Beauty From Pain

Chapter Twenty

Hermione was sitting on the edge of Miranda's bed in her comfiest pair of pajamas and was painting her toe nails I vibrant shade of purple. There was quiet music playing, whatever girl band Miranda was currently obsessed with, and an array of snack foods scattered between them in the floor.

"So, let me get this straight." Miranda had just sat through Hermione's story of Draco's failed attempts to win her affection, and she had taken it surprisingly well. Granted, Hermione had edited the story to avoid any magical elements. "This man spent a most likely ungodly amount of time training twelve doves to find you, carry an enormous heart made out of roses, and shower glitter on you. Which would be an impressive feat if his goal was to embarrass you, but he somehow thought this would get you to fall in love with him?"

"Yes, he apparently did."

"And he thought this would still keep whatever love affair might develop between you under the radar. Which is necessary for reasons you would rather not explain."

Hermione glanced up from her toes and said, "It's complicated, Mo."

Miranda was quiet for several moments. She was sitting upside down in her florescent green beanbag chair, so it was difficult for Hermione to tell what she was thinking. Miranda squinted her eyes and asked, "Did it work?"

"Of course it didn't work," Hermione exclaimed indignantly. She cursed quietly and tried to wipe away the nail polish she had gotten on her toe. "It was the most absurd display of stupidity I had ever seen."

"No doubt," Miranda agreed, trying to nod her head while still sitting upside down. It was no easy feat but she considered it a victory that she only hit her head on the floor twice. "You have to admit that the attention was probably nice, though."

A pillow was immediately lobbed at Miranda's head. "It was not! I was mortified," Hermione said despite the blush working its way onto her cheeks. "There were so many important politicians there, people I respect. I can't show my face there any time soon." Lost in thought about her potentially damaged reputation, Hermione barely managed to dodge the returned pillow.

"At least he wasn't there," Miranda said to try and comfort her clearly distressed friend. "Now the tabloids can only speculate who it was without any real proof. It'll blow over fairly quickly, I'm sure."

"I certainly hope so," Hermione mumbled, but the image of Draco standing in the atrium doorway still lingered in her mind. She blew gently on her now bright purple toenails, eyes fixed on the light gray carpet beyond as though it could offer any sort of wisdom or answers. "I should have known he wouldn't take this seriously. I should have known better."

"Since when was romance supposed to be serious?" Miranda sat up properly in the beanbag and frowned at Hermione. "Romance is supposed to be fun and exciting."

"Oh, what would you know?"

"A whole lot, actually," Miranda replied haughtily. "I know enough to know that you can't expect the bloke to read your mind."

Hermione glared at her. "He could have asked."

"You could have told him."

Hermione groaned and fell back onto the bed. The ceiling offered even fewer answers than the carpet. "I used to hate him, you know. Hated everything he was and everything he stood for."

"I know," Miranda said softly. "He was the one who bullied you, right?"

"Exactly, so he is the last person I should consider dating." Hermione sighed and threw an arm over her eyes. This was the endless loop her mind kept running through: hating Draco Malfoy or dating Draco Malfoy. She weighed the pros and cons, consider every angle and every opinion, and still had no answer to what she should do. "I shouldn't have given him the chance."