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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. 

Chapter Text

It was the end of the third week when Hermione approached Draco's small desk with the closing speech draft that he’d written in hand. She was wearing what looked like a new skirt suit, length appropriately right above the knee but hugging her hips in a way that made him actively remind himself not to stare as his eyes continued to lift. And then he eyed the parchment in her hands where he could see scribbles of notes in the margins and a handful of cross-outs.

“Hi.” She greeted him awkwardly, “I went through and edited the draft you put together for the closing speech. It was—quite good.” She forced the compliment out. “I made some changes and added a few things I thought we could discuss here, if you have a few minutes.”

“Of course.” He cleared the desk, levitating what he’d been working on to the shelf nearby as she spread the parchment out and delved into her changes, which included a fresh paragraph to bring in her own experience as a first-year muggleborn, as he’d left space for her to do. Hermione also brought up a few points she thought she wanted to add, but was curious of his opinion on. He gave her his best, most respectful feedback and she crossed-out and rescribbled new notes where applicable before she piled the parchment together again and handed it to him.

“Overall that was a very good draft. I can tell a lot of thought went into it.”

“I am nothing if not articulate and well-spoken.” He gave her another smile that she eyed warily.

“Right. I also wanted to say thank you,” she cleared her throat a bit, “for leaving space for me to write in my own experience. That was a good idea and clearly something I’d want to come directly from me.”

”It wasn’t for me to write,” he said simply, “I just filled in the closing remarks around it that would summarize the program so that you could focus on the meaningful bit.”

”Right,” she said again, looking conflicted on how to appropriately respond. “So, if you could make those edits and get another draft to me on Wednesday—”

“I actually have a free Saturday and I noticed you tend to be here on Saturdays as well, I could come in tomorrow to finish this up for you. I know there’s only a week until the program starts and I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do. My three-days-a-week schedule makes it difficult to complete everything I’d like to help with sometimes.”

“I contractually cannot ask you to do that.”

“Well I’ve uncontractually offered.”

She took a deep breath, “I guess I would see no need to send you home if you showed up here in the morning on your own free will. I really would like to have that sealed away before the week starts so I can focus on the final materials and do some dry-runs.”

“Then I will see you on Saturday morning.”

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

Draco walked into the Muggleborn Initiatives Office early on Saturday with a box of scones, croissants and muffins from a local bakery by his home, as well as two cappuccinos.

“Good morning,” he greeted Hermione as he walked into her office.

She looked up, brows furrowing again as she looked down to the items in his hand and his eyes simultaneously roamed over her weekend office attire that included an unusually low cut, though baggy, sweater and, if his glance served him correctly, muggle jeans. He tried not to stare down the V of her sweater, but with her leaning over the desk just so, he could see an alluring amount of cleavage as he dragged his eyes back to hers.

“I’ve noticed you prefer cappuccino,” he said as he set it on her desk, willing the huskiness out of his voice as he cleared his throat and tried to stop thinking about what her chest might look like bare to him. That was never a thing he’d have the privilege of seeing. “So I picked one up for you as I was grabbing my own. And I also brought some breakfast. I don’t know your preference so there’s an assortment of bakery items.”

“You did not have to bring breakfast,” she said as she looked at him, not-so-inconspicuously pulling the cappuccino towards herself.

“Well, it’s here if you’d like anything. Enjoy the cappuccino.” He bit down the sting at her lack of appreciation, which killed any lingering fantasies that may have been forming as annoyance took its place. 

“Thank you.” She said, clearing her throat.

Draco took his seat at the small desk and quietly played out a very frustrated conversation in his head about manners and niceties and gods he was trying, and didn’t she see that? He ate all of those things down, too, with a deep breath before focusing on his task as he sipped his own cappuccino and reached for a scone.

They worked in silence for half a day before Draco finished the edits on the closing speech and returned to her desk. “This should be all set. I can get started on something else if you’d like. I don’t have plans until later.”

She hesitated before shaking her head, “No, that’s alright.” She took them from him, setting them to the side, and looked back at what she was working through.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else? Or if you’d like to check in the edits I’ve just painstakingly been working through today to make sure there's nothing further on those?”

“I’ll remind you that I did not ask you to come in today, Malfoy.” She didn’t raise her eyes to his.

He could feel the frustration bubbling again, “Yes, but I came anyway. To help you, because I know your time is limited before the programs start.”

“On your own accord.”

“A little appreciation would still be nice.” It came out colder than he'd meant it too, and more snippy. It was just one brush-off too many.

She looked up this time, “Ah, there we are. Is there anything else you’d like to say?”

“I just—“ he felt a groan rumble in his throat as he swallowed it down with everything else, ”I’ve been doing everything in my arsenal to make nice these last few weeks and you’ve given me nothing. It’s infur—it’s difficult. I don’t know why you’re being so damned difficult.”

“Well first, I feel like this is the first genuine thing you’ve said to me since you walked into this office.” Draco scoffed, but she continued, “And second, I told you on day one that if I had any other choices, I’d have denied your request again. You have—surprised me with your work and work ethic, I’ll give you that. But this fakely-nice routine is just wearing on me.”

“It’s not a routine,” he said through gritted teeth. “I am trying to show you that I’ve changed. That I respect you.”

It was Hermione’s chance to scoff now. “You don’t pretend to be something you’re not to prove change, Malfoy. If you’d come in here as someone believable, perhaps I would have felt differently. But all of this ‘I appreciate the opportunity’ rubbish; the unsolicited coffee and scones; the weekend chit-chat; the pleasant smiles—I don’t buy that. That’s not Draco Malfoy; even a reformed Draco Malfoy. That’s something deceitfully constructed to appear humble and kind, which is quite the opposite of being humble and kind. It doesn’t make me believe you’re some miraculously benevolent version of yourself.”

”Well maybe I’m not, but I’m trying,” the words came out with such emphasis that silence fell between them for a moment as the impact hit. And then he continued, “Look, I may reign myself in and consider my words and presentation more carefully when I’m here, but it doesn’t change the reason I’m doing it.”

“You mean to complete the community service hours required by your parole after your year in Azkaban?” The initial sting of her tone in this conversation had abated to a degree and there was something else there now, something pushing him to explain, something that had seen what she had been looking for this whole time and now wanted more.

“No, I mean the reason I keep requesting to do those hours with your department.”

“And why do you, Malfoy? Why torment my desk with your requests after I deny them each year?”

“Because I just—Fuck—because I want to do something to give back to the people I directly impacted in the war. And in my mind, one of those people always had to be you.” 

There was another static silence between them after that came out. He’d meant it. And it had been clear that he’d meant it. She couldn’t possibly think he was just saying that as a show.

“And you think this will make up for it?” She finally said.

“No.” He said defensively, “Not at all. Not even—not even close. It’s just something I can do for now. Until I think of something more that would mean anything.”

Her eyes moved between his for a moment before her voice softened for the first time, “There’s nothing you can do to change the past,” she said. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to make it up to everyone. Just—you did your time in Azkaban, Malfoy. You’re doing your community service hours. That was your sentence. Just get on with your life like we all had to. You don’t have any more debt to pay.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t agree.” He stood his ground. “If there’s more I can do, I have to. And you can think that’s just something I’m saying to sound humble—or whatever, but it’s not. That’s what I’m going to keep doing whether you believe me or not.”

They stared at each other for another minute and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“If you’d like to stay, there’s the final itineraries that need to be written out cleanly and duplicated to add to the program materials. Your hand-writing is neater than mine, as I’ve learned.” She gestured to an itinerary in the corner of her desk with edits all over it.

“I can do that.” Draco picked it up as he summoned a roll of fresh parchment from the shelf along the wall and walked over to his desk and sat.

“And Malfoy,” he looked back up at her. “Just be yourself. This persona you’ve been showing me isn’t going to make me like you. I don’t need a watered down version of anyone in my life. I don’t have time for it.”

“Duly noted,” he said stiffly, turning back to the itinerary in his hand and beginning to scrawl the final details onto a fresh sheet of parchment, feeling like something had been accomplished, though he wasn’t sure exactly what.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

He didn’t try so hard, after that. It wasn’t that he wanted her approval any less, it was just clear that being formal and polite was only coming off as contrite and insincere. He was reformed. He was a better man than he had been. He could be himself and still be those things.

He was quieter over the next week; kept his head down and completed each task that was handed to him by the team. He barely spoke to Hermione because he didn’t really know what to say. That persona was the only one he’d practiced around others. He’d always had a point to prove in the presence of those who were not his close friends. So he barely knew how to act now; uncharacteristically self-conscious that maybe his real self still somehow wouldn’t be what she wanted. 

He’d endured a decent amount of what he'd experienced as pain and suffering in his life, and that was not including his one-year sentence in Azkaban. He’d survived torture and battle. He’d lost friends and family. He was not immune to the grief of war or the darkness that lingered. He’d had to suffocate through more darkness in prison in the form of a daily pummeling of depression and remorse. Something he could never really prepare for, even when he knew what was coming. So of course those things followed him, even now. But he could put it away, tucked in the back of his mind as he carefully curated the persona of someone unburdened and humbled. Calm and collected. Professional and respectable. Someone that could slip back into society and have some kind of positive impact that wouldn’t be received with disdain. It was a persona that had worked in most of the departments he’d volunteered in.

Even with the personal pain he’d endured in his life, he didn’t feel he had the privilege of outwardly coping. Of being traumatized or hurt. Of trying to figure out his place in everything and grieving over the childhood he’d lost. Because he’d been on the other side. He'd caused pain and suffering to the people who deserved to move forward from the war. He could not move forward in the same way. It wouldn’t be fair. He deserved to feel uncomfortable and to make himself the least-offensive version of himself that he could for others to bear being around. So that's what he'd always tried to do. He probably should have assumed that if anyone was going to see through the facade, it would be Hermione Granger.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

”What’s this?” Hermione asked as Draco handed her a parchment of notes the Thursday morning before the program sessions would begin the following week.

”If you want my honest self, I’ve got some opinions on the program materials.”

Hermione’s eyes scanned the parchment as her brows furrowed. “You’ve got a lot of opinions, apparently.”

”I think it’s important to remember that although the program is preparing them for school, it isn’t school. And I think introducing some of the more technical material is going to bog them down; bore them even.”

“You think the interrelation of wizards and part-humans is boring to a muggleborn?” She asked, setting the parchment down and pointing to one of his notes on scratching out the history of goblin rebellions and part-human rights movements.

“I think the level of detail you plan to go into is… robust. It's a little overkill when you’re just trying to introduce them to the world. As I’ve suggested—” he gestured for her to move down another line on the parchment and her eyes fell to it as he continued, “I think an overview of the different magical creatures, beings and part-humans would be more interesting, and in that session you can always note that at Hogwarts they’ll learn more about the relations between magical brethren, both positive and negative throughout history as we’ve worked our way towards coexisting in the most cooperative way.” He quoted the suggestion as he'd written it.

Hermione let a long breath of air out of her nose as her eyes darted side-to-side across his suggestions. And then she grabbed a quill without looking up and started crossing out certain suggestions. He almost groaned before he saw her circle or underline other items and then nod down at the paper.

”Alright, I see your point,” she finally said. “I’ll rework the section I had planned for wizarding and part-human conflict.”

”Seemed like a good way to continue to let them be bright-eyed about the inner workings of the magical community. Maybe when they meet a goblin or a… house elf… they’ll care about their welfare as much as you did, when you were their age. They are the future of magical cooperation, after all.” His tone was light, with a hint of jest at her days slinging S.P.E.W. badges.

Hermione looked up at this, their eyes meeting as his stomach flipped like it had started to do recently. There was always something so deep; so captivating in her eyes. There was always something searching for more there. He wanted to give her more. He wanted her to see him.

”I wouldn’t have thought you’d care how a first year might look at a house elf.”

“I care enough. But I assume you care a lot,” he said simply. Her mouth opened slightly and his gaze fell to her lips. He realized, in that moment, that he didn’t think there was anything quite as hot as Hermione Granger preparing to speak.

”I do care,” she said. “Perhaps I was too focused on the content and should have stepped back to think about the message.”

”We’re a team, Granger,” he gave her a grin. “I‘ll leave you with my suggestions. Let me know if you want to debate anything else in there.” And once again, he felt her eyes on him as he returned back to his small desk on the other side of the room.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

“So the first summer program starts on Monday,” Hermione broke him from his thoughts later that afternoon as he looked up at her. “The whole team will be participating in the operations of the program and since you are volunteering through the summer, we’ll need you there as well in an assistant capacity.”

“Sure,” he nodded.

“Do you have any questions or—anything before you’re thrown into a room of muggleborns and their muggle parents?”

“I have no issues with that,” he tensed and the words came out sharply. It’s not how he would have responded in the past, but she’d told him not to sugarcoat his personality. And that’s how he felt about the question.

“I meant, is there anything you'd like to know. I wasn’t insinuating that you wouldn’t want to be in the room.”

“Hard to tell, sometimes.” He said quietly before thinking, “I don’t have any questions. I’ve done enough studies on muggles since I left Azkaban. I’m not ignorant to their culture anymore.”

Hermione just nodded slowly, taking that in before she cleared her throat, “And obviously you’ve been through the itineraries and materials so you know what’s coming in the program. You’ll mostly be assisting with room prep for the different sessions, transporting our materials and helping people find their way from one place to another.”

”Alright.”

“Alright,” she echoed before she started to turn for her desk again. 

“Granger,” he heard himself saying before he’d fully thought through his next question, “Is there a reason you didn’t tell me I’d be participating in the program until today? I’ve heard you all talking about it since I started and I’ve never been mentioned in the plan.”

She looked at him, considering his question before she squared her shoulders back to him, hands coming together in front of her as her nails clipped against each other in a pensive sort of habit. “I didn’t know if I wanted you there,” she finally said. “It would have been near-impossible to run with three of us, but I just couldn’t decide if the benefit of another assistant was worth having to see you in a room full of bright-eyed eleven-year-old muggleborns. I want them to see the best of the wizarding world. I want them to be prepared for Hogwarts in some sort of similar way that those growing up in wizarding families are prepared; I want them to have some kind of equal footing to those who grew up around magic. And I didn’t know, four weeks ago, how you would look at those kids. If they would feel that different way that purebloods look at muggleborns... I didn’t want them to feel like I did, walking into a world and realizing they were different; that they had to catch up.”

This was it. This was the moment—the opening he’d been looking for. This was the moment he could apologize like he’d been waiting and waiting to do… he opened his mouth, the words on his tongue… but they didn’t come out. This moment wasn’t for him to take from her. He wanted to apologize. It was the entire reason he was here. But he didn’t want to make this about him.

”Yes, I guess that’s fair,” he said evenly. “For the record… I wouldn’t look at them in the way you feared, but I obviously get why you’d think I would.” They looked at each other for another moment, the apology in his eyes but still not pushing its way out before he continued, “But for some reason you’ve decided to invite me anyway. Is that just because you logistically need a fourth person?”

”Yes and no.” She sighed. “Yes, we logistically need a fourth person. But I also have come to my own personal conclusion that I don’t think you’ll make these kids feel like you made me feel. I think I am starting to believe that you care to some degree. I’ve read and reread that closing speech you wrote a hundred times. And I know I gave you the notes to hit, but you still wrote it. And it came off genuinely. Like it was a real send-off for these kids into the wizarding world. And I am—really appreciative of that.”

He nodded, “It was. It’s… what I thought you’d want to say to them.” She was… appreciative. His mind was reeling as he let the words roll through his head. She believed that he cared. She appreciated that he’d written something that was a real, genuine send-off. This felt very, very good.

”Because you know me so well,” she rolled her eyes.

“I do actually feel like I know you pretty well, Granger,” he gave her a small crooked smile at this. “Maybe not all of your personal life details, but you— “ he paused for effect, “I know you.” And the scary thing was… he felt like he did. He’d been following her career for years—hoping to get this opportunity—and between their interactions in school; the close watch he kept on the Golden Trio, and her academic achievements, her actions during the war and his time spent with her in the last month, he felt like he understood Hermione Granger: her goals, her motivations, her values. He’d studied her from afar at Hogwarts, trying to understand how someone like her could best him at every subject. And he’d studied her here; read through her notes in the margins of materials and speeches she’d written—the ones that made it into final drafts and the ones that didn’t—he felt like he could write an entire thesis on Hermione Granger and the intricacies of her hyper-focused, ever-working, ever-expanding mind.

“The personal details are important to really know someone, Malfoy. And you’re right that you haven’t been given the privilege of those things. So you can’t really know me.” She was serious now, more serious than he’d thought she’d be on this particular subject.

”Alright, then give me a chance to,” he said smoothly, raising his eyebrows like a challenge.

“To what?”

”To know you.”

There was a moment where they just looked at each other again as she contemplated him and then she gave him a very small pull of her lip, which almost lifted to a smile. “Let’s just get through this program.”

He dipped his head and as she started to walk away, he quietly murmured, “That wasn’t a no,” just loud enough for her to hear. But she didn't respond. And that, too, felt like a little win.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

“So how goes it with Granger?” Blaise asked from across the table at the back of a swanky lounge of a wizarding cocktail bar in west London on Friday night. The bar was easily missed by muggles, similar to the Leaky Cauldron, with its broken welcome sign and off-path entrance in the alley kitty-corner from a low-budget 24-hour diner.

“Better… I think,” Draco said. He still didn’t love the way his friends’ eyes twinkled every time they asked about her, but he was feeling more confident in his standing with her so it wasn’t as frustrating to talk about. “I’m figuring out how best to get through to her. I thought she’d appreciate a humbly-respectful approach from my end, but she called me out for being disingenuous. So I am trying to just… be myself. Little by little.”

“I don’t know that I’d recommend that approach, either,” Blaise grinned, covering it with his glass of firewhiskey as he took another sip.

“Fuck you, I’m not a terrible person,” the word anymore held in his throat as he cut it off with his own sip of firewhiskey.

Blaise sighed, “You’re not. But you’re also not humble; I’m not surprised she called you on it. Look—” he sighed again. Heart-to-hearts weren’t exactly a Slytherin’s comfort zone. “—you put in the work to muddle through your past and make changes. Just—just be confident in that. Granger’s too smart for you to fool her with anything else.”

“I know,” Draco conceded. “I’ve been working on it. She seems to be coming around a bit more now that I’ve cut the niceties.”

“It seems like you actually enjoy working with her; from what you’ve said.”

“Yes,” he said the word carefully. “She’s very… focused on the mission; determined to make it as beneficial as it can be for the incoming students. She really cares, you know. Makes everyone around her want to step up. She’s a good leader. I like working with people who know what they’re doing.”

“You have a lot of kind words for someone you’ve only been working with for four weeks and don’t ‘like’.”

“Well I’ve known her half my life, haven’t I? Even if it was from afar and in a blinded-by-hate sort of way in school. I still saw the things she did and why she did them. I just see it all a lot more clearly in retrospect; maybe not from her point of view, but I see her point of view and I get it all now like I didn’t then.”

“That’s a hell of an improvement from the past, Draco. Hope you know that.” And there was a sincerity in Blaise’s tone that told him it was something he truly, as his friend, wanted him to know about himself.

“Yes, it is,” he said firmly. His friends had been in his corner for years while he muddled through it all; while they all did, to some degree. But Blaise had never really leaned into any kind of allegiance to the Death Eaters, though he hadn’t sided with the Order, either. His parents were firmly out of it, as were Daphne’s, in neutral, under-the-radar territory. Blaise had almost fully cut ties with Draco seventh year for his blatant support of the Dark Lord, if not for his begrudging need as his friend to try and pull Draco back from the dark any time he got the chance to speak his mind; any time he saw Draco’s determination wavering. And he was there when Draco was ready to admit he was wrong after the war.

Theo and Pansy understood, more clearly, the pressures he’d dealt with. Their parents were loyal to the Dark Lord. Their parents wanted them to be on their side of things when it all went down. Theo was vehemently against anything his father wanted, although he’d been inundated with the same sentiments on blood purity enough in his childhood that it had retained some sort of power in his mind, even if he didn’t want to join the Death Eaters in defiance of his father. He’d shaken those blood purity notions quicker than any of them in the years after the war. He was, arguably, a better person than most of them were; annoyingly likable, social and empathetic. Made it easier for him to see other points of view, when he’d been ready to look.

Pansy inherently thought she was better than everyone else at that stage in her life, not only because the ideals of being a pureblood were hammered into her, but also because she’d always been told she was perfect; brought up as the golden child in her family and attaining near-perfect grades through school. She’d needed to do some work on herself in a similar way that Draco had. But she, too, had never fully leaned into the way of the Death Eaters. She wasn’t a violent person. She couldn’t bridge the gap between the idea that she was better—that being pureblood was better—with the idea that they should kill muggleborns. She might not have wanted to befriend them, but she also didn’t want to kill anyone and she thought the Dark Lord was mad for carrying out the pureblood ideals in this sort of fashion. Mad and terrifying. But she'd had to reconcile with the fact that she'd tried to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord before the final battle in her state of heightened fear.

“You playing quidditch on Sunday?” Blaise asked, changing the subject as he noticed Draco going into one of his momentary thought spirals from their current conversation.

“Can’t,” Draco said, pulling himself back to the present. “It’s program week so I offered to finish the last minute prep on some of the materials for Monday morning.

“Don’t you only volunteer Wednesday through Friday?”

“It’s a big week,” he shrugged as though it were no big deal, “They need all hands on deck and that is my job description. I’ll be helping all week.”

”And Sunday,” Blaise murmured.

Draco sent him a glare of a glance before responding, “Yes. And Sunday.”

“Alright,” Blaise said, that annoying smirk back on his face. “We’ll have Pucey fill in for you as seeker, then.”

Chapter Text

The following Monday morning was a rush of stress and instructions, going from room to room placing materials and making runs back to the office for more boxes or forgotten items. But Draco was incredibly pleased to find that Hermione was treating him just the same as Hannah and Michael. He’d gotten a greeting that morning, a thank you when he’d accomplished a particularly time-sensitive task, and a huff of a laugh at a quip he’d made about stealing a sugar quill from the welcome bags for a sugar rush before the first arrivals. By the program start time at eleven in the morning, Draco felt like he’d just finished a six hour long quidditch match with the hustle and bustle of the day, though he didn’t show that outwardly.

He stood at the back of a room filled with twelve soon-to-be first-year muggleborns and their families. It was the largest class of incoming muggleborns to Hogwarts in two decades, but they were, as Hermione had anticipated, quite bright-eyed and excited for the prospect of what was to come for them in two months’ time when they would start their journey at Hogwarts, no different than he had started his when he was eleven. 

‘No different’—if only he had seen it that way back then. Things would have been very different for him. Maybe he would have seen a lot of things more clearly, if he’d understood the concepts of basic humanity and respect for his fellow witches and wizards that extended past his pureblood friends. He’d tried to make excuses after the war—tried to have conversations with his friends about how it wasn’t his fault that he’d been raised like he had and how he was trying to figure things out in his head now that the war was behind him. And every one of them had set him straight that it was, in part, his fault and that he needed to saddle some of that blame to move forward from it; to progress. It’s what they were all doing: Blaise, Daphne, Pansy, Theo… they all felt personally responsible for not picking a side; or not picking the right side. But he’d tried to deflect his own blame onto his father in the beginning. 

It wasn’t until they sat him down and figuratively knocked him upside the head that he’d realized he needed to take on a portion of that guilt to really reform himself. It was easy to be blasé about it all, if it wasn’t his fault. But to accept that fault… it meant he’d have to put in work to understand his actions and decisions, to reconcile with them… and to make a concerted effort to be better; to apologize to those he’d put down and to make his amends. And eventually, he did accept his own guilt and then he did start the process of reconciling with his prior actions.

This included a round of apologies to very specific people—Harry Potter being first. This was something he accomplished four years after the war and after his year stint in Azkaban. The Weasley parents came next, followed by most of the Weasley siblings—Ron excluded because he didn’t want to hear it. Eventually though, Ron’s parents talked him down and Draco had the opportunity to apologize and Ron begrudgingly accepted it, even muttering something about wanting to move past the family feuds of their parents’ generation. Draco then moved onto Lavender Brown’s parents and, subsequently, each person who had fought with the Order. Hermione Granger though, she was elusive. She’d heard about his apology tour and she’d wanted no part of it, actively avoiding him when he’d reach out and very actively denying his requests to do some of his community service sentence with her department at the Ministry. Until now. And he knew he had to make this opportunity count because he probably wouldn’t get another. And finally, finally, he was making some headway.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was how his motivations for that headway would change over these last four weeks. He’d wanted to apologize for years, both because it was the right thing to do and because she deserved it. But now, he found his motivations expanding. He didn’t just want to apologize; to say the words and see her nod her head and say okay. He wanted to explain. He wanted to dive in to all the things he had fucked up with her over the last seventeen years and apologize for every one of them. He wanted her to understand where it had all gone wrong in his head and everything he had done to be better. He wanted her to know he actually fucking cared to be better, not just to appear better. And he wanted her forgiveness; he would beg for it if he needed to. It felt so important to him that he earned her respect.

Working with her this past month and seeing the enormous care and effort and motivations that went into her work; that went into paving a path for a new generation of witches and wizards; of building the cornerstones of a more inclusive and accepting wizarding world… it was more than admirable. It was unbelievable. She was unbelievable. And she was such a force to reckon with. She would fight for permits and budgets and every shred of resources she could get to make this program exactly what these incoming students deserved. In all honesty, he loved watching her work and it made him want to fight right alongside her; made him want to deliver his best work; to put in his top effort, to help her succeed. And he wouldn’t describe himself as someone overly sentimental or courageous by any means. He did his community service because that was his sentence. He didn’t always believe in the mission of the department he was working with, and he wouldn’t have said, before this placement, that the pre-Hogwarts education of muggleborns was something that had been on his radar outside of his careful following of Hermione’s career and how impressive he had found her progress starting from the ground up. But being here; reading the materials; reading the speeches and really understanding what it was they were doing and what it meant to her, it made him want to be there for the ride.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

As Hermione delivered the welcome speech that morning, the pride that beamed off of her as she looked out onto the room was infectious. Excitement sparked from every corner of the room and he couldn’t help the lopsided smile that had crept, unsuspectingly onto his own features. She was setting up twelve new students for success and bringing twelve new families closer to the wizarding world their children would now be a part of. He had never really considered what it must have been like for the families of muggleborn children to send them off to an unknown world seemingly on their own, but he could see the difference it would make to welcome the families and make them feel included and supported in this world.

As they were dismissed, Draco summoned his stack of pamphlets from the nearby table and handed one to each family, reminding himself to give them each a smile and greeting. The pamphlets included a summarized itinerary for the week, broken out by daily sessions on the proceeding pages, and the conference rooms at the Ministry that each would be held in, along with the conference room map. It also held a page of recommended activities for the evenings after the sessions concluded and some texts that could be picked up at Flourish and Blotts that would subsidize the program overviews that day, if interested.

The five day program went by as all programs tend to: with little huccups along the way, but relatively smoothly for anyone who wasn’t privy to the immense amount of planning and detail that went into the event. Hermione handled everything as it came, keeping a level head and pulling out a ‘plan b’ wherever necessary; at one point, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had a conflict in schedule with the “Overview of Ministry affairs” he was supposed to present and Hermione had to owl Harry to come down and speak for an hour about the different departments of the Ministry and the experience he had collaborating with them in his role as a Lead Auror. It wasn’t quite as succinct as the intended presentation would have been, but it was more interactive as Harry took questions from the students and their parents as a way to direct the unplanned talk.

”Malfoy,” Harry held his hand out to Draco at the end of the session as he shook it.

”Potter.”

”I see you finally found your way into the Muggleborn Initiatives Office,” He gave him a knowing look and a small grin.

”Took a few years, but I made it here,” he pulled his hand back and slipped it into his pocket.

”And how’s it been going?” 

He and Potter had formed an interesting acquaintanceship since his apology tour six years ago. They didn’t necessarily go out of their way to spend time together, but if they ended up in the same place, they’d grab a drink or chat like old friends might. He had a feeling that if he ever actually did reach out to Potter, he’d probably take him up on a real invitation for drinks, though he never felt quite like he had the authority to do that. An acceptance of his apology had been more than he could have asked for and a real friendship felt like more than he deserved.

”Well, so far. One small breakdown from a future first-year, but it sounds like that’s always to be expected with the realization that they’re going to be away from their families and navigating a different world.”

Harry hummed in agreement. ”Seems like this program has been great for the new first-year muggleborns to start forming a bit of a connection with each other, though. Hermione told me she’s gotten great feedback from previous participants about how nice it is to feel like they know someone or have someone to talk to if they get overwhelmed with it all once they’ve gotten to Hogwarts.”

Draco nodded, “Not sure I ever realized the disconnect between what I knew coming in and what muggleborns never would have been exposed to. This is one of those logical programs that probably always should have existed; Good thing Granger’s stubborn enough to fight for it to happen. Though it sounds like it took a few years to get the office and the program launched.”

”Yeah,” Harry snorted with a roll of his eyes. ”Three years of petitions and applications and funding requests after she finished her seventh year at Hogwarts. She had other studies she was working on simultaneously; hard to leave school and immediately get approval to start your own office in the Ministry, even having Mary Cattermole co-sign as her Ministry mentor in the beginning. But if anyone could have made it happen by the age of twenty-three, I’m not surprised that it was Hermione. Though she’d built up such a detailed plan and budget and garnered so much support for it by higher ups we’d met in the Order by that point that everything after the office approvals moved quickly. She created something pretty incredible. I know I would have benefited from it, if I could have attended something like this before Hogwarts.”

”She’s pretty incredible,” Draco said in agreement, not realizing his own phrasing as his eyes landed on the witch across the room, who was speaking with one of the parents, her hair wrangled back in a bun and her posture poised yet relaxed, expression welcoming but professional. She was someone who would break down barriers for the things she believed in; someone who would fight for the equities she wasn’t allotted and stick up for those who seemingly had no voice without her. She was a force of nature.

When Draco’s attention turned back to Potter, he saw a curious grin on his face.

”What?” His brows creased, trying to decipher the look Potter was giving him.

”Oh, nothing,” Potter shrugged, the grin staying firmly in place as he, too, looked over at Hermione and then back at Draco. “Glad you’ve had a chance to finally reconcile with Hermione a bit. Seems like things are going… well.”

”Yes. Better now, at least. Trying to do what I can to help out and I think she’s finally seeing that I’m not here to make things more difficult.”

”Excuse me,” one of the incoming first-years said to Draco, looking nervous. “Are you helping with the program? I just—I had a question and wasn’t sure who to ask.”

”I can help,” Draco turned to the boy, “I’m Draco, one of Grang—Hermione’s assistants.”

”I’ll leave you to it,” Harry said from beside him, hand gripping his shoulder before he walked away.

”Um—sorry, to bother you—but I was talking to one of the other students and they were saying that they heard there were houses we’re gonna get sorted into and that some of them weren’t as good as others and I just—I wanted to know how to get into the good ones.”

”Well,” Draco slipped his hands from his pockets and lowered into the chair that was sitting beside him so he was at eye-level with the boy as he considered how best to tackle this. But as he looked at the boy; his eyes round and full of concern, and innocence plastered on his eleven year-old features, the response came on its own. “To ease a bit of your worries, I will tell you that every house at Hogwarts is just as impressive as the next.” Yes, this was difficult for Draco’s Slytherin heart and pride to say out loud, however he had, at this point in his life, met people from each different Hogwarts house that he would have considered impressive, and the goal for the week was to keep the incoming students bright-eyed, and he was perfectly capable of putting together some inspiring words in order to do so; because again, he was nothing if not articulate and well-spoken. “You’ll be sorted into a house based on the things you value and placed in the house where those around you share your values. It’s a good way to meet like-minded people and form friendships that will follow you throughout your life, but it’s also important to know that what you value now will probably change and grow with you over time, so I wouldn’t put too much stock into which house you’re placed in. It’s just a way to help you meet the right friends for you at this stage of your life and to help you grow into yourself during your time at school.”

”But I heard that some of the houses are mean and some of the houses are pushovers,” the little boy said, lowering his voice and looking around to make sure they weren’t overheard.”

”I promise you, all four houses of Hogwarts have housed students that have done incredible things in the wizarding world. Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor, while I was in Slytherin, Hannah was in Hufflepuff and Michael was in Ravenclaw. So you’ve got examples from each of the houses leading this program.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed at Draco incredulously, “You were in Slytherin? I thought they were the mean ones, but you’re not mean at all.”

”I valued success and ambition when I was young. Those values have changed a lot over my lifetime, or at least the meanings of those values have changed,” this was a true statement, “But I’m glad I was placed in Slytherin when I was eleven. The friends I made there supported me through a lot because they understood me. And they helped me figure out where to go and what to do when I felt my values and focus in life shifting.” and then he shrugged, “The sorting hat knows where you belong and wherever you’re placed is going to be the right house for your own growth.”

”Well I think Hannah is really great, too,” the boy looked over at Hannah, who was laughing as she sat and talked with another incoming student. “She’s really smart.”

Draco nodded. “All of the houses have a lot to offer.”

“Okay, thank you, Draco,” the boy said, giving him a small smile.

”Do you feel better about getting sorted?” Draco asked, wanting to make sure what he’d said had made its impact.

The boy nodded, “Yes. I think knowing that you all,” he gestured his head around to encompass the program organizers, “were in different houses makes me feel better. You’re all pretty cool.”

”Good,” Draco said.

”Gordon,” the boy’s mother called from across the room as he looked back.

”I've got to go. Thanks, Draco.”

”We’ll see you at the next session,” Draco stood as the boy waved and ran back towards his mum and he watched him go. And then he turned around to find Hermione standing there, watching him. 

”How long have you been there?" He asked dryly. Giving inspiring words to an eleven year old was one thing, but being overheard by Hermione was a bit embarrassing, not that he’d show that.

”Long enough,” she said. “That was… very nice.”

”I was just doing my job.”

”Hermione!” Hannah waved her over and Hermione eyed him another moment as her lip twinged into that small smile she kept trying to suppress again, something clearly on her mind that she wanted to say, but the words didn’t come. 

