||Black Scarves and Careless Hearts|| A Dramione Fanfic

30. Indoor Garden

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"The best things are never planned."
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Hermione didn't even know why she had agreed to complete that week's assignment at Draco's flat. 

It was mainly because he said that he  had his own small patch of garden. Mr. Blak had asked them to catalogue six different medicinal herbs by providing accurate diagrams, uses, scientific names and harmful effects if any. 

Hermione stepped into the lobby of one of the most expensive wizarding apartments in London. The building was hidden in a similar way to Grimmauld place, between two equally expensive muggle hotels near Leicester Square. The building was, in fact, almost exactly opposite the park. Hermione mentally rolled her eyes at the irony, and wished that she had known of the location of his residence the week before so that she may have avoided the awkward encounter with Parkinson and Zabini.

God, she never wanted to meet them again.

The landlord, a lean and mustachioed man dressed in formal dress robes greeted Hermione with great formality.

"Uh, I'm looking for Draco Malfoy?" Hermione asked with uncertainty. The sheer poshness of the place set her on edge, and she wrung her hands behind her back and fiddled with the fingers of her hand-knitted gloves, which were a present from Molly last year.

"Your name, please?" The man asked, bending over a large, leather bound register with a quill in his hand. The nib rested a fraction above the paper, and he raised an expectant eyebrow at her. 

"Hermione Granger," she said in a low voice, hoping nobody else would hear. 

The man looked up with a sudden star-struck look to his face. He nodded enthusiastically and scribbled down her name, and the time of her visit. 

"Sign here, please," the man turned the registry her way and handed her the quill. He placed a second piece of parchment down as well, "And here. My name is Frederich Schoster."

Hermione was puzzled at first, but then she understood. She quickly signed her name on the register, then signed the parchment and wrote 'for Frederich Schoster'. 

"Danke," the man said, turning an awe-filled eye on the parchment. 

Hermione stifled her laughter.

"House number 310, on the third floor," Frederich said, trying his hardest to maintain his composure. He tucked the signed parchment into his coat pocket with great care.

"Thank you Mister Schoster," Hermione said, and smiled at him. 

She headed to the French grille lift at the end of the reception's hallway, and stepped into it. When she pressed her finger onto the third floor button, the lift rattled upwards. She shoved her hands in her coat pockets when she realised how much she was fiddling. 

The lift stopped and the doors ground open. Hermione stepped out onto the tiled hallway and glanced at the closest door. It had a silver '301' emblazoned on it. 

Feeling suddenly nervous, Hermione took a calming breath and walked on. Her footsteps echoed loudly in the otherwise silent corridor, giving her the uncomfortable sensation of being followed. She hurried on to the end of the corridor, where she found the door to house number 310.

The sound of her knuckles rapping against the wood pierced the air. She tucked her hands under her arms and waited. 

After a little movement from the other side, the door opened, revealing Draco. 

"Granger," he greeted, and opened the door by a fraction. 

"Malfoy," Hermione returned, unsure of what to do next.