Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love

Chapter 16: The Seneca

The bath and the nap which had been at the forefront of Draco's mind inspired his choice of destination. He and Granger materialised in the foyer of the Seneca, London's choicest wizarding hotel.

Draco hoisted Granger up to her feet. The employees at the Seneca were the epitome of discretion, including the witch who stepped out from behind the front desk, took no notice of their filthy clothing, and graciously asked if they were looking for a room, or dining at the hotel?

The mention of dining made Granger go dangerously green.

Draco propped her onto a bench and made arrangements for a room with the front desk witch. The woman, sensing that they wanted a room more than chit-chat about the hotel's amenities, summoned an ornate key, whisked them to the lifts, and enquired if they had any luggage? (No, nothing, and certainly no illegal skulls, thank you.)

And so Draco reached the end of this bizarre day, in one of the Seneca's famous suites, overlooking the Kensington Palace gardens, with a droopy Granger thrown decoratively across a chaise longue.

On the low table next to her, a carafe of water magically materialised, as well as a bucket. Thoughtful sort, that front desk witch.

Deciding that Granger had been sufficiently provided for, Draco went off to shower. That was a delightful experience, far more enjoyable than the small closet provided by the Hotel Plaisance. Draco turned on every single jet that was available, amused himself with the soap selections, and didn't crack his elbows against a wall once (which was good, because he had a nice bruise going on his left one from that morning's activities).

Thoroughly clean, now, Draco decided that he was a little peckish, and placed an order for a light dinner with the mirror. Then, given that he hadn't any clothes save for the reeking pile that he had stripped off, he pulled on a fluffy white dressing gown and matching slippers.

As he tied the dressing gown, he made sure that the V at the opening properly exposed the best of his chest (because he liked to show off in general, and not because of Granger in particular). Water droplets glistened artfully across his pectorals and down to where the top of his abs peeked out.

Then he fixed his hair so that it was appropriately, sexily mussed up, for that post-shower, delicious look.

The mirror commented that he looked quite divine.

"I know," said Draco.

He emerged from the shower in a mist of well-being, sexiness, and soap.

And he needn't have bothered with any of it, really. Granger didn't even look up when he exited the bathroom in his steamy glory. She was engrossed in her mobile.

The water had been drunk and the bucket looked unused – at least she was feeling better.

"The Aral Sea!" exclaimed Granger, her eyes riveted on the mobile. "That's where we were. It was almost completely desiccated in the 60's because of Soviet irrigation projects..."

A blow-by-blow account of the Sea's disappearance followed, with much outraged commentary from Granger on what an ecological disaster it was. Meanwhile, the sexy droplets of water dried off of Draco's pectorals, uselessly unseen by any audience whatsoever. Sod the Aral Sea; where was Granger's concern for Draco's desiccated chest?

"Riveting," said Draco.

Granger, detecting his lack of enthusiasm for her information dump, lowered her mobile.

She looked him up and down, from the ends of his artfully tossed hair to his slippered feet. Her sole comment: "Haven't you any clothes?"

"No, I haven't, given that my luggage is currently enjoying a sojourn on the coast of Provence, along with yours."