“Alright,” was all she uttered before she had turned on her heel and headed for the next thing that needed her attention.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

At the closing session of the program, Hermione stood in front of the room looking out over the incoming students and their families, nearly radiating at the excitement that permeated the room. Draco knew she was about to deliver the closing speech that he had meticulously written and she had meticulously edited. It had felt like the perfect mesh of their efforts in its final form and watching her prepare to wrap up all of the painstaking work that went into this week made him feel very proud in a way he hadn’t expected. It also gave him a reason to stare at her from across the room unabashedly, an excuse that he was grateful for.

”Good afternoon, all,” Hermione started as the room quieted. “I want to thank each of you again for spending this week here with us at the Ministry of Magic. We in the Muggleborn Initiatives Office, the Muggle Liaison Department and the Ministry as a whole, know what a momentous occasion it is to be sent off to Hogwarts for that first time. And as pivotal and exciting as that moment is, it is also a transition for all of you into a new world as a part of the Wizarding community. I, very personally, know what it’s like to make this leap; to leave home and leave family and hop on a train that takes you hundreds of kilometers away from everything you’ve ever known. I felt the growing pains of learning the intricacies of magic and the differences in daily life between one world and the other. It is, quite truly, both a blessing to be welcomed into the magical world, and a burden to relearn a new way of living. But it is one that will help you realize your full potential and feel more comfortable in knowing everything you are and everything you’re capable of.

“You’ll now be a part of two communities, with two families. It is imperative to remember that you will always have your family and your lives in the muggle world; that is a part of you and that life experience is something beautiful that you are bringing into our world to broaden the scope of what our community knows and understands. The life you’ve lived in your eleven years is one we hope to only enhance as you continue to grow as a part of the magical world. At Hogwarts, you’ll find a second family; an extended family. You’ll be sorted in your houses and make friendships that will last you a lifetime and are more than capable of spanning the two worlds you’ll hover between during your years at school. Lean into the support on both sides, from both worlds. They are both invaluable to your growth. I know I would not be the witch I am today without the muggle upbringing that I had in Hampstead with two loving, accomplished dentists as my parents and a background in maths, science and literature to bring into the wizarding world.

“Our goal this week has been to jumpstart your education with a brief introduction and history of the magical world and the skills you’ll be learning and honing over your seven years at Hogwarts. We’ve covered everything from what daily life in a magical household looks like, to the government structure of our society, as well as touching on the subjects you’ll be studying at Hogwarts, the sport of our culture and the job opportunities that exist in the Wizarding world upon completion of your seventh year. It’s been a lot of information and surely a lot to process, but please know that we are here to help. Your success integrating into our world at the start of term, is our success here at the Muggleborn Initiatives Office.

“That said, please remember that the second program of our summer sessions will be four weeks from Saturday in a two-day weekend format to accommodate common work schedules after this week-long program. In our next session we will be going through the process of preparing for school as it gets closer and will be holding a Q&A session for any questions that arise from our first two program sessions. The full agenda will be provided on the first day of the program. We look forward to welcoming you all back in a few weeks and thank you all, again, for joining us here at the Ministry of Magic.”

There was a round of enthusiastic applause before Hermione nodded to the room at large and stepped to the side to give the next instruction for dismissal to Michael, who would conclude the session. Draco, however, continued to watch Hermione, a subconscious crooked smile on his lips and his eyes sparking in her direction. She looked over her shoulder, mid-sentence and their eyes locked. And for the first time, she met his crooked smile with an intentional smile of her own. And his stomach more than flipped. It took an Olympic-sized running start before flipping and twisting and somersaulting into a perfect landing as he realized, quite starkly, that he may like Hermione Granger.

Chapter Text

The next program was set for the beginning of August, which was four weeks away. Where the first session had been an overview introduction to the wizarding world, this one would be a two-day event centered around how to prepare for school—transferring and translating muggle money to Gringotts, going through the list of school supplies in a way that made logical sense, breaking down the best ways to book wizarding accommodations near Diagonal Alley and the recommended itinerary for the shopping excursion, as well as a detailed explanation of when and how to access the Hogwarts Express on September first.

Hermione had continued to be cordial to him since the first program session, greeting him Wednesday morning with a "Good morning," as he walked into her office, followed by a “Hope you had a nice weekend, I’ve got a task whenever you’re settled.” For that first week after the end of the program, he’d been biding his time and accepting the little pleasantries graciously whilst continuing to keep his head down and work through his tasks. With four weeks to prepare the final materials and agendas but only half the program as the first session, things seemed to calm around the office as preparation felt more attainable with their normal work regimens. 

At the end of the day on Friday afternoon, he gathered the draft agendas he’d finished scribing and stacked them together as he stood from his chair and subconsciously ran his hands along his robes to smooth out the wrinkles as he set his sights on Hermione. He cleared his throat as he approached and watched as she blinked her focus up to him.

”Here are the agendas for review. I know you had penciled in time to discuss the advantages of different school pets, but I think they do a perfectly good job of that at Eeylops on their own. I would just gloss over that during the shopping excursion session and replace it with a session on not just transferring muggle money, but also a crash course on the conversion so they can make sense of the pricing of supplies on the list they’ll receive.”

Hermione hummed as she seemed to consider this, taking the stack of agendas to see how he had reworked her session breakdowns. “Alright. I can work on that. Good suggestion.”

She went to write a note for herself on her long to-do list off to the side when Draco held another parchment out to her. “I’ve already taken the liberty of putting together a draft of the conversion rate guide that we can hand out with materials for that session. The rates are current as of today and I wouldn’t expect them to change materially before August.“ Hermione took the sheet from him, eyes roaming over it as her hand moved to a dainty gold chain around her neck that dropped down below the modest dip of her blouse. He tried not to let his gaze follow the way her fingers were tracing along the chain. “You’ll also see that I’ve included the general supplies on the school list such as wands, text books, robes, cauldrons, etc. and extended converted muggle prices to them for reference.”

”And you included prices for new and second-hand,” Hermione noted, looking up at him. Normally, with a statement such as this, she’d have given him some sort of frown in consideration of what his motive was for doing something nice or thoughtful. Alternatively, she had a small smile on her face as she looked at him now. As though his motives were no longer a concern of hers. That this was, in fact, just a nice consideration he had made that she was recognizing.

”I thought it would be helpful to include both. There’s also a note at the bottom as to how to go about sending an owl to request financial aid consideration for Hogwarts supplies.” Was he sucking up with this one? Maybe a little.

”That is helpful. Thank you.”

She looked back down, reading through the rest of the guide he’d put together, but he wasn’t quite done with everything he’d come over to say.

”Granger,” he pulled her attention again as she met his gaze, eyes still light and features open as her hand dropped from her necklace back to the parchment. “I was wondering if you’d like to get coffee on Sunday morning.”

Her head tilted slightly and a crease found her brow. He all but held his breath as he awaited a response.

”Is there something you’d like to discuss outside the office?” She asked.

”I had told you before that I’d like to get to know you more personally. You had told me we needed to get through the first program session before you’d consider it.” He kept his voice even as he watched a look of realization dawn on her, as though it had slipped her mind with everything else going on.

Her lips parted and his eyes fell to them, before he reminded himself to lift his gaze again and wait patiently for her answer. His thoughts would drift if he lingered too long on those soft, pink lips of hers.

”I can’t,” she finally said and something tightened in his stomach before, after a pause, she continued. “I’ve got plans on Sunday with the Weasleys. I always have brunch with the family on Sundays. But I could make time on Saturday. We’re a few weeks out from the next program and I don’t need to be here all day. I could meet you for a coffee at one o’clock.”

”Great,” he nodded, “I’ll owl you the cafe I’ve got in mind.” He’d have to move his Saturday plans with his mother around, but her time was flexible. He loved his mother, but hell, he’d scrap his plans altogether to spend more time with Hermione. He saw his mother every week. He didn’t know how many opportunities he’d ever have to spend an hour getting coffee with Hermione Granger. 

“Great,” she echoed with another small smile before he took the win and moved from her desk to return to his own.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Draco waited outside by the entrance to Queen Bean Cafe, located in the Mayfair district of London. The cafe was decked out in marble and gold accents with large chandeliers and cozy, high-back velvet chairs at each table. It was extravagant while being comfortable and, purposefully, it was on the muggle side of town. It felt like a nice mesh of their personalities and he hoped she saw it the same way. He came here often on his way to work, beating the morning traffic by arriving early and sitting at his usual table in the back to enjoy a double espresso and a read through the morning Prophet.

”Hi, Malfoy,” Hermione’s voice came from his other side and he turned towards her with a crooked grin as she covered the last few steps of the sidewalk towards him. She was in a flowy skirt that ended just below her knee, paired with a high-neck, thick-strapped tank top—it was perfect for a warm summer day like today and he loved the way the skirt moved in the light breeze like her hair; the sun shining behind her, spotlighting her approach.

”Afternoon, Granger,” he just barely kept the heaviness of want out of his tone as she stopped in front of him.

Hermione looked up at the cafe and then back at him, “A muggle cafe? I thought maybe there would be some secret magical entrance when I got here.”

”No magical entrance. Just my favorite muggle coffee shop,” he gestured his hand towards the open door and Hermione looked at him with that curious little smile of hers one more time before nodding and walking in.

At the counter, an older woman with grey hair tied in a tight bun at her neck gave him a warm smile. “Good afternoon, Drake,” the woman said. “You’ve brought a friend!”

”Good afternoon, Helen. I have, this is Hermione,” he gestured to her as an introduction as they stopped in front of the counter.

“Nice to meet you,” Helen said sweetly, and then pretended to lower her voice as she whispered to Hermione, “Quite a catch, this one. In here all the time but I’ve never seen him bring a girl around before.” She gave a little wink at the end.

Hermione looked surprised, a blush rising to her cheeks at the implication, but she forced a polite laugh. “Ah, yes—nice to meet you as well.”

Draco cleared his throat with what he hoped was a light chuckle, “Thank you, Helen,” he said the words like an embarrassed grandson might if his grandmother had just said something a little inappropriate in public. “I believe Hermione will have a cappuccino,” he gave her a sidelong glance to confirm and she nodded.

“Yes, please.”

”Oh wonderful, wonderful. A cappuccino and a double espresso, coming up,” Helen said, undeterred by the sudden warmth that had just encompassed the entire shop as she rang up the order on the cash register.

Draco dropped a twenty pound note on the counter with an even, “ Cheers, thank you. ”  

Helen gave him a wide smile as she took it and counted the change, adding it to her tip jar as Draco led Hermione back towards his usual table.

”Come here often?” Hermione asked rhetorically as they both tried to shake off the fact that Helen thought this was some kind of date. He was almost shocked that Hermione hadn’t turned tail and bolted at the mere idea of it.

”Almost every day,” he nodded, grateful for the muggle vent contraptions that were currently blasting cold air into the room to help cool the heat that had crept up his neck. He slipped into a purple, velvet chair as Hermione took the one across from him. “Best espresso in town.”

”Probably the most expensive espresso in town, judging by the decor,” she said, looking around.

”Probably,” he shrugged as her face turned back to his and he found that place in her eyes again that felt like the calm of a lake on a summer’s day. “But I like it here. The atmosphere is comfortable and the baristas are welcoming.”

”So do you… live around here?” She asked.

”I do,” he nodded. “There’s a small row of magical townhouses a few blocks away. It’s sort of a street like Grimmauld Place; unnoticed by the muggle world, but some lovely spaces in a very walkable district. And there are, as you assumed, a few magical businesses spread through Mayfair as well: a fantastic dinner spot called Cauldron Fired and cocktail lounge called The Fair Phoenix. Both a bit gaudy like this place, but it fits the area clientele.” He wasn’t usually one to ramble, but he felt an unusual pang of nerves, now that they were finally sitting down alone outside the office.

”So you don’t… live at the Manor?”

”No,” he said simply as that question seemed to sober him enough to dull the nerves. “I have no desire. My mother is there but I think with some more time, she’ll move too.”

“She’s in that huge estate all by herself?”

“Harder for her to leave it behind, I think, but she’s slowly been moving things to our house in the South of France over the last few years.” Hermione nodded at this and Draco took the opportunity to redirect the conversation. “And you? What area of London are you in?”

”Near Diagon Alley, but on the muggle side. I have a flat in the area. I like having the muggle and wizarding worlds close.”

”It’s nice sometimes, to be in the muggle world.”

As he said this, Helen walked over with their drinks in fine china as she set them each down on the table. “Enjoy, Drake,” she gave Draco a big smile and a not so subtle wink before turning her head, “And Hermione, we hope to see you again.” And then she bustled back to the counter as another customer walked in the door.

”She calls you Drake,” Hermione noted.

”I told her my name is Draco on my first ten or so visits… and then I’ve just let her go on with Drake ever since. I’m not sure if she can’t hear me properly or if she just thinks Draco is too nonsensical of a name for it to have been what she heard. But either way, I go by Drake now.”

Hermione gave a little laugh and the sound was intoxicating, “You’ve got a whole other persona in the muggle world.”

”Kind of nice to have a fresh start somewhere,” he gave her another crooked smile, “Maybe try to make a better impression.”

”Seems like you’ve made a good one here.”

”I thought so too,” he took a sip of his espresso. “So you spend your Sundays with the Weasleys?” He asked, figuring it was as good a topic as any to kick off their getting-to-know-you coffee date—not date—coffee outing.

Hermione nodded as she set her cappuccino cup back onto its saucer. “Harry and I both spend Sunday brunch with the Weasleys.”

”Even though you’re no longer dating their children?”

”Even though we are two single adults who are still very good friends with their entire family,” she rolled her eyes, but there was still a jest in her tone.

”I guess I did stay friends with Pansy even after dating in school,” he allowed with a tilt of his head. “Her mother still refuses to look at me, though. Too disappointed we never got married.”

”Ah, yes, I got a bit of that avoidance from Mrs. Weasley for a year or two after Ron and I broke up, but once he started dating Padma, it was like all was well again.”

”So you’re… single?” He asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant way. “It’s been a while since the Prophet has exploited your love life.”

Hermione rolled her eyes even more heartily now, “They do love my dating life. Very annoying. I wish they loved talking about my initiatives at the Ministry as much as they loved talking about whether I’ve got a new boyfriend. But yes; single. Perfectly contentedly so, I may add. I’ve got a lot going on in my professional life and dating feels like it needs to take a back seat for now. This program—this office I’ve created—it’s incredibly important to me. I need to get it to a point where I feel confident in its security in the Muggle Liaison Department past my running of it. We are still getting the bare minimum approved each year in the Ministry budget and I have to push and advocate for every galleon in that budget. And—gosh, sorry. I know you see all the work we do, I just get very passionate about the mission whenever I start thinking about it.”

”I get it,” he said, and he did. “You put everything into that program. From the ground up. Makes sense you’d be protective of it.”

”I am,” she sighed. “But back to your question since your goal was to share personal stories and I immediately steered us back to talking about work.”

Draco let out a small chuckle, “It’s fine. I have a feeling your personal and work lives are more entwined than most people.”

”They are.”

”And though I am curious what more you have to say on your dating life…” he was giving her what he hoped was a eyebrow-wiggling type of grin—without the eyebrow wiggling; something playful and perhaps a bit smoldering, “how about we start with a topic you’d be more interested in discussing.” He wanted to know more… but he could also tell it wasn’t something she considered a defining personal topic and he needed to show her he cared about other, more important things. And then eventually… he’d ask her about her prior dating history again, when the topic felt more organic.

She looked intrigued by this, and a bit relieved, “And what do you think that would be?”

“You added a bit of your own experience into the closing statements for the first program session and it made me more curious about what it was like for you; the transition to Hogwarts.”

There was a certain spark in her eye that he couldn’t read as her small smile pulled wider for a brief moment before returning to its steady position. And then she hummed as she considered her answer. “Alright,” she finally said. “It was… tough but it also felt very… right. I think originally I was so excited to start because I had felt like something was missing in the muggle world; some part of me I couldn’t quite put my finger on. So when I started at Hogwarts I don’t think I felt scared or overly nervous, I just felt really confident going in and feeling like this was what was missing; the magical part of me I hadn’t been able to identify on my own. But of course you know how my first few months went at Hogwarts,” she gave a little huff and shake of her head, “I went in a bit too confident and well-read and it didn’t do me any favors socially. I wrote to my parents almost every day just so I had their letters to read at the Gryffindor breakfast table in the mornings so I could look busy and not so dreadfully alone.”

“Well that’s a bit sad,” Draco said, not feeling overly ashamed at the comment since he clearly knew where things led her once she’d found her footing.

“It was a bit sad,” she huffed another small laugh. “I didn’t really fit in, in the muggle world, and I thought it was because I was a witch and maybe that’s why I couldn't connect with my peers, but then I didn’t seem to fit into the magical world either and that hit me pretty hard. But once Ron and Harry befriended me, things turned around pretty quickly and I started feeling like I did fit in. Not totally; my early years there were still a bit awkward as I figured out how to navigate wanting to be the smartest, with also wanting to not be in everyone’s face about how smart I thought I was.”

“Well, you were smart. Hard to tamp that down. To be honest, I was similar in my friend group. Wanted the world to know that I thought I was the smartest one coming into Hogwarts; the most knowledgeable because I came from the most historic of backgrounds. Took me a few years to find a bit of modesty. I think you beating me in every subject helped.”

“Did you ever really find a bit of modesty?” Hermione blinked innocently back at him with those big brown eyes in a way that made him want to jump across the table and drag her lips to his and kiss her until he couldn’t breathe. And then he remembered that she was poking fun at his inflated school-boy ego and it sobered him again.

“Eventually… but it took me a good while longer than it took you.”

“Wizengamot’s still out as to whether I believe that there’s a shred of modesty in you.”

“I’m very modest,” he grinned, “And humble and kind and respectful.”

She rolled her eyes at this before taking a sip of her cappuccino. “There you go curating that demure persona you put on for your first few weeks on the job.”

“Joking this time, though. But I stand by believing I am at least better than my teenage self.”

“Fine, better,” she dipped her head as she allowed that description.

“So were you able to ‘live in both worlds,’ as you recommended to the incoming class of muggleborns, then?” he put the conversation back in her pitch.

“Not really, if I’m being honest,” she said. “For a while, maybe. But I didn't have many friends back home, although the incoming students might, so I didn’t want to ruin their hopes of being able to straddle that line better than I did. I know other muggleborns have done it alright. Justin Finch-Fletchley works in the Muggle Liaison Department and he’s got muggle friends he spends his weekends with; has a whole backstory about working in the British government with some classified job he can’t talk about. Obviously they’ve given him fake credentials there to back his story and keep the wizarding identity a secret; Part of what the Muggle Liaison Department does in general so it works for him.”

Draco hummed in understanding. “But I’m sure you keep in contact with your parents, at least,” he said this lightly, but her features closed off in a way he wasn’t used to seeing on her at that question.

“I do,” she said stiffly.

“That was… unenthusiastic.”

“We have a… cordial relationship.”

“You called them ‘loving’ and ‘accomplished’ in your closing speech.”

“They were at that time in my life. I mean, they’re still accomplished. And I believe they still love me. But it’s complicated.”

Draco finished the last sip of his espresso as he set it back on its plate and pushed it to the side, clasping his hands in its place. “How so?”

“It’s a lot to get into.”

“I’ve got time.”

She studied him, then; her eyes roaming across his face in an appraising sort of way. This topic was not an easy one and she was deciding if he was worth sharing it with.

“But I guess you don’t owe me an explanation,” he said evenly as his heart dropped into his stomach when she’d been quiet for too long.

“I don’t,” she confirmed, “But we’re here because we’re getting to know each other, which I agreed to.”

“You still don’t owe me anything you don’t want to give me.” The truth of the matter was that he didn’t deserve her hard truths. He didn’t deserve her vulnerability. And he hadn’t come here for her to share things that were uncomfortable. He just… wanted to know her. He wanted the uncomfortable things to feel comfortable between them. But he could see that they didn’t; that maybe they couldn't and they probably never would. And that was his fault. That was the fault of the choices he’d made in his past. It was his burden to bear.

She just nodded silently at this, still looking him over like she’d like to explain, but couldn’t find it in her to do so.

“How about you tell me about something else,” he said, eating the disappointment so it didn’t show on his face. “What else do you like to do on your weekends—when you’re not working?”

She seemed to consider the change in topic and then nodded once in acceptance as she swallowed and refocused her gaze on his, “Ah—I have a decently routine life outside of work. I stop into Flourish and Blotts on Saturday afternoons after the morning rush to see if they have anything new in. I go to the Godric’s Hollow farmers market on Sundays after brunch at the Weasleys with Harry to shop for the week. We do dinner with friends on Friday nights at rotating houses. This week was Ginny and Luna’s since we were all in Holyhead last night for the Harpies match, and next week is at Neville’s. We go to Holyhead as a group anytime we can all afford to stay the night for an evening weekend match. I, um, do yoga early on most Saturday mornings. It’s a muggle exercise class. There’s a studio by my flat.”

Draco’s eyebrows creased at the last part. “Yoga? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Maybe you should check it out for yourself,” she gave a small grin at this as though the idea of it was amusing.

“Maybe I will,” he said defiantly.

“You’ll have to report back on what you think, if you really do go.”

“What would one… wear… if they were to attend a yoga studio?”

“Comfortable clothing. Likely shorts for men.”

“I don’t think I own shorts. But I own joggers… that’s comfort-wear, isn’t it?”

“You own joggers?”

“I look great in joggers. Pansy bought me a pair—she’s very into muggle fashion after I asked her to help me put something together to… go out into the muggle world a few years ago.”

“Very humble, indeed,” she jibed, “But explains your very normal muggle outfit today.”

“I like my chinos and fitted tees.” He wasn’t going to comment on being humble—he was admittedly not humble about his appearance. He knew he was a good-looking and well-dressed wizard and he hoped she saw it too. Though he’d purposefully chosen a long-sleeved tee for the day to cover his left forearm. It was hot out, but the cafe was always nice and cool.

“I guess I hadn’t noticed what you wear under your robes.”

“I wear tailored slacks and oxfords.” Draco had certainly noticed what Hermione wore under her robes. And while wizarding fashion tended to be a good ten years behind muggle fashion and significantly more loose-fitting and conservative beneath their robes, Hermione dressed more like the magazine pictures Pansy would show him, with her business suits and structured dresses. And those jeans she’d been wearing on the Saturday they’d spent in the office—those would be etched in his mind for years the way they’d hugged her arse.

“So Pansy is clearly still a good friend of yours,” Hermione said, “Who else do you spend your time with?”

“Theo, Blaise and Daphne,” he said. “If you remember them from Hogwarts.”

“Not Goyle?” she raised an eyebrow.

“No,” he said, his heart rate increasing as he hoped she didn’t push the subject. If she wasn’t ready to explain the situation with her parents, he wasn’t ready to broach the topic of Goyle, or, ultimately, Crabbe.

She nodded as her brain seemed to connect the dots as well. “I don’t remember the others much, but I think Theo was in arithmancy and ancient runes with me in sixth year.”

“He probably was. He liked the more technical subjects. He works at Gringotts.”

“And Blaise and Daphne?”

“Blaise is in the DMLE—he’s an advocate on the legal side; handles litigation and licensing for magical businesses. Daph works in the Department of Magical Event Planning and Philanthropy.”

Hermione looked like she was trying hard not to roll her eyes at the last part.

“Not a fan of the DMEPP?” He asked.

“I think their efforts are a bit… hyper-focused,” she said diplomatically.

“How so?”

“Their philanthropic efforts are very much focused on things only rich families care about. Things that are optically beneficial. It’s hard to get anything new in front of them.”

“Interesting,” Draco tilted his head, “I guess I’ve never thought about it.”

“I’ve tried to work with that department on a fundraiser for the Muggleborn Initiatives Office. Seems we are not a priority. They slated us for a potential fundraiser in three years.”

“I could set you a meeting with Daphne,” he suggested, “She was promoted to Outreach Fund Director a few months ago and can get the right attention on a project if she’s sold on it.”

“Do you really think she would see my program as something she could get movement on?” The question held a heavy amount of doubt to the point that it sounded rhetorical.

“I do,” he said, “If I asked her to, she would take the meeting and I know you could convince her.”

“I mean, I’ll take the meeting,” she said, “But I’m keeping my hopes low.”

And in that moment, Draco made it his personal mission to get her a fundraiser on the calendar before the final program cycle in six weeks. If anyone could make it happen, it was Daphne. And if anyone could motivate Daphne, it was Blaise, and if anyone could motivate Blaise, it was Draco.

Rather than voice this train of thought, he just gave her a definitive nod, “I’ll get you the meeting.”

A buzz in Hermione’s pocket pulled her attention and she slipped what Draco knew to be a phone out of her pocket and her eyes scanned the text that had popped up and her brows furrowed, “Sorry, I’ve actually got to get going,” she gave him a strained smile as she pushed the phone back into her pocket, “This has been… nice.”

“That’s alright. Same time next week, maybe?” he asked, pushing back in his chair as she did.

“...Sure, Malfoy,” she said, nodding.

She went to grab for her dishes and he held a hand out, “I’ll take care of it. Thank you—for coming out today.”

Their eyes locked and they lingered there for a moment before she dipped her head and her smile seemed to relax more genuinely. “It was nice,” she said again. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

“What have you gotten us into, Draco?” Pansy hissed in a whisper as they took the rubber mats they’d just been handed and followed the lithe, blonde muggle from the front desk back towards studio three. 

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Draco huffed back, feeling severely out of place and starting to question this decision and curse Hermione Granger under his breath.

“So you’ll just line your mats up to the others,” the blonde girl said as she turned back to them, gesturing into a dim-lit studio room, “the bathrooms are to the right, towels are just inside the doors, water cooler is at the back of the room. You can stretch for a few minutes and the instructor will be in to start class soon. Do you have any questions?”

“Why is it… so hot?” Draco couldn’t help but ask.

The girl giggled lightly in Pansy’s direction as though she was in on some joke and then looked back at Draco, “Oh, you’re funny. Enjoy the class.” And she left.

Draco and Pansy shared a glance of what-in-the-fuck before they walked in and lay their rubber mats out in line with those that had already entered. 

“Just do whatever everyone else is doing,” Pansy whispered to him as she stretched her legs in front of her and reached for her ankles. 

Draco did the same, regretting, wholeheartedly, wearing long cotton joggers to a class where it seemed to be Amazonian temperatures and humidity.

“Good morning, everyone,” a very toned and barely clothed man who already seemed to be glistening in sweat walked into the room, turning the dial to make the room even hotter before heading for the front of the studio. “My name is Bryce and I am so grateful that every one of you woke up this morning and made the journey in to spend your next sixty minutes here on your mats with me.” His tone was calming and smooth and he clasped his hands as he took in the room. “I see we have a few new yogis today so welcome, and welcome back to my yogi warriors,” he winked and waved at a few people who smiled back at him, beaming in pride at his recognition. “Now if you’ll all meet me in child’s pose, we’ll start our class by setting our intentions and working on our breathing.”

Everyone moved to their knees at this as the instructor joined them on the floor and Draco and Pansy shared one last glance of regret before staying one step behind everyone else and following along.

By the end of the class, Draco was dripping in sweat from head to toe and Pansy had been grumbling through the last wave of their vinyasa flow before collapsing into savasana with an exaggerated huff of exhaustion and annoyance. She glared over at Draco before closing her eyes as Draco closed his own, thanking the gods that this was fucking over.

“Well, are you happy, Draco?” Pansy asked as they walked back into the summer heat from the studio.

”I don’t think happy is the correct word,” he said dryly.

”I swear to the gods, if you ever try to drag me to another muggle exercise class, I will hex you. Especially when it’s just to get you into Granger’s trousers.”

“Fuck, come on, Pansy,” Draco said in offense. “I didn’t go to this class to get into her pants. She said I should check it out. I thought she was insinuating it was something I would enjoy.”

”I think she sent you here out of spite,” Pansy said as they walked around the corner into an alley and she grabbed Draco’s arm as he turned and disapparated them back to the wizarding street he lived on. “She’s going to have a roaring laugh over this at my expense.”

“If there’s one thing I am sure of, Pansy, it’s that I am never telling Granger about this.”

Chapter Text

The ice that had begun thawing between Draco and Hermione into a lukewarm stream had now started to warm in the summer heat into something comfortable and welcoming after their coffee outing on Saturday. She let him ask about her weekend on Wednesday and even reciprocated, asking about his quidditch game on Sunday (he had pointedly left out his yoga outing on Sunday morning). Later in the day, she had ranted about a presentation to the budgeting committee that didn’t go in her favor. On Thursday, he told her about a meeting he’d arranged with Daphne for the following week and she’d positively beamed at him, and Friday, she’d told him an unsolicited funny story about something that had happened on her way into the Ministry. She lit up the room as her lips spread into a smile during the story, and the way her nose wrinkled as she held her laugh in at a witty response he had radiated warmth along his skin. By the end of the day Friday, she’d waved him off with an absent-minded “looking forward to it,” when he’d bid her farewell with a “See you tomorrow.”

And so, as he waited outside the coffeeshop on Saturday afternoon, he was feeling quite good about the outlook for the day. That was, until he saw her bustling down the sidewalk with dark circles under her eyes and a definitive glossiness to her eyes as though she’d recently been crying, but was doing her best to hide it.

“Hi, Malfoy,” she forced a tight smile his way, her eyes falling to his left arm, which was bare today in his black tee-shirt because it was stiflingly hot out and he couldn't come to terms with putting on long sleeves. “That’s a tattoo,” she commented, only seeing the bottom half of what was, admittedly, a large tattoo that wrapped around his bicep and curled around his left forearm over his Dark Mark.

“It is,” he said, not really wanting to focus on it, “Granger,” he said hesitantly, “Are you alright?”

“Fine, of course,” she blinked a few times, subconsciously swiping the back of her hand under her eyes as though maybe there was something there that may have clued him into prior tears. On the plus side, this did sidetrack her from asking about the tattoo. “My allergies are terrible today.”

“Granger,” he deadpanned, “You’ve been crying.” She didn’t want a watered-down version of him and he wasn’t an idiot.

“No, I—” but as she looked up at him, there must have been something in his expression that told her she wasn’t going to be able to finagle her way around the truth. “Yes,” she sighed. “Sorry, I thought I’d cleaned myself up well enough.”

“Not quite,” he looked her over. “If you’re not in the mood for coffee today—”

“No,” she said quickly and in a way that made his heart jump. “No, it’s fine. I’d rather not be—I’d rather be out.”

”Would you like to get our coffee to-go and we can go for a walk?”

”Yes, actually,” she said with an edge of relief, “That would be nice. I don’t think I’m in the mood to sit still.”

They entered the shop and Helen smiled broadly at them as they ordered their drinks and took them to go. Once back out on the streets, Draco nodded his head to the right. “Hyde Park isn’t far from here.” She followed his lead, falling into step beside him as they made idle chit chat along the city streets before entering the park, slowing their pace along the path.

”So,” he said once they’d gotten some distance from the next closest couple wandering the park, “Would you like to talk about whatever happened today before you came to meet me?”

She sighed, sipping her iced latte—specifically chosen for a walk outside on a hot July afternoon—and then she slipped her hand into her purse at her side and whispered, “Muffliato,” in an attempt to keep their conversation private. When she pulled her hand back out, she clasped the latte and looked straight ahead, “It was my parents.”

”Were they also the reason you left the coffee shop early last week?” He asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

”Yes.”

”Alright,” he said, “So what happened with your parents, if you’re ready to talk about them today.”

She sighed again. “We can, I think—yes. I had lunch with them today. I don’t see them often—every few months when I reach out.” She was quiet for a moment as she gathered her thoughts.

”You still don’t have to tell me,” he said conversationally.

”I know. But I want to, this time. You said you wanted to know each other more personally, and last week it felt—good, between us. It seemed Iike you actually wanted to know me. So… I’m just going to try and let this be natural.”

He felt the same jump of his heart as he did every time he broke their barriers down a bit more. “Alright. Good.” Maybe not his best response, but what she’d said was a bigger deal to him than it should be and he didn’t want to get ahead of himself.

She took one more deep, steadying breath before she pushed out what she needed to say. “So here it goes. We’ll start with the most glaring part of my history with my parents that shapes the majority of our relationship at this point in our lives and things will make more sense from there.” She glanced over at him with a bit of nerves that she seemed to fight back down and then said, “I obliviated my parents and sent them into hiding in Australia before Harry, Ron and I went on the run during the war.”

”You what?” He stopped in the middle of the path and Hermione looked back at him with a double-take before she back-tracked two steps to him. 

“Maybe let’s—” she gestured to the bench beneath a large willow tree and Draco followed her without question as they sat. ”I obliviated my parents—” she said again, calmer this time as she accepted that she’d begun this conversation and prepared to explain, “—erased myself from their memories—so that they would leave England and get as far away from the danger of Voldemort as possible,” he winced at the name but she didn’t seem to notice. “They always wanted to protect me—and by the time the war was in full-swing, they wanted me away from it; away from Harry. And I couldn’t do it. I knew I had to be here fighting and I knew they would be in terrible danger if anyone went looking for them. So I made them forget they had a daughter and I sent them away to Australia.”

”That is—that was—” he was trying to find the right words as Hermione seemed to brace herself, “That was some incredibly powerful magic.”

”Oh—yes, I suppose it was,” she gave a small laugh. “I studied and practiced all summer before I had to do it. But it worked. And they left. And I joined Harry and Ron on our mission. And after the war, I found them another year later in Sydney. I brought them back with me—convinced them with another bit of magic—and St. Mungo’s helped to restore their memories. But they lost some for good along the way; Almost two years had passed since I’d used the obliviation charm and some of the memories slipped away with time. It was nothing overly substantial that was lost, but enough for them to realize some things are missing. Sometimes they’ll remember a story but part of it won’t just be fuzzy, it will be completely gone and it gets really frustrating for them.”

”I can imagine.”

”My father said he has this vivid memory of teaching me to ride a bike and in the memory we’re riding down the street, he’s cheering as he lets go and I’m doing it on my own and then all of a sudden the next part of the memory skips to him sitting by a hospital bed as I’m crying holding a broken arm and he’s comforting me. But the middle part—it’s just gone. He doesn’t remember that I lost control of the bike, tried to jump off, only to have the whole bike come crashing down with me as I fell on my arm. He doesn’t remember helping me back to the house and into the car as my mother rushed out with the keys. Doesn’t remember the five hours we sat in the waiting room,” she paused, taking in a deep breath, “My mother remembers it though—the parts she was there for and the parts that he had told her previously about my crash. I think that’s how they started realizing that things weren’t just fuzzy, they were totally gone. He had no recollection of the middle part of that story.”

