Chapter Text
After nine years of being shuffled around different projects and companies; of being on his best behavior and showing nothing but the utmost respect to those in charge, and of annual requests to be put on this project, the day was finally here. His request had been accepted, much to his pleasant surprise.
Draco straightened the cufflinks that peeked out from beneath the arms of his tailored forest green robes as the lift opened on level four of the Ministry of Magic. He stepped off, head high and walking with purpose towards the Muggle Liaison Department. He opened the door and entered as a young wizard, not much past Hogwarts age, lifted his head with a tight smile.
“Draco Malfoy,” Draco stopped in front of the reception desk, “Here to see Hermione Granger.”
“Mm. Yes, we were notified of your visit. If you’ll have a seat in the waiting area,” he gestured to three chairs off to the side of the desk, “Ms. Granger will be out shortly.”
Draco pointedly glanced at the clock behind the receptionist that read promptly nine o’clock in the morning before he turned for the chair closest to him. She kept him waiting for seven additional minutes before the faint sound of pumps on tile echoed from down the hall, growing louder with each step before Hermione turned the corner. She was dressed in crisp black Ministry robes over a violet silk blouse and black trousers with highly practical pumps as she paused and eyed him.
“Malfoy.” She said evenly in greeting, “You can follow me.”
Draco stood, smoothing the vest over his white button-down and dipping his head as he walked towards her. He’d practiced this. He’d thought about it—over thought about it—for weeks. Be calm, collected and cool.
“Granger.” He said as he approached her, “Thank you for the opportunity—”
Hermione turned from him and started walking back down the hall before he finished as though she hadn’t even heard him and he stood staring at the wall, blinking, for a moment before his head turned towards her and his jaw clenched shut, turning on his heel and following her.
His long legs made it quick to catch up with her and he cleared his throat as he reached her side, “I appreciate the opportunity—” he tried again, but she cut him off.
“This is the Muggleborn Initiatives Office,” she stopped outside a door, grabbing the doorknob. “For the rest of your service period you can come straight here. The staff in the Muggle Liaison Department is thin right now and no one’s got the time to chauffeur you around. As articulated in your introduction owl, you will be directly helping me with various projects I’m working on in order to prepare for our summer program sessions introducing the incoming class of muggleborn students and their families to the wizarding world. There are two other staff members on my team, both of whom are very busy, and both of whom have full authority to ask you to help them with other tasks over the next few months. You are to do as you’re asked and you are free to leave at five o’clock after your service shifts. You can take an hour break for lunch, but please report back promptly as we have a lot we’re hoping to get through before our first program starts next month, and even more to get through before students arrive for the train to Hogwarts in September.”
And then she turned from him and pushed the door open, “Michael, Hannah,” she said as they walked into the room and each poked their heads out from their respective cubes. Draco recognized them from Hogwarts, in or around their year if he remembered correctly—Hannah was a Hufflepuff and he thought Michael may have been on the Ravenclaw quidditch team. “I’m sure you remember Malfoy. Feel free to delegate any tasks you see fit. As we discussed, he’ll be here for the next three months as we ramp up our summer programs before the school year.”
“Hi!” Hannah said brightly.
“Hello.” Michael nodded to Draco with a bit more apprehension.
“Good morning,” he greeted them both in the pleasant tone he’d spent years perfecting.
“Hannah deals with all of our correspondence: owls with parents of muggleborns, handling feedback, and helping with the preparations of final binders and learning materials for our events. Michael handles our budgets, finances and any necessary Ministry licenses or approvals. And I create, write and run the programs. Normally we’d have two interns with us during our busy months leading up to program season—over the summer—but they’ve cut all non-essential Ministry funding this year to make room in the budget for a new international stadium for the Department of Magical Games and Sports,” she looked a tinge annoyed at this fact, “So we weren’t able to bring on our interns. You are their replacement. There will be a lot of work that needs to get done and we only have you three days a week to do it.”
“I’m more than happy to help get it all completed timely.” He gave her what he hoped was a genuine smile.
She simply eyed him and then turned for her office near the back of the room, “Thank you Hannah and Michael, if you have any tasks, just pop in and let me know.”
“Will do!” Came from each as they rolled their chairs back into their respective spaces.
Draco followed Hermione into her office, the confidence he’d walked in with this morning dissipating with every dismissive action she took and a bite of annoyance taking its place, though he tamped it down and didn’t let it show.
