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He's staring out the window when he hears the sharp taps at his door. Grating and incessant. He sighs, breaks his gaze and marches through his candle lit apartment. The hurricane had not only ruined his Friday night plans, a date with a woman he met at a coffee shop on his way to work one morning but it had stripped his apartment of electricity. He had texted Blaise earlier, asking him to come over and get drunk but Blaise hadn't replied yet. So he was left to stare out at the storm and curse Mother Nature for bad timing. Until the knocking.
He's already annoyed and in a sour mood when he opens the door, but the young woman standing on the other side of it does nothing to improve his mood. She sighs irritably and crosses her arms over chest.
"Great," she mutters. "You're without power too."
Draco doesn't answer right away. He knows this woman from somewhere. He's seen her before. She's tapping him sharply on the shoulder.
"Hello?" she says mockingly.
"Do I know you?" are the words that slip from his lips and he immediately knows he's fucked.
She looks at him, so offended that he worries she might slap him.
"Do I know you?" she repeats scathingly. "I live across the hall."
"My name is Hermione, thanks for asking by the way." she says coolly.
"Hm, Hermione, are you always this rude to your neighbors?" he drawls, because she is getting on his last nerve.
He notices the way she shivers when he says her name.
"I could say the same to you!" she snaps, stomping her foot against the carpeted floor.
Draco leans against his doorway, a smirk playing on his lips. Maybe this would be an entertaining evening. She's glaring at him now, arms crossed and lips set in a thin line.
"Look—I really don't fancy storms and I haven't got any candles-"
"You haven't got any candles?" he asks with a laugh.
The young woman rolls her eyes. She's now tapping her foot impatiently, glancing up and down the empty hall.
"Can I come in or what?" she asks impatiently.
Draco taps his chin, adopting a playful smile. She's quite pretty, even if she is angry. And he found it rather adorable that she afraid of storms. Brave enough to knock on a stranger's door, but not brave enough to sit alone in a storm.
"I suppose." he says finally.
She sighs in relief and pushes past him, clearly eager to get out of the hall. He shuts the door behind him and watches as she drinks in his apartment. There's books scattered everywhere; mostly autobiographies on historical figures and alien conspiracies. His coffee table is spotless however. The walls bare and painted what his landlord had called 'eggshell white'. The fireplace is stocked and roaring. And he's thanking whatever may be above that he cleans his flat on the daily and it therefore does not smell like the 'typical single man's' flat.
"You believe in aliens?" she asks scathingly.
Seriously, who is this chick?
(7:33) dude what's up?
(7:33) Im with pansy and theo
(7:34) nvm
(7:34) tell pansy and theo I say hey tho
(7:35) u sure?
(7:35) this hurricanes fucking insane
(7:36) pansy says ur an ass for not answering her text yesterday
(7:36) and she's ignoring you now
(7:36) theo says hey tho
(7:36) go away blaise
(7:37) wtf? you texted me first
(7:37) whatever
(7:37) wait r u w a girl rn?
(7:37) draco
(7:38) ugh fine don't answer
(7:38) text me ltr and tell me how it went
"That was rather rude." she says, tapping her foot again.
He looks up from his phone, stuffs it back into his pocket and smiles mockingly at her.
"So is ruining your neighbor's Friday night plans."
She snorts. The way her face contorts is hideous but damn she's so beautiful. So so so beautiful. And fun to antagonize.
"What, pray tell, where you planning on doing in this weather?" she points dramatically at the windows, where raining is slashing against them.
"Well, I did have a date. But the hurricane ruined that. So I decided to get drunk by myself and read or something. But you ruined that. So." he says with a shrug.
She arches an eyebrow. Does she ever chill with the sass? Or is on full fucking blast twenty-four seven? Because if they were ever a thing—not that he wants that at all—he's not sure he could stand this.
"About aliens?" she says with a suppressed laugh. "You were going to get drunk and read about aliens?"
Now it's him who's arching an eyebrow and rolling his eyes and using his well-practiced condescending tone.
"You know there's actually a lot of physical evidence involved, right? Like—the government hides so much from us, it's ridiculous. There's a list of alien species they've encountered over time and-"
She's giggling. She's fucking giggling. There's tears in her eyes and she's clutching her stomach, doubled over. At first he's actually infuriated—like god how closed-minded was she—but then she's smiling at him. It's gentle and sincere and gorgeous. She cocks her head and runs her hand along the back of his couch.
"Alright then. Let's get drunk and you can tell me all about aliens."
He smiles and nods slower than is normal for someone who is totally not at all interested in the beautiful girl standing in the middle of their living room.
"Whiskey or wine?" he says. "It's all I have."
"Can you make it a whiskey sour?"
He nods again.
This was definitely better than a coffee shop date or getting drunk with Blaise. And it was definitely better than getting drunk by himself.