”And how are they… dealing with that?” Draco asked carefully.

”Well, they are very comfortable reminding me that it’s my fault that they’ve lost important pieces of their memories forever. There was a lot of distrust and anger when they first got their memories back and when I explained what happened. They’ve always been very understanding and supportive parents but they just could not wrap their heads around me sending them away and removing myself from their lives. It was a complete betrayal to them because I was their only daughter; their only child and I had taken that fulfillment from them for almost two years, which could have been forever if I hadn’t made it through the war. We started working on mending our relationship little by little, but things got worse again once they realized the lasting implications. Our relationship is very strained now, but I keep trying and they keep trying, there’s just a lot of heaviness. But they’re my parents. I lost them once and I can’t do it again even if it’s difficult. I have a lot of guilt about it all and they don’t really try to ease any of it.”

”They’d have been dead—or worse—if you hadn't hid them.” He couldn’t believe the audacity of her parents not to understand the alternative to Hermione’s actions. It had been so… brave; what she’d done for them; so selfless and sincere.

She gave a dry laugh, “They disagree and say I overreacted. And that I overstepped. And that I shouldn’t have fought in the war at all.”

”Potter needed you; he’d have floundered without you like he always did at school. And you didn’t overreact. The death eaters were looking for your parents. They found your house. They’d have tortured them, without a doubt.”

Hermione looked over at him sharply at this and he realized that perhaps he had overstepped. “Really? They really came to my house?”

”Yes,” he said, “They were looking for all of the families of Order members. Especially yours and Potter’s. Not long into seventh year, they found your address and they searched every inch of the house, but everyone was long gone by then. You didn’t overreact. You saved their lives.”

Hermione swallowed hard at this and he watched as tears welled up in her eyes again. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “Yeah I probably did. And maybe that’ll help me sleep better at night. But I guarantee it won’t change their view on it.” She wiped the tear that broke free from her cheek and looked up towards the sky, blinking them away.

”Granger,” he said, and she finally looked back over at him. “You did the right thing. Even if they want to put guilt on you, you shouldn’t put it on yourself. You saved your parents’ lives. And it wasn’t an easy thing to do.” 

She nodded, eyes moving between his as another tear fell slowly. And without thinking about it—without considering what in the world he was doing—he reached out and brushed it away with his thumb. Her lips parted in a silent gasp as her eyes widened, but she didn’t move away. Her eyes just seemed to stare even more deeply into his; searching again.

”You did the right thing,” he said again, his voice lower now.

”Thank you,” she whispered back. And in that moment, he felt like there was no one in the world outside of the two of them sitting on that bench.

”Billy!” An aggravated mother’s voice yelled from somewhere close by, crashing them back down to earth as they both looked around, “You get back here this instant! What did I tell you about running in the park with all of these bicycles and runners on the path!”

A young boy trudged back to his mother with a scowl on his face as she took his hand and they marched off back towards the road.

Hermione subtly wiped the tears from her cheeks again and cleared her throat. “Sorry, it's a beautiful day, we should keep walking.”

”Sure,” Draco said, pushing off the bench as she did and falling into step beside her.

”Long story short,” she said, trying to even out her voice again, “I got in a row with them over lunch today because my mother was telling a story about one of our holiday ski trips to Switzerland when I was a teenager and she realized there was a gap in that memory. She got upset and told me how distraught she was that she’d lost part of such a beautiful memory. It wasn’t a direct accusation, but the accusation is always there so I tried to stand my ground—as my mind healer always recommends I do—and remind her that I was sorry that they had to deal with these repercussions from the charm I’d used, but that I’d done it to protect them—and it escalated from there. Sometimes it’s better if I keep my mouth shut or just blandly apologize and we don’t acknowledge the cause, but it’s hard to do that time and time again when I feel the accusation even if they don’t say it.”

”I’m sorry,” Draco said, “That sounds really difficult.” He wasn’t the best at empathizing, but in this case, he really did know the lengths she’d gone to in order to protect them and how imperative it had been. It was a travesty that they didn't understand that. He didn’t have the best relationship with his parents at this stage in his life, he was close but guarded with his mother and fallen out with his father, but he’d grown up with what felt like an unwavering bond with them and the severing of those ties to varying degrees had been incredibly difficult, so he did understand a bit of what she was dealing with.

”It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last,” she sighed. “But I tried to pull myself back together before I met you today. Didn’t do it quite well enough,” she gave him a weary smile and he chuckled.

”I’m very good at reading people. You weren’t really going to fool me.”

”Tell me about something good,” she said, waving her hand as though trying to bat away the entire day from her own memory.

”Something good,” he repeated as he thought. “Alright. Well, I had a nice evening with my friends last night. Blaise proposed to Daphne.”

Hermione gasped as though she knew them personally, “Proposed! Wow. That is very exciting.” And she sounded truly excited.

“We celebrated with about seven bottles of vintage champagne.”

”Of course you did,” she said dryly with that beautiful roll of her eyes. “Have they been together a long time?”

“Yes, six years, I think.”

“That’s wonderful. Good to know there is true love in the world,” she sighed.

“It is a good reminder,” he nodded. “I forget sometimes, too.”

She hummed, “Still haven’t given in to Pansy’s mother’s wishes, then?”

“I have not,” he grinned. “And no one has swept you off your feet in the last week?”

A slight blush rose on her neck as he peeked over at her. “No,” she said after a moment, “No romantic sweeping of the feet.”

“So would you care to enthrall me with a story of your romantic history? I’m still quite curious who could capture the heart of the wizarding world’s Golden Girl.” He gave her a playful sort of raised eyebrow look. He couldn’t deny he’d hoped this subject might come back around today and it felt like a light, easy topic that two people getting to know each other more personally might delve into at this stage.

She looked at him warily and he assumed he had nailed the playful look, ”I’m sure you are.” But she didn’t sound opposed to answering so he just widened his grin and let her continue as she looked back ahead towards their path, “It’s not entirely exciting. I dated Ron for a few years after Hogwarts and then Roger Davies for a year or so and then Viktor Krum for four years most recently. We started talking about a future and he asked me to move to Bulgaria. I think it hit me, then, that I didn’t see a future. We worked well with distance but I didn’t see how we fit into each others’ everyday lives when I really had to sit down and picture it. We broke up at the beginning of the year. It was the right decision. So there you go, my entire dating story.”

”I’m sure that’s not the entire story… but it’s a good start.”

”And you?” Hermione asked pointedly before he could dig deeper.

”Pansy at Hogwarts but she broke up with me seventh year over, ah, creative differences. And then Astoria—Daphne’s sister—for two years most recently. We broke up two and a half years ago now, though. She was lovely but our mothers set us up and there just was never anything substantial there for either of us. She was very sweet. We’re still good friends and she got married last year to a wizard she’s very smitten with.”

“You haven’t dated in two and a half years?”

“I haven’t seriously dated,” he said carefully.

“You’ve, what, then? Had casual girlfriends?”

“I haven’t had any other girlfriends,” he said definitively. “I have casually dated.” He’d prefer not to spell it out for her, but she didn’t seem to understand the unspoken insinuation the first time around, but by the ah look on her face now, it had clicked.

“I see,” the blush rose on her neck again. “Casually dated.” Her words were similarly even so he couldn’t tell exactly how she felt about that specific detail. “And it’s casual because… you don’t want to seriously date?”

“I just hadn’t met anyone that made me want to seriously date them.” It felt like they were both tip-toeing around wanting to say or ask more, but they had tread into dangerous territory, or at least he had, as someone who was becoming quite romantically interested in the woman walking beside him. “Previously, that is, or with the witches I have taken out over the last two and a half years, specifically.” He also didn’t want to insinuate that he hadn’t met anyone interesting because Hermione was certainly interesting. He could cringe at the way his words were playing out if not for the fact that he was trying to keep very calm and very together during this conversation that was currently going off the rails.

“I see,” she said, nodding slowly.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it, in the right circumstances.” He really needed to quit while he was behind. “I’ve just only really gone out with witches Pansy tries to set me up with. They haven’t been good matches.” 

Hermione gave him an amused look at this. “You know, you mentioned you and Pansy broke up over creative differences… what exactly did that mean?” 

Draco ran a hand through his hair. This conversation was not going to be any better, but he didn’t want to lie to her about it, either. He sighed, glancing over at her and then ahead again. “It’s my nice way of saying that she was not on the same page as me with regards to my allegiances after sixth year. She tried to stick it out even after… everything… and we just fought all the time. I wasn’t very pleasant to be around and she had a lot of opinions on how I was handling everything.”

Hermione was quiet for a moment now as she seemed to consider whether she wanted to continue this line of conversation. And then she nodded once before saying, ”She… didn’t have the same allegiances? That’s not entirely how I remember it when Harry and I returned to the school at the end of seventh year.” It didn’t sound like she was being cruel about that recollection, but more curious.

”She was confused, I would say, after I was forced to declare my allegiance so openly. She didn’t want to pick the death eaters but also didn’t think she’d be welcomed into the side of the Order and also didn’t want to be punished by the Carrows, and, when the time came, panicked when the dark lord threatened the school and all of her friends and yes, she basically tried to hand Potter over to him which probably looked pretty damning. It was a difficult year and we were both dealing with some things. She broke up with me at the holidays when I told her there was no other way for us; that we had to join the death eaters or we were dead. She didn’t like that. I didn’t like that either, but I didn’t see another option. I felt backed into a corner and it didn’t feel like my choice. It was my choice though,” Draco clarified, “and I made the wrong one.” He stopped himself there before the full-fledged apology came out. This was supposed to be a lighter conversation on personal topics, not the apology.

Hermione was quiet when she responded, “Creative differences,” she repeated the phrase he’d used earlier with a slow nod of her head.

”Creative differences,” he confirmed. “We reconciled as friends after my sentence in Azkaban but it was never romantic, after that. We needed each other as friends as we tried to figure out how to grow up and move forward from it all.”

“Some days I still don’t know how to move forward from it,” Hermione said absently as she looked around.

“Nor do I,” he said quietly.

There was silence between them for a minute as they walked, birds chirping from neighboring trees and the sounds of chatter in the air from people they passed by. And then Hermione turned back to him, “You can though, you know.”

“Can what?” His thoughts had been barreling down their own path and he tried to recollect the last thing he’d said.

“Move forward.” Her words were soft; too soft for what he deserved on the topic as it hit him.

“I’ve been trying,” he said. “I’ve got one more year of community service from my sentence. Kind of a constant reminder. Not that I think I should forget about it, or anything—” this was an especially difficult topic to discuss with Hermione Granger, “—but hard to feel like I can really move forward when I’m still repenting for the past. I’ve had a blatant reminder of my worst mistakes three days a week for the last nine years. But I’m still trying to make something of it so I can move forward when the years of service are completed.”

“Ten years was your community service sentence?” she asked as though she was trying to remember. “I thought it had been twelve.”

“It had been,” he nodded, as he stopped to throw his empty cup into a rubbish bin and she handed hers to him as he disposed of that as well. And then they continued walking. “They lowered it when I got out of Azkaban with a good report. My mother asked for some consideration to lighten my sentence when I came home. Even two years less was appreciated. I wasn’t trying to get let off the hook for anything.”

“Why did you choose community service hours? There was a choice, wasn’t there?”

“There was. It was one year in Azkaban—non-negotiable—and then either twelve years of community service time or 500,000 galleons that would go to the Ministry’s relief efforts.”

“And you chose community service.”

“I did.”

“But you also donated to a slew of projects that year. So why didn’t you just take the donation deal?”

“Because community service felt like a way for me to be involved; to be committed to what I wanted to do, which was to be anything better than what I had been. I donated the 500,000 galleons anyway. Because I have the means to do so. But it meant I could allocate it to the projects I thought would make more of a difference than just giving it to the Ministry to decide what to do with.”

Hermione stopped, “Malfoy,” she said, grabbing his arm to stop with her as he met her eyes, “You can move forward.”

“I—look, if you want me to move forward then there’s something I need to say to you.”

“You don’t,” she said, and the look in her eyes was so fierce.

“I do, Granger. I need to—”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

He stood there, his mouth half open and his brain trying to catch up to where she wanted him to be.

“I don’t need you to apologize for the war,” she clarified, “I never have. I knew, even then, that you didn’t want to be a part of what you were dragged into. You made mistakes, but I saw your remorse for those things in the end. And I just… I don’t need you to apologize for anything else.”

He huffed at this, “That just can’t be true. You haven’t been able to stand the sight of me and have denied my request to help out your department for years.” He didn’t mean to sound frustrated, but as much as she didn’t appreciate ingenuity, he didn’t either. And if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that Hermione Granger absolutely blamed him for his part in the war. Hermione Granger had hated him and that had to have been the reason.

“Malfoy, I testified on your behalf at your trial; obviously I didn’t think you should be convicted as a death eater. The reason I didn’t want you volunteering in my department wasn’t because I blamed you for the war,” she looked as surprised as he felt. “It’s because you were an absolute prat to me for six years in school and I’d heard you were walking around on what seemed like a self-righteous apology tour to restore your big ego and absolve you of your wrongdoings and I wanted no part of it. I—made a lot of assumptions about your motivations based on the absolute pain in the arse you were at sixteen. And I can see now that I was wrong about that. So I don’t need a verbal apology.”

“There are still things I need to apologize to you for, Granger,” he said as his eyes flashed; tone harsh and fingers pointing into his own chest where he harbored an unhealthy amount of self-loathing on this subject. He couldn’t have been more thankful, in that moment, for her muffliato charm that had been placed around them. He’d thought he could hold it together; that they could talk and he could apologize in a mature way… but the truth of the matter was that apologizing to her was always going to be the hardest. He had real things to apologize for. Everyone else in the war had been impacted by his general association to the Death Eaters, but Granger… Granger had been a direct recipient to the impact of his cowardice; had taken a direct hit of his inability to do the right thing. “Maybe you don’t need to hear it, but I need to say it. And not because it’s on a checklist of things I need to do. Maybe in the beginning I thought it was just a checklist item I needed to complete, but it’s been six weeks now of spending time with you and working with you and finally starting to get to know you. I need to apologize because you deserve it. Because I need you to know what it means to me to apologize. To you, specifically.”

She crossed her arms as though bracing herself. “Fine, then. Go ahead.”

“Fuck, now it doesn’t feel like the right time again,” he threw his hands in the air and started to stomp off before she grabbed his wrist and pulled him back, not letting go even once they were face to face again.

“Malfoy, I want you to say what’s on your mind. It's not easy for me to talk about the war, maybe that’s part of why I didn’t want to hear an apology. But you have my attention because this seems important to you and I know it isn’t easy for you to talk about either. So if it’s important to you, then I can bear it. We can bear it together, I mean.”

And he could see, now, that she meant it. Her tension was there, but ebbing. Her attention was fully focused on him. And her hand was still on his wrist as though it might lighten the impact for both of them a bit; ground them in each other.

“Alright,” he said, absorbing every bit of her energy through the place her skin met his. His eyes moved between hers, trying to find somewhere welcoming to settle his gaze as her eyes seemed to warm and liquify; opening to him. He swallowed hard and leaned into the comfort he found there. “I’m sorry,” he finally pushed out, but the words didn’t feel like they really captured the right feeling and his free hand moved to grip the hand that still covered his wrist. “Granger—Hermione, I am so sorry that I didn’t stand up for you; didn’t fight back for you when—” he swallowed again, his mouth running dry, “—when my aunt was torturing you. Of all the things I was involved with during the war—that’s my biggest regret. 

“It was the one time I was directly faced with a choice of humanity and I did nothing. Most of the time, things didn’t feel like my decision, or my responsibility. I had a lot of guilt over sending Katie Bell to the hospital wing and poisoning Weasley, but they were both cured and I didn’t personally pick them as victims; I wasn’t there when they mistakenly got caught up in my feeble attempts to pretend I was making headway on my task sixth year. And Dumbledore… well, in the end I had the slightest bit of absolution because it wasn’t my wand that killed him. I was lowering my wand; I was going to ask for his help to get my parents and I out; I wasn’t going to use the killing curse; but it was too late by the time I’d realized that; by the time I’d realized maybe there had been a way out all along and I’d been too short-sighted to see it. And I didn’t let Greyback into the castle that night. He wasn’t supposed to be there. It was just supposed to be a few low tier Death Eaters helping me get back out of the castle when the deed was done. No one else was supposed to get hurt.”

He paused, unsure if he was making the point he wanted to make as he shook his head to clear the jumble of thoughts all trying to force their way out of his mouth. When he focused on her again, he noted, quite plainly, that she was patiently waiting for him to continue with that open, caring look in her eyes that she usually reserved for people she deemed worthy of her time and attention. So he took another breath before he continued, “I’m not saying I don’t have a lot of guilt for those things, because I have a lot of guilt about all of my decisions and all of the things that happened as a result of them. And I have made my rounds to apologize to every person impacted by those decisions because I am sorry for all of it and I do take responsibility for all of it. 

“But you—you were in my house; I was there in the room. I could have done something; and I did nothing. I was faced with the very tangible choice of letting you die and I almost did because I was a coward. I have never been more grateful than the moment I saw Potter and Weasley burst into that room and take you away.That night still haunts me as much as I am sure it still haunts you. I’m sorry I did nothing. You deserved better. If this version of me had been in that room, he would have done something. I’m sorry you got the worst of me for seven years. It was all over something that, in the end, doesn't mean a thing to me; blood status. I thought it was everything when I was growing up, but I know, now, that it’s nothing. That you really were the brightest witch of our age and you were so, so much better than me in almost every way. And I was too blinded by what had been pounded into my head my entire life to see it for myself. But I see it very clearly now. I have done so much work on myself to make sure I see it and understand it so these apologies can mean something. I’m sorry.”

He hadn’t noticed as he was talking, but as he let out a long breath, he realized he was shaking. And the hand he’d placed over hers on his wrist was not just sitting there, it was grasping her hand; clamping it, almost, in a vice grip.

“I know you’re sorry,” she said quietly and softly. “You’ve shown me that you’ve changed and grown and that you’re trying to do better every day for the last six weeks. That’s why I didn’t need you to say the words, Malfoy. I accepted your apology when your actions showed me you had earned it. And that was weeks ago.”

And at this, without thinking about what he was doing, he let go of her hand and wrapped his arms around her as he enveloped her in the largest hug he’d ever given another person. Because no one had ever accepted his apology—ever accepted him—so genuinely before; so completely as the look in her eyes told him she did. “I’m sorry,” he couldn't help saying it again into her hair. Her arms wrapped around his back and he clung tighter. He stayed there for three deep breaths before he pulled himself back together and stepped back, clearing his throat and averting his eyes, which felt like they were probably a bit watery, though no actual tears had fallen. “Sorry,” he said again, this time for his uncharacteristic show of emotions and unsolicited physical contact. “That was—I didn’t mean to throw myself on you like that. That wasn’t—”

And then he heard a chuckle rumble from her throat and he finally looked back, “Malfoy, it’s fine. That’s a normal human reaction to a heavy conversation.”

“Right,” he said, “I’m not entirely used to normal human reactions of the emotional context.”

“Of course you’re not,” she sighed. “Do you want to keep walking?”

“I—yes. I do.”

She gave him a small smile and turned back for the path as he turned with her and they set off again. It was quiet as they each took a few breaths and looked at the scenery around them. “So where do Blaise and Daphne want to get married?” she asked as though it was the clear next question.

“Italy,” he responded, glad to hear his voice come out more normally than he feared it might as he tried to find his equilibrium again. “Tuscany, specifically.”

And then they walked for another hour through the park talking about their friends and their upcoming plans after the summer sessions ended in September, and easy, light topics of conversation that might come up on a normal walk through the park. At some point they had turned around and eventually they were spit back out on the streets of Mayfair.

“This was… needed today, I think,” Hermione said as they came to the end of the block where they would split ways. 

“It was,” Draco nodded, “And not just because it was on a checklist.” He wanted that point to be very clear.

“I know,” she said. “But I think I needed to talk to someone about my parents today, as well. It was a good day for heavy conversation.”

“And maybe next weekend, we can do something fun.” Draco said it as a statement rather than a question. He wanted to spend more time with her; to make her laugh instead of cry and have a battle of wits rather than a battle of emotions. Next week, he’d plan something fun.

Her lip turned up as she appraised him again, but her eyes were light and beautifully open. “Alright, it’ll have to be in the evening because I’ll be working all day on Saturday.”

“Saturday evening,” he confirmed. 

“I’ll see you Wednesday.” She backed up a few paces, eyes still on his before her smile pulled a little wider and then she turned and walked down the street back towards her flat and he turned for his own.

It had not been the light day of making slow progress that he’d been expecting, but he thought maybe this was better. He’d never been comfortable with vulnerability, but she’d handled his so gently and he thought he’d done a pretty good job at handling her vulnerability about her parents well, also. It felt like they’d catapulted past the next stage of progress into something that had a deeper meaning; something more long-lasting and solid. And gods did it make him like her even more, to see how raw she could be; to have her trust him with something so heavy in her chest. And to feel her hand on his wrist as he’d apologized; to feel the comfort that he could say whatever he needed to in her gaze… every part of him had sparked to life. This witch had so much depth and realness to her. She was so very different from anyone he’d met before. And it made him want to know more; to pull more from her and to give her more of himself. Next week… he’d give her something fun as a thank you for giving him something he’d needed this week.

Chapter Text

Fun. What a ridiculous word. What did that even mean; fun? What kind of expectation had he set with Hermione that he could, indeed, come up with a fun outing for them on Saturday night? He’d played it cool all week while they finalized the program session materials and packets for the second session that would take place next weekend, but he was not cool on the inside. It was Saturday morning and he still had not come up with a plan for the evening. He’d told her Friday that he’d owl her with the location of their fun outing by the afternoon, but he had nothing. 

“You’re going to ruin that beautiful hair of yours if you keep running your hand through it like that,” Theo said as he dropped a rubber mat by the sofa, shrugging off his bag and flopping horizontally across the armchair, feet dangling over the side.

“Fuck,” Draco’s head lifted sharply, “I didn’t even hear you come in.” He looked him over, incredulously, “What have you been doing this morning?”

Theo wiggled his eyebrows, “Spent my morning with Bryce.”

“I cannot believe you went back.”

“Have you seen Bryce? Sorry, that’s not a real question, because of course you have.”

Bryce had been the instructor the day he and Pansy had regrettably gone to the yoga studio. Pansy had wasted absolutely no time in recommending to Theo that he check out yoga for himself because there was a very attractive instructor. He’d gone the next day and came back raving about how absolutely horrible yoga was and how absolutely infatuating Bryce was. He’d used a stealthy duplication charm to copy the schedule on the wall and had been making a point to attend Bryce’s classes every few days.

“Theo, you hated yoga.”

“No, no, Draco I hate yoga. Present tense. I don’t have the attention span for it. But today Bryce remembered my name and he shifted my hips in downward dog and I would be lying if I said that one movement hadn’t convinced me that I will go to yoga every gods forsaken day until he asks me on a date.”

Pansy’s voice interrupted them as they both looked towards the fireplace where she was brushing soot off her shoulder, “Why don’t you just ask him, Theo?”

“Because I’m a catch, Pansy. I am a man that gets asked on dates. I give the vibes and if he wants to take the initiative to pick up those vibes, then he will ask me. I’m not begging a man to go out with me.”

Draco raked his hand through his hair again as he leaned back on the couch and sighed an annoyed sigh.

“And what’s your problem, Draco?”  Pansy took over the opposite corner of the sofa as she rested her elbow on the back and her head in her hand.

“I told Granger we’d do something fun tonight after the heavy conversations from our outing last week,” he sighed again. It was no use lying to them at this point, they knew, as he did, that he was in over his head with Granger even as he continued to deny the extent of it.

“Does Hermione Granger know how to have fun?” Pansy lifted a brow his way.

“I’m not sure the two of you have the same kind of fun,” Theo chirped in.

And then, to make matters worse, Blaise and Daphne walked in.

“I didn’t invite any of you over,” Draco said pointedly, leaning forward on the couch and closing the journal of potions notes he'd been looking at before he'd become wholly distracted with thinking about the impending outing.

Blaise shared a look with Pansy and grinned, “Are we talking about Granger?”

Theo relayed the conundrum as the two newcomers took their seats in the free armchair opposite Theo.

“Who cares if you don’t enjoy the same kind of fun,” Blaise waved Theo’s speculation off, “Show her your kind of fun. Take her to something exciting.”

“Or,” Daphne said, “Take her to her kind of fun and act like you enjoy it too.”

“I doubt Draco wants to spend the evening at the Ministry of Magic working,” Pansy huffed.

“I bet Granger’s more fun than she lets on outside the office,” Theo quipped. “Everyone who’s wound up tight like that has an outlet.”

“Or needs an outlet,” Daphne pointed out.

“I would love if you found Granger’s wild side,” Pansy’s eyes sparked at the idea of it.

“This doesn’t help me come up with an actual plan,” Draco said dryly.

“Alright,” Blaise leveled, “How about this. Close your eyes—don’t be a prat, do it. Okay, clear your mind. I’m going to ask you a few questions and I want you to answer with the first thing that comes to mind.”

“Fine.”

“What would you do for fun?”

“Quidditch match.”

“What would Granger do for fun?”

It was Pansy, who answered this one, ticking items off on her finger, “Read; go to a book signing, attend a seminar—”

“Fuck off, Pansy,” Draco said, eyes still closed. “She would enjoy something intellectual or active. It sounds like she’s always on the go to the next thing when she’s not at the Ministry.”

“Do you want an indoor or outdoor activity?”

“Indoor.”

“Do you want to do something in the muggle world or magical?”

“Magical. We’ve been getting coffee already in the muggle world.”

“How much do you want to be able to talk?”

“Conversationally.”

“How much physical space do you need from each other at said activity?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Draco opened his eyes.

“Well I’m narrowing down activities and if you wanted to be physically close, I might recommend a Bent-Winged Snitches concert, as they’re in town this weekend.”

“No, no,” Draco shook his head. “That’s too close. We’re not there yet. We’re still getting to know each other. I can’t have her dancing so close that—” he ate the rest of his sentence in which he was about to say he couldn't have her so close that he’d want to reach out and pull her against him. “That’s not enough physical space.” He pivoted.

“There’s a dueling competition in town this weekend,” Theo lifted his head that had been hanging backwards over the arm of his chair. “The European Dueling League. It’ll be the top duelists from each country; it’s supposed to be a big event and it’s usually pretty high energy; really cool magic. There would be enough free time for conversations; a lot of action during the matches—”

“And you could say it’s sort of educational,” Pansy added, “Granger loves education.”

“And the venue is right next to a lovely cocktail lounge called Elevated Elixirs,” Theo said. “Nice intimate atmosphere if you’re getting the vibe that she wants to stay out after the event ends.”

Draco sat up a little straighter, “Thats—that’s not a bad idea. I’ve only been to a few in my life, I would bet she hasn’t been to a match before. It’d be something new.”

“They’ve only got owl-order tickets but you should still be able to snag a couple if you send an owl now. I heard they were almost sold out. Tickets aren’t cheap either—”

“I don’t care about that,” Draco waved him off, standing and crossing the room as he rummaged through a large oak corner cabinet before pulling out parchment and a quill and scrawling an order for two tickets in the best seats available, along with the details to extract payment from his Gringotts account. He pulled a second parchment forward and scrawled a quick note to Hermione with the location of where to meet him for their outing that evening. He then marched up the stairs and into the makeshift office he had set up and tied the parchment to the outstretched leg of Raidho—his owl of six years. The owl hooted and nuzzled against his hand as Draco placed his palm on the bird’s head in an absent petting motion. “Alright boy, take this,” he indicated the note to Hermione, “to Hermione Granger. And then, take this,” he tapped the second rolled parchment, “to the Department of Magical Games and Sports. They should give you tickets to bring back.”

Raidho clipped his beak in understanding before taking off out the open window.

“Alright,” Draco said as he descended the stairs and re-entered the room, “That’s set.”

“Good luck wooing Granger,” Theo gave him a wide smile.

“I’m not—this isn’t—” and then he paused and blinked back at his friends before muttering, “thanks.”

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

“Evening, Granger,” Draco greeted her as he walked the cobblestone streets of Evanshire Way, a wizarding street in south London that housed London’s famed Evanshire market and a slew of apothecaries and magical household supply shops. In the middle of the street was a large tented venue reminiscent of a carnival, but in a warm dusty blue with gold accents and a sign that read Evanshire Arena at the top.

”Evening, Malfoy,” Hermione smiled in a way that seemed easy and automatic when her eyes found his, and the fact that his presence made her smile made him feel like a hundred butterflies had just taken up real estate in his stomach. “What in the world have you got in store for me?”

“I’ve got something fun planned,” he said confidently. “There’s an international dueling competition scheduled for tonight,” he nodded his head in the direction of the arena, “Have you ever heard of the European Dueling League?”

Her eyes sparked with intrigue, “Vaguely,” she nodded, “I mean I’ve never seen a competition, but I’ve heard that these kinds of competitions exist. I don’t think I realized it was a publicized event.”

”It’s very popular in the Mediterranean countries—France, Spain, Greece, Italy… there are large venues dedicated to the craft in Rome and Paris, but the Rome venue is currently under renovations and Paris is hosting the semifinals of the International Quidditch League this weekend and they didn’t want to take spectators away from that. So they are currently touring around Europe for a few weeks and happen to be in London tonight.”

“Well, lucky us,” her smile broadened, “I bet the dueling skills are incredible.”

Draco nodded as he turned and gestured for her to follow him, “It’s exciting to watch, as well. I’ve been to a few myself on holiday growing up.”

“I’m guessing Paris was a normal family holiday for you?” She asked, “You mentioned your mother was considering a move to the South of France.”

”Yes,” he handed the tickets to the wizard at the gate who scanned them with his wand before handing them back, “You’ll be bottom floor, first row in section D.”

”Thank you,” Hermione said while Draco took the tickets back and began leading her through the venue.

”We have a house in the South of France—near Marseille—and we also have a large flat near Montmarte for when my mother wants a shopping trip.”

“What does your mother do, now that she’s alone in the manor?” Hermione asked.

”Tea time with friends; tends to the conservatory; organizes and reorganizes around the house,” he shrugged, “Attends galas and works with her financial advisor at Gringotts to help her donate to the right places.”

”And what does she consider the 'right places'?” Hermione asked wryly.

”Things that are… optically appropriate,” Draco said diplomatically.  “She knows our family is under a magnifying charm, so to say, so she specifically works with a financial advisor who is well versed on all of the wizarding charities and upcoming fundraisers, as well as new Ministry legislature and initiatives. He guides her towards causes that are relevant and supported by the current Ministry leadership.”

”Just for optics, or any other reason?” Hermione looked at him with a bit of interest now as they took the stairs down towards the floor level seats.

”Oh partially for optics, I think. She’s always been cognizant about public perception. But I think she sees me trying to make changes and it makes her want to at least appear to do the same. I think she wants to try to understand why I’m making these changes in myself, but is also held back by that fierce sense of self-importance she’s lived her whole life with. She’d have to upheave every value she’s ever held and sift through it all to understand it and understand why it was wrong and how to be better. And it’s not that she doesn’t care to be a good person, to be quite honest I think she does want to be a good person who is respected and liked. It’s just a lot of self-work and I think she’s scared to commit to it. That said, she’s at least completing the actions to do better things, even if she can’t quite grasp the reason for it all.”

Draco held his hand out to usher Hermione into her seat as she moved past him, brushing him lightly as his entire body buzzed with electricity. And then he cleared his throat and took his seat. They were directly in the middle of the arena with what were likely one of the best sets of seats in the house.

”Well at least someone is directing her donations to Ministry causes. Obviously I don’t agree with every avenue the Ministry takes its initiatives, but it’s a good hedge to make a positive impact.”

Their conversation was cut short by an announcer who had just magnified his voice to introduce the first two duelists representing Spain and Poland.

”This Spanish duelist, he’s been around for a decade,” Draco told her. “His specialty is his transfiguration work.”

”Transfiguration?” she asked in confusion, “Isn’t this a duel?”

”Oh yes, there’s objects strewn about the arena,” he nodded his head in the direction of the dueling floor as she took in the space for the first time and started noticing an array of inanimate objects such as tables and chairs and tea pots and hairbrushes. “Part of what makes dueling competitions exciting is that they can construct anything they want with the objects supplied and every competition is different with how it plays out. Sometimes the duelists get straight to it and sometimes they set up hideouts and shields and things of the like.”

The duelists were taking their places in the middle of the floor now as they bowed and then raised their wands in front of their faces before flourishing them to their sides and turning to walk fifteen paces each. They turned, taking their dueling stances before a firework explosion went off at the top of the tent and the spells started flying back and forth. They seemed simple at first, stunners and slowing jinxes cut off by shield charms while they learned each other's movements and perused their surroundings between shots. Above them, the names of the spells they were using materialized in the form of more fireworks for spectators who weren't as close to the action.

The Spanish duelist was the first to pull away from their exchange of fire as he shot off a spell before tucking and rolling to the side and summoning a chair, waving his wand as it transfigured in midair into a solid brick wall that was chest height and an arm span wide. He took cover as he summoned two smaller objects, his Polish opponent taking the opportunity to summon the teapot they’d spotted earlier as it transfigured into a large metal shield, though it looked thin and flimsy in comparison to the Spanish duelist’s transfigured cover.

The Spanish duelist had transfigured his smaller objects into an army of white doves with razor sharp beaks as he sent them careening for his opponent’s shield. They watched as the doves made contact, beaks cutting straight through the transfigured metal shield as they got stuck there.

The Polish wizard cursed as the shield began melting and he threw it to the side, waving his wand to send a dormant antique lamp back at the Spanish wizard to buy time.

”Those dove beaks must have had some kind of acid curse imbibed in them,” Draco leaned over to say, “the way they melted the shield like that.”

”I missed the name of it, how on earth did he do that?” Hermione said in awe. They were so close to the duel that they'd have to crane their necks to see every spell that flashed above them and it was more exciting to watch it play out.

Draco turned his head to look at her as she met his eye, cocking her head in interest, “Magic,” he said matter-of-factly.

Hermione huffed a laugh before rolling her eyes and turning back to the duel.