Hermione walked around her desk and opened a folder that she handed to him along with a quill as they both sat, “This is just standard paperwork you’ll need to fill out for our employment files. Once you’ve finished with that, I have a task ready for you to get started with.”
“Granger,” he looked up from the papers in his hands and was met with a stony look from Hermione, “It’s clear you’d prefer I was not here.” He kept his tone even and conversational.
“We needed the help.” She said as she side-stepped the implication.
“And I am here to help. I’ve requested to complete service for your department for—”
“Five years. I’m aware. I’ve denied it every time. This is not a department that I want your influence in, if I’m being honest. But we are desperate for help leading up to program season and you were my only option. That is why you’re here.”
She was straight to the point and it cut like a blade as his mouth clamped shut again. There were a few ways he could play this. He went with modesty. “Understood. I’ll get to my paperwork.”
Hermione looked back down at the stack of parchment that now sat on top of her desk and picked it up, eyes scanning as Draco noted that she disconnected from their conversation. He let his gaze roam over her for a moment in the silence, taking in her focused brown eyes, the slight crease to her brow, the set of her lips in a tight line, and the mane of curls that seemed to have simmered from its early years of wild unruliness into more of a controlled frenzy that had tamed slightly with age, but still gave off the possibility that it may be electric to the touch.
His fingers tingled at the thought of that and it crossed his mind that he’d never seen another person whose hair gave off the same general aura as the person itself. But just like her hair, Hermione seemed controlled, frenzied, matured and positively electric. His lip quirked at this subconscious thought and it dawned on him that he may very well find Hermione Granger attractive in a way he hadn’t realized, and in a way that felt like maybe he always had without letting himself acknowledge it. Perhaps he’d just never stopped to look at her like this; unencumbered and up close. Though it was not his intention to come to this realization and certainly could not be the focus of his attention while in his role assisting her department. He had a task to accomplish—one he’d waited years for.
He watched as she drew in a long breath through her nose, the muscles in her neck tightening, and he blinked himself back to the moment. He looked down at the parchment in his own hand, lifting the quill to begin filling in his basic information for their employment files.
He’d expected her to be standoffish with him. He had applied five times and been denied before she’d accepted his request this year. So he knew it had been an internal battle for her to even allow him into her office. He hadn’t expected her to be quite so fiercely cold with him, however, since he’d assumed that if she'd been ready to accept his request, it must mean she was ready to be in the same space with him after all these years. And though he’d clearly been incorrect in his assumption, it wouldn’t dampen his resolve. She was the last name on his list and he was determined to get to a point where he could fulfill his goals of getting through that list. Now wasn’t the time, however. That much was obvious.
If he were being honest with himself, he respected her for owning her feelings towards him without sugarcoating it. He’d never given her a reason to give him a chance; to see something good or worthy of her time. He’d always been a terrible git. For every second of their acquaintanceship. A terrible, horrible, bigoted git. So this response from her today was warranted. And he knew that. But it was only the beginning of their time in close proximity and he just had to bide that time and continue making concerted efforts to show himself as respectful and humble until her defenses against him dropped and he could get in a few words without being dismissed or told off. He could do it. He’d waited too long for this opportunity not to.
He’d watched her build the Muggleborn Initiatives Office out of nothing, six years ago, and create a space that he was sure she wished had existed when she was eleven. A space where she, and her family, could have came, over the span of three program sessions throughout the summer, and learned about the wizarding world; their history and government; their jobs and ways of life. And especially for someone like Hermione, a space she could have learned more about the academic journey she was about to embark on; about spellcasting and arithmancy and potions and magical creatures. It had made a lot of sense, when he’d read about the office she’d opened within the Muggle Liaison Department in the Prophet six years ago. It was something he’d never really thought about before; the inequity of not growing up in this world and having to learn what day to day life was really like along with starting their coursework at Hogwarts. So as soon as he’d been able to, he’d applied for a volunteer position to help her department. He’d started working on his own personal checklist around the same time, so the timing had seemed perfect. Until she rejected his application. Again, and again, and again. But he was finally here and he would not waste this opportunity. He would show her that he’d changed and that he respected what she’d created.
After an hour of paperwork, completed in a crackling silence, Draco closed the folder and held it out towards Hermione, “I’m finished. What can I get started with?”
