To his amusement, Hermione flushed from head to toe, her skin turning scarlet. Her breathing quickened just a tad, too.
"What an interesting observation you've made," he purred in delight, inching closer to her. "Every time I look at my hands from here on out, all I'll remember is how much you think they were made for pleasing."
As if he'd pushed all the right buttons, abruptly Granger scooted off the bed and stood up. She scurried away towards the opposite wall, looking into the floor-to-ceiling length mirror that spanned the whole length of one side of the room, pretending to adjust her earrings and smooth down her dress. The lovely blush covering her skin, however, wasn't something so easily escaped, he thought.
"Yes, well, it's not as if you didn't know the rest, Malfoy," she said in a crisp, no-nonsense tone as she fiddled with her halter-top's tie. "You make it a big deal to strut around this place as if you're an Adonis. Every witch notices."
He stared at her in the mirror, letting a slow smirk wind its way up his face, knowing well how that expression charmed the opposite sex. "As long as I got your attention, Granger, I could care less what any other woman thought." She went stock-still at that. In the mirror, her eyes blew wide and her lips parted in shock. "What do you mean-?" she demanded.
Cutting her off at the pass, Draco interrupted what would indubitably be an awkward question to answer at this time. She wasn't quite ready to hear his truths about her, he was sure. "That was only three things," he reminded her, using the distraction to get them back on task. "There are still seven testimonies to my amazingness left to go."
She scowled at him in the mirror. "Egotistical prat."
"Straight-laced bint," he countered with no heat, enjoying the banter.
Seeming to have bought into his diversion, and most likely relieved to allow that sleeping dragon to lie anyway, she returned to the game with a simple shrug of her shoulders. "Right, let's just get this over with." Utilizing the magic in the room, she designed a cozy chair into existence across from where he sat on the bed and then wound her way over to it and sat down. The new furniture piece matched the white-on-white décor of the room, he absently noticed. Sitting back in it and crossing her legs, Hermione lounged like a queen on a throne, a colourful and classy monarch silently demanding to be worshiped.
I will, he thought.
"Will what?" she asked, her brows lowering in confusion.
Shit, had he spoke aloud?
"Will…give you some ideas if you need
them," he offered, feinting once more. "I have plenty of thoughts about how fantastic I am."
She rolled her eyes, falling for the deception. "I'm sure you do, but I don't require the help, thanks." Her gaze rested upon him once more, measuring and turning over ideas until finally, she offered up something relatively safe. "You're rich. I suppose some people might call that a credit to a person's worth."
What an interesting way to phrase such a thing.
"You don't?" he asked, genuinely curious.
She shook her head. "You didn't earn the money. You inherited it."
"And you can't respect that?"
"No, not really. I believe in earning your way in the world." Looking at her askance, he considered having this particular conversation with her at this particular moment. Should he? It might stir up a hornet's nest.
Or it could make her see him in a different light.
Weighing the pros versus the cons of letting her in on his future plans, he decided on taking the gamble and hoping the chips would fall in his favour as a result. "What if you found out that I intended on taking that inheritance and putting it towards worthy endeavours?"
Scoffing, she chuckled. "Like building up the family fortune?"
"That would be a by-product, yes, but my plans would benefit the community as well. It would provide jobs and educational opportunities—yes, Granger, what I plan will help educate people," he reiterated in response to her skeptical glance. "I have a three-tiered strategy already worked out. I plan to expand the family business. We're currently invested in light commodities trading. First, with Father and the Ministry's help, I want to open trade with the Asian markets for healing potions ingredients in their raw, plant forms. I want to import them here. That will take several years of negotiation work, as the Eastern wizards are notoriously protectionist. Then, I'll offer the plants to Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang to care-take. They can use them in their greenhouse curriculum, and in return, they'll sell me their finalized harvests. The money I give them in trade should help them to pay the professors more than the pittance they're getting now, and maybe even help them come up with some stimulating programs for the students. Merlin knows they could shake this place up a bit with an interesting guest speaker once in a while."
He shrugged, as he wasn't interested in fixing the educational curriculum, per se. That he'd leave that to the Board of Governors. His interest was in cultivating the plants.
"For the third part of the plan, I'll take the finished products and sell them to apothecaries around the world. I plan to corner the market on potion ingredient distribution. I'll have a pile of Galleons to sleep on, and a staff of hundreds by the time I retire and turn the company over to my own son." He glanced at her and grinned. "Oh, and if you dare steal my idea and try to beat me to the market, I'll spank you hard."
Literally, she sat and stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment. "Attempting to catch lacewing flies now?" he joked, indicating her unhinged jaw. "I could use a crop of them, too. Notoriously difficult to get fresh, I hear."
Clamping her teeth together so hard he could hear the snap across the room, he watched in gleeful delight as Hermione Granger struggled over the concept that Draco Malfoy was more exceptionally creative than even she had anticipated. "But-… How-…" she stammered, obviously searching for the proper words to praise his ingeniousness. "That is to say-…"
He waited with bated breath for the moment she finally admitted aloud that he, her supposed 'bitterest rival', was more discerningly calculating than even she'd given him credit for.
"How...ruthlessly inspired of you, Malfoy," she stated. For a fraction of a second, he took offense to her words. Then he realized what a great compliment she'd actually just given him and felt his lips twitch with amusement.
"I knew you'd come to appreciate my slipperiness soon enough, Granger! Only a matter of time."
She stared at him with begrudging respect, but wisely held her tongue.
Draco's heart swelled in his chest. Was this the first time she'd ever looked at him so? He was sure it was, and the thought made him almost giddy. He'd done the impossible and made Hermione finally see the real him, the man behind the throne!
The gamble had paid off this time.
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