The Spanish wizard had raised a wall just in time to break another offensive attack and was stepping out from behind it, aiming a precise stunner that was blocked as the two wizards faced each other again. Another whirl of complex hexes and jinxes and blocks and ducks were exchanged as their stances moved skillfully between attack and defense. The Spanish wizard was creative with his transfiguration and shields, while the Polish wizard was creative with his hexes and quick on his timing. He’d sent a spinning gust of wind at the Spanish duelist that had brought their wall to the ground and turned the tides as the Spanish wizard backstepped, throwing up a quick but feeble shield charm as he tried to regain his footing. This time, it only took a strong Bombarda from the Polish duelist, which crashed through the barrier before another quick attack followed it through the rubble to knock him back with a stunner as the Spanish duelist fell to the ground, defeated.

A roar of excitement erupted from the crowd as the Polish wizard raised his arms in the air in triumph and cheered along with them.

”This is very fun,” Hermione said as they stood and cheered with everyone else before taking their seats again. “I want to know how he transfigured those acid hex birds,” she said, a look forming on her face that he recognized from their youth; Hermione Granger’s thirst for knowledge. He smiled subconsciously in her direction. 

“We’ll have to find you a book, then.” And with those words he thought maybe his inherent charm was finally starting to register on her radar as a smile widened on her face and he swore—he swore—he saw her eyes glance ever so briefly down to the grin on his own lips.

”I guess we will.”

He liked that word—we. He liked it much more than he’d ever liked it before. In a way he hadn’t thought about the word before. In a way that made him break it down to its most simplistic form—we: you and I; Granger and Malfoy. Hermione and I.

There was a snap of a camera somewhere close by and they both pulled their eyes from each other towards the sound to see a Prophet photographer aiming his camera directly at them before smiling and giving a thumbs up over the lens and then moving on to capture the larger audience to their left. 

“Sorry, maybe we shouldn't have gone somewhere quite so public,” Draco said in an even tone as he avoided her eye in hopes of missing what he assumed must be an embarrassed or worried look on her face at being caught out with the likes of him.

“It’s—fine,” she said and there was something in her voice that sounded like surprise at the revelation that it was fine. Like maybe she had meant to try and quell his fears by telling him it was fine, but then also realized that internally, she was fine with it.

”Good,” he cleared his throat again, trying to find his earlier confidence. “So, you’re enjoying the competition, then?”

”I am,” she said definitively, “I wasn’t sure what Draco Malfoy may deem to be a fun outing, but you’ve surpassed my expectations.”

”I hope to continue to do so,” he chanced a glance in her direction this time and was pleased to see she was giving him a similar side-glance smile.

The announcer’s magnified voice boomed through the arena again to introduce the next two duelists and Draco relaxed through the next match and found his way back to his normal stride by their next opportunity for casual conversation. He kept things light, asking about where she grew up and what she liked to do for fun when she was younger—asking about her childhood was easier than asking about her school years, so many of which were marred by the Dark Lord and the war. But she seemed relaxed talking about her childhood. Once they’d broached the topic of travel, he learned she’d traveled often with her parents growing up; they’d taken winter ski trips—a terrifying sport she’d had to explain to him—and summer holiday trips all around Europe as her parents were fascinated with learning the history and cultures of other countries. They’d stayed on this topic through the intermissions of the next several competitions and it struck him just how easy it was to talk to Hermione Granger. He’d never fully acknowledged, before, that he also found her to be very funny, when the conversation flowed in this sort of fashion. She was witty and smart and her tongue was sharp with a quip or a retort. And the little things she mentioned offhandedly made him want to know more.

”You’ve never heard of skiing? Well how does the prospect of being strapped to two pieces of wood and being catapulted down a mountain sound?”

“I wish I remembered more of Italy, I’m afraid I enjoyed the wine a bit too much when I was there celebrating with Ginny after finishing our last year at Hogwarts.”

“The hiking in Croatia was beautiful—not that I’d assume a Slytherin would much enjoy anything that might get your dragonhide boots dirty.”

By the end of the competition, the duelist from France was crowned the winner, as England took second and Austria took third. Each duel had been unique and exciting and they left in high spirits with the rest of the crowd, continuing their earlier conversation on their favorite towns on the coast of Portugal.

”You know, there’s a cocktail lounge next door, if you’ve got time for a drink?” Draco asked as he found an opening.

”Oh I’d love to—“ she said with the same momentum of excitement they’d left the arena with before she paused, a small huff of disappointment emitting from her lips, “Actually, sorry, I can’t tonight. I have an early morning tomorrow helping Harry with some research on one of his Auror cases before we head to the Weasleys. I really should call it a night.”

”Not a problem,” Draco took the rejection in stride. He’d gotten her for three hours that evening and it had been fun. This was a win. 

“Thank you, though. This was something new and it was a lot of fun.” The confirmation made him smile again. He could not remember the last time he had smiled so damn much in the presence of a witch. “I’ll see you on Wednesday.” And then she stepped in and hugged him like it was the most normal thing in the world. And perhaps she remembered, halfway through the hug, that it was not normal for them, because he felt her stiffen slightly with an arm around his neck before she pulled back and gave him another, more sheepish smile. “Goodnight.”

”Goodnight,” he said, trying not to let his voice sound like it was melting like the rest of him was in that moment, “See you Wednesday.” 

She stepped back, but her eyes were still on his as a spark of something lit behind them and her smile deepened just slightly. And then she waved before she turned on her heel and disapparated. He stood there for a few more seconds, watching the spot she’d disappeared from and it hit him like an erumpent that he was, without a doubt, falling head over heels for Hermione Granger. And then he turned on those heels and apparated to his flat in Mayfair to dwell on this new fact.

Chapter Text

“Please, Daphne,” Draco tried to keep the agitation out of his voice.

”Oh, I don’t know, Draco, I’m not supposed to give favors to other departments,” Daphne said from her place in the armchair with an airy tone as she spun a very large diamond around her ring finger. Blaise was standing behind her, leaning on his arms on the back of the chair, while Theo sprawled on the couch with his head in Pansy’s lap as she ran her fingers through his hair and his toes dug under Draco’s thighs—something Draco was pointedly ignoring because Theo did this often with whoever was close enough for physical contact.

”Oh come on.” He could have stomped his foot if he were standing, but of course he kept himself from doing so. “It’s one meeting.”

”It’s not just a meeting, Draco, and we both know that. You expect me to take the meeting with Granger and make the fundraiser happen. It’s a lot of work and I’m going to have to somehow substantiate my reasoning for such a last minute fundraiser for an issue we have slated three years from now on our priority list.”

”Daph,” Draco leveled her with a look, “How many gods forsaken fundraisers have you thrown for the Magical Musical Arts Coalition and the Elderly Post-Owl Foundation and a hundred other causes that are only deemed more important because wealthy donors like the events they put on?”

”Don't you enjoy the MMAC fundraiser? You’re there every year.”

”Mother knows the lead cellist in the London Magical Symphony,” Draco said, “But yes, I do enjoy the event. That’s not the point, though. The point is that a fundraiser to help not only raise awareness to Granger’s department, but also raise money so they can hire a proper amount of interns for next summer’s program sessions would go directly to a good cause and to a department that’s going to use the money for its intended purpose. Last I saw, the Elderly Post-Owl Foundation used some of their funds to buy hats and bows for their owls to take pictures that would make them look cute enough that people would continue to donate. And then they used more profits to lease a larger space in Diagon Alley with top of the line upgrades.”

Daphne crossed her arms, “Did you specifically research my fundraiser clients to make this argument?”

”I did. And it’s almost criminal how much of their donations are wasted.”

Pansy snorted from the other side of the couch and Draco shot her a glare.

Daphne eyed him before nodding slowly, “Fine, I’ll do it on one condition.”

”What?”

”Admit you like her.”

”Who?”

”Granger,” Daphne prompted.

”Of course I like her. We’ve been working together for—”

”No,” Daphne cut him off, “Admit you like her. Admit you want to date Granger because you are wild about her. And I'll make the meeting.”

“Well that’s—that’s just—” Draco sputtered as he felt everyone’s eyes on him. He pushed himself from the couch and moved around the coffee table, pacing back and forth as his hand ran through his hair, “You don’t understand—it’s not that—it’s just—“

”For fuck’s sake, Draco,” Pansy said, throwing her head back with a groan. “You obviously like the witch. Just say it.”

Draco stopped, looking around at each of them before running a hand through his hair one more time with a sigh, “Yeah, I like her.”

”Good,” Daphne said brightly, “Now tell me you’re going to ask her out when your volunteer time is over.”

”I—yes. I probably will.”

”Great. Tell her my eight o’clock on Monday morning, August third is available. And this next bit is hush-hush, but I just had a cancellation on August twenty-ninth for a fundraiser I’ve been working on. I could redirect a lot of the resources to a fundraiser for Granger’s department since I’ve got a lot of sunk costs on this. It was a decently budget-conscious event but a win-win because she doesn’t seem the type to need anything over the top and it’s also three years earlier than anything else she’s got a chance at.”

“Thank you,” Draco said, a tinge of relief mixed with a tinge of annoyance at the fanfare around the acceptance of the meeting when she was clearly always going to grant it to him.

“You know I think it’s cute, Draco,” Pansy simpered, pulling lightly at one of Theo’s curls between her fingers, “Maybe all that teasing you did at Hogwarts was really just foreshadowing that you’d have a crush on her in the future.”

“All that teasing I did at Hogwarts was because I was a very horrible and misguided boy,” Draco scoffed, his annoyance now leaning inward.

“And now you’re a gorgeous, reformed man ready to take on the world’s Golden Girl,” Theo sighed.

“Question is,” Blaise quirked an eyebrow, “Is she ready for you?”

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

Draco had owled Hermione on Monday morning with news of the meeting with Daphne the following week. He’d subsequently received a surprised and incredibly grateful response in return. This made him smile despite himself as he spent the rest of his day with Blaise tossing a quaffle around. 

By the time he got into work that Wednesday, the rest of the week went by in a blur as they prepared and readied all of their materials for the Saturday/Sunday program session that weekend, but unlike the high-stress of the days before the first session, this felt like more of a calm and structured process. There seemed to be tension relief in removing the uncertainty of meeting the incoming class of muggleborns and quelling the fears of something going horribly wrong with their first impressions.

Friday had been spent setting up the main conference room for the welcome session the next day and boxing up materials by individual program session. And all day long, it had looked, to Draco, as though there was something Hermione wanted to say to him. Three times now he’d watched her open her mouth slightly and turn in his direction and then, thinking she’d been stealthy enough, she’d close it and give her head the tiniest shake before she’d continue what she’d been doing prior. He wondered if he’d done something wrong that she couldn’t figure out how to bring up judicially—though she usually had no problem telling someone they needed to redo something if it wasn’t up to her standards. Maybe it wasn’t something work related; maybe he’d said something on their outing the prior week that had struck a cord. Maybe he shouldn’t have talked so freely about his mother and where she was at in her post-war journey.

They were back in Hermione's office now, packing the last of the welcome gift bags—a set of standard quills and a Ministry-crested planner, along with an assortment of magical sweets. Draco put each carefully into the bag before summoning a singular sheet of tissue paper, which he directed into the bag with the perfect crinkle to look both handmade and uniform.

”Have a good weekend,” Hannah popped her head into Hermione’s office, Michael in tow as they both waved.

Hermione and Draco waved back with their own goodbye quips before the other two had left the Muggleborn Initiatives Office with a click of the door. There was silence between them again as they finished up the last few bags and placed them into a bin to take into the conference room Saturday morning. 

Hermione paused, turning towards him more purposefully this time—it would be difficult to pretend she was not about to say something now that they were both standing next to the same bin.

Instead of pointing out that this was now the fourth time he’d watched her attempt to spit out whatever was on her mind, he simply raised an eyebrow and slipped a hand into his pocket.

”I really appreciate you getting that meeting for me with Daphne next week,” she said. They’d been so busy during the week that she hadn’t actually said the words out loud since thanking him in an owl post.

”Oh,” he said, caught off guard by the topic. “It really wasn’t a problem.” Except to his pride.

”Well, you didn’t have to do it—and I don’t know what’s going to come of it still—but I just wanted to say that I recognize that you went above and beyond to try and help out the department, so regardless of what happens on Monday, thank you. The extra inflow from a fundraiser would be huge for our sessions next summer.”

“I just wanted to make the introduction,” he said with an implied shrug, “Daphne’s a good friend and obviously I think you’ve got a good program that just doesn’t get the exposure that other departments or initiatives have. Besides we’re friend—ly now,” he tried not to stutter over the implication that he thought they may be on the verge of being friends, “I’d do the same for any of my friends.”

That subconscious smile pulled at her lips as her eyes moved between his. “A very friendly thing to do,” she said with a hint of jest in her tone. “Well, as we are friends now, I actually also wanted to… invite you to a party tonight, if you’re free that is; if you’d like to go.” Was she… nervous? There was a certain quickness to her cadence that sounded less confident or polished than Hermione Granger usually sounded. “It’s Harry’s birthday and I know the two of you are on perfectly good terms. He said you’re welcome to come, if you’d like to.”

”Are you inviting me, or is Potter?” Her nerves seemed to bolster his confidence as he grinned, his eyes sparking in her direction.

She rolled her eyes, “I am, Malfoy. Would you like to come—as my friend?”

”I would like to come, as your friend,” he nodded definitively. 

“And you’re free?” She asked a bit unnecessarily.

”I can be free,” he said. He’d have to cancel his normal Friday night plans with his friends, but none of them would be shocked about the reason and every one of them would berate him to no end if he didn’t go on this excursion. 

“Great,” Hermione said in an octave higher than usual, “The party is at eight at Grimmauld Place.” She pulled a small piece of parchment from her pocket and handed it to him, freezing as his hand grasped the other side of the parchment and she didn’t let go, “This is the address—I don’t know why I’m giving this to you,” she closed her eyes and grimaced, “It’s one of your family houses."

He huffed a small chuckle at the irony, “It was,” he said, “It’s Potter’s now. But yes, I do know the address now that there’s no Fidelius charm on it.”

Hermione let go of the parchment anyway and sighed. “Alright, well. I will see you there at eight.” She stepped back from him, a wave of cool air seeming to break the heat that had erupted from nowhere between them. “It’ll be fun.”

”’Fun’ sounds nice. I’ll see you there.” And then he summoned his work bag and gave her another—self-described—charming grin and left the office. 

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

Draco apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place at half-past eight in the evening, his tardiness due completely to his third outfit change. He’d failed to ask what the dress code for the party was and had started with a black suit with a black button-down, which was nixed by Pansy as being overly formal. He then tried very hard to don black jeans and a fitted black tee, but that was vetoed by Theo as being too casual. He settled on a pair of tailored black chinos and a tucked in, mint green button-down with the sleeves rolled crisply to the top of his forearms. He didn’t feel overly self-conscious about the Dark Mark still parked on his left forearm since his tattoo now covered most of it. He knew Hermione had seen a snippet of the tattoo on their walk through Hyde Park, but he’d never gotten to gauge whether she’d liked it or not, given their conversation at the time. Or, maybe she’d still noticed the Dark Mark peeking though and hadn’t commented on it because of that. 

He’d done what he could to try and cover or hide it over the years, but the curse weaved into the mark had left no chance of wavering loyalty and it would not come off. Five years ago, he’d decided to get an ironbelly dragon tattoo that covered his left shoulder, chest and bicep with the tail wrapping around down to the brand on his forearm, covering a decent amount of it in its path. It had gotten significantly easier for him to look at himself after that, when the glaringly black ink of the Dark Mark wasn’t the first thing that caught his glance in a mirror.

“Alright, what do we think?” Draco asked as he stepped out, holding his arms out for the outfit’s critique.

”Approved, mint green looks divine on you,” Theo had nodded definitively and his friends—who were, for whatever reason, at his flat to see him off to what was not a date with Hermione Granger—echoed their approvals.

On the positive side, since his outfit changes had taken so long, he didn’t have to make the grueling decision as to whether he should be strictly on time or fashionably late, because he already was, indeed, running late.

He ran a hand through his hair in front of Grimmauld Place as it fell elegantly back to its genetically coiffed position, and then he smoothed the front of his shirt and took an inconspicuous deep breath before he walked up the stairs and rang the bell.

It was Ginny Weasley who answered with a wide smile on her face as she leaned in the doorway. “Draco Malfoy. What an absolute surprise to see you here.”

”Weasley,” he greeted her with a nod of his head, “Took some time away from the Harpies for the occasion?”

”We play tomorrow night,” Ginny said, “I promised my coach I’d splurge for a ten o’clock return portkey tonight and get a full eight hours of sleep if I could stop in to give my birthday wishes.”

”What a getaway,” he said with pleasant sarcasm. 

“And what brings you to Harry’s birthday party tonight?” It sounded like she already knew the answer but wanted to hear it from him. 

“I was invited,” he said simply. She raised her eyebrows at him and he added, “By Granger.”

And then, as if summoned, Hermione’s voice cut in with, “Who is it, Ginny?” And then her face popped around the door that Ginny was still holding partially open. A smile spread across Hermione’s face when she saw him and he couldn't help but return it as his eyes instantly found hers. And then Hermione turned back to Ginny as her brows furrowed, “Have you not invited him in yet, Gin?”

”Oh we were just catching up.” Ginny finally stepped back from the door frame as the door swung all the way open and Draco walked in between them.

”Hey, Granger,” Draco said once the door had shut behind them.

”Hey,” she said a little breathlessly. “I’m glad you could make it.”

He took in the lovely burgundy silk tank top Hermione was wearing with a pair of black trouser-shorts that were long enough to be modest, but still showed off so much of her beautiful, long tanned legs. He tried not to stare too obviously before responding with a wry, crooked smile, ”Nowhere I’d rather be on a Friday night than Harry Potter’s birthday party.”

”Did I hear my name?” Harry asked, walking out of the sitting room to the right of the entrance way and clapping Draco on the shoulder.

”Potter,” Draco held his hand out and Harry shook it in greeting, “Happy Birthday.” He then handed him a bottle of Ogden’s Reserve firewhiskey, wrapped with a neatly tied green bow that Pansy had added for some flare.

”Well this looks lovely, tie that bow yourself?” Harry asked jovially.

“Pansy added the bow,” he corrected.

“I like her style. Why didn’t you bring her along?”

“I barely got the invite, Potter, and if I brought Pansy, she’d come with Theo, Blaise and Daphne. Seemed like a stretch of a singular invitation.”

“Ah, well, they’re welcome next time! Come on in, we’ll open this up.” He gestured back into the sitting room and Draco followed him as he raised his eyebrows and shot a well-here-it-goes look at Hermione, who was by his side.

As they entered, Draco took inventory of the patrons sitting around the room: Longbottom, three Weasleys, Lovegood, Finnegan, Thomas and both Patils. There were also a few people he didn’t know by name, but recognized as Aurors on Harry’s team. The room quieted significantly as they approached the group and Harry, very nonchalantly, waved in Draco’s direction, “I’m sure you all remember Malfoy.”

Draco nodded to the room at large, “Evening,” he said, trying to put something pleasant into his tone, though he was sure it came out nothing short of dryly as his defenses of how they might judge or react to his presence jumped to life.

To his surprise, just a few generic greetings were thrown his way, along with some raising of glasses in a sort of welcome. It was almost as though his attendance was both expected and not minded. It felt… fine. It felt… like this might be a totally normal, not unusual at all, occurrence. He might get out of this awkward reintroduction unscathed with nothing more than a momentary uncomfortable first hello. And then Lovegood stood and walked towards him with her arms wide.

”Draco Malfoy,” she said airily, wrapping herself around him in a tight hug, “It’s been a very long time. It’s quite lovely to see you again.”

Draco awkwardly patted her back, “Ah—yes. Nice to see you as well, Lovegood.”

She pulled back, her hands still on his arms and looked up at him with those big blue eyes of wonder. “How ever have you been?”

Draco saw Ginny with a large grin watching them from the couch as she leaned over and whispered something to George, who laughed.

”I’m doing well, thank you. And you, Lovegood, how is the Quibbler?”

”Oh it is thriving,” she beamed. “I’ve actually just secured an exclusive interview with Gorman Grappleberry—he’s an expert on wrackspurts and their effect on early magical development—” she leaned in and whispered, “They can get in through your ear canals on a windy day if you’re not careful, you know! Definitely going to impact a growing brain.”

“O—kay,” Draco said, glancing at Hermione, who was trying very hard to keep a straight face as she nodded beside him. “Well, I’m sure that will be a very interesting interview.”

”Oh it’ll be once in a lifetime!” She agreed.

”Malfoy,” Harry held out a glass of fire whiskey from a small corner bar at the back of the room where the bottle of Ogden’s was now opened.

”I won’t keep you from your drink,” Luna patted his arms again and then turned and found her way back to Ginny’s side on the couch as she linked their arms and Ginny smiled back at her, kissing her nose before returning to her conversation with George.

Draco and Hermione made their way to Harry, as Hermione whispered, “You passed the Luna test, well done,” and Draco huffed a laugh with a glance towards her, their eyes meeting only briefly, but sparking, all the same. 

Harry handed Draco a crystal glass when they reached him and held his own up as he clinked them together. “Cheers, Malfoy, thanks again for the firewhiskey.”

”It’s a reserve bottle,” Draco said, sipping it himself as Harry did. “How are you enjoying your day, Potter?”

”Oh it’s been fine. Spent the day at the Ministry before Ron and Hermione joined me for dinner at six and everyone else came over shortly before you did.”

”There will be cake here soon,” Hermione said, “Lemon curd and raspberry jam layers—Harry’s favorite.”

”Made by Hermione,” Harry tipped his glass at her.

”You bake?” Draco asked, trying not to sound surprised by this revelation. 

“I bake,” she confirmed. “It’s a good decompressing activity. I can just focus on the measurements and the steps and all of a sudden two hours have gone by and the stress of the day has melted away.”

”And there’s cake,” Draco added.

”And there’s cake. But I usually give the baked goods away to friends; bring them to events or dinners or gift them for birthdays. If I ate everything I baked, I think I’d barely pull myself out of bed from the crash after the sugar high.”

”Can’t have that, you’ve got too much work to do at the office.”

”Precisely,” Hermione said in mock exasperation, “You get it.”

”The cake is worth the sugar rush, though,” Harry said, “Grab a piece before these heathens hoard it all.”

”Good to know,” Draco nodded.

”So how has work in the Muggleborn Initiatives Office been this month?” Harry asked with that knowing tone he’d used the last time they’d seen each other.

”It’s been—good,” Draco gave Hermione a crooked smile. “I’m enjoying my time there. The work is mostly thought-provoking, albeit the days when I have a hundred scrolls to roll for the owl post. But the speech writing and the material edits and program agendas—those make the time pass nicely. And the company isn’t so bad, either.”

”You know, Hermione’s been saying something similar about the company in her office. She doesn’t usually like having people in her space, but she hasn’t been minding you there as much lately.”

The grin on Harry’s face vanished as Hermione seemed to give him a chiding look, but Draco didn’t dare look over at her.

”I do tend to grow on people, with some time.”

”Harry!” Ron called over to him, “Seamus wants to hear the story from that raid two weeks ago!”

”That’s my cue,” Harry raised his glass again and left them alone.

Draco leaned an elbow on the bar to turn himself more fully towards Hermione, who he could now see was sporting a tinge of pink on her neck, perhaps from Harry’s revelation that she’d been enjoying his company.

”You should bring some of those baked goods into the office more often, I’d love to try some,” he said smoothly.

”I usually do,” she said, “But I bring them on Mondays.”

”Is that specifically so I can’t try them?” He raised an eyebrow.

”It’s because I usually bake on Sunday nights to clear my mind before the work week starts again. It’s always going at a hundred kilometers an hour with all the things I need to focus on for the upcoming week so I just take down my mixing bowls and pack everything else away.”

”It’s difficult having such a brilliant mind, isn’t it?” He sipped his drink as he watched the pink crawl up her cheeks from her neck. It was a gorgeous view. And it made him want to press his lips to its path.

”Oh stop,” she chuckled, raising her wine glass to her lips with a roll of her eyes. 

Gods, now he was looking at her lips. It was too early in the night for this. “If this is your way of trying to get me to come into the office on Mondays, all you had to do was ask.”

She tried to push a batch of curls behind her ear, though the majority of them popped right back out, ”You’re only contractually obligated to come in three times a week,” she shook her head.

He wanted to wrap one of those curls around his finger or get lost in the masses of them. Instead, he clasped both hands tightly around his glass. ”Well uncontractully offering has been my own downfall in the past, hasn’t it?”

”It has.”

”Would I get baked goods, if I came on Monday?”

”You’re already working all weekend for the program session. I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to offer your Monday to the department.”

”Alright, next Monday, then. It’s not like I have anything pressing that needs my attention on Mondays.”

She tilted her head in interest, ”No? What do you usually do with your non-community service days?”

”Depends on my mood,” he shrugged. “Last Monday, Blaise took off from work and we flew around on our brooms and did some quidditch training. Some days I catch up on my mother’s estate and finances; I’m responsible for the books at the manor regardless of my presence there. Some days I go to the cafe and work on business plans I’ll never actually put into action—”

”What kind of business plans?”

He appraised her for a moment, he didn’t really tell other people about this sort of thing; it felt personal; private. Maybe because it had always felt like the possibility of it was so far in the future that thinking about it seemed silly. He had ten years of community service to serve, after all. And there wasn’t much time for a day job, with three days a week spoken for. But now… he was almost done. He had 10 months—three more volunteer positions—left and then his debt would be repaid; legally speaking, anyway.

”I, ah,” he paused again.

”You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she said, echoing one of his phrases from weeks ago. 

“No it’s… fine. It’s not a big deal, I’ve just never really talked about it in terms of it actually happening. But I’d like to open an apothecary one day.” There, he said it. And she wasn’t looking at him like he was crazy. “Nothing over the top. Just an apothecary for basic potions or custom-order brews. I’m quite good at potions; it's always been a specialty of mine. Especially since getting my own place.”

”You built yourself a work station?”

He nodded, “I had one of the bedrooms converted into a brewing lab where I’ve been—in my humble opinion—perfecting all of my basic potions and drawing up logos and bottling designs. At this point I’m just working on the different components and compiling them for future stock. Or just for myself, if a business never comes to fruition. But it’s a natural instinct in me to at least have a plan for the future; something to work towards—goals, ambitions; normal Slytherin things you’d expect.”

”Sounds like you’ve got everything but the shop space,” she said quite matter-of-factly.

”And the permits and Healing Potion Administration approvals, etcetera.”

”Sounds like you’ve got a product, a brand and a plan, though. I’d bet you’re going to make it happen,” she gave him a challenging sort of look and he grinned.

”I have a feeling Hermione Granger makes pretty educated bets, so I’ll do my best to prove you right.” Gods, he loved the way she was looking at him; that cheeky little smile and her eyes soft and dragging him down into their depths. He watched as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth to bite down a real smile before whatever witty response she had followed. 

They were interrupted, however, before she had the chance.

“Hey Malfoy,” Neville and Ron walked over to join them as Draco turned his attention, remembering, in a crash of reality, that he was not in fact alone with Hermione, but at a party with a den of Gryffindors. All of which were probably paying decently close attention to his interactions with the witch by his side.

”Longbottom, how are you?” He kept his voice even as he quirked a lip.

”Good, yeah. Summer term at Hogwarts, so it’s been quiet. Prepping for the incoming students.”

”We’ve met a few of them,” Draco glanced at Hermione.

”It seems like a big class this year,” she said, that lovely tinge of pink still gracing her neck.

“Fifty-six,” Neville gave a wide-eyed shake of his head, “Almost double our class at Hogwarts.”

“Gonna have your hands full,” Ron said, sipping his butterbeer.

”Good job security, though,” Draco added. It was almost unsettling how easy this felt; to be in this group of people that, even after his apology tour, he still believed would not want him around. But here they were, freely walking up to him and making conversation; not scowling at his proximity to Hermione; not using some begrudging tone of voice.

He asked Ron about the Auror department next and the conversation carried on, different people popping in and out over the next half an hour as they migrated towards the fireplace and topics of quidditch and summer travels moved the time along. Hermione was eventually pulled away by Padma to help ready the cake as Ginny slid over, appearing at Draco’s side.

“Malfoy, grab me another drink?” she blinked innocently up at him as he eyed her warily, but nodded all the same, turning for the bar as she followed him. “Seems like you’re fitting in well.”

“It’s been a perfectly nice evening,” he responded, uncorking the firewhiskey she had pointed towards. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve got something you’d like to say?”

“Because I’ve got something I’d like to say,” she smiled brightly, as though proud he’d noticed. “And I’ve got limited time tonight, so best to get it out of the way.”

Draco slipped a hand into his pocket after Ginny had taken her freshly poured drink. “Go on, then.”

“I think you like Hermione,” she said bluntly.

“Granger is quite pleasant, yes,” Draco side-stepped the implication.

“No, no. I think you like Hermione. And that’s all well and good. She’s incomparable, really.” Draco didn’t respond, but instead stood quite still and stared back at Ginny blankly. “And seeing the two of you interacting tonight, I’m starting to think she likes you, too.” Draco’s eyebrow arched just slightly at this. “She’d told us all you were coming, of course, in a very nonchalant way. Everyone was fine with it, by the way, no qualms raised. But she seemed nervous all the same and I wasn’t quite sure why. Though it seems pretty obvious now. You like her—which was evident from the moment she poked her head around the door this evening and that stoic little face of yours brightened right up,” Draco scowled at this, “But Hermione is very confident, and seeing her blush when she looks at you is… uncharacteristic.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Draco asked skeptically. Ginny was Hermione’s friend. She had no reason to be sharing this with him unless, perhaps, she was trying to tell Draco not to pursue even if there was a connection…

“Because I don’t often see Hermione affected by anything,” Ginny crossed an arm over her chest, resting her hand on her opposite bicep. “She’s been hyper-focused on work for years, even through other relationships, and she deserves some equal fulfillment in her love life. Ever since things ended with Krum, she’ll give herself a hundred excuses not to pursue dating because she doesn’t want the distraction or the potential for heartbreak. But I can tell you that I think you’ve got her organically interested; and I also think you’re going to screw this up if you don’t play it right.”

Draco felt a bit indignant now as he scoffed, “How am I going to screw this up?”

“So you do like her?”

“I—I didn’t—” he clamped his mouth shut, tongue running along the back of his teeth before he sighed, “Yes.”

“Good. Admitting it is the first step,” Ginny’s tone was bright again. “So here’s the thing: she’s not going to date you while you’re her intern. It would make things too messy and she doesn't like messy. So don’t make a move too early. Do you understand?”

“I—yes,” he said as Ginny lifted her chin to dispel any arguments.

“Keep going steady with whatever it is you’ve been doing—the coffee dates and such—”

“They’re not dates,” Draco cut in.

“They are,” Ginny rolled her eyes, “Just don’t call them that. Keep spending time with her; don’t make any premature moves, and when your community service period is done, ask her out on a proper date. Don’t be coy about it either. I am telling you that I think she likes you, so just be direct and assertive and ask her on a date. She doesn't like games, or her time being wasted.”

“I—” Draco opened and closed his mouth a couple of times.

“This is quite simple, Malfoy. Don’t stick your tongue down her throat while you’re working under her because the workplace is sacred to that witch. And once it’s a clean break from a co-working situation, don’t hesitate, just be direct and ask her out. Got it?”

Draco stared back at her for another moment before he slowly replied with, “Yes.”

“Good. Oh, and be good to her, don’t be a prat. She deserves the best.”

“And you think I can give her something she deserves?” He tried to throw it out as a quip, but he couldn't quite hide his need for an affirmation.

“I think she likes you and I think you are enamored with her. I think you’re a whole hell of a lot better of a person than you used to be, not only because of that apology you gave me years ago, but also because I did my research on your extra-curricular, financial and service endeavors over the last ten years the first time she started talking about you in more than a passing mention. Which was a few weeks ago, after the first program session, if you’re wondering. I think you’ve done some very interesting things over the last ten years to shed your old habits; probably more than you had to do and more than any of us would have expected. I think you’re smart and I think you’re a challenge—which I mean as a positive and a negative to your personality, by the way. But I can see you being good for her. Don’t mess it up.”

Rather than try and dispute any of this or react to her digging into his personal life, he took all of it and just nodded, appreciative that this wasn’t an attempt to get him to stay away from Hermione altogether. He thought maybe he liked Ginny. “Trust me, Weasley, if I get a chance, I won’t mess it up.”

They looked at each other for another moment before Padma and Hermione’s voices cut through the chatter of the room with a loud rendition of Happy Birthday, and everyone joined in as they cut through the opening in the room with cake. Harry was seated on the couch and they placed it on the coffee table in front of him as everyone gathered around. Once the last of the notes was sung—by George, in a crooning tone—Harry looked around at everyone. 

“Good way to spend my 28th year in the world,” he said with a crooked grin. “Thanks everyone, for coming tonight, glad to spend it with old friends,” he looked over at Draco, “and new ones.” and then he leaned over and blew out the candles as everyone clapped and whooped, Draco huffing a small breath of air as he joined in.

Ginny left promptly at ten o’clock with a portkey off the front steps, and the party continued until sometime past midnight when people started to trickle out. Draco announced his leave soon after as Harry shook his hand again with a pat on the back and Hermione strolled with him to the door, finishing their prior conversation. Heeding Ginny’s advice, Draco did not hover in anticipation of any potential first kisses or invitations back home, but instead, turned and gave her a hug similar to the one she’d bestowed on him after the dueling competition, lingering there only a moment longer than he should have as his fingers brushed against her back, absorbing the feel of her, and hers similarly grazed along his shoulders before he pulled back with what he hoped was a charming and confident grin. And then he stepped backwards over the threshold of the door as she leaned into the frame casually. 

“Thanks again for inviting me tonight. This was fun.”

“I’m glad you came,” she reiterated, wine staining her lips and the flush of alcohol on her skin.

Four weeks, he reminded himself, four weeks and he could properly ask her out. How he could get through four weeks not asking her out was going to be the difficult part. But Weasley was right, the workplace was sacred to her and he wasn’t going to complicate that. Or, at least, he was going to try very, very hard not to complicate that. But even having the knowledge, or the assumption, from Weasley, that she might be interested in him… gods it was going to kill him to be patient.