Hermione glanced up before taking the folder in one hand and pointing to a stack of what must be a hundred pieces of parchment on the edge of her desk with the other, “Those each need to be rolled and tied for the afternoon post. There’s a small desk by the window you can work at. Our space was downsized this year so you’ll have to share the space with me, it’s cramped enough in the other room with Michael and Hannah.”
Draco held in another sigh at her brashness as he grabbed the stack of parchment and stood. “Of course, not a problem,” he said as he walked over to the smaller desk and sat himself down, pulling the first parchment forward and tapping it with his wand as it rolled neatly before he grabbed a twine string and flourished his wand in a more delicate fashion as it wrapped around the parchment and tied into a pristine bow. He busied himself with the rest of the stack as his mind wandered, fixating on every possible scenario of how future conversations might go and hoping he would find an opening for the one he really wanted to have.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Over the next two weeks of menial tasks, he began to notice that Hermione had different little noises she would make when she was frustrated or content or feeling particularly accomplished. It had taken him about a week to distinguish between them, and the next week he’d spent internally guessing what might be causing the different reactions based on what he was working on and what she might be working on. He knew the first of the summer programs was only another two weeks away—beginning the first week of July—and the stress in the office seemed to be building with each new day that ticked by.
“I’ve finished with alphabetizing the materials for the incoming students.” Draco said as he placed a stack of twelve paperclipped packets on Hermione’s desk.
“You can take them to Hannah to put together the final binders.” she said without looking up, another sigh falling that indicated she was tired, likely from working late, as he’d learned she did often from overhearing conversations between her and Michael—conversations in which she was perfectly friendly to the other boy.
“Of course.” He picked the packets back up and turned on his heel with a long breath out through his nose as he left her office and knocked on the frame to Hannah’s cube.
“Hi,” she smiled as she looked up, eyes dropping to the packets in his hand, “Are those for me?”
“For the final binders of learning materials,” he handed them off with his own polite smile.
Hannah flipped through them, counting as she went before she nodded, “Thank you!” as he turned to leave she spoke again, “Are you doing anything fun this weekend?”
Draco paused before turning back, “Oh, ah, not necessarily. I do the same thing most weekends.”
“And what’s that? I feel like you haven’t stopped to chat since you’ve been here.” She was so genuinely nice that Draco tried not to smirk at the quintessential Hufflepuff-ness of her in that moment.
“I’ve been doing my best to get through all the work I can help with around here. But my weekends usually consist of an evening with friends on Fridays, dinner with my mother on Saturday evenings and an adult Quidditch league I play in on Sundays.”
“Well that sounds lovely.” Hannah flashed another smile.
“And… are you doing anything of note this weekend?” He assumed that should be his next question. Small talk was not his forte.
“Oh yes, I’m off to Denmark to visit a friend—Ernie MacMillan, if you remember him. He’s recently moved to a nice little wizarding community just west of Copenhagen.”
Draco hummed, he remembered Ernie only because he’d recognized him as another Sacred-28 pureblood when they’d started school and had been very confused when the boy had been placed in Hufflepuff. “Copenhagen is very nice this time of year.”
“I do love getting out to explore other places.”
“I do as well. Though international portkeys have become a bit more difficult for me to obtain…” he held in the ‘after my stint in Azkaban,’ which didn’t really need to be spoken to be understood.
Hannah’s eyes were soft as she nodded, “I can see how they would be. Hopefully it’s not impossible.”
“Where there's a will, there’s a way,” he gave her a small, crooked grin. “I should get back to my next task. Enjoy your trip.”
“Thank you!”
Draco returned to Hermione’s office and she lifted her head and furrowed her brows, “Where have you been?”
“Abbott asked about my weekend plans,” he said. “We just chatted for a moment.”
“Oh.” Hermione looked down at another stack of papers in her hands, “Alright. Well I need you to proof-read these scripts for me. They’re for the welcome segment of the program.”
“Sure.” he took the stack from her. “Do you have… any plans for the weekend?” he tried.
“I—yes,” she faltered, not expecting the question and looking befuddled as to how to respond to it. “Mostly working. There’s a lot to get through.”
“As you’ve mentioned,” he tried his sly grin on her and she simply stared back at him with those big, brown eyes that dragged you in like a current with all the strength to pull you under and steal the breath from your lungs if you didn’t see it coming.
