. His head was pounding, and he couldn't really think about anything but her beauty. He recognized this feeling. Draco had felt this way before, way back in their fourth year, at the Yule Ball.

Draco stood in the hall, along with all the other students, awaiting the arrival of the champions. Pansy, in her frilly dress, was hanging on to his arm, yapping in his ear, driving him mad. He was blocking her out, just being thankful that she looked decently pretty. Pretty and pureblood was perfect. He just needed to ignore her and life would be splendid.

Suddenly, the doors opened, and the champions all strode in.

Potter kept looking at his feet, if trying to not trip. Draco snorted. What a moron. On his arm was Parvati Patil, who looked smug at her position, on the arm of the famous Harry Potter. Roger Davis looked dazed, with Fleur Delacour, on his arm. Fleur looked beautiful, which was to be expected. Diggory was smiling nervously, with a pretty Ravenclaw on her arm. Draco couldn't remember her name. Then there was Krum, with a gorgeous girl at his side. Draco didn't recognize her immediately, as he stopped to admire her beauty.

He'd rather have this girl next to him in comparison to Pansy.

The girl had caramel brown hair tied up in a high bun. She was wearing blue – no, periwinkle robes that framed her body perfectly. Her soft brown doe eyes were sparkling, and she had a smile on her face. Draco stared at her. He felt shock run through his body as she glanced over in his direction and recognition set in.

It was Granger.

Draco couldn't believe it. How did the hideous mudblood clean up so nicely? Who even knew she was pretty? Even as the word crossed his mind, he knew it was inaccurate.

She was not pretty. Granger was beautiful.

Draco just stared at her. He was completely dumbfounded. His eyes never left her, from the second she walked into the hall. He was dancing with Pansy, but his gaze stayed stagnant on Hermione.

He had gotten very drunk later in the evening, and all he remembered about that night was Hermione walking in. He didn't know why, but her beautification had stayed with him. There were tons of pretty girls, but Hermione was different.

She wasn't pretty, she was glorious.

Draco felt the same surprise now. He had come up with the same conclusion now as he had then. She wasn't pretty, she was glorious.

"You look pretty good, yourself," she smirked.

"I always do," Draco said. His voice lacked its usually superiority. He was flustered, a disorienting feeling for a Malfoy. Shaking if off, he offered Hermione his arm. " Shall we?"

"Again, we shall," she smiled, taking it. They walked down to the curb, and Hermione looked around to hail a cab, but Draco stopped her.

"Hermione," he smiled down at her. Even with her heels, she was still shorter than him. "I'm here to mess with the ginger. That starts now." Hermione looked at him confused, and Draco pointed to a limo parked down the street. Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Really?" she asked.

"Hey, if there's one thing I know how to do, it's how to annoy someone," Draco replied, leading her to the door of the limo. He opened the door and she stepped in. Hermione told the driver the address, and they were off. Draco spent the entire ride just staring at Hermione. He was very amused that Hermione was wearing Slytherin colours. She looked amazing in the green and silver though. They suited her very well. Draco eyes grazed over her once more.

Very, very well.

The limo stopped. The driver came around and opened the door for Hermione. She walked out, closely followed by Draco. Draco handed the driver some muggle cash that he had on him, took Hermione's hand. She seemed slightly surprised but didn't pull away.

Draco was surprised himself. What possessed him to do that? The two started walking up to the hotel where the gala was taking place. He turned towards her.

"So, what is this gala for anyway?" he asked.

"Oh, um, the corporation gave a huge sum of money to some charity, so all the employees got invited to this gala that the charity was holding."

Draco nodded as they headed through the doors. They were in a big ballroom, with many tables, many people, and many glasses of champagne. Thank Merlin, Draco thought.

Hermione and he were barely in the door when a voice shouted out to them. Hermione turned, and swore brilliantly under her breath. Draco stood there, impressed, for a moment, before he noticed the reason for her exceptionally crude language.

A man and woman were walking towards them. The woman looked like a supermodel, very textbook beautiful, though she had nothing on Draco's date. The man was very tall and had bright red hair. Draco swore himself now. The couple walked up to them, the man smirking, and chuckling at them. Draco glared at him. Ginger, freckles, he knew who this was.

He knew something else as well.

He wasn't going to like this guy.

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