He pulled his eyes back to hers, “Goodnight, Granger. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning,” she smiled as he turned on his heel to apparate and she closed the door softly.

Chapter Text

The second program session that weekend following Harry’s birthday went smoothly. The two-day format was significantly less stressful, and the fact that the attendees were now familiar faces made it feel like more of an open forum, with questions and answers flowing freely throughout the sessions. By Sunday afternoon, Draco was fairly certain he could go around the room and name each of the incoming students from memory and make a guess as to which subject interested them the most. There was a girl named Janette that couldn't stop asking about Quidditch—he had a feeling she’d be paying extra attention in flying lessons. Another boy, Arnold, was fascinated by dragons and owls and unicorns and he was sure the boy would thrive in Care of Magical Creatures. A taller boy with messy brown hair and freckles named Pierre kept raising his hand to ask questions during all of the historical sessions and even pressed Hermione for where he could find more information when it had come to an end; he reminded Draco of a young, bright-eyed and ready-minded Hermione.

As the families left the second session in the late afternoon, parents were thanking him and children were waving with a “Bye, Draco!” Or “See you in a few weeks, Mr. Malfoy!” It gave him an odd feeling he couldn’t quite place; because it was nice and it made him feel like he was doing a good job… but there was something swirling in the pit of his stomach that also made him feel like maybe he didn’t quite deserve the smiles and thanks from these families. Because if they’d known what he used to be… 

”Malfoy, could you take this box?” Hermione broke him from his thoughts as he pulled his eyes from the empty doorway where the last of the future students had left a few minutes ago and focused his attention on Hermione, who was holding out a box of materials for him as he instinctively reached out and took it from her. “There’s one more batch of things I need to grab. You can just set it in my office. Thanks.” And then she turned from him and walked with purpose back towards a hodgepodge pile of things that hadn’t made it into the boxes. He huffed a small laugh after her; she was adorable when she was in her groove like this; her mind working overtime on efficiency and organization and task-doling; onto the next thing before she finished with the first. He so badly wished he could sweep her into his arms and combat her protests of 'there’s more to be done!’ with his lips. 

He pulled himself back from this obtrusive fantasy before walking his box back towards the Muggleborn Initiatives Office. 

As he unloaded the materials in Hermione’s office, Hannah popped her head in the doorway, “Thanks for your help this weekend, Draco.”

He turned to see a big, friendly smile on her face, “Happy to help,” he said, giving her a crooked smile as he filed the student packets back into the cabinet.

“You did great with the kids—especially Pierre, he said you gave him a whole list of books on wizarding history! Brilliant.”

”Oh, ah, I did, yes.”

”Really thoughtful thing to do. Anyway, I’m on my way out. See you on Wednesday.”

She waved and he returned it, “Goodnight.”

And then the feelings of being undeserving of the thanks and praise crept back in as he was left alone again. He set his hands on the edge of Hermione's desk, leaning into it and letting his head fall between his arms as he drew in a long breath and let it out slowly through his nose. Of course he was happy to be helpful. And of course he wanted the kids and their families to like him. He wanted to be a valued part of this team, as well, and for Hermione to see the effort he was putting forth. But to accept the thanks and the warm smiles, and to be seen as someone they could all trust to guide them towards success coming into the wizarding world… well… it felt like too much. Because now that he’d spent two sessions with these families, they probably felt they knew him better; more personally. But they didn’t know everything.

”Malfoy,” came Hermione’s voice, urgent from the doorway behind him, “Are you alright?”

Draco immediately pushed back from the desk and turned on his heel, “Sorry,” he said quickly, “Fine. Everything’s fine. Just tired. It’s been a long day.” He did not sound casual or natural in the slightest.

Hermione dumped the materials she had overloaded into her arms onto one of the free chairs and walked towards him, crossing her arms. “You don’t look fine.”

He sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “I am,” he said more definitively, “It’s just, I’m—” he so desperately wanted to explain in some way but he didn’t know how. “Sorry, no, I’m fine.”

Hermione’s hand found his arm as she squeezed lightly, “Malfoy, what’s going on? Everything went great today. The session is over.”

Another sigh fell before he could stop it as he lifted his head and met her gaze. His eyes moved between hers, trying to figure out what to say. Today should be another win for all of them. Another successful session was completed and there was another to plan for. But he couldn’t quite ignore the heaviness that was sitting in his chest. 

“Can I be honest?” He asked, more to buy himself time to compose his thoughts. 

“Please,” she nodded, her hand still on his arm and a look of concern on her features.

He swallowed before saying, quietly but articulately, “I think I understand why you didn’t want me here for these program sessions. Back in June.”

The crease in her brow grew deeper, “Malfoy that was before I really knew you ,” she said, “Before I knew if this mattered at all to you or if it was just some checklist item or passage of time. And much before we actually started… spending time together personally. I think it’s good that you’re here. I want you here.”

The heaviness tightened at this and he grappled with how to respond, “Look, I’ve—I’ve done a lot of work on myself over the years and I’m perfectly content with who I am now—I like who I am now.”

He paused long enough for her to say, “I like who you are now, too.”

”I—thank you. But it doesn't change that I haven’t always been this person. And the sixteen year old version of me is still me. Just because I’ve grown, that part of me still existed and that part of me should never be allowed the privilege of being a part of a program like this; something genuine and progressive and good. It’s conflicting. Hearing a young muggleborn boy thanking me for helping him prepare for Hogwarts when I know the impact I had on other muggleborns in their first year at Hogwarts,” he looked at her pointedly, “it doesn’t feel fair to them. It feels like a lie. It feels as disingenuous as you predicted I would be.”

”It’s not, though,” Hermione’s voice was sure and strong, but also quiet, as though afraid if she spoke too loudly, it may disrupt the openness of this conversation. “I don’t think anything you’re doing here is disingenuous. And I think having you here to help; seeing you interact with these kids—I think it’s good for you, and for them. I think it gives you more exposure to what it’s really like for them, what it was like for me. And I think it gives them a chance to see that the wizarding world is a welcoming place, having a pureblood here helping with the program. Maybe it wasn’t seventeen years ago, and maybe you weren’t, but circumstances change. It’s good to embrace change; to be a part of it.”

”But what about when they read about my part in the war in one of their modern history lessons in the future? What about when they come across something that shows them that one of the people they thought they could trust and look up to thought of them as… something else, before?”

Hermione shrugged lightly, “I think they’ll see that people learn and grow with time and that if someone like your school-aged self can build this strong of a character by their adult life, then they can build whatever future they want with discipline, dedication and a bit of empathy.”

”You are much too kind, Granger,” he shook his head, “There were a lot of dark days and brooding and discomfort that went into building who I am now.”

”Sounds like dedication to me,” she doubled-down. “I’m not condoning your past, Malfoy, I am as aware as you are of the mistakes you’ve made. But, much to the dismay of the Hermione you met two months ago, I do actually think you are a genuine and good man. And that wouldn’t be possible if you didn’t care and if you hadn’t made the effort to change. I’m glad you did. I’m glad to know you.”

The overwhelming urge to hug her pulled at him again, but he batted it down. “Well, thank you. I think all of the thanks people were throwing at me at the end of the day started weighing down my conscience. I want to be the person they think I am, but I know there are parts of my past that can never really be erased, and I don’t just mean from my own mind or life, but from literal history books. It’s all out there and they’ll learn it eventually.”

Hermione seemed to consider him for a moment now, her hand slipping down his arm until it landed in his, clasping his fingers with hers as tiny little fireworks seemed to emanate from their points of contact. “All you can do is keep moving forward,” she said softly, “I know there are things in the history books about your family, but there are also things—real, important things—that happened that aren’t. You could have sold us out; you could have handed us over and ended the war in a completely different way. You didn’t. Anyone getting their information strictly from a textbook is never going to know the whole story. But the people who were there, do. And we’ve all told that story in front of the Wizengamot and a full courtroom. It was printed in the Prophet. That’s history, too. Your picture was in the Prophet this Saturday morning with our entire group of friends from Harry’s birthday—” this really did happen. The Prophet had requested a photo to add a birthday wish for The Chosen One to the Saturday morning newspaper as they did each year after his birthday. Harry tried to stay out of the spotlight, but as he’d learned in past years, if he did not provide a willing photo, they would choose one at random from his year instead, and they’d chosen some very unflattering photos in the past. “—and you were in that picture, Malfoy. Because we’ve all moved on, we all know what happened, and we all like who you are now. Even if maybe I was stubborn about it in the beginning,” she gave him a small smile, “At some point, being happy with yourself and knowing you’ve done everything you can has got to be enough for you.”

In that moment, knowing she was happy with who he was felt like what he really needed. This unprompted, unscripted declaration that he was someone she wanted in a photo with her friends—because yes, she had pulled him by the arm into the photo when he’d tried to politely duck out of it—that was enough. It was a reminder of how far he’d come, not just in his own opinion, but in the eyes of those around him as well—even those who did not originally want to see the best in him.

”Yes, I guess eventually it does,” his voice was even, even as his heart rate spiked, honing in on the feeling of her hand in his, her thumb rubbing subconsciously over his knuckles.

”Then let it be enough.” Another smile and another jump in his heart.

”Alright,” was all he said in response. She squeezed his hand again and then let it go as an instant coldness filled his veins in the absence of her and he watched as she looked back down at his hand again as though she’d immediately felt the loss, too.

She cleared her throat, her voice a bit too even to be considered her normal tone, ”Now, are you going to help me file this stuff back away?”

He huffed, quelling his tingling fingers with sheer willpower. He couldn’t make any moves until their coworking situation was over—and even if he could have, this wasn’t the time for it. This moment was too burdened with his past to find the confidence and smoothness he’d like to have when the time came. Though it was nice to know that at this point in their friendship they could talk about these kinds of things that often felt taboo or too murky to wade through, because in his life… these moments happened more than he’d like to admit, and they tended to come out of nowhere and strike his unsuspecting conscience that he liked to think he’d come to terms, and was at peace, with. “Yes.”

And then they spent the next twenty minutes unloading the boxes of materials before they called it a night and left the Ministry, putting the second session behind them.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

During the next two weeks of August, three things became increasingly more apparent: one—there was a definitive spark in the air between himself and Hermione; two—he was going to spontaneously combust from the look in her eyes if left alone in a space with her for too long, and three—he much more than liked her and if there was a saying that conveyed a more desperate situation than head-over-heels, he was that. He was a falling-down-a-multi-floor-moving-staircase level of head-over-heels for this brilliant, sharp, witty, beautiful, caring and accomplished witch. And he could no longer even try to deny that Hermione might feel similarly based on her breathy responses in close proximity, her traitorous eyes that always seemed to find his lips, and that gods-forsaken flush that creeped so sensually up her neck and her cheeks if they came into innocent contact, something that was happening more often now that Hermione had breached the physical-contact line multiple times.

Work-wise, they dove back into preparations for the third and final session, keeping things professional and keeping their hands firmly to themselves. There was a continuous flow of work to complete and edit and turn around, so this task of professionalism, though distracted at times, was not overly difficult for his three days at the Ministry during the week, though the days did feel like they were stretching as he counted down each successive day that marched towards September. The final session was to be held on Thursday and Friday, the twenty-seventh through twenty-eighth of August so the families could settle into London for last minute Diagon Alley Shopping before they’d catch the train on the first. Draco planned to accompany the team to Platform 9¾ on September first, where they would be guides and points of contact for the incoming students, both muggleborn or otherwise. He wasn’t required to attend this, as his official last day with the department would be Friday, August twenty-eighth, but it felt like the culmination of everything he had done with the department that summer and he found himself wanting to be there. Just as much as he wanted to be at the inaugural Muggleborn Initiatives Office gala the following Saturday evening. Since he wouldn't be a part of the department anymore, he’d bought a table’s worth of tickets for the event to ensure his attendance.

Outside, of work, Draco and Hermione had continued their weekly outings, making another trip to Queen Bean Cafe the weekend after the second program session, and then going out for a night in Wales for a Harpies match versus the Canons the next weekend—though he’d purposefully booked himself a late portkey back home that night while Hermione stayed at Ginny’s after the match. It would have been way too much self-restraint on his part to stay overnight in the same place as her and not blur the lines. But it was fun, being there with Hermione, Harry, Ron, Padma, Neville, Luna and George. The Weasley parents were also in attendance, but were sitting in a different box with some of the parents of other Harpies teammates, rather than with their friends. He was re-introduced briefly by Hermione and given an enormous hug by Molly and a very generous handshake by Arthur before they were called back into their box by the Keeper’s mother for a parent photograph. 

Hermione had given him a tight hug that night, loose on butterbeers and the adrenaline of a Harpies win—a high that Ron only partially shared as a life-long Canons fan, which Draco rubbed solidly in his face to the pouts of the youngest Weasley son, but the laughs of his friends who seemed to truly enjoy the rivalry when the Harpies played the Canons. Draco had not wanted to let her go from their hug, which was thankfully private as they stepped outside Ginny and Luna’s flat before his departure. He’d swayed her side-to-side in the hug as she’d laughed and settled into it contentedly, and then he had pulled back, but rested his hands on her hips as he’d thanked her for the invite, a wide grin on his face as she bit her lower lip to keep her own smile from beaming in return. He couldn’t help but notice that her hands stayed solidly on his lower back as well as they both elongated the goodbye. And then, before he had gotten completely swept away and done something he might regret, he’d stepped back as her hands slipped along his hips and off of him and his hands fell away in the same slow fashion. He’d given her one more—self-described—suave wink and then said goodnight before his portkey had whisked him back to London and to the bottom of the steps to his own flat, very much alone, but body still buzzing from the high of the physical contact with her, however small.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

On the third weekend of August, they had decided on an outing to Fortescue’s for ice cream and a stroll through Diagon Alley since Hermione had a book she’d pre-ordered that was coming into Flourish & Blotts that day. Draco apparated to the entrance of the street with enough time to stop into Quality Quidditch Supply to get himself a new broom servicing kit before he walked the cobblestone streets towards the ice cream shop. As it came into view, he saw Hermione standing there in light, sleeveless icy-colored summer robes over a navy, mid-length dress and sandals, her hair blowing breezily with the soft wind. She looked so lovely that every bone in his body wanted to scoop her into his arms and spin her around.

He did not do that, however. Instead, he let the natural smile that she always brought out of him spread along his lips as she spotted him and waved with her own wide, automatic smile.

“Afternoon, Granger,” he greeted her as he reached her on the sidewalk.

“Afternoon,” she gestured to the shop as they walked in. “Do you have a favorite?” she asked as they stood in line behind a few other patrons.

“Blueberry lemon swirl,” he nodded with a grin down at her.

“Interesting,” Hermione nodded with a raise of her eyebrows. “You do like your sweets, don’t you?”

“I do. Very convenient that you happen to enjoy making sweets,” he said suggestively. “The cinnamon scones you brought for the Harpies match last week were quite a treat.”

“You liked them?” 

He could see she was trying not to look too eager for approval with her airy tone, but her side-glance gave her away.

“They were fantastic,” he indulged her as a small little smile found her lips.

“Good. I make them often. Kind of my signature recipe since I’ve always got the ingredients on hand.”

They approached the counter as Franklin, the late Florean Fortescue’s eldest son, turned his jovial smile their way.

“Afternoon, what can I get you?”

Draco looked to Hermione to order first as she smiled back at Franklin, “I’ll have a scoop of strawberry, please.”

“And a blueberry lemon swirl for me,” Draco added as Franklin nodded and turned for the dishes.

“A simple strawberry?” Draco asked, “Very classic.”

“It’s the perfect summer flavor,” she said definitively.

They collected their ice creams, Draco leaving two galleons on the counter as Franklin waved them off and turned for the next guest. Once they were back on the street, Draco took his first bite, holding back a groan of contentment at the deliciously refreshing taste. And it made him wonder, for a moment, what it would be like to taste the strawberry of her ice cream on her lips.

He cleared his throat to clear his head of that thought, “So how has your weekend been, Granger?”

“Good,” she sighed a stressed sigh. “Busy,” she amended. “I was at the office late last night and then all day after my early yoga class until I came over here.”

“One more week,” he said, “We’re almost through the summer programs.”

“We are,” she nodded. “It’s flown by. It always hits me right before the third session that real time has passed while we’ve been preparing for and going through these sessions.

“Three months,” he nodded. “They’ve been fun,” he gave her a grin as she huffed a laugh.

“You know, they have been; in between all the work. And of course, I have an Oxford alumni event on Tuesday night this week to add to the length of my to-do list. So inconveniently timed.”

“Oxford?” Draco lifted his eyebrows. “Did you go to Oxford? The muggle university?”

“I–oh, yes,” she gave a little laugh, “I did.”

“Can I tell you something funny?” he asked as he ate another bite off of his spoon.

“Please.”

“I may have taken a few classes at Cambridge.”

Hermione stopped and it took him a step to realize it as he doubled back and saw the look of shock on her face. “You’re joking,” she said.

“I’m not.”

Her eyes blinked as she shook her head and then she laughed, grabbing his wrist, and they started walking again. “Okay, I’m sorry. Please tell me everything. How did this happen? When did this happen?”

”Two years after Azkaban. So, three years after the war.”

She let his wrist go to grab her spoon and he missed her touch immediately. “Alright and how?”

“It was a time when I was very adamant about wanting to make changes for myself—real ones. And although there were plenty of books I read and people I spoke with after the war, I felt like I needed something tangible; something I could experience to really understand muggles from a more unbiased view. Attending a muggle university was something my mind healer suggested I do and I think it totally rechartered the course of the expansion of my view on the world.”

”Wow,” Hermione said, still trying to wrap her head around the bombarda he had just dropped, “And how long did you see a mind healer?”

”I still do,” he shrugged. “Not as often. It was weekly back then, now I see her quarterly as a check-in. I was only mandated to see a mind healer for a year after Azkaban; it helps with the after-effects of dementors and is usually mandated for any post-prison sentences. But I got a lot out of having someone to talk to that I didn't feel any responsibility towards. It wasn’t someone I needed to impress or tread carefully around, and as much as I love my friends, it also wasn’t someone who was going to make snarky comments about the things I needed to talk through because they, too, don’t know how to handle emotions. It was someone I paid to remain professional and logical to help me work through things. It’s always been very beneficial.”

“That’s good,” Hermione nodded with a small smile. “So they suggested you take a muggle university class to integrate into the culture a bit more?”

“They did suggest I take a class, but instead of just one class, I took two classes each semester for two years,” he loved the continued look of surprise on her features as her big brown eyes stared back at him. “Watch out there, Granger,” he said, putting his spoon back in his bowl to wrap an arm around her shoulder and steer her away from the rubbish bin she’d almost walked into.

Hermione’s head whipped back around as she dragged her focus back to what was in front of her, “Sorry, thanks,” she chuckled again, a blush on her cheeks when she looked back up at him as he forced himself to pull his arm back, even though he’d have loved to stroll through Diagon Alley with his arm around her for the rest of the day. 

“So you took two years of classes?” she asked, popping another bite of ice cream into her mouth as he watched her drag the spoon back out and his own mind went into a static.

He cleared his throat again, “Just eight classes in total, but I already had my community service hours and doing classes on top of that made it feel like a full time job. It was interesting though, and it made me fully acclimate to existing and mingling with muggles; made me understand them more and see that… they’re really not so different from wizards at the heart of it; from a humanity standpoint.”

”What classes did you take?” 

”I took history and literature classes. Just entry level the first semester, and then the following three recommended courses in each subject each successive semester. English literature I enjoyed but, to be honest, I wasn’t particularly good at history. I passed each class, but barely,” he huffed a chuckle as he dug out another spoonful of ice cream, “I kept forgetting what was unique to the wizarding world and what was perceived in the muggle world. For example, World War II is viewed very differently between the two worlds because for us, it started with—”

”Grindelwald,” Hermione finished, because she couldn't help herself, “Versus Hitler.”

”Right,” he nodded with a grin. “Obviously lots of similarities and parallel facts such as when countries entered the war and which sides they took, etcetera, but sometimes I’d write something in a paper that I knew from my own side of things and I’d get comments from professors like ‘if you don’t know something, you can’t just write gibberish about goblins. We don’t give points for creativity.’”

Hermione laughed out loud at this and the sound made his chest buzz as he gave a small laugh back at his gaffe. 

“You forgot that goblins don’t exist in the muggle world?”

“It was just something I wrote out of habit—something I knew in my brain that just spilled out onto paper as I was trying to get through the pages I needed to write.”

”You mean paper metaphorically, right? You didn't actually hand in written essays, did you? Most campuses have computer labs to write essays.”

”I hand-wrote a lot of essays,” Draco looked at her with a tinge of uncharacteristic embarrassment this time, “Until finally, my modern history professor failed me on a paper for not abiding by the font and size stipulations since my paper was hand-written. He also called my use of quill and parchment childish. I bartered with him for an extra week to give him the paper typed. And then I spent an entire week learning how to use a computer and a printer and word processing documents and almost dropped out of the program right then and there before someone very kindly offered to help me.”

”You actually asked someone to teach you how to use it? How in the world did you explain not knowing how to use technology in general?”

”One of my classmates took pity on me in the computer lab when I was… not so calmly cursing at the printer because I thought I was alone in there at three in the morning. Though I had learned the basics of computers from the Muggle Liaison Department,” Draco said. “I did a year in different offices in that department for my first few community service placements before your office existed and they had helped me apply for university with a backstory and muggle transcripts and gave me a general overview of how to act appropriately, along with a background on muggle technology. They told me my backstory included growing up in a very traditional family who preferred to stay disconnected from modern technology, which is why I was novice at using it and why I didn’t have a muggle phone.”

”Oh my gosh,” she laughed again and then stopped herself, hand waving in the air in apology, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh at that. I am just realizing how completely out of your comfort zone you threw yourself for this; you had almost no exposure to the muggle world and dove into the deep end with a whole class of muggle peers.”

”I did do that, yes,” he confirmed, looking over at her with a sparkle in his eye and a crooked smile at his lips from making her laugh again before his eyes turned to the street in front of him where he saw a Prophet reporter lowering his camera with a wide smile as he looked down at the snippet of his photo that would be displayed magically. “I think we just got paparazzi’d,” Draco said in a low voice.

Hermione lifted her head to look around, spotting the photographer with a sigh and another wave of her hand, “They’re always out on the weekends. So, the muggle technology?” she prompted.

The fact that she did not care about being photographed out and about with him was so, so fortifying and he tried to hold in the wider smile that was pushing its way onto his face as he delved back into his story. “The technology bit was definitely not as easy as I told myself it would be. But I did eventually get that paper typed, handed in and re-marked to a passing grade. I passed all eight classes. And then the next semester…” he trailed off but Hermione leaned in closer and gestured for him to continue. He sighed, “The next semester in what would have been my third year of taking classes, I really hyped myself up and decided to take a calculus class because someone told me it was an impressive class that only really smart people took. And, of course, I thought I fell into that category,” he ignored Hermione’s laugh again as he continued, “I only signed up for one class that semester to really focus on doing well since I’d heard it was difficult but… by week four the professor pulled me aside and recommended that maybe maths wasn’t my strong suit and that it may be a good idea for me to withdraw from the class and think about taking a class more suited to my strengths or in line with my major. I withdrew and was too embarrassed to try anything else.”

Hermione tsk’d with amusement this time, “I have been saying for years that it is a travesty that the wizarding world doesn’t offer more math classes. Those studies are actually very interesting. But very difficult to pick up without doing basic algebra or pre-calculus beforehand. I’ve dipped my toes in a plethora of muggle classes and independent studies over the years—took some summer classes between some of my Hogwarts years where I had the time so I could continue with science and math classes to feel more well-rounded—and then when I did my three years at Oxford—including summers—after Hogwarts, I had to take some accounting and quantitative business classes for my major in management studies.”

”I can admit that calculus was something I was ill-prepared for.” It hurt to admit it, but he could admit it now that it had been years since he’d sent in that request for withdrawal. “Tell me more about Oxford. You finished a university degree there?” He had talked enough already and was not one to dominate a conversation so this felt like the perfect time to throw the quaffle back to her.

”I did,” she nodded. “It felt important to gain some exposure to running an office in order to prepare myself for the office in the Ministry I knew I wanted to create. I also just generally place importance on continuing education and the options for higher education are more limited in the wizarding world.”

”That… makes sense,” he said. And it did. It made so much sense. “I don’t know many other people who continued with formal education after Hogwarts. It’s not really required for Ministry positions—they’re more focused on on-the-job-training.”

“They are,” she chuckled to herself, taking another bite of her ice cream that he had to actively look away from. “I also worked with the Muggle Liaison Department during my studies. They helped with transcripts and all that, like they did for you. And I also shadowed the head of the department for two years since I needed internship hours for my program. So I got both on-the-job training with the department as a whole, as well as fulfilling requirements for my management degree. Made it easier to plead my case to create my office, and gave me some great contacts in the department.”

”You are… an anomaly, Granger,” Draco said, the awe evident in his tone as he stared at her in wonder, eyes narrowed and the crooked smile on his lips. An overachiever for the greater good. An absolute one-of-a-kind. 

”So are you,” she gave him a quirked smile right back. “And I’m glad I finally understand why you wear muggle fashion so well.”

“I had to learn to fit in,” he shrugged a bit smugly, knowing he looked very good in muggle fashion.

They ducked into Flourish & Blotts for Hermione to collect her pre-ordered book, wandering the store for a while before they left with a large tote to hold Hermione’s four additional new books on varying subjects and in varying genres. Draco insisted on carrying the bag, much to Hermione’s opposition, and eventual surrender.

At the end of their afternoon in Diagon Alley, they walked the cobblestone streets back towards the Leaky Cauldron where Draco finally handed over her bag of books after casting a featherlight charm on the tote.

“This was a very fun and enlightening day,” Hermione said cheekily. “I still can’t believe you went to Cambridge for two years. This is going to consistently blow my mind every time I think about it.”

“I do like the idea of being mind-blowing for you,” he replied before he could stop himself, grinning at her as the rosiness on her neck returned.

She rolled her eyes, which flicked back to his with a lick of heat. “I do hope we can still enjoy these outings even after you’ve moved onto your next placement.”

His brain screamed at him to just ask her on a date now. This was the perfect opening. But there was one week. One week left. And then, at the gala, he could tell her how beautiful she looked—because of course she would—and he could sweep her off her feet with a dance and an invitation for a date. It was all planned out in his head. He could wait one more week.

“We absolutely can still enjoy these outings after I’m out of your hair at the Ministry,” he nodded definitively. “I’ll need something to look forward to with the boredom that’s sure to come from the Department of Magical Transportation. Last time I volunteered there, they had me cleaning floos for four weeks.”

Hermione grimaced. “You will need some excitement in your life, then.”

“And you have definitely added excitement to my life,” his eyes sparked back at her as she bit her lip again to keep her smile from beaming. He’d seen her do this multiple times now and it made him swoon on the inside. It was adorable and hot and sweet and gods he wanted to kiss her so badly.

One week.

“You have certainly added something to my life as well, Malfoy. I’ll see you Wednesday.” She stepped in for their very normal goodbye hug and his arms wrapped around her tightly.

“I’ll see you Wednesday,” he said in her ear like it was a private thing, just for her.

He felt her squeeze him one more time as air emitted in a breathy huff against his cheek. And then he slowly let his arms pull from her, making as much contact with her as he could as they did, and she did the same. As they split, a breeze of wind gusted through the alley and Hermione’s hair whipped into her face. Without thinking, Draco reached out and brushed it back, his fingers skimming her cheek as her breath hitched and her eyes widened, the blush rising to her neck. “Wednesday,” she repeated in a whisper as she nodded, a dazed little smile on her face. And right there, in the last look she gave him before she stepped back to apparate away, he saw every ounce of want and longing that he was sure he was giving her. And then she was gone and he was backstepping towards the Leaky Cauldron as his mind blanked and he groaned internally from the knowledge of the depths he had fallen to for this witch. One. more. week.

Chapter Text

Draco had gone to bed Sunday night with thoughts of Hermione Granger and their most recent outings swimming through his head, and subsequently woken up on the Monday morning of his last week with the Muggleborn Initiatives Office with his hand wrapped solidly around his length as he pictured the flush on her neck and her teeth nipping at his lip instead of hers. He’d been so, so, very good about not fantasizing about her like this because it would make it that much harder not to let the heat pour from his eyes every time their gaze met. But this was his last full week working with her department before he would transition over to the Department of Magical Transportation for whatever very boring job they had for him to help with. And then he’d be free to ask her out. So as his hand moved methodically up and down his shaft, he let himself picture what it would be like to lift her onto her desk in one of her pretty little skirt suits, the fabric of her outer robes discarded and his hands breaching the hem that would be halfway up her legs by this point. He could hear the sighs she’d emit, formulated in his fantasy from the sighs that fell from her lips every day in different scenarios. She was so expressive. He’d make her moan and sigh and pant and he’d swallow down as many of those sounds as he could as his hands finally touched the skin he’d been burning to feel beneath the light layers of her silky summer tops and those shorts that exposed so much of her legs.

Fuck. His fantasies didn’t even make it to anything more lewd than that before the picture of his lips on her inner thigh and her hand in his hair seemed to do the trick as he groaned and came around his hand, head buried deep into his pillow as he threw his other arm over his face, groaning again. One more week. Not that he thought he’d get her in any of those positions any time soon… but one more week until he could ask her on a proper date and let things go from there. 

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Draco stepped out of his bedroom in a pair of grey joggers and nothing else on Monday evening. He was toweling his hair dry, after his second shower of the day, as his afternoon replayed in his head. He’d made a visit to the manor, as he did every month, to deal with reconciling accounts, managing investments, reviewing his mother’s donations and transferring the appropriate galleons to the appropriate places for the upcoming month. In addition to his normal budgeting, he’d inked in an extra two thousand galleons in September for upgraded renovations to the house elves’ quarters—which he would consult with them on—because he was in the spirit of giving and heavily under the influence of a certain curly-haired brunette. The house elves at Malfoy Manor were content there now, nerves eased by the removal of the patriarch and the softening of its matriarch. Draco had never been particularly cruel to the elves, and there was one named Windy that he’d always been quietly fond of who had tended to him growing up. His fondness had been less quiet in recent years and he’d taken to checking in on the elf and getting an update on the overall wellbeing of the group of them on his monthly visits. His mother clearly thought this was silly, but didn’t outwardly say anything about his cordial communication with the elves.

He’d also had lunch with his mother that afternoon, and that was the conversation that seemed to be on repeat. With the upcoming completion of his community service with the Muggleborn Initiatives Office and hopeful procurement of a first date with Hermione, he’d thought it was time to gauge the reaction of his mother on the matter. She had been understanding of his apology tour and had even thought it beneficial to their image as a family, though she hadn’t felt the need to join him outside of issuing a public statement after the war of their cut ties with the patriarch who would be serving life in Azkaban and their ‘commitment’ to aligning the values of the Malfoys with the progressive values of the wizarding world. She was receptive to listening to the things he’d researched, learned and changed opinions on over the years, though she hadn’t actively done much else on her own. So he was curious, today, to see what her reaction might be to his potential involvement with Hermione.

“How is your current placement going, Draco?” she asked, daintily cutting into the pheasant atop her fresh garden salad. This was how she always referred to his community service since she rarely knew which group he was working with and did not want to refer to his ten-year sentence in any negative connotation.

“Very well. As you know—” he said this as a courtesy since he was sure she did not actually remember, “—I’ve been working with the Muggleborn Initiatives Office this summer. They put on three program sessions for the incoming first year muggleborns to acclimate them to wizarding society during the months leading up to their departure for Hogwarts. It’s been nice, getting to know the incoming class.” This was a good first impression of her reaction.

She hummed politely, “Yes. Sounds like a very… progressive program. How are you finding that environment?”

“Welcoming,” he nodded. “The team is very dedicated to the department’s mission and I wasn’t originally sure how I would be received in relation to that, but I’ve had a very positive experience.”

“It was certainly… courageous of you to accept a bold placement like that,” his mother said, carefully side-stepping any implications.

Despite her attempts to side-step, however, Draco barreled forward through the implications, “I actually applied directly for the department. It seemed like great exposure to a demographic I’d like to get to know more personally; one I’ve tried to learn more about over the years but have now had the opportunity to connect with and understand on a more direct level.”

Narcissa gave her polite hum again. It was a sign she was uncomfortable with the current conversation, but knew it wasn’t appropriate to redirect. “Very courageous of you, indeed, then.”

“It also gave me the opportunity,” Draco plowed on, “To work with Hermione Granger, who I’ve been hoping to have a one-on-one conversation with for a few years now.”

Narcissa nodded slowly. “Yes, I remember you were hoping to speak with her.”

“I was, yes. I’ve finally had the chance to do so. And it went very well. It took a little time in the beginning, but I put in the effort to earn her respect professionally and I was able to achieve that.”

“Of course you were, you’re a very smart boy. Anyone could see the value you add in a Ministry setting.”

Draco gave a small smile in acknowledgment, his mother had always been vocal, and very proud, of his academic accomplishments. And then he continued, “Once I’d gained her respect in the office, I asked if she would be open to getting to know each other more personally and she agreed. We’ve been spending time together regularly these last few months since then.”

“Ms. Granger is a good personal connection to have,” Narcissa said evenly, unsure now where this conversation was headed, but adding hesitantly, “I did see a photograph of the two of you walking down the streets of Diagon Alley together in the society pages of Witch Weekly. I didn’t realize the outing was a regular occurrence. You’ve been photographed on your personal endeavors previously, so I don’t put much stock into who you’re pictured with.”

“We’d been at Fortescue’s that afternoon,” Draco nodded. The photograph in question had run a few weeks ago and though he tried not to acknowledge it, the look on his face was quite damning as they walked the cobblestone streets. They’d had ice creams in each of their hands as Hermione was talking, her hands gesturing as they often did and his eyes locked on her, a small grin on his face and, if you were looking for it, a very evident sparkle in his eye. “But we’ve been going on these outings weekly since mid-July.”

“So you’re… friends?” Narcissa asked, sipping her iced tea.

“We are friends,” he confirmed before drawing in a deep breath and adding, “But I plan to ask her on a date, when I leave the department.”

“A date?” Her tone was unreadable.

“A date.”

There was silence between them as Narcissa set her glass back down and considered him. “Is there a reason you’re asking Ms. Granger on a date?”