“The first program starts—”
“—In two weeks,” he finished for her resolutely, holding in a sigh. “I’ll get proof-reading.” At least he’d tried something. Speaking to each other was going to be necessary if he was ever going to get to the conversation he had planned for her. But she was so unwelcoming of his presence that he hadn’t found a way to broach any conversation not directly related to the work she’d been giving him. It wasn’t like him to be intimidated by anyone. But Hermione Granger intimidated him. And the fact that she intimidated him seemed to stir some feeling that was completely unrelated in his abdomen. He quickly quelled that feeling back down.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
It took him a few hours to get through the five-page introduction and welcome speech Hermione had drafted and when he returned to her desk again, he sat in the chair and waited for her to look up, which she did after a few moments.
“I made some changes. I thought there were a few important segments of the program you hadn’t noted that people would be able to look forward to. Wizarding history, for example, is a little less exciting of a topic you’ll cover than progression of spell casting, apparating or flying on a broom. If you’re only going to note a few topics in the introduction, I’d recommend going with ones that will make them excited for the day.”
“Wizarding history is not boring.” she said as she scanned his comments and notes on her parchment.
“Just a suggestion. There are a few I’ve added in throughout.”
“I can see that.”
“Consider them at your leisure, just trying to provide honest feedback.”
“Mhm.” she responded, setting the parchment down, “Well, it’s just about five, so how about you take off for the day and you can start on the next task on Wednesday.”
“I will see you then,” he said as he stood, turning as he reached the door. “Have a nice weekend, Granger.”
In his peripheral he saw her lift her head and watch him as he turned and left the room, a contemplating crease in her brow again. That was good. That was a reaction that wasn’t blatant disgust. And he’d take that as a little win.
O-o-o-o-o-o-o
Draco’s fire burned green Friday evening as Theo Nott walked through, “Cheers, Draco!” he said jovially as he strode into the sitting room where Draco was lounging on a dark brown leather couch.
“Nott,” Draco responded in a bored tone, a stack of parchment in his hands and reading glasses on, as his eyes scanned the top sheet.
“No, no, it’s the weekend, whatever you’re doing, put it down.” And then Theo yanked the parchment from Draco’s hands.
“Hey!” he protested as he finally looked over at his friend. “I wanted to finish reading that page. Give it back, you git.”
Theo looked at the parchment he’d snatched up and read the first sentence at the top aloud, “The first recorded game of Quidditch was detailed in the year 1050 and evolved over time as new elements such as rules and different balls were introduced —what in the world is this?”
“It’s Granger’s attempt at a learning session about Quidditch.”
“This is the most boring introduction to Quidditch I’ve ever seen. Just bring in some brooms and a snitch and let them see for themselves.”
“Look, believe me, I am trying to spruce up the curriculum into something more exciting. Granger is incredibly smart but when it comes to things she’s less familiar with—like Quidditch—she defaults to facts and history.”
“Incredibly smart, hm?” Theo wiggled his eyebrows at Draco and then he gave Draco another once-over, “those reading glasses look good on you, by the way. Very hot bad-boy professor.”
Draco rolled his eyes at his second comment. “Granger is smart. She always has been, don’t give me that look, Nott,” he said as Theo’s eyebrows raised again with interest. “The session she’s got planned for the basic overview on Hogwarts courses is actually really well done. There’s magical elements and the descriptions she wrote up are succinct and actually make them sound fun rather than like school courses.”
“I think someone’s smitten,” Theo’s grin made Draco want to slap it off his face.
“I am not—”
The fire burned green again and Blaise and Daphne came through. “Evening,” Blaise said. “What’s going on here?”
Theo was now holding the parchment over his head after Draco had tried to snag it back from him with the distraction of their friends’ entrance.
“I’m holding Draco’s volunteer work hostage until he admits he likes Granger.”
“You like Granger?” Blaise’s tone was intrigued, rather than anything else. “Very interesting development.”
“I don’t like her. I mean, I like her just fine, but I don’t—” he gave an annoyed huff. “You’re both being prats about this.”
“I think it’s sweet you like her,” Daphne said with her own sly smile, taking the armchair next to the couch, “Really shows that personal growth you’ve been working on.”