“Because I like her,” he said simply, “Because I don’t think I’ve ever—or will ever—meet another witch like her.”

“I feel I’ve tried setting you up with witches you have… much more in common with, in the past.”

”As a respectful reminder, I had never asked you to do that, and I never found a real connection with any of the daughters of your friends that you brought around.”

Narcissa ignored this as she pivoted, “Is this just an infatuation of proximity, do you think? From working in an office together for three months.”

Draco held in his sigh of frustration and responded with, “I think it’s something that’s been under the surface of my feelings for her for a long time. Things I’ve always noticed about her, I’m realizing I’ve always found invigorating and have just never acknowledged in that light.”

“Draco,” she pushed her plate to the side, clasping her hands on the table, “I do hope this doesn’t come off as disapproving or judgmental in some way,” those were not reassuring words to start with, though he didn’t cut in, “but could you please elaborate on that a bit. I’d like to understand, but I’m afraid it’s just not making total sense in my mind. You’ve known this girl since your first year at Hogwarts and we’ve had some… regrettable interactions with her in the past. What is it about her that has suddenly captured your intrigue?”

Draco sat up a bit straighter, squaring his shoulders and keeping his voice polite, but definitive. “We have acknowledged our past over the last few months and she’s been incredibly supportive of the path my life is on. In terms of what has captured my interest, there’s a lot of things, at this point. She’s smart—she always beat me in every subject at Hogwarts besides potions and history of magic, as you know. She’s fiery and opinionated and direct, which I love—” his throat constricted as that word left his mouth, and he tried to self-correct because this was not the moment to spiral on what that meant, “—which I enjoy in our conversations, now that we’re on good terms, as opposed to being on the receiving end of her ire. She keeps me on my toes; keeps me thinking critically and digging deeper on things, regardless of the topic, which may have made me uncomfortable in the past but is something that I’m more than confident enough to engage in now, and something I would appreciate in a partner. And she’s always looking and moving forward. I like the challenge of keeping up with her. I like how she makes me feel and how easy it is to discuss things even when they’re not easy topics. I like the time I spend with her, it’s interesting and it’s fun and it never feels like long enough.”

Narcissa took it all in before she nodded once, looking down at the table as she took a deep breath and then focused on him again, planting a demure smile at her lips, “It seems you’ve given this ample thought and have considered the things that are important to you. I do wish to see you happy, Draco. I may not fully understand, in this moment, but I do hope you’ll give me time to process your perspective and your decision and perhaps at a future date, if things go the way you’re hoping, I would like to meet her properly.”

There was an internal and very animated sigh of relief that passed through Draco as his muscles seemed to relax. On the outside, he returned a respectful smile to his mother and dipped his head, “Of course. I hope that can happen, as well.”

There had been another moment of silence between them as her eyes roamed his face before she pulled her smile up once more and said, “You have grown, Draco. I hope you know that I’m proud of who you’ve become.” She paused and a conflicted look clouded her eyes before she continued. “Sometimes I don’t always understand how you see things because I had almost forty-five years on this earth being instilled with very specific and resilient values that you’re too familiar with.” Draco interpreted the look of confliction for what it was now: discomfort. This was unknown territory with his mother because she preferred to keep things proper and light. She did not like to acknowledge how murky their lives had become when they were faced with their own problematic truths. 

“You’ve been much more proactive about change since the end of the war and I’ve been stuck in a place where I understand I was wrong and can perform the actions I know will be seen as growth, but I haven’t actually put in the effort to understand just how wrong I may have been. Because to do so will be difficult. I’ve seen your journey; I’ve seen the grappling you’ve done with your past and how it’s affected you. I’ve seen the lengths you’ve gone to in order to learn about muggle culture to help shape your views. In the past, I haven’t known that I have it in me to do the same. I’ve always tried to be a good person: charitable, socially accepted, strong and proud. To realize that perhaps I was the opposite of all of those things…” she trailed off. “I understand there’s more I need to do and maybe this is a good time for me to really think on that. But I want you to know that I see Ms. Granger as a strong, smart, resilient girl, regardless of the internal battles I may have about how she would fit into this family and what it would mean for… so many things. But I know these are things I need to work on.”

“It’s a choice you have to make, mother,” Draco said quietly. “I know you’re doing things that you believe society will see as good now, and they are good things. I’m glad you’re doing that; routing our money to worthy causes and standing by statements we’ve made since the war. If you want personal growth outside of that, you just have to decide that it’s worth it. And it is difficult because it’s painful to acknowledge certain things about yourself. But I can tell you it is worth it. It’s an ongoing journey, but I’m happy with where I’m at and where I’m going.”

Narcissa nodded stiffly and then sniffed, reaching for her iced tea again.

“How was your dinner with Mrs. Greengrass on Saturday?” Draco shifted the conversation to alleviate her tension.

“Very nice, thank you,” Narcissa said, clearing her throat and replacing her iced tea as she pulled her plate forward again and accepted the change in topic, delving into the updates on the Greengrass family and the early planning of Daphne’s upcoming nuptials to Blaise.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

Draco threw his wet towel over the back of the armchair as he picked up Witch Weekly from the coffee table and looked at the picture of himself and Hermione again as one of his fingers traced a long scar across his chest absently. And then the fire in the grate burned green and his eyes lifted. He didn’t have time to stash the article before Theo, followed by Pansy, Blaise and Daphne all walked into his sitting room, seemingly already in conversation.

“So I told him we could go out to this swanky new club on Friday,” Theo said with a grin and a wave of his hand before turning to Draco, “Evening, Draco—oh my gods, is that Witch Weekly?”

“No,” Draco lied blatantly, moving it quickly behind his back. “No, it’s—” but Theo was already to him and reaching behind him, plucking it from his fingers.

“It is. And it’s open to the picture of the two of you, aw. Very cute, Draco.”

Pansy cackled from behind Theo, wrapping her arms around the boy to read over his shoulder, “Malfoy Heir spotted out with war heroine Hermione Granger and the look in his eyes could melt more than just ice cream. Do we smell something sweet in the air? ”

“It’s a gossip magazine,” Draco rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his bare chest. “These people are constantly writing about her love life, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re writing about your love life here, Draco,” Pansy looked up at him from the article. “Those are your heart-eyes they’re referring to.”

“And they look very similar to the heart-eyes you were giving her in the Witch Weekly edition after the dueling competition,” Daphne noted.

Draco tsk’d as Blaise flung himself into the corner of the couch, “Bold move, taking her out in the wizarding world so publicly again.”

“We’re friends,” Draco reiterated. “I’m trying to make it through the damn week that way, anyway. I need to keep things on a friendly level for five more days.”

“So that’s why we’re here,” Daphne said, clearing her throat a bit and sitting down next to Blaise, “Do you want to sit, Draco?”

“Can I put a shirt on?” he retorted.

“You look better without one,” Theo commented and Draco leveled him with a look. “But if you’d prefer to rob us all of the view of that gorgeous dragon…” he sighed.

Draco shook his head with a huff of a laugh he tried to hold in. “I’m going to put a shirt on.” He turned for his room as everyone else found a seat around the lounge and when he returned, he joined them in the armchair. “So, what’s going on?”

“I received the final numbers and RSVPs from Granger for the gala on Saturday.”

“Alright,” Draco raised his eyebrows in a gesture to continue.

“Granger put down a plus-one.”

Draco’s heart stopped. “What?”

“Granger put down a plus-one on the RSVP list.”

There was no way… Draco opened his mouth and then shut it. Ginny Weasley had told him to play it cool; not to make any moves. He had done exactly what he was supposed to do. Granger had spent one of her precious days every week on outings with him. She barely had any free time and she seemed to be spending it with him. How in the world could she have found someone else in the last month since he’d gotten reassurance of her interest in him?

“That must be a mistake,” Draco finally said.

“It’s not a mistake. I followed up for confirmation.”

“Who is her plus-one?”

Daphne shared a quick glance with Blaise, “It’s Krum.”

Chapter Text

Draco was, for lack of a better word, spiraling. Viktor Krum was Hermione’s ex-boyfriend. From only a mere eight months ago. So how and why was he re-emerging into Hermione’s life? What possible reason could he have for attending an event with Hermione? He tried to picture the guest list; there had been quidditch players on the list, sure, but he did not remember Krum being one of them. Most of the quidditch players invited were recommended by Ginny as people who were up for some fundraiser appearances and liked the cause. But he would have remembered if Viktor Krum had been invited. And he was almost positive he had not been. 

Draco stewed about this for another day and a half until Wednesday rolled around and he made his way back to the Ministry. He’d run through a hundred different ways to casually bring it up, but in truth, had no idea what he was going to say. He just knew he was going to say something.

As he walked into the Muggleborn Initiatives Office, he drew in a deep breath, nodding with a generic greeting to Michael and Hannah before he walked with purpose into Hermione’s office. 

Her lips spread wide as she saw him, and it seemed to drain all of his thoughts from his brain, “Good morning,” she said, “Ready to get through the last session this week?”

”I—good morning—yes,” he set his bag down by his small corner desk and walked towards hers.

”We’ve got most of the materials prepped, but I will need you to do some duplication charms for the final agendas,” she was rummaging around through the files on her desk now.

”Right, I can do that. Granger I wanted to ask—”

”Hermione,” came Michael’s voice from the doorway, “I just got a note from the Minister’s Office—Kingsley is free for the next fifteen minutes if you can run up.”

”Oh!” Hermione jumped up from her chair, grabbing her robes from their hanging place and throwing them over her outfit—a tailored black business dress and taller heels than he was used to seeing her in. And those legs— “Send a note back that I’m on my way.” She looked at Draco apologetically as she rounded her desk, “I put in a favor with Harry to mention the fundraiser to Kingsley. Obviously Kingsley and I are on good terms, but Harry’s got more pull with him. I’m really hoping he can make it on Saturday.” She gave him a hopeful, but nervous smile that was all teeth as she gripped his wrist with a small squeeze in passing before rushing by.

”Good luck,” was all he had time to say before she was gone and he was left with nothing but the tingle of warmth and electricity on his wrist.

He sighed, walking up to her desk and grabbing the stack of agendas she’d dropped in her haste and taking them to his desk to duplicate for the sessions starting on Thursday morning.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The problem with the day being directly before the program session was that not only did he barely get time to talk to Hermione, but even when he did, it was anything but private with Hannah and Michael popping in and out of her office for one thing or another. And so by the end of the day, he found himself leaving her office without having his question answered or his mind at peace. He’d tossed and turned for another night and then pulled himself together for the Thursday program session. They walked through last minute preparations for King’s Cross, as well as touching on the basics of communication while at Hogwarts and disconnected from muggle technology. This led to a long discussion on magical advancements in place of muggle electronics. 

By the end of the day, Draco finally found himself alone with Hermione as they set out the last of the materials for Friday’s session, Hannah and Michael being excused after the completion of their last set-up task.

”I think it went well today,” Draco said to break the ice.

”Yes, I think so too,” Hermione said with a little tired laugh. “Always such a whirlwind, but it’s going well. I can tell Tristan is feeling pretty hesitant about his transition into the wizarding world still, though."

“I can see if I can pass along some words of encouragement tomorrow,” Draco offered.

”If you could, that would be really nice,” she gave him a grateful smile as she laid out a Ministry quill next to the packing list pamphlet she’d put together. “I think he just needs a little more personal reassurance.”

The way she looked at him, as though he were being so thoughtful, was genuine. And then she turned back to her task at hand. And in that very brief moment, a shot of terror rang through him that maybe he had friendzoned himself. By not making a move and keeping their growing something platonic, maybe she’d gotten over whatever initial interest may have been there. Maybe Krum had swooped back in and swept her up while he was biding his time. And just as he opened his mouth to blurt something out about Krum, she spoke first.

”I really feel like we’re going to end strong tomorrow.” She said it with confidence as she positioned the next quill just so by another pamphlet. “It’s always so exciting at the end of these things when I feel like we get to release them out into the world so much more prepared than I had been coming into Hogwarts. Feels like such an accomplishment.”

”It is an accomplishment; a big one,” Draco said, his spontaneous need for answers on Krum getting drowned out again by the reminder that she was still focused on work. That today and tomorrow were incredibly important to her and even though he was spiraling on the inside, this program was too important to her to make anything about himself today. He’d have to wait until it was all over. He’d stick to his plan. He’d ask her out. Or maybe he’d just wait to see how things went at the gala… maybe ask her for one dance and let the romantic moment convince her that there was still a spark between them. Because… hadn’t there been? Just a week ago? When he was leaving Diagon Alley… And two weeks ago, didn’t they linger longer than they should have on the steps of Ginny and Luna’s flat in Wales with their arms still around each other?

“Alright, I think that’s it for the night,” Hermione pulled him from his thoughts again. “Thank you, again, for helping with all of this. I know it’s nearly seven in the evening and you’re still here when you don’t have to be.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, moving the empty box that had carried supplies into the cabinet to repack after the session on Friday. 

They left together, talking casually about the next day’s activities until they reached the floos in the Ministry atrium.

”I’ll see you tomorrow,” Draco said with a forced grin to keep the light air in his composure.

”Malfoy,” Hermione said as he started to walk towards one of the grates, stopping to turn back to her as his eyes met hers again. He swore he still saw the fire in them that he had the last month, but maybe he’d been reading them wrong this whole time. “I’m really happy you’re here for this. For all of it. Thank you for relentlessly applying to help in my department.”

The weight of what it meant to him to hear that hit him like the Hogwarts Express. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and thank her for giving him the time of day; for giving him a shred of a chance to prove himself worthy of her time. 

“I’d have kept applying, even if my sentence was over,” he said with another, less forced, grin. “The experience has been more than I’d hoped. And fortunately, I’ve got an entire session still to enjoy tomorrow before it’s officially over and I’m forced to move on to less exciting departments.”

She huffed lightly with a nod, “We do still have tomorrow. Get some sleep, I’ll see you in the morning.”

”Goodnight, Granger,” Draco backed up a step or two towards the grate to hold her gaze as long as he could before he turned, reaching for the floo powder and disappearing into the green flames to torment himself with overthinking for another twenty-four hours.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

At the final program session on Friday, the excitement and nerves in the room were all buzzing and palpable. Draco had watched Hermione give each presentation and field every question with reassurance and patience and he could see the hope in her eyes for them; hope for their futures and for their success. It felt rewarding to hand out the final Ministry gift bags that afternoon as the students filed out, Tristan giving Draco an extra thank you and a high five after the words of wisdom he’d bestowed on their lunch break. 

As the room cleared, Hermione stood leaning against one of the desks with a proud smile on her face and her arms crossed over her chest. Before Draco had a chance to approach her, Hannah walked up, congratulating her on a successful summer program with excitement. Michael joined them and Draco made his way over as well, hands slipping into his pockets. 

“I so appreciate everything the team did to get us here,” Hermione said, looking around at each of them, her gaze lingering just slightly on Draco. “I can’t believe another group of first years are off to Hogwarts.”

”It’ll be nice to be there for them on Tuesday to see them off,” Michael nodded.

”Draco, are you coming to King’s Cross?” Hannah asked.

”I am,” he nodded, “My service period ends today, unfortunately, but it only felt right to volunteer to be there for the Hogwarts Express after getting to know the kids this summer.”

”It’s sad to see you go,” Hannah said genuinely. “You’ve been a big help this year. Don’t know what we would have done without you.”

Michael nodded beside her, “It’s been good to have you here.”

”Thank you for… welcoming me to the department. Glad I was able to relieve a bit of stress during, what I can now admit, is a very stressful—and fulfilling—summer program.”

”You’re always welcome to stop in for baked goods on Mondays,” Hermione gave him a small smile and a glimpse of that beautiful flush on her neck. “Thank you for your help, Malfoy.”

“Well, time for clean-up?” Hannah clapped her hands together and they dispersed around the room, re-packing materials and rearranging the desks back to their normal state. 

Draco and Hermione were once again left alone at the end of the clean-up and Draco was determined to ask about Krum even as Hermione continued on a story she’d been telling him about a rogue garden gnome that had infiltrated the Burrow and interrupted the Weasley Sunday brunch the week prior. It was, admittedly, an amusing story and she was adorable as she retold it; laughter on her lips and her eyes shining with mirth and energy. 

“So, long story short,” she shook her head with another little laugh, “I don’t think Percy will be lecturing anybody on the appropriate way to capture a garden gnome any time soon.”

”No, I think he’s been put in his place on that topic,” Draco agreed.

As the conversation came to its natural end and Draco and Hermione walked towards the door, done for the night, Draco took the opportunity to dig down deep and pull his courage to the surface as he stopped, his fingers finding Hermione’s wrist similar to her touch from the other day, “Granger,” he said as she let herself be gently pulled back. “I actually had something I wanted to ask."

”Of course.” The blush on her cheeks was back in a way that told him perhaps she might know what direction this was heading. But he couldn't tell if the blush was out of embarrassment for him, or anticipation.

“I know the gala is coming up tomorrow—”

A ping sounded in Hermione’s bag and she apologized, pulling a small rectangular notebook from its depths.

”What is that?” Draco asked out of pure curiosity.

Hermione looked up from the page she had opened, her brows knitted as she tried to shift her focus back to him, “Huh? Oh this? It’s a two-way notebook charm. My parents have the match to it. I came up with the charm myself since muggle technology doesn’t work in the Ministry and I don’t like to be unreachable to my parents."

“That’s… impressive magic.”

”I thought so too,” she sighed a tired sigh, reading the rest of what must be a message from her parents, “Sorry, I actually really have to go. It’s my mother—she—” Hermione took a deep breath, “She’s forgotten part of our trip to Zurich. I need to be there.”

”Yes… of course,” Draco said, understanding how important it was to Hermione to de-escalate these lapses in memory for her parents even as his heart dropped with the realization that he would not, in fact, get a chance to talk to her about Krum or a date or anything else tonight.

”I’ll see you tomorrow, Malfoy,” she gave him a small smile, her hand reaching out and grasping his fingers lightly in hers before she turned and jogged out the door and towards the floos, Draco watching after her.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

“I can’t believe you didn’t get confirmation as to whether or not you’re stuck in the friend zone,” Theo shook his head.

”This was the worst week for casual conversation,” Draco responded bitterly. “I have no fucking idea, Theo. No fucking idea if she’s back with Krum. She’s still doing everything she was doing before. Still looking at me the same and finding reasons to share small touches—”

”This is sounding very romantic,” Pansy said, stepping into the sitting room in a gorgeous green silk dress with a flowing cape off the back and a slit higher than the eyebrows it would raise.

Draco was leaning both arms on the back of the armchair in full tuxedo-style dress robes—his best dress robes, similar to those he’d worn for the Yule ball in fourth year—and his head was hanging limply in frustration before he lifted it to acknowledge Pansy’s entrance.

”It is the opposite of romantic,” he deadpanned. “You look nice.” She’d kill him if he didn’t comment on her dress, even if he was in the middle of a crisis.

”Thank you, it’s a custom design.”

”Gorgeous, Pansy darling.” Theo gave her a full ogle of appreciation from the couch.

”You’re too kind,” she sighed, leaning a hand on the back of the opposite armchair as she looked back at Draco. “Your suffering will end tonight, at least. Try to pull yourself together.”

”I think I’m—fuck. I just need to know. If she’s there on his arm, I might lose it.”

Blaise and Daphne passed through the floo shortly after this proclamation and they all wasted no time in giving him an ample and inspiring pep talk that made him at least square his shoulders and take a deep breath before they got him out of his flat and to the gala at the Ministry, which they had all asked to be put on the guest list for early on in planning for the table of seats Draco had purchased.

As Draco walked into the banquet hall at the Ministry, he immediately spotted Hermione across the room talking to a group of people—Ron, Padma, Harry… and Krum. He pulled in a more inconspicuous breath as he drew himself up to his full height.

”They’re not linking arms,” Theo leaned over to say as Draco’s head nodded on its own accord.

And then Krum placed a hand on Hermione’s arm as he said something to Ron, who laughed with a bit too much force for Draco’s liking. He tensed and jealousy filled the pit of his stomach, even as Krum’s hand fell a moment later and he continued talking. Draco’s eyes shifted to Hermione, who was also laughing, a drink in one hand and her opposite hand resting on her bicep across her chest. He noted, very specifically, that he couldn’t see any kind of blush on her cheeks from the contact… at least he couldn’t see it from this far away.

”You’re staring, Draco,” Pansy said with a small laugh and a touch on his wrist that did nothing for him as she pretended to be laughing at something he said, clearly trying to get him to act like a normal fucking human being.

”Just go talk to her,” Blaise said, stepping into his line of vision, Daphne beside him raising her eyebrows and blinking at him bluntly.

”Fine. Alright,” he hissed a sigh and then ran a hand along the front of his robes as he walked around Pansy and towards the other group.

”And fucking smile, Draco,” Pansy hissed at him said with another laugh in his direction for optics as he glanced back at her with a glower.

It seemed Krum was reliving some story from the Triwizard Tournament as Draco approached, trying his hardest to plant an unbothered grin on his face as he took in Hermione. She was in a lovely black gown with a high halter-topped neck, no sleeves and a draped cape across her shoulders as her lower back was left exposed to the bottom of her spine. He wanted to run his hand along every inch of her bare skin.

”Evening,” he said to the group, placing himself between Hermione and Krum as Hermione turned to him, her smile widening instantly as her eyes crinkled.

”Hi, welcome,” she said brightly. Her eyes moved over him and he loved how it felt to be under her inspection. “Did your friends make it?”

”They did,” he dipped his head. “I believe they’re finding our table.” Draco then turned his gaze around the group, exchanging greetings with each of them before he ultimately prepared himself to turn towards Krum.

”Draco Malfoy,” came Krum’s voice in a friendly tone as a hand clasped his shoulder, “How are you?”

Draco begrudgingly met his eyes, his lips turning upwards, but features still cold. “Good, thank you. Good to see you, Krum, I wasn’t aware you’d be here tonight. What brings you out from Bulgaria?” The cordiality in his voice was smooth and even. He still didn’t know the circumstances, and although he could not give this man a genuine smile or greeting, he could be cordial until he knew the extent of his betrayal.

”I was in the area for an ad campaign and reached out to Hermione to grab a drink last week,” he said with a smile in her direction. “She told me about the fundraiser and I couldn’t pass up the chance to join for the event.”

Draco was still unsure if, and in what context, Krum may have been invited versus inviting himself, though he did not like that they had gone out for a drink. “And how long are you staying in town?”

”A few weeks, for now,” he nodded more seriously. “I’m working with the Firebolt company on a campaign for their newest model—the Firebolt Premiere, which includes a few different marketing events, photo shoots, meet and greets, and a gala at the end of it all.”

”Very exciting,” Ron said, looking truly enthralled to be hearing about it. Padma squeezed his hand next to him with a small laugh.

”Krum is also attending one of the Auror Department events where Firebolt is gifting fifteen brooms of the previous model to the department,” Padma added.

”It’ll be really nice, honestly,” Harry nodded, “We’re currently working with the Nimbus 2003 series which came out nine years ago now. The movements are a bit jerky and they’re just not as comfortable after all the wear and tear.”

Draco wished he could care about this, but his mind was so distracted that he couldn’t.

Before he was forced to respond with something, Pansy’s voice cut into the conversation. “Well hello to all of my favorite Gryffindors,” she said, a hand on Dracos shoulder as she squeezed between him and Krum and popped a hip to look around at everyone. 

Draco watched as Harry Potter’s jaw all but dropped onto the floor as Pansy’s eyes locked on his, her head tilting.

“You all remember Pansy,” Draco said by way of introduction as he gestured towards her. 

Krum shook her hand first as she offered her hand daintily to each person in the circle, her fingers very blatantly brushing over Harry’s knuckles as she lingered on him. And then she got to Hermione, but instead of shaking her hand, she stepped around Draco and linked her arm with the brunette, “How about you and I grab a drink, Granger. I’ve heard so much about you these last few months.”

“Oh, ah—I guess so,” Draco heard Hermione say as she was pulled away and he gritted his teeth.

Blaise, Daphne and Theo joined the group a moment later and introductions were made before Theo started prying into everyone’s lives in that personable way only he could—asking Ron and Padma how they’d reconnected, noting to Harry that he felt the jolt of electricity between Pansy and himself from across the room, and mentioning to Krum that he’d heard rumor of a potential retirement on the horizon.

Draco’s gaze drifted to where Pansy held Hermione hostage by the bar, leaning on it, body turned towards her as they talked. And although Hermione looked engaged in the conversation, he was still quite worried about what in the world they could be talking about. Pansy knew better than to meddle.

And then he saw Hermione glance at the clock behind Pansy and place a hand on her arm as she shook her head in apology before excusing herself and hurrying off towards where Hannah and Michael were sitting at a table near the front of the room. A few minutes later, they were kicking off the gala with words of welcome and a quick explanation of the program and its accomplishments as she thanked Hannah and Michael… and then gestured towards Draco as their eyes locked and she talked briefly about his summer working with the team. He felt his heart ready to leap out of his chest at this acknowledgment, but he grinned instead, lifting his glass in her direction.

Everyone was directed to sit and the gala officially began with a dinner portion where the donors—Draco and his friends included in this category—were sat at interspersed tables with Ministry workers and friends and family who were invited. Narcissa had made a considerable contribution herself, but was in Italy for the week with Mrs. Greengrass on a pre-planned holiday to scout wedding venue options for Daphne and Blaise.

Draco continued to glance over at Hermione's table, where she sat with Krum on one side of her, talking with Ginny and Harry, and Kingsley Shacklebolt on her other side, who she was deep in conversation with. As Draco glanced over this time, his gaze caught Harry’s, who was very obviously glancing over at Pansy. Draco couldn't hold back a small smirk at this as Harry flushed, and then rolled his eyes with a grin at Draco before turning back to his conversation.

After dinner, Hermione announced the blind auction that would be going on at the back of the room, the prizes including things like a weekend stay in Montmarte in Paris, which had been donated by a Muggleborn French designer Pansy had suggested adding to the guestlist, box tickets for eight guests to a Harpies match donated by Ginny and her teammates, a brand new Firebolt Premiere donated by Krum, a coin prize of 1,000 galleons donated by Draco’s table, and a slew of other smaller auction items and events. 

Their turnout had to be close to a hundred people and Hermione was doing a fabulous job of moving through the evening’s activities and talking points as she mingled. Another half an hour later, a local jazz band took to the front of the room and began crooning the audience as a dance floor opened up.

This was his chance. Krum was in conversation with Gwenog Jones by the bar, and Hermione was talking with Harry, who was half-listening and half watching Pansy twirl herself around Theo. Draco excused himself from his conversation with Arthur Weasley, who had been chatting about a muggle contraption he’d encountered with his work with the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office called an egg beater. Draco had ensured the conversation found a good cutoff before excusing himself, because he found the Weasley patriarch to be incredibly amusing with his thoughts on muggle electronics, but he was able to get away swiftly and swoop in before Krum had finished his current conversation.

”Granger,” Draco lightly touched her upper arm as he joined them and she turned to him, that smile of hers brightening in a way he loved. “Do you have a few minutes for a dance? I’m afraid it’s the only way I’ll get your ear all night.” He could not have been more pleased with how suave he’d made that sound and the flush returned to her cheeks. Take that, Krum.

”I think I could get away for a few minutes,” she nodded, looking over at Harry. “Why don’t you go find a partner, Harry?”

Harry glanced at Pansy again and then to Draco as though asking a question without asking it. 

“You should ask Pansy to dance,” Draco suggested. “Theo will twirl her until she’s too dizzy to stand. You’d be doing her a favor.”

”Well, if you think so,” he dipped his head valiantly, leaving them as he walked towards Pansy and Theo.

Draco let his hand trail down Hermione’s arm and to her hand as she let him grasp it and walk her onto the dance floor. He sent her a grin and met her eyes, the air between them crackling as it always did. As they turned towards each other, his free hand found her waist, not daring to feel the burn of skin on her exposed back until he knew what in the world was going on between them—and between her and Krum.

”The gala is going wonderfully,” he said, “You’re a natural host.”

She gave a small laugh at this, “I’ve rehearsed for tonight a hundred times,” she said. “I want this to go so well so they’ll move us up the list to do this again in the future. I’ve calculated what I think we’ll raise from tonight and it’ll get us two interns to help through the year rather than just the summer and I’ll have time to work on the book I have halfway drafted as an overarching introduction to the wizarding world that we can send with the Hogwarts letters to Muggleborn families.”

“Of course you’re writing a book,” he grinned. “I’d expect nothing less. I’m glad this fundraiser will help you do that, you deserve a bit more time to focus on expansion projects and… extra-curriculars.”

”I’m honestly really looking forward to it. Are you having a good time?” She asked and he loved how private their conversation felt, even as others danced around them.

”I am now,” he said. “Look, Granger. I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

”I know,” she said with a sigh, “I’m sorry I had to run off last night, I hope you didn’t think it was personal.”

”I didn’t,” he assured her. “I know you’ve got priorities, when it comes to your parents.”

”Thank you,” she said quietly. “But please, ask what you wanted to ask last night.”

Draco kept his tone even and light as he looked over her shoulder towards the bar and then back to her, “I guess before I do… I should ask about Krum. Is he here as—”

”My friend,” she said quickly, her eyes widening and realization dawning on her as she shook her head, “Sorry, I hope that’s what you were asking.”

”Yes,” he confirmed, “That’s what I was asking.”

She nodded and continued, her words a bit rushed in a way that told him she wanted to be perfectly clear. “Krum is here as my friend and as a favor to bring in another auction item and another big name for the fundraiser. We’ve always been friends; for years before we ever dated. But it’s nothing more than that now. We had an amicable and mutual split. We’re not seeing each other; he’s been dating someone new in Bulgaria for four months now and I’m not seeing anyone.”

The breath that left Draco’s body felt like it relieved him of a metric ton of weight in his chest as the corner of his lips pulled up. “Daphne told me he was your plus-one,” he said honestly. If she so clearly wanted him to know that Krum was just a friend then he could be honest, now that they were not coworkers and he knew she was still available and, apparently, interested. “I didn’t know what to make of that. I’ve been waiting to ask for the last week but it didn’t feel appropriate with the final session to focus on.”

”I’m sorry, I should have mentioned it,” she shook her head as though it were silly of her not to have thought of this, “The guest list was technically capped at a hundred people,” she explained, “So I wrote him in as my plus-one because Ginny told me that was a loophole she’d used once in a Ministry contract for an event she wanted to bring Luna to before they were officially together and before Luna had her own spot on the invite list.”

”Ah,” Draco nodded, a chuckle rumbling in his throat at the simplicity of it all. 

“Would you like to ask a follow-up question now?” She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly.

”I would,” he said with a nod and a renewed, and stronger than ever, confidence, “Granger, would you like to go on a date with me—a real date; as not just a friend? I’ve—really enjoyed getting to know you these last three months and spending time with you on the weekends has been… the best part of my summer.”

”Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I would very much like to go on a real date with you, as not just a friend.”

Draco’s grin deepened before he leaned down towards her ear and said in a quieter voice, “Can I pull you closer, or is that inappropriate in this setting? Because I‘d really like to pull you closer.”

”You can pull me closer,” she breathed, “But watch where that hand goes, Malfoy, I have a certain image to uphold.”

Draco stood tall again, meeting her eyes as he pulled her gently to him, his hand slipping from her waist to the small of her back where every fiber in his being ignited at the feel of the soft curve of her tailbone beneath his fingers. 

“You look absolutely stunning tonight, Granger,” he said as fireworks continued to erupt in his brain from her acceptance of a date and her willingness to be closer to him; to be in his arms and to look up at him with the heat radiating from her gaze like it was.

”So do you,” she said, her lips pulling into a coy little smile as he begged for this moment to last for hours.

But it was only seconds later that the band played a swooning last note of the song and the people around them started stepping back from their partners and clapping. Draco and Hermione lingered until almost all the clapping had died down before they finally stepped back and added their claps to the mix, eyes still on each other.

”Next weekend,” Draco said, “Dinner.”

”I’ll be there.”

And then Hermione was whisked away by Hannah to speak more about the program with one of the donors who was considering a larger donation based on their experience and conversations that evening. 

But he’d secured a date with Hermione. She was not dating Krum and there had been no hesitancy in her answer tonight. She wanted to go on a date with him just as definitively as he wanted to take her on a date.

As he mingled around the room that night, he made sure to stop by Ginny Weasley’s table with a fresh drink for the witch and a discreet thank you, which she grinned widely at before clinking her glass against his in congratulations. And then she reminded him that if he broke Hermione’s heart, she’d hunt him down and break his nose.

Chapter Text

“I cannot believe you slept with Harry Potter,” Theo said in awe, shaking his head with wide eyes at Pansy, who was sitting on Draco’s couch still in her silky green gown the morning after the gala.

“Says the boy currently dating a muggle yoga instructor,” Pansy raised her eyebrows, a wicked grin plastered on her lips and her heels dangling off her finger hanging over the arm of the couch.

”First of all, I told you last night I’m going to cut that off because we’ve both realized it isn’t going anywhere. And secondly, you’ve seen that man’s abs with your own eyes,” Theo said, “Who wouldn’t have wanted to—”

”Theo we have not stopped hearing about this man’s abs for a month,” Daphne cut in with a wave of her hand, “Pansy, how was Potter in bed?”

”Why are you asking?” Blaise gave her an indignant look.

”I think it’s a fair question,” Theo contended, looking over to Draco to weigh in.

Draco seemed to consider this for a moment before he shrugged, he was in a good mood and could use a good laugh, “I actually think I’m curious as well. How’s Potter in bed? Got a nice wand to wave?”

Theo cackled at this question and Pansy threw her head back laughing as well.

”Would a classy witch divulge something so vulgar?” She simpered once she’d righted herself again, batting her eyes innocently.

”Well we’re not asking a classy witch, are we?” Blaise gave her a sarcastic smile in return.

Pansy scoffed and then sat up and leaned in with a conspiratorial look on her face, “Alright, you convinced me. He was very good. Wand was more than adequately sized and charmwork was precise and well-studied.”

”I immediately regret being interested,” Draco said with a definitive nod as Daphne laughed and clutched her chest and Theo nodded his head with an impressed look on his face. 

“You got what you asked for,” Blaise chuckled.

”So are you going to see him again?” Theo asked.

”He all but begged me to go out tonight,” she said airily. “I told him I was busy but he could take me to dinner on Sunday.”

”You’re not busy tonight,” Daphne tilted her head, “You and I have plans to drink wine on my couch. I don’t care if you cancel.”

”I can’t make myself that available, Daph,” Pansy said simply, “I’ll make him miss me and then I’ll see him tomorrow night. Gives him time to lament on where to take me. I want him to sweat just a little.”

”Speaking of lamenting on where to go for a date,” Blaise turned to Draco, “Where are you taking Granger?”

Draco ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “I don’t fucking know. There is a fabulous wizarding restaurant by my flat—swanky and expensive. There is also a top grade muggle restaurant around the corner if we wanted to keep it low profile—Michelin starred which I think is the equivalent to Nimbus-stars in the magical world. But then I keep thinking, maybe she doesn’t want a fancy restaurant. Maybe I should take her somewhere cozy in Diagon Alley, or to that cocktail bar in Evanshire, or something in between.”

”See, this is the turmoil I want Potter to go through,” Pansy gestured towards Draco to Daphne.

”I don’t want to mess this up from the beginning by being too pretentious or, oppositely, too casual. I don’t know if muggle or wizarding is what she’d prefer—I don’t even know how she feels about us being seen out in the wizarding world on a date. I should have asked.”

”No, no, no,” Theo shook his head. “You’re planning the date. You asked her out, she said yes without a second thought. That girl does not mind being seen out with you. Besides, you’ve already been photographed together and she didn’t seem bothered by the gossip pages then.”

”Make the call, Draco,” Pansy agreed, “Witches like a man who is decisive and takes charge.”

”You think Hermione Granger is someone who likes to let someone else take charge?” Daphne raised an eyebrow with a grin.

”Well this makes me excited to ask Draco about the sex in the future,” Theo said with his eyes sparkling.

”I haven’t even gotten a date yet,” Draco eyed him wearily. “Let me focus on wooing her first.”

”I bet Granger’s good in bed,” Pansy sighed, thinking about it, “Most tight-wound people have a wild side.”

"Anyway,” Draco said pointedly, not at all wanting to let his mind go down that path right now, “If I had to make a decision on the date, all other factors pushed aside, I think I’d have her over to my flat and make her dinner; something elegant but homemade; something with time and effort put into it. Intimate and personal. We’ve been going out weekly for six weeks. As much as I’d love to take her out on my arm or wow her with something fun and adventurous… I think I’d like to just have her over and be together in a new capacity.”

"You are a fabulous cook,” Daphne agreed. 

“It’s simple, yet thought-through,” Pansy nodded her approval.

"I’d have pulled out all the stops with a top Nimbus-starred restaurant with ten courses,” Theo sighed, “But I’m sure your elegant night in will be much more up Granger’s alley.”

Pansy had that wicked grin again as she said, “And then you can get up Granger’s—”

"No,” Draco stopped her with a sharp look. “Conversation over. Thank you. Gods, Potter has no idea what he’s in for.”

"Oh, he knows. Or at least, he’s learning,” she wiggled her eyebrows. “I can tell you he doesn't mind.”

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The next week passed slowly and painfully as Draco counted the minutes to Saturday. When it finally came, Draco settled on a light white oxford shirt and navy chinos for the date as he ran a hand through his hair again to get the perfect casually-mussed look he wore so well. He had a rack of lamb finishing off its time in the main oven while the lemon-zested asparagus, candied carrots and rosemary roasted potatoes baked in the lower oven. The cherry glaze had come out extraordinarily well and he had a bottle of Bordeaux with a complimentary fruity undertone decanting on the table, along with a freshly cut spinach salad dressed in a raspberry vinaigrette. The table was set just as his mother had always done for her fancy dinner parties, complete with chargers under the plates, rolled napkins, Bordeaux wine glasses and the appropriate number of forks. He’d dimmed the main lights in the house and lit candles that were interspersed not only between dishes, but along the windowsills and countertops, which had been meticulously cleaned up once everything had gone into the oven.

Draco walked back into the kitchen once he had himself put together and checked the lamb one more time, casting a charm that read the internal temperature of fifty-four degrees Celsius. He waved his wand again as the pan lifted from the grate and he directed it onto the stove where he’d leave it covered for the last ten minutes before plating. If Hermione was on time, then he’d planned it perfectly. He walked back out into the sitting area, continuing to turn things just so and rearranging a few of his books so she could better see his collection—because he was sure she’d want to see it.

When his wand vibrated in his pocket, he pulled it out and thought the non-verbal counter-spell that made it stop before going back into the kitchen, unwrapping the lamb and moving it to a large serving dish. He levitated the dish to the middle of the table of the formal dining room off the kitchen before plating each of his sides and charming the sponge in the sink to start scrubbing his dishes while he organized the table items and wiped down the stove. Just as the last cupboard door shut with the pans put away, he heard a knock at his door. He looked around the kitchen one more time with a deep breath before he nodded to himself and walked towards his entrance way, pulling open the door to find Hermione standing there in a pair of black jeans with a plum, v-neck long-sleeved top tucked into them. Her hair was free and wild tonight in a lovely way, curls cascading over her shoulders and down her back, but framing her face. It made him want to brush his hand into her hair just to know what those curls felt like wrapped around his fingers.

”Evening, Granger,” Draco said, not wasting another moment on his nerves as he leaned on the door, “You look beautiful.”

Hermione’s lips split into a wide smile as she laughed lightly with a shake of her head, “I look too casual, it seems,” she responded, taking him in like he had just done.

”Not at all,” he gestured for her to come inside and let his eyes follow her backside in those gods-forsaken jeans as she passed him. 

“Wow this is a very nice place,” Hermione said as she entered the sitting room and took in the vaulted ceilings, marble fireplace, expansive mahogany bookshelf and soft brown leather seating options. “Not that I’d have expected anything else,” she added as she turned to where he had joined her.

“I have very good taste,” he said, letting his eyes roam down her again as his favorite blush found her neck and he fought the temptation to pull her in and trace it with his lips.

”Did you decorate yourself?” She lifted her eyebrows.

”Of course I did,” he nodded, slipping his hands into his pocket as he looked around at it all. “Basically went through the manor and took the pieces I wanted to fill in the space. My mother won’t miss any of it.”

”I assume she won’t.”

Draco met her gaze again and could feel the tension pulling between them—but it was a good tension; an anticipatory tension.

”So what did you make for dinner?” She asked.

Draco pulled his hands from his pockets and gestured towards the kitchen before he started leading the way as he told her about the dishes for the evening. As expected, Hermione’s eyes went wide as she walked through the kitchen, dropping off the dessert she’d made on the counter, and into the candle-lit room with the decadent meal fresh and still steaming on the table.

”Wow,” she breathed. “this is… this is lovely.”

You are lovely, he thought to himself before responding with, “I wanted to do something special for you.”

She turned to him, beaming as her eyes moved between his. “Malfoy I’m… really happy we’re doing this; that you asked me on a real date.”

”I am too,” he said, “I’ve wanted to for weeks—maybe months at this point. And I know asking you out and then having you in for dinner may seem a bit backwards, but I feel like we’ve been out as friends and this felt different. This felt like a way I could put real effort into something for you.”

”It looks like you’ve put an extensive amount of effort into this,” she said, her hand finding his at his side and lacing their fingers as she looked down at them and his gaze followed. “Thank you.”

Fuck. They both looked back at each other at the same time and he was lost; gone; done. He glanced at her lips and then back to her eyes, “Granger, I know I’m probably supposed to wait until we’ve actually eaten dinner and had this real date, but I am dying to kiss you and I don’t think I’ll last through the end of the night.”

Hermione’s tongue jutted out as she wet her lips and blinked back at him with those big brown eyes before she nodded. “Good,” she breathed, “Because I think we’ve waited long enough.”

Without wasting a moment, Draco pulled her to him by their entwined hands before releasing her to wrap one arm around her back as his other hand pushed her hair back from her face and his lips met hers. And in that kiss, a hundred fireworks seemed to explode. Her lips were softer than he'd even imagined and her body against his was electric. And then her mouth parted slightly and his tongue dipped in to find hers, brushing it lightly at first as she sighed into him, her hands on either side of his neck, and he bit back a groan. She tasted like spearmint and her breath filled his lungs like he hadn’t fully known how to breathe until now. He deepened their kiss, tongue laving against her so he could taste more of her; feel more of her as she seemed to mold her body into his like any space at all was too much. Every time their lips came back together she drew in a shaky, wanting breath and the sound was like a symphony floating through his mind as he begged to hear more. When her fingers started moving from his neck back into his hair, he knew they were both about to get carried away by the tide. But he did want her to enjoy this dinner in all of its fresh-out-of-the-oven glory, so he gradually and begrudgingly slowed their kiss back down until his lips were pressed against hers and her hands were resting on his chest where he was sure the racing of his heartbeat was unmistakable.

As he pulled back, he watched her teeth graze her bottom lip before her eyes opened and she drew in a deep breath before giving him a dazed smile. She almost did him in all over again with that one movement.

”I don’t want the food to get cold,” was all he could think to say as she chuckled in a half-conscious sort of way, closing her eyes for another moment and nodding.

”No, we wouldn’t want that. It looks too good to let it sit.” 

And then he slowly pulled his hand from her hair, following a bouncy curl all the way to its end as she pulled her hands from his chest like a magnet trying to detach from metal, their gaze still connected as the room thrummed with energy around them. He stepped back by the force of sheer willpower and moved to the place he’d set for her, pulling the chair out as she joined him, taking her seat before he walked around to his, willing his heart rate to fall back to something normal so they could enjoy this part of the date as intended.

”I’m sorry,” he said as he cleared his throat, still trying to de-fog his brain from the chaos ensuing there currently. “I think I could have played that a bit more cool,” he gave her a light little grin that made her laugh again and shake her head.

”Don’t be sorry,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you for… weeks now.” She was pushing past the awkwardness of admitting this and he loved it. Loved hearing it and loved seeing the heat on her cheeks either from their kiss or from talking about their kiss.

He lifted his eyebrows, “Have you? And did it live up to expectations?”

She tilted her head in challenge, “Did it for you?”

“Very much so. I’d give you an O for outstanding, if this were an exam.” He’d give her an O anytime she wanted one. But he’d keep that line to himself for now.

”I’ve rarely accepted anything less in my exam scores.”

”Brightest witch of our age,” he quoted the phrase that had been spoken about her since their youth with a lilt to his tone and a spark in his eye and she responded with an eye roll as she leaned in closer and he followed suit, curious if she was going to try and kiss him over the lamb.

”I thought you promised me you wouldn’t let our dinner get cold, Malfoy?” She said in a sultry tone that he wanted to hear more of.

Instead, he huffed, leaning back with a grin still at his lips as she sat back in her chair, looking more in control of herself. 

“I did promise.” He picked up his wand from where he’d left it on the table and waved it towards the lamb as it sliced into portions and divvied itself onto each of their plates before he went to work on the sides and then filled their glasses with wine that had now had the appropriate time to breathe.

Draco raised his glass to Hermione, “To a new spin on our weekly get-togethers.”

Hermione clinked her glass against his before sipping her wine and then setting the glass on the table again. “I think I like this version, where I get to actually hold your hand and can openly tell you that your hair looks so ridiculously perfect tonight.” Her neck flushed as she said it, but she said it all the same and his confidence skyrocketed again.

Draco leaned forward, lowering his voice, “Granger, if we’re talking about ridiculous hair, you should know that I was dying to run my hands through your curls. And I’m already thinking about how much I’d like to do it again.”

Hermione’s lips parted slightly as her eyes widened in surprise and filled with thinly-veiled want at this, “Only the first time was free, Malfoy. You’ll have to earn the next opportunity with good food and stimulating conversation.”

He gave her a crooked smile at this with a singular nod of his head. “That’s a fair trade.” And then he picked up his fork and knife and sliced off a bite of lamb as he watched her do the same across the table. He paused with his bite halfway to his mouth as he watched her lips close around her fork, and he took in the satisfying sounds of her soft moan as she nodded slowly, eyes closed. “Amazing,” she said as she opened them again, her tongue running around her lips as if testing every ounce of his patience. “This is divine, Malfoy.” And then she tried a bite of each side as he finally took his own bite, awaiting the verdict on the meal as a whole. “Yes,” she finally said. “You’re a wonderful cook.”

He grinned, raising his wine to his lips again before tipping it in her direction and then taking a sip. “I know.”

They talked through dinner about their September first adventures getting the kids onto the Hogwarts Express for the first time, which had been a flurry of frantic questions and a few tears from nervous students. Draco had handled it as well as one could when they weren’t overly used to dealing with emotional children, but the excitement of the day vibrated in the air and made the time fly until the red engine was pulling away from the station. He’d joined the team for a celebratory lunch afterwards where he and Hermione had accidentally made eyes across the table at each other in anticipation of this outing. It had been torturous to keep his hands to himself when she’d already agreed to a date and she was looking at him the way she had. 

”I also heard that one of my friends may have gone home with one of your friends from the gala last weekend,” Draco said slyly, looking up at her over his last forkful of candied carrots.

”Gods Harry has not stopped talking about Pansy all week,” Hermione said exasperatedly. “Do you know how many times they’ve seen each other now?”

”Four,” Draco nodded, “She comes to my house every morning after looking way too smug and telling me way too much. It’s very annoying.”

”Well I’m glad I’m not the only one being inundated with details they don’t want to hear.”

”You are not alone,” Draco confirmed. “So does Potter actually like her?”

”He is infatuated. I’ve never seen him so dazedly happy.”

”Well I hope to make him say the same about you here soon,” Draco gave her a very suave smile at this and watched the blush creep up that lovely neck of hers. He tried very hard not to picture running his tongue along it.

”I am enjoying myself—so far.”

His eyes snapped back to hers at this where he found them sparkling in his direction with a cheeky grin on her face.

”I’ll win your affection over after-dinner drinks, if you’d like to continue the evening in the sitting room.”

”I am amenable to this,” Hermione nodded.

“It’ll make up for the drinks I didn’t get to buy you after the European dueling league competition.”

Hermione hummed with a certain look on her face, “Right. I may have thought it wouldn't be in my best interest to go out for drinks when I was already enjoying our time together more than I should, given our working situation.”

”Yes… Ginny Weasley clued me in on that.”

”In what way?” Hermione asked indignantly.

”She told me at Potter’s birthday that if I was interested in dating you, I had to play my cards right and not make a move until our working situation came to an end or you’d push me away.”

”Is that why you haven’t tried to kiss me yet?” 

Draco blinked back at her for a moment, “Yes. I made myself wait to ask you out until we were done working together and had a week of space between the transition into something else.”

”Gods, I am going to hex Ginny,” Hermione shook her head as she popped another bite into her mouth. “Not that I’d have wanted to mix work and personal completely, but I don’t, personally, think there had to be such a clear line between the two. I mean you could have snuck a kiss in and then we could have talked and decided that we should wait for things to go further—”

”Really?”

Hermione paused and then seemed to really think about it before she sighed, “I don’t know. I guess I wanted you to, but it also probably could have gotten a bit confusing and difficult to navigate…”

Draco huffed with a grin. “Sounds like Weasley was right.”

Hermione hummed noncommittally, “You know, since we’re talking about our inevitable date tonight, I did want to ask one thing about it.”

”Of course.”

”Is there any other reason you preferred to stay in rather than go out?”

Draco tried to read her expression to see if there was an underlying implication to her question but her features were simply inquisitive.

”If you’re asking if I invited you over simply to make it easier to take you home—”

The blush rose back to her cheeks so quickly that he immediately realized that was not the implication.

”No, no.” She shook her head. “Sorry. What I meant was… is this something you’d like to keep private rather than public as we… see how things go?”

”Me?” He replied out of pure confusion, “No. Of course not. I just wanted to do something that felt more intimate since we’ve been out together as friends so many times the last few months. This felt different and I wanted it to feel different. Why? Is it something you'd like to keep private?” He’d thought he’d considered this with his friends and everyone had reassured him that they’d already been spotted out together and there had already been gossip speculation that there may be a romantic link and she hadn’t seemed to care. But maybe she did care; maybe she cared if it was a real romantic link that could be found out.

She looked back at him for a moment, also trying to analyze him before she said, “No, I’m not trying to keep it private either. I just wasn’t sure how you might feel about your mother seeing something in Witch Weekly, if she follows the tabloids. Especially if you were—holding my hand or something.”

”Firstly, I would definitely be holding your hand,” Draco said, holding one finger up as he continued to tick down points, “Secondly, my mother absolutely absorbs tabloids like plants absorb water. And thirdly, my mother is fine with the idea of something romantic between us. Or at least she’s coming around to it and understands it’s my choice and my life.”

”Wait, your mother already knows?”

Draco sat back in his seat, one hand still around his wine glass as his fingers ran along the stem, “I… may have mentioned that I planned to ask you on a date after our time working together.”

”And how did she respond?”

”With a long winded tale about how she was proud of the man I’d become and how she was afraid of the work she’d have to do on herself to truly understand where I’m at but that she knows it’s a good place and that dating you is not something she should second guess so if I’m happy, she’s happy.”

”That’s a roundabout way to get to that last statement.”

Draco hummed, “I told her that if she wants to get where I’m at, she just needs to make the choice to do so and care to muddle through it, even when it’s hard. I’m not usually quite so forward with my opinions or advice. I don’t like to upset her. But it’s important to me that she knows that I want her to muddle through it. Especially if she’s ever going to meet you in this capacity.”

”And… you think that you and I may get to a place where you'd like me to sit down with your mother?”

”Granger, I wouldn’t be starting something with you if I didn’t think that getting to know you and spending time with you has possibly been the best thing that has happened to my life. You are not someone I would pursue with unclear intentions. I respect you far too much and I fear you just enough.”

Hermione laughed at this, “You fear me, Malfoy?”

“I’m a smart man so I absolutely do. Which is why I wouldn’t ever endeavor to hurt you or to get into something that I didn’t feel sure about.”

There was an adorable little smile snaking across Hermione’s lips as she brought her wine glass to them to drain her last sip. And then she set her glass back on the table and tilted her head at him. ”I want to know more about Cambridge,” she said. “It seems like a big part of your personal growth. So now that I’ve finally wrapped my head around the fact that you did, indeed, attend a muggle university, I’ve been curious to know more about your experience there.”

Draco nodded with a chuckle, “Alright. Let’s open another bottle of wine and I’ll tell you about it in the sitting room?”

”Lovely.” She stood with her empty wine glass as Draco grabbed his with one hand and flicked his wand at the wine fridge in the corner of the kitchen. The door opened and a bottle of red flew out of it as he hovered it in front of him towards the coffee table for the second phase of their date.

Chapter Text

Once Draco and Hermione had settled back in on the couch—which Hermione had commented was incredibly comfortable—Draco filled each of their glasses with wine and sat back in one corner with an arm over the back of the couch as Hermione sat in the other, each turned towards the other.

”So what would you like to know about Cambridge?” he asked.

“I want to know more about your interactions with the muggles when you were there,” she said with a small smile at her lips, “Did you ever work very closely with the other students?” 

”Sometimes,” he nodded. “I had a couple of group presentations in that second year of my history classes.”

”How did you feel, spending time and collaborating with muggles at that point?”

“It felt a lot more normal, by then. And—” Draco hesitated a moment before saying, “I’m going to be very honest here, Granger. There was a very attractive girl in my collaborative group. And I actually enjoyed the time I spent with them all. There were some fun personalities in that group. I just hated when I sounded like an idiot because I was messing up magical and muggle facts. But they all just thought I was sarcastic and funny when I would mention things like giant rebellions and werewolf legislature. And then I’d realize my mistake and crack a grin, everyone would laugh and it would blow over.”

”Hold on, you had a crush on a muggle girl?”

”I don’t know about crush, but I thought she was pretty and I liked when she laughed at my jokes.”

”Did you… ever take her out?” Hermione asked.

”I—do you really want the answer to that? This is a date, Granger.”

”Sure, but this was years ago and I am fascinated by what you’re telling me.”

”Alright,” he contemplated her before relaxing again, “Then yes, I did. I took her out once and we… stayed in, a few times after that.”

Hermione’s eyebrows were about as high as they could physically go as her mouth opened in shock. “You slept with a muggle?” Draco himself was surprised by the lack of judgment in her tone. 

“Gods, Granger, yes, if you’re going to put it so bluntly.”

Hermione threw her head back and laughed at this.

“But I also found it exhausting to try and keep up with my muggle liaison designated backstory and to try and siphon magical world talk out of my vocabulary and conversations. And she was nice, but there honestly wasn’t anything we could connect on. She casually liked football, which I only had a base knowledge of, and when I asked what she did for fun, she said she liked to go out to the bars and clubs with her girlfriends and go to brunch and get her nails done. She kind of reminded me of a muggle version of the witches I had grown up with, but with less bite to her personality. There wasn’t really anything between us, just a singular outing to a bar nearby and a few late night study sessions that went later than planned. She held my interest for a couple of months at the end of the semester.”

”Draco Malfoy, casually spending late nights with a muggle university girl,” Hermione looked at him with wide eyes.

But all he heard was his first name coming from her lips and his mind went into a frenzy. It was beautiful, the way her lips curved around the word, and the small coy smile when she said it. 

“I’m glad this has been so fascinating,” Draco forced himself to roll his eyes so he didn’t replay the scene of Draco coming out of her mouth over and over again through his head.

Hermione’s amusement slowly evened out again as she watched him, a sparkle still in her eye before she said, “You’re so different than I imagined you’d be. You just keep surprising me and exceeding my expectations, even as I keep remeasuring my own expectations.”

“Same here, Granger. You’ve been more than I expected, and to be honest, I had already expected a lot from the Golden Girl.”

Hermione groaned, “Please, I am begging you, do not ever use that phrase again.”

Draco grinned, “Since you asked so nicely, you’ve got a deal.” 

“What about other students? Did you have muggle friends there?”

“A couple,” he nodded. “I had a few classes with a bloke named Matthew. He’s the only one I still see. We get drinks every few months. He thinks I work for a non-profit because I’m always talking about community service.”

“What made you want to be friends with Matthew?” she asked, lifting her feet up onto the couch and wrapping her arms around her knees, leaning in towards him. There was so much genuine intrigue on her features.

“He was very… devil-may-care?” Draco narrowed his eyes in thought before he nodded. “Got really good grades but never seemed to be phased or stressed by anything. Always came in with a story about some punk concert he went to or speakeasy he found. Sat next to me in the back of the class and always asked about my weekend just to make conversation before class started because he was bored. He reminded me of Blaise when we first met—minus the punk concerts. And Matthew didn’t pry much into my personal life, which made hanging out with him easy. He just wanted to experience life.”

“I love that,” Hermione smiled. “Anyone else you befriended?”

“There were others I spent time with—the collaborative group project students. I enjoyed the semester we all spent together as I mentioned. And in my first semester at Cambridge, I met a group of friends at a bar one night, but I didn’t like them much as people. They… reminded me of me when I was younger. Rich and arrogant and, frankly, annoying to listen to. But they invited me to their poker games once they had garnered that I was also wealthy, and I had promised myself I would try and integrate into the muggle world socially, so I accepted. I liked poker and I liked that during poker it was just a lot of shit-talking and smoking cigars. It was interesting to learn the kinds of social hierarchies that existed in the muggle world from listening to them talk. They clearly thought they were the elite of the elite. And I was very happy to learn that I was turned-off by their sense of self-worth since to me, that showed that maybe I was making real changes to my view on things. But I went once a month to their poker nights for my first semester at Cambridge to continue with my social experiment, and because I didn’t mind taking their money and their cigars, and then I met Matthew in my second semester and finally had a reason to stop going since I actually liked hanging out with Matthew.”

“So you had a group of rich boys who showed you that people like you, at one time in your life, existed; you had a cute muggle girl that showed you that you could be attracted to a muggle; you had a history class group to work academically with, and you had a friend in the muggle world. That is… very well-rounded.”

“I set myself a goal of integrating into muggle society and I think I accomplished it,” he nodded. “And came out with some knowledge on history and literature studies, and a friend. It was a good experience.”

“So, so interesting,” she took another sip of her wine.

Feeling that he’d appropriately satiated her intrigue on his time at Cambridge, he pivoted the conversation. “So Granger, now it’s my turn for inquiry. What’s next once you’ve built up a staff and department that can carry on through the years?”

She sighed, “Well, now that there is a very real possibility of that, thanks to your help getting us on the fundraising roster, I can actually give it some thought. I think there’s more change I’m capable of making in the Ministry or with other new departments. I’ve considered going to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures or the Department for the Collaboration of Magical Beings, or just going straight to the Minister’s office to oversee new legislation from a higher level.”

“I have no doubt there’s more change you’ll make whenever you decide to redirect your focus.”

“And I have no doubt you’ll have a lovely little apothecary on Evanshire Way one day,” she tipped her near-empty glass at him in response, making eye contact as she took another sip.

Fuck, he wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to hold her and kiss her and spend years of his life with her looking back at him this way. Her eyes were like the ocean; deep and limitless; something you could explore from every angle and still not fully understand because of everything happening beneath the surface. They were calm and open, yet fierce and boundless. He was drawn into them like a fisherman to a siren. Regardless of whether or not he’d drown, everything he might learn beyond what the rest of the world could see would be worth it for those few minutes of bliss.

“What are you thinking?” Hermione cut through his thoughts as his eyes moved between hers, probably more intensely than he’d realized.

Without thinking about a response he said, “That I am in over my head with you, Granger.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I think it’s a very good thing.” Or it’ll be the end of me.

Hermione set her glass on the coffee table as she unraveled herself from her position and stood, holding her hand out to him. He looked at it and then back up at her before he took it to join her.

“Give me the full tour?” she asked.

A crooked smile found his lips again as he dipped his head, leaving his empty glass on the coffee table as well. “Of course.” He didn’t let her hand go, even as he started leading her towards the winded stairs off the sitting room. “So you’ve already seen the kitchen and the formal dining room, as well as the sitting room. I have five other rooms and a loft and balcony. It was just an attic when I bought the place but I converted the attic into a fully refinished room and added a balcony that has a disillusionment charm so you can’t see it from the street.”

“I thought this looked quite large from the outside,” Hermione said wryly.

“Just because I didn’t want to live at the manor doesn’t mean I wanted to live in squalor.” Draco pushed the door to the first room open as Hermione huffed behind him and he moved a step into the room, “This is guest bedroom number one.”

Hermione looked around, taking her time as her eyes wandered over the ornate furniture and polished fixtures in the room that was decorated in dark blues and gold, nodding her head, “Very nice.”

Draco stepped back into the hallway with her, closing that door and moving to the next where a very similar guest room sat. “And the second guest bedroom.”

“Do your friends spend the night often?”

“More than I’d prefer,” he said dryly, closing the door and moving to the room across the hall, “This is my potion brewing space,” he pushed the door open and Hermione moved fully into the room this time, walking herself in a circle around around the center table where a large cauldron was sitting with a purple potion bubbling inside, a potion book open to the brewing instructions on a stand beside it where an arrow showed ‘Let sit sixteen hours’ as the current line. She smiled before turning for the bookshelf behind the table as she let her fingers drift over books, cataloging them, and her eyes roamed all the way to the top as she took in the potion bottles, brewing equipment and hand-written instructions that were magically adhered to the shelving sporadically, as though left there as a note-to-self or a future guide. Draco knew what she must be thinking because unlike the rest of his home, which felt curated for design, this room had a bit of chaos to it; it was lived in and used. Clean, of course, as he sterilized it after each brew, but it was his space where order got a bit forgotten every now and then when he was in the middle of a particularly difficult brew, as he had been earlier that day. Above all else, this space was private. He didn’t usually share this space with other people. 

Hermione rounded the corner into the supply pantry at the end of the bookshelf and he watched her neck bend again as she took in his stock of eel eyes and lacewing flies,  bezoars and frog legs and everything in between.

She turned back to him with a faint smile, “This is very cool. I feel like I’m back in potions class at Hogwarts.”

“It’s a bit disorganized,” he cleared his throat a little.

“It’s actually exactly what I would expect of a potioneer,” Hermione said, looking around again. “I see the organized chaos in the layout and the supply closet. I bet you know where every single thing in your stock sits. And I bet every surface is clean enough to eat off of.”

”I wouldn’t, though,” Draco leaned a hand on the counter of his bookshelf. “There’s a whole formal dining area for that.”

”I like this room. I like thinking about you in it; in your element.” She smiled again to herself, “Alright, go on.”

Draco’s chest felt like it expanded three meters at the smile she held thinking about him where he was most comfortable. He returned the smile as she walked past him out of the room and he followed her, closing the door behind them before leading the way to the next. “This is my personal study,” he opened the door to another spare room that was set up with a black leather highback desk chair and a large black and gold desk. In the corner of the room sat a fireplace and a lovely green velvet armchair. 

“And what do you use this for?” Hermione asked as she leaned in the doorway next to him.

”Correspondences, work—when my service projects require outside time—business plans when I get bored,” he looked over at her with a grin.

”Sounds like you’ll be spending more time here in the next year, then; preparing your business plans for when your service years are completed.”

”I just may,” he nodded.

“Onto the next?” She asked in a quiet voice, her eyes dipping to his lips momentarily.

He pushed off the doorway and gestured for her to walk to the next door as he closed this one. She stopped in front of the door and, from behind her, he turned the knob and pushed it open, “This is my room,” he said into her ear. And he knew if her hair hadn’t been blocking his view, he’d have seen that blush on her neck again.

Hermione drew in a breath before she walked in, hands clasped as she looked around at the large four-poster bed on the back wall and the expansive room, complete with a small sitting area with room for tea in between the chairs, and a window with a cushioned seat below it. The walls were a light gray and the details a warm forest green.

”Did you model this off of the Slytherin common room?” She asked with a lilt to her voice.

”I happen to like green and gray. They suit me.”

Hermione looked to the side wall where a doorway led to his bathroom and she walked over, peeking her head in. “Fancy,” she said as her eyes lifted to the gold detailed ceiling and paused on the extra large glass shower before roving over the marble sink and gold fixtures.

”I think it’s got charm,” he said, behind her again as he felt her freeze and then relax, unaware that he’d joined her.

She turned around, only an inch from him as her head tilted up. “It does have charm.”

“And do I have charm?” He brushed the hair that lined her features back from her eyes so he could take the whole view for himself, grasping her curls softly in his palm.

”Sometimes,” she allowed, keeping him guessing with her words, although her eyes betrayed her again as they strayed and her hands lifted to his waist.

His lip quirked upwards and he leaned his head down to her. The last thing he saw before his eyes closed were hers following suit. He kissed her softer this time, catching her bottom lip between his as he lingered there, his free hand finding her lower back. He could still taste the notes of plum from the wine on her as his tongue poured into her mouth and his hand in her hair wrapped around the back of her neck. This kiss was everything their first had not been. It was unrushed and languid; sure and steady. He wanted to cherish every curve of her body and every sigh that fell across his lips. The feeling of her under him, as their lips pressed together again and his hand splayed wide across her back, was molten; melting him into something soft and pliable. Something that would do anything for more of this. Some version of himself he’d never really encountered; a selfless one; a needy one.

He wanted to be closer, to feel more of her; to taste more of her. But he also didn’t want to be greedy or overstep. So he pulled back, loving the lidded eyes she looked back at him with as he reached for her hand and ushered her with him as he stepped back from the doorway and back towards the hallway.

”There’s one more room on the tour.”

”I kind of like this one,” Hermione said a bit breathlessly as Draco held in his laugh, looking back at her with his eyebrows raised.

”We can always come back.”

She sighed as he led her from the room and towards a winded staircase at the end of the hall that climbed up to what used to be the attic, but had clearly been subjected to an enlargement charm on the ceiling to make it feel almost as tall as the other floors. There was a large circular table in the middle of the room that Draco and his friends used for card games, after he’d taught them all poker, and there was a humidor near the end of the room where cases of cigars were displayed—the other terrible, but awfully fun, habit he’d picked up from the rich boys of Cambridge. 

Hermione was making her way to the other side of the room, walking towards the French doors that led out to a balcony as she peered through them, “That’s a nice view,” she said.

“We’re high enough to get a view of Hyde Park,” he nodded as he joined her, opening the door, “We can go out, if you’d like.”

“Better than my view that looks into the other three flats on my floor that I have,” Hermione sighed. “I’m on the fifth floor and I look out onto a little quad in the middle of the building, but there’s nothing down there besides a path to the opposite door and a bench that has never been used in all its time.”

“That’s dreadful,” Draco couldn’t help himself from saying.

“It’s alright, I’ve charmed it to a view of the Hogwarts lake,” she grinned back at him as he stepped out onto the balcony with her. “And I charmed it from the outside in to always look like my curtains are drawn so people can’t see in. It’s just not a view like this. Natural and real.”

“I like the view better with you in it,” he said as he stepped behind where she was leaning on the railing, his hands finding the wrought iron on either side of her as he felt her mold into him comfortably.

“This is one instance where you are being quite charming,” she said airily.

Draco raised a hand to brush her hair back off her shoulder as he leaned down and pressed his lips to the crux of her neck and her collarbone. She sighed in a way that told him she liked the feeling as her head tilted to give him more access and he pressed his lips in a slow, steady line up her neck like he’d been fantasizing of doing for so, so long until he reached the space between her jawline and her ear. He heard her draw in a long breath as he kissed the space again.

“Granger, I have been falling for you for months now,” he said against her skin, the words pouring out of him like a dam had broken with her so contentedly here with him, “And I think I need to know where you’re at with me. Because as much as I clearly want you physically, this is much more to me than that. And you have more to move past when it comes to potentially dating me. I can’t expect you to be comfortable with it all quite so soon but—”

”Malfoy,” she cut in, her voice still light and calm, “I might have questions sometimes, and I might still mull over things from the past, but when it comes to feeling comfortable and confident with who you are now, I don’t really need to move past anything. You’ve shown me who you are for the last three months. And I know it took me some time to let you in, but I have been similarly falling for you ever since I did.”

Draco cradled her chin and turned it towards him so he could kiss her and then she turned fully in his arms, hands finding either side of his face as she kissed him back.

“Be mine, then,” he said between kisses, “Give this a shot with me,” he kissed her again, “I promise I won’t let you down.” He kept his lips against her for an extra moment, his heart pounding at the thought of what he’d just said and how she might respond. This was their first date. And here he was asking for more.