The fire burned green one more time and Pansy Parkinson walked into the room and towards the sitting area with a swish to her hips and a covered charcuterie board. “What have I missed,” her eyes sparkled as she looked around at everyone and took in the annoyance on Draco’s face, the parchment in Theo’s hands and the wide grins on Blaise and Daphne.
“Draco’s enamored with Hermione Granger,” Daphne said swiftly.
“I am not enamored,” Draco pulled the reading glasses off and ran a hand down his face in frustration, “You’re all taking this significantly out of context.”
“I thought you just wanted to check the final name off your apology list,” Pansy parroted back the indignant words he’d said a hundred times every time he complained about Hermione’s denial of his repeated requests to volunteer for her department. Or anytime he was faced with a reminder of her from Prophet interviews or Witch Weekly candids or seeing her from afar in Diagon Alley…
Now that he thought about it, he may have griped about Hermione’s avoidance of him more than he realized. But she was the one person who still, ten years after the war, refused to give him the time of day. Fairly, he reminded himself.
“I do want to check her name off my apology list,” he countered. It was true, he did. It just, maybe, wasn’t the full truth of it. But he was still coming to terms with that; he’d only just begun to realize what had been lying dormant in relation to his interest in Hermione Granger. “And this whole speculation of yours doesn't even matter because Granger can barely stand the sight of me. I’m just there to get enough goodwill to apologize and maybe do something helpful along the way.”
“You’re impossible not to warm up to with your charming personality, Draco,” Theo waved him off and Draco wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not.
Pansy nodded earnestly, “She’ll come around and I’m sure you’ll come out of this as very close friends.” Draco was sure that Pansy was being sarcastic.
“Can we please drop this and open the wine I set out? Mother sent a vintage bottle from Bordeaux.”
The others shared a glance that he pointedly ignored before Pansy set the charcuterie platter on the coffee table and Theo sat down next to Draco on the couch with a clap on the back. “Happy to help with the wine, mate. I’ve brought cards for a friendly game of poker.”
The game was anything but friendly.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
When Draco returned to the Muggleborn Initiatives office on Wednesday morning, Hermione was sipping a cappuccino and reading through a long scroll of parchment.
“Good morning.” He said as he paused in front of her desk.
“Good morning.” She replied, setting down her cappuccino and giving him her attention for what might have been the second time since he’d started working for her.
“How was your weekend?” He tried.
“Pleasant.” She hesitated before continuing in a way that looked labored; like she didn’t really have time for this, but knew it was the appropriate thing to do when asked. “I was able to spend some time with friends on Saturday night once I’d gotten through these edits.”
Obligated or not, this was… a promising start to a conversation. “Taking some time off of work during the weekends is healthy.”
“There’s—”
“A lot to get done?” He finished, noting the slight downturn to her brow as she’d started her sentence and recognizing it as her overworked stress-crease.
“Yes.” She handed over the parchment she’d been reading through, back to business. “This is a revised introduction speech. I rewrote it based on some of your comments and recommendations. They were—insightful.”
“I try to be useful where I can.” His breath missed a beat as he picked up on the compliment; his first real sense of hope in their working relationship, even if she wasn’t giving him anything on a personal level. But there was something in her eyes he couldn’t look away from; something about having her praise and her full attention that pulled him into the moment.
“If you could give this another read through, I’ll get it finalized so I can start working on the closing speech.”
He took the parchment from her, “If it would help, I’d be happy to write a draft of the closing statement; I saw you already had notes for the key points and callbacks to hit.”
“You’re offering to write a draft of the program session closing speech?” She frowned in confusion.
“I am capable of more than rolling parchment and alphabetizing. I had mostly O’s in my O.W.L.s. I assume I would have in my N.E.W.T.s as well, in different circumstances.”
“In different circumstances,” she repeated, as though rolling that statement around in her mind as she appraised him.
“I just thought it might take one time-consuming thing off your plate.”
“Go ahead, then,” she waved after clearly weighing the worth of a few hours of writing time, and perhaps interested to see what he’d come back with. “Give it a shot.”
“Alright. I can have it to you by end of day tomorrow. I’ll get started on it when I finish with edits on the welcome speech.” He flashed her a humble smile before he returned to the small work desk by the windows and he felt her eyes on him the whole way. He sat as though he hadn’t noticed and began his task of editing and revising for the morning, a small swell of pride in his chest for impressing Hermione Granger even when she did not want to be impressed with him. It was one small step, but if he could climb that one, he could climb more.