As their lips parted again, she said, “Alright,” as a breath against him. “Yes.” His hand that was still on the railing gripped it tighter as he crashed his lips back onto hers, hungrier and heavier and she responded in kind. His hand on her chin dropped to her neck, thumb running slowly down her throat as the words  mine, mine, mine ran through his head. He loved the fierce push of her tongue against his and the way her hands had slipped to the back of his head, grasping the ends of his hair. His head shifted in the opposite direction as she mirrored him, their lips coming together again. Hermione gasped out a small moan and he stepped another inch forward so she was pressed back against the railing and their bodies were flush against each other. He felt her tug at his hair and he couldn’t help the grin that spread at his lips as he muttered a quiet ‘fuck’ between them.

After another deep, long kiss, Hermione pulled back, “Can I see the downstairs again?” She asked breathily, “Your room, maybe?”

He wanted to just keep kissing her into oblivion, but he nodded and stepped back, “Yes. Lots of details you may have missed,” he took her hand and led the way back through the loft and down the stairs, but she’d pulled him back to her in front of his door and flung her arms around his neck to drag his lips back to hers as she kissed him again. He groaned, hands finding the under sides of her thighs as he lifted her into his arms and pushed her back against the wall beside his door. With her propped steadily there, he reached over and turned the knob, pushing the door open while he continued to ravage her mouth with his tongue.

He set her back down a moment later and nodded his head towards the room, “You’re the one who wanted to see the downstairs again,” he said wryly as she pushed at his chest with a roll of her eyes and he stepped back so she could roll towards the room, walking in and heading straight for the bed. She turned back to him a few steps back and held his eye as she lifted herself onto the edge. He moved between her legs, their lips magnets again as he continued what she’d started outside. His fingers moved lightly over the fabric of her shirt until he reached her pantline. He pulled at the fabric as it untucked slowly and his hand slipped beneath it to the skin on her back. He heard her sigh as he did, his hips pressing into her on their own accord, and he felt her hands clutch at the collar of his shirt in response. He’d told himself they were going to take it slow tonight. That this was the first date and he’d be happy just to kiss her at the end of it. And now they were on his bed, pulling at clothing and heavily snogging as his cock decided to make its presence known to both of them.

Draco pushed the bottom of her shirt higher until Hermione let go of his collar and pulled away from his lips long enough to slip it over her head and toss it to the side. And then they were connected again as his hand lifted automatically to the cup of her bra, fingers moving softly over the lace as he tried to log every detail to remember later.

His other arm wrapped all the way around her back as he picked her up just enough to move her back on the bed as he climbed over her, her fingers pushing buttons through the holes in his shirt so he could pull it down his arms and throw it onto the floor. And then her hands were on his chest and his veins were thrumming with energy with the way her fingers inched along his skin. 

He pulled himself back from their kiss, breathing heavily as her eyes met his, “Gods you’re beautiful,” he said as he kissed her again and then moved his lips across her jawline and to her neck as her arms wrapped around his head and she moaned softly. His head turned and his lips found her wrist as he kissed along it and down her forearm, eyes opening as he hit a jutted, raised line on her arm and pulled back just far enough to see what it was. He froze as his gaze met the scar his aunt had left on her. She must have felt the shock roll through him because she hummed a contented, “What’s wrong?” before her eyes must have drifted open as well and she followed it up with a whispered, “Oh.”

Draco sat back on his knees, running his hand through his hair as his gaze moved from the word Mudblood etched on her arm to her eyes. As his arm had raised, her eyes moved from his, to the tattoo that covered a majority of the left side of his upper body, down to the Dark Mark still on his own forearm that was almost-but-not-totally covered. When their eyes met again, he thought maybe the heaviness that was filling his gaze was reflected in hers.

“Fuck,” he said quietly, even as his heart continued to drum quickly in his chest. 

Hermione pushed herself to lean back on her hands, moving her chest closer to his. Before she spoke, she ran her tongue over her lips, either as an extra moment to decide what to say, or as an extra moment to catch her breath. “I guess we were always going to have to face this, huh?”

His eyes flickered between hers, “I didn’t realize you still had the scar. I haven’t seen it before and… I’ve seen you in sleeveless attire.”

“I’m very good at glamour charms,” she said, “I always keep it covered, if I know it’ll be exposed. I don’t usually cover it when I wear long sleeves. And I just didn’t think far enough ahead into the night to remind myself that I might still need it.”

“I’m not upset that it’s visible,” he shook his head, “I’m upset it’s still there. That it couldn’t be removed; that you have to look at it every day. I just… I didn’t know.”

Hermione sighed heavily. “It’s still there. It was a cursed knife; I can’t remove it. But I can cover it; it stings a bit to do the charm, but it works just fine to keep others’ eyes off of it.”

“You don’t have to hide it from me. I just wish I could make it go away.” He reached out and ran his thumb along her cheek, his chest feeling tight. “Fuck, I wish I could make mine go away, too. So you didn’t have to see it.”

“I’ve seen it before,” she said calmly. “I’m guessing you can’t glamour that one.”

“I cannot,” he confirmed. “I’ve tried everything. It doesn’t want to be covered. Obviously I tried to cover it on my own—”

”With a very hot tattoo,” she finished, eyes raking over the large dragon head on his chest and giving him a small quirk of her lips, one hand raising to grasp his wrist. It grounded him and made him feel like although this was a clear blow to the night, it wasn’t catastrophic. They were facing it head-on. “I like the dragon.”

That sentence made him groan with want on the inside, but it was drown out by the conversation still happening on the outside.

“I got the tattoo with my friend from Cambridge—Matthew. He was covered in tattoos and it gave me the idea. It reacted badly with the mark, at first, and the tattoo artist thought he’d messed something up. But the reaction faded after a few weeks and it’s helped somewhat, to at least see it partially covered. But even covered, I wish you didn’t have to see what's left of it. I wish it had never been put there to begin with.” He swallowed hard at that statement.

“They’re both a part of the past,” Hermione pulled her hand back from him and pushed herself back so she could sit up straighter, still looking up at him as her hand found his left arm and her thumb ran down his forearm. “We’ve both moved on from the past even if the scars are still there.” Draco just looked back at her, wanting to have something prophetic to say, but the lump in his throat prevented a response. “What do you think of—when you see yours?” she tilted her head slightly.

“I guess I don’t notice it as much day to day. And when I do… I just think about how it may have defined my path in life once, but that I fought to find a way off of it somewhere along the way; to pave a new one for myself that I actually cared to be on.”

“I don’t notice mine as much now, either,” she said. “I cover it because it’s easier not to answer questions or see the looks of pity I get when people do notice it. But it’s just something I overcame. It was part of the journey to ending the war. It doesn’t hold anything over me anymore. I had to work to get here; to feel that way when I see it. And you had to work to feel the way you do about seeing yours. I know they may have meant different things ten years ago, but the meanings have changed and so have we.”

Draco drew in a long breath, “But you can’t not be sickened to see it on me; to know it’s there,” he said. “And I should have been more cognizant of it around you in the past; to leave it so visible, with my bloody sleeves rolled up—”

“Malfoy,” Hermione grabbed his hand before he went to run it through his hair again. “I know that mark means something different to you now than it did ten years ago. And I see the same thing when I look at it. You’ve trudged through a grueling storm to reckon with that mark on your arm so that I don’t have to. If that’s what you see when you look at it, that’s what I see.”

Draco leaned over her again, his hand finding her waist, and kissed her; not deeply or roughly, but solidly. His lips pressed against hers to convey just how much those words; that sentiment, meant to him. Just how much having her here meant to him. I fucking love you, he thought as he kept his mouth firmly against hers so the words didn’t come out.

He wasn’t falling, he had fallen. He was a man on his knees, begging this unbelievable witch to feel the way he felt. But that would be crazy. Because this was crazy.

When he pulled back, he moved from his straddling position, sitting down next to her on the bed before he pulled her to him and lay back. Their heads landed on his pillows and her face found the crook of his neck as he pushed the hair from her face and held her there.

“And I barely notice the mark on your forearm because I can’t stop looking at the rest of that dragon tattoo,” she whispered into his skin. “It is gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” he said with a light laugh before sobering. “Really. Thank you.” 

“You don’t have to thank me,” she said quietly, her hand against his chest, fingers moving in and out of a small fist as her nails formed a path against him. “You just have to tell me why, even with the dragon, there are still all of these long, visible scars on your chest.”

“Ah,” he said with a small laugh, “Have you been waiting to ask this whole time?”

“Yes,” she nodded against him.

He hummed, “Those would be from Potter’s Sectumsempra spell, in sixth year.”

He heard her draw in a sharp breath before she responded with, “Oh.”

“They don’t bother me,” he said evenly, because they didn’t. “I deserved those.”

“You didn’t—”

“I did,” he cut her off with a small shrug. “It was a good wakeup call to how deep I was into something I didn’t want to be in at all that year, to be honest. I’ve thanked him for it, actually.”

She leaned back from his neck and he looked down at her as she shook her head dryly. “How very unnecessary.”

“Well he apologized for that fight and I didn’t need an apology.”

She sighed now and leaned up to kiss him softly. “So many apologies.”

“So many apologies,” he agreed. “But I think I’ve done them all now. I also think I’ve killed the mood tonight so one more apology for that.”

“I think it’s been a really nice night,” she said, “And it seems like we were always going to have to face these scars, when the time came. And now we have.”

“Now we have.”

“Do you want the dessert I made? It’s peach cobbler.”

“I do,” he nodded, kissing her once more before she sat up and jumped off of his bed to locate her shirt. He enjoyed the view of her bare skin for another moment before he slid off and joined her.

“By the way, my birthday brunch is next Sunday,” she said over her shoulder, pulling her shirt over her head. “Eleven o’clock at the Burrow. I want you to come.”

”Your birthday is Saturday,” his brows creased together.

”I’ll spend it with my parents and I won’t subject you to that yet,” she sighed. “Things have been good lately but something always comes up on my birthday.”

“Then I’ll be at the Burrow,” he said with a crooked smile as he began buttoning his shirt back up. “And I hope your day with your parents goes better than anticipated.”

Chapter Text

Pansy walked into Draco’s flat the following Sunday morning at quarter to eleven where Theo, Blaise and Daphne were already sitting and chatting animatedly on the couch.

”Where’s Draco?” Pansy looked between them. “He knows he’s leaving soon, yes?”

”He’s on his third outfit change now,” Blaise said, looking unimpressed.

She sighed, strolling over to the stairs and climbing them en route to Draco’s room. She pushed the door open to find him pulling on a dark green cashmere sweater that was fitting for a cool late September day. “I like that one,” Pansy leaned in the doorway.

Draco turned from the mirror to look over at her, “Looks like I made a good outfit choice,” he said as he eyed her attire, which included a black mini skirt, black tights and an oversized orange sweater paired with boots.

”What did Theo veto?”

”A dress shirt—said it was too formal for a brunch with the Weasleys, and my gray sweater—said it was too dark for my chinos in the daytime.”

”Both fair points,” Pansy nodded. “This looks nice.”

”You look nice, too, Pans,” Draco threw in her direction as he walked back towards his dresser where he’d left his wand, slipping it into the holster at his side.

”Thank you, Dora just sent it over from her new boutique in Montmarte. Tights are all the rage, I guess.”

”Potter will love it,” he gestured towards the stairs as she pushed off the doorway and started for the sitting room.

”He’ll love taking it off, that’s for sure,” she said over her shoulder as Draco groaned. “So thoughtful of Granger to throw a party so Potter and I had a reason to get together on a Sunday.”

”Weren’t you with him last night? Why didn’t you just go to the party from Grimmauld Place?”

”I don’t leave things at his house, Draco,” she said incredulously. “A girl only leaves her things when she’s asked to. Never overstep the expectations—that’s what my mother always told me about dating. You know, before we stopped speaking after the war.” 

“I do know,” Draco sighed. 

“See, that looks perfect,” Theo said as they walked down the stairs.

”Much more appropriate,” Daphne nodded in agreement and Blaise grinned.

”Are you all ready to go?” Draco ignored their commentary.

”Very ready to spend the day with the darling Weasleys,” Theo slapped his thighs and stood up as they all moved towards the Floo and stepped through one by one to the Burrow.

Draco was the first to enter as he spotted Hermione on a worn, plush red couch that looked fifty years old and so, so comfortable. She was laughing with Ginny as Harry and Ron talked with Arthur by the doorway to the next room.

Hermione turned as she caught him in her peripheral and she beamed, pushing herself from the couch and walking over. She was wearing a long-sleeved cotton dress in burgundy that flared out naturally at her waist just enough to give it some motion as she walked. And though she’d paired it with tall black riding boots, the exposed skin between the boots and her mid-thigh was pulling his gaze more than was appropriate and he forced himself to keep his eyes on her as she reached him.

He’d been in his head all morning about how to greet her—did he keep his hands to himself, or give her a cordial, short hug, or would she be amenable to something more with the Weasleys around? But he didn’t have to think twice about it as she slung her arms around his neck and leaned up towards him as he met her halfway, lips finding hers as his arms circled her back and hugged her tightly. He planted one long and two more quick kisses at her lips before he pulled back with a grin he couldn’t fix into anything more even, “Happy birthday, Granger,” he said as a wolf-whistle came from the couch and another one came from Theo, who was strolling into the sitting room behind Pansy.

Draco looked over Hermione’s shoulder at Ginny with a deadpan expression as Hermione rolled her eyes, placing another kiss on his cheek before she pulled away. “Thank you,” she said to him as his attention moved back to her, one arm dropping as the other stayed firmly around her back, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

”It was very nice of you to invite my friends,” he said as Blaise and Daphne stepped through the fire.

”I thought it would be fun to have everyone together,” she wiggled her eyebrows before going to greet the others, Pansy giving her a swift double-kiss on the cheeks before Theo picked her up off the ground and spun her in a circle as she laughed. Blaise gave her much more normal one-armed hug while Daphne followed Pansy’s double-cheek kiss.

At the same time, Ginny had approached him and pulled him into an oversized hug as she whispered, “See, plan worked, didn't it.”

“Very well,” he dipped his head with a smug little smile as she stepped back and Harry and Ron came over with their greetings.

Draco was brought into the kitchen and given very warm welcomes by the Weasley parents, followed by a firm handshake from George, and friendly waves across the table from Neville and Padma before he was enveloped from behind by Luna. He turned in surprise as her arms loosened just enough for the movement before tightening around him again. 

“Draco Malfoy, such a pleasure.” She said before standing back and holding his arms as she’d done the last time she’d seen him. “And you’ve brought friends!” She let him go and he watched with sheer amusement as horror dawned on each face that she encompassed in a bear hug until she got to Theo, who gave it back just as enthusiastically.

Draco was reintroduced to the elder Weasley brothers, Bill and Charlie, as well as Fleur and Angelina, though he’d met all of them briefly on his apology tour. They seemed to be up to date on the situation of his presence, and whatever they’d been told about him, they seemed to be accepting so far.

”Brunch is going to be served out back, dear,” Molly said as she squeezed a hand on his shoulder. “Only space big enough for the whole crew this year.”

”Thank you for having us all,” Draco said.

”Oh, happy to, happy to.” Her face scrunched into a motherly smile and then she bustled off towards the stove. Draco looked around to where Theo was now sitting on the other side of the table talking very intimately with Neville Longbottom and he wondered, for a moment, if they’d met already with the way Theo was laughing about something and touching his shoulder.

”Wondering about Neville?” Hermione asked quietly as she joined him by his side and his hand automatically found her back.

”I am,” he nodded, letting his eyes continue to wander as to not bring attention to their prior focus.

”They met at the gala,” Hermione said in his ear. “Neville seems interested.”

”I thought Theo was seeing someone else, is the thing,” Draco said quietly back.

”They only went on three dates,” Pansy said over his other shoulder, “He called it off after he met Longbottom, remember he said they’d ended things? I think he’s pursuing now.”

”Talking about Theo?” Daphne slid over, following Pansy’s glance in the boys’ direction.

”We were trying to be discreet about it,” Draco huffed.

”Theo said he’s asking him on a date after brunch.” And then Daphne slid back into her conversation with Blaise and Arthur.

”Who was Theo dating?” Hermione asked.

”That yoga instructor,” Pansy said airily before she squealed as Harry’s hands slipped around her waist from the back and he kissed her shoulder. She turned from their conversation and pushed Harry back two steps so she could kiss him more privately.

”Yoga instructor?” Hermione raised an eyebrow as Draco groaned. “How would Theo have met a yoga instructor, Malfoy?”

Draco rubbed his forehead before he conceded, “You said I should check out yoga for myself, back in July. I took Pansy to a class the next day.”

”Are you serious? How did you never tell me!” She whisper-exclaimed. 

“I was too embarrassed.” 

“That’s amazing, Malfoy. Like truly kind of hysterical, really.”

Draco shot her a look, “It was awful and I’m never going again. But we told Theo about it and all he heard was ‘hot instructor with a six-pack’ so he went the next week. Like every day until Bryce asked him on a date at the end of the month. But it sounds like Neville has him interested enough to cut that off. They didn’t have anything in common anyway. Bryce was into some very muggle hippy stuff like reiki and crystals and horoscopes—Theo explained all of this to us against our will. He loved to talk about the planets positions as though they had something to do with what was happening in his personal life—like centaurs, only without the eye to actually understand those kinds of things.”

Hermione burst out laughing, unable to hold it in before she covered her mouth. “Sorry, I just still can’t get over that you not only went to a yoga class, but Pansy and Theo also went and then Theo dated a muggle yoga instructor. And you never told me!”

“I was prepared to take it to my grave,” Draco glared over at Pansy, who was wrapped in Harry’s arms again as they talked with George.

”Well this was a lovely birthday present, to share it with me,” she grinned up at him as he leaned down and kissed her just to wipe the laugh off her face.

”I got you a little something else, too,” he said. “But I’d rather give it to you later, if that’s alright.”

”Of course,” she said with an intrigued look.

”How was your birthday with your parents, by the way?”

”Alright,” she forced a smile at this before expanding with, “Mum couldn’t remember where they took me for my ninth birthday. It was a roller-rink. I don’t think the memory disappeared like some others do, I think she just forgot. But for a few minutes there my father was barely hiding his disappointment as my mother excused herself to wash dishes and sniffled from the sink. Things were better over dessert. They’re—they’re nice people. We just have our moments.”

Draco hummed as not to say something rude about the way her parents treated her. Today wasn’t the day for it. “Well this seems like a lovely party today.”

”It is,” she smiled up at him before Molly clapped her hands, “Brunch is ready, out you go, out you go!”

Everyone filed out of the Burrow and into the yard where a long table was set up for the occasion, Hermione sitting in a middle seat as Draco took the seat next to her and everyone else filled in around them.

The brunch was expansive and delicious—Molly a fabulous cook—and the day that followed was loud and chaotic as Harry, Draco, Ron, George, Blaise, Angelina, Theo and Ginny took to the small make-shift quidditch pitch from years passed and played a pickup match—one where Ginny was not allowed to play seeker or chaser to be more fair. At one point in the day, there was a game of Exploding Snap in the front yard and at another point, a friendly duel going on in the backyard. 

Draco had, at least, worn a black t-shirt beneath his sweater so he was able to keep from sweating through the cashmere on his broom. The way Hermione looked at him in that t-shirt—eyes roaming over the parts of his tattoo she could see and the way the soft cotton clung to his chest—made him want to keep the sweater off for the rest of the day, but as it had been deemed appropriate for the occasion, he put it back on once he’d cast a few cooling and refreshing charms. He’d spent the later part of the day with his arm around Hermione’s shoulders on the couch as the Weasleys told stories and Harry and Ron jumped in with anecdotes from birthdays past. As early evening approached, Molly brought out a homemade apple-spice birthday cake and everyone sang happy birthday before a round of cheers took place and champagne was had.

As the party-goers started trickling out and everyone—everyone—helped to clean up at the Burrow in some way, Draco found his way back to Hermione's side. 

“Are you up to coming over after this, or do you need to get back home to prep for the week?”

”I can come over,” she said. “I will have to go to bed at a reasonable time tonight, but it’s only—” she checked the Weasley’s peculiar clock, “—five.”

”Great,” he nodded, “Whenever you’re ready.”

He’d seen her on Thursday that week, just for a quick drink at the Leaky Cauldron after work. It had been crowded and they were barely noticed as they’d slipped in and taken a table near the back of the place. He’d missed her, now that he had moved on to the Department of Magical Transportation, so even seeing her in that capacity had made his day, but she’d been inundated with meetings that week where she was marketing the scalability and breadth of the Muggleborn Initiatives Office to try and secure its place in the budget, before fundraising considerations. Understandably, she hadn’t had much evening time to spare. The weeks wouldn’t always be so busy and he was already seeing the places he fit into her schedule and the determination they both had to find that time. He’d apparated home with her to her doorstep after the Leaky Cauldron and given her an ample kiss goodnight before he’d returned to his own home and kicked himself for not suggesting they extend the night. But he knew he’d see her today, and he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Once they had both profusely thanked the Weasleys for hosting Hermione’s birthday and for the wonderful day they’d all had, Draco had finally been able to pull her through the floo into his sitting room. He had her in his arms and back against the wall by the fireplace in seconds after that as he kissed her with all the pent-up want that he’d stored throughout the day. And then his floo had roared to life again and Theo stepped through with a “Oh, oh!” Before cackling and apologizing and then grabbing the scarf he’d left on the couch earlier that morning and disappearing back through the floo.

“Prat,” Draco grumbled as he let Hermione’s feet find the floor again and he stepped back from where she was laughing and bracing against the wall. He ran a hand through his hair before holding his hand out for her, “Since we’ve been interrupted anyway, let me give you your present.”

”Absolutely,” she nodded, taking it and following him to the couch where she sat as he summoned a small wrapped box from the bookshelf.

”Alright, so there are two parts to this. One is customary and I hope you’ll find it acceptable. The second I think you’ll enjoy.”

”Interesting,” she tilted her head as she untied the ribbon and unwrapped the box. 

Draco took the seat next to her, watching as she lifted the lid and did a bit of a double-take at what lay inside.

”It’s customary to give family jewelry for the first birthday you’re courting,” he winced as he said the word, “I know it’s silly, but my mother insisted. She’s really trying, or at least she’s really starting to try, to put some effort into things and show her support. And she insisted that if I was serious about you, I should stick to this one custom that she found to be very romantic. I don’t know if you’ll feel the same, but I liked the gesture as well.”

He reached in and pulled the necklace from the box, it was a dainty gold chain with small rubies interspersed around it. 

“That’s—” Hermione looked like she was trying to figure out how she did feel about it before she chuckled, “Actually, that is quite nice of your mother to suggest a courting gesture. I think courting is silly, and clearly not what we’re doing,” she caveated, “but she’s trying to find a medium between what she’s used to and what you’re doing. It’s nice. The jewelry is unnecessary,” she glanced at him with a look, “But it's also very pretty and simple and I will accept it for all of those reasons.”

Draco let out a breath. “I half-thought you might hit me for presenting you with jewelry.”

”Like I said, I think the concept is outdated, but I appreciate your mother’s attempt at showing approval of our relationship and it’s nothing so over the top that I’d feel out of my element wearing it.”

”Good,” Draco shook his head once with a breath, “I scoured through our vault for hours on Friday and this was the first thing I found that made me think of you—that I could picture on you.”

He unhooked the necklace and gestured towards her as Hermione lifted her hair off her neck and turned her back to him so he could circle the necklace around her and clasp it. As she turned back to him for his opinion on how it looked, he smiled at the way it lay right along her collarbone like it had been made for her. It was noticeable without taking away from her natural beauty, or overwhelming her petite features.

”It looks lovely on you. I hope you like it, even if it is an outdated and silly custom.”

Her hand found the chain as her fingers trailed across it, “It was very sweet,” she leaned in and kissed him before sitting back.

”And the second thing,” he said with significantly less nerves, “Is not a physical gift. It’s more of an invitational gift.”

”And what does that mean?”

”I’m offering for you to brew a potion with me next weekend, as your birthday gift. I don’t normally let anyone into my lab, but you looked so right in there; and so very curious,” he grinned as her eyes lit up at this.

”Really? That sounds fascinating.”

“I thought you might enjoy that,” he leaned in and stole another kiss as she held his hand that had found the side of her face.

”I love it. I am very excited. Do I get to choose what we’re brewing?”

”If you have a preference.”

”Let me think about it and get back to you by… tomorrow night?”

”Deal,” he nodded. “Gives me time to get any additional ingredients, if needed.”

Hermione beamed again before pulling him back to kiss him deeper this time.

”There’s an optional third birthday present,” Draco said in a low voice, “It would be located upstairs in my bedroom.”

”And is this a physical gift, or another invitational gift?” She asked.

”Both,” he grinned, “Very physical, also invitational.”

”I’d love to see what you’ve got for me upstairs,” she said with a sly little grin of her own as she stood and he did the same, taking her hand and leading her up the stairs and to his bedroom, clicking the door purposefully shut as they entered. And then he scooped her into his arms and backed her up to the mattress where he set her back on her feet right at the edge of the bed before he reached behind her and started moving the zipper of her dress down.

“This is still invitational, all the way through,” he said, to be clear, “You can decline at any time.”

“I don’t think I’ll be declining,” she said a little breathlessly as heat rose to her cheeks and poured out of her eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, he slipped the sleeves off of her shoulders and slowly down her arms. He didn’t flinch when he saw her scar in his peripheral this time; she’d told him they’d changed; that they didn’t mean what they used to. He had to trust that; to move forward where she was waiting for him. As the dress pooled at her feet, his hands found her waist and helped her up onto the bed, eyes raking greedily and not at all subtly over the black panties and bra that met his gaze as a fire burned in his stomach.

“I’ve got shoes on still—”

Before she had finished her protest, Draco had dropped to his knees and began unzipping her boots as he casually responded with, “You know, Granger, you spend too much of your life focusing on helping other people and I think sometimes you need someone focused on your needs.”

He heard her audibly swallow above him as he glanced up to where her lips were parted as she watched him slip one boot off, and then move to the next, peeling her socks off with them.

“That does sound quite nice,” she agreed.

As he replaced her bare feet on the rail of his bed, pulling his sweater and t-shirt over his head and discarding them as he let his gaze travel over her legs and up every inch of her body, his fingers trailing the back of her calf. As his eyes raised to her chest, he watched as she unsnapped her bra and let it fall to join her dress. He barely held back his groan as he let his gaze linger on her pert nipples and his mind considered just how perfectly her breast would fit into his palm. He raised his eyes higher, taking in the shine of the rubies of her new necklace against her skin, the pink on her neck, and the way her teeth held her bottom lip between them, until he met her gaze and her lip slipped from their grasp and she let out a heavy breath. He gave her a wicked grin before moving his focus back to what was already at eye level. 

His lips found her inner thigh, kissing a path towards her center as she leaned back on her hands and inhaled sharply, still watching him. His free hand moved in time with his lips on the opposite thigh and he felt her shiver beneath him. As his lips pressed into the crease of her thigh, his finger hooked under her panties and pulled them to the side as he looked up at her one more time and paused before she nodded.

“I am still not declining,” she said again, tone heavy with want before his tongue flicked out and brushed softly against her core. And then she swallowed hard and breathed out, “Gods,” before letting her head fall back as he licked at her again.

He let his tongue lav between her legs as he tasted her and found the spots that made her moan, and the ones that made her whimper, and the ones that made her arch towards him. He could feel the heat of her, and as he pushed a finger inside, his throat rumbled with need at the arousal that met him. 

“Does this feel good?” he asked in a breath against her before he continued his rhythm.

“Yes,” she said in a soft moan, “So good.”

He loved making her feel this way; loved knowing what she looked like when she lost herself; when she was at her most vulnerable and most free. She was so fierce and strong-willed and so damn in tune with making sure everyone was taken care of. He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to take her breath away and make her heart pound like the blood in his veins. She deserved every good thing in this world and he wanted to give it to her.

“Do you want me to make you come like this?” he asked as his finger pulsed in and out of her with his licks.

“You’re about to,” she said, breath heavy now as he glanced up at her.

“Then I want to hear my name when you do,” he said, running his tongue slowly along her clit as he felt her legs shake. “My real name.”

“Yes,” there was a whine to her tone now as one of her arms bracing her pulled from the bed and grasped at his hair, making him groan.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he lapped at her again as she shook harder, breath coming quicker. 

“Like what?” she rasped incoherently.

“Wide open, uncontrolled, taking what you deserve,” he said each between languid strokes of his tongue as she moaned loudly, hands tightening in his hair.

“Gods, I’m so close—Draco,” she panted as he circled his tongue right where he’d learned she liked it and she came with another, louder moan of his name as he savored every syllable of it like an anthem. He softened the pressure of his tongue, licking gently along her clit as she convulsed and panted beneath him, hand finally loosening its grip on his hair as she ran it through absently before flopping back against the bed with another breath of, “Gods.”

He pulled his finger back from her and pressed his lips to her core as she convulsed again under him and then he stood, leaning over her to kiss her sternum before moving his lips over the mound of her breast and then to her neck as she moaned contentedly. When he reached her lips, she lifted her head and kissed him back in a hazy, satisfied manor, a small smile fighting the movement of pressing her lips into his. And then she sat up with him as he stood again and the view of her like this, sitting on the bed with her chest moving up and down, and her cheeks and neck pink with arousal; it was too much and it was just right and seeing it only once would never be enough. He cupped her cheek with his hand as he leaned down and kissed her softly again.

“That was so good, Draco,” she breathed when he moved his lips across her cheek and towards her ear.

“Fuck do I love hearing you say my name like that,” he said quietly as he kissed her cheek again. And then he let out a light breath before he whispered, “Happy Birthday, Hermione.”

She huffed a small laugh with another light moan, “I like the sound of that, too. You say my name like a secret.”

He hummed as he considered it. It had come out quieter than the other words and more pronounced and deliberate and just for her. “Not a secret,” he said, “A private declaration, I think.”

“Of what?” she asked softly, her head pressed against his as her hand moved to his neck, fingers in his hair.

“Of something new. Something we took the time to cultivate. Something that’s ours.” Something that’s finally mine. Something big.

“I like that,” she said and he could hear the smile in her voice. And then she gripped the ends of his hair a little tighter before adding, “Your charm points are off the charts today,” before pulling herself back to look at him, her eyes moving between his as the look there melted him. She got it. She understood what he was trying to say; the gravity of it. He leaned in and kissed her, both of his hands cupping her face as their tongues moved against each other and she moaned contentedly. She pulled back this time as her fingers ran lightly from the back of his neck to the side across his tattoo, following it down along his chest, “Please don’t tell me your invitational gift ends here, though,” she said, kissing him again to make her point.

“Where do you want it to end?” he asked against her lips.

Her free hand lifted to his pants, which were currently housing a very hard erection as her fingers grazed over it. 

“You’re greedy on your birthday, aren’t you?” there was a lilt to his tone as his eyes closed and he enjoyed the feel of her teasing.

“You’re the one that said I deserve someone focused on my needs,” she responded with a very innocent blink of those big brown eyes as he met them again. “And I think I need more. If there’s an invitation for that.”

You can have anything, he thought. “There’s an invitation for more,” he nodded, leaning back in to take her bottom lip between his teeth as he nibbled it lightly, her hands undoing his belt and working at the button and zipper on his pants. It felt like a travesty to stop kissing her, but he managed it long enough to push his clothes off and slip her panties to the ground before she moved back on the bed and he followed, climbing over her with a renewed sense of need to have more of her, especially as he watched her gaze drop to his cock and her mouth part in want.

“You’re big, Draco,” she said as his face finally hovered over hers, the words harboring only a hint of embarrassment that she’d said them out loud as her hand wasted no time in wrapping around his length.

“I know,” he said with a grin. “Are you on a contraception potion?” he asked as she nodded a definitive yes before he captured her lips again as her hand slid up and down him slowly, learning the details of him. His hand trailed down her body and he felt her shiver, her breath exhaling heavily into him, as he skimmed her stomach before his finger finished the journey over her still hyper-sensitive nerves and to her entrance, where it slipped inside again. She was still so wet and he pushed another finger in as she gasped, one hand on his shoulder, clutching him. 

“Fuck, I want every part of you,” Draco said against her lips as he pumped his fingers slowly in and out of her.

“Then take me—oh,” she gasped again as he pulled his fingers out, spreading her arousal along her clit as her head pulled back from his and her back arched into him. 

Draco’s lips found her chest as he kissed up the side of her breast before taking her nipple in his mouth gently, just to hear the sound that greeted him; just so he could know another part of her. And then he steadied himself over her as her gaze met his again and he positioned his cock between her legs, head at her entrance.

“No final regrets to send for your invitation?” he asked her, lust filling his gaze as she shook her head.

“Not a single one,” she said, hands wrapped around the dragon on his biceps as he pressed into her and she arched again with a gasp. He moved slowly and fluidly, sinking into her inch by inch as a rumble tore through his throat at the sheer ecstasy of what it felt like to be surrounded by her warmth. As he filled her, he lowered himself to her chest, kissing her deeply as she moaned into his mouth and he swallowed the sound like water in a desert. As he went to drag his hips back, her hands moved to his back to hold him in place and he pulled back from the kiss to look at her.

“I just need a second to adjust,” she said in a heavy breath. “Like I said, you’re big.”

Again, he could not suppress the grin at his lips as he nodded, pushing a little deeper rather than pulling himself out as she gasped and then moaned again. “Too big?” he asked, because his cocky heart couldn’t help it.

“Wonderfully big,” she said, eyes still closed as she reached for him and pulled his lips back to hers. She moved her own hips as a test, moaning as her clit pressed against him in just the right spot. And then she rolled her hips again in approval as Draco took that as a go-ahead and pulled back to thrust into her, softly a few times before her head fell back on the pillow and the view of her was too much. His lips moved to her neck, sucking the soft skin there as he picked up his pace, thriving off of her whines and gasps and echoes of ‘yes’ and ‘right there’, and even more off of her pants of ‘you can go harder’ and ‘Gods, Draco,’ until he was taking her hard and fast with all of the pent up need for her that was burning in his veins, one hand snaking under her to pull her hips up to him as the other held him above her. Any time he had access to her skin, he imprinted his lips, his teeth, his breath—anything that could reach her. He was high on the feel of her as her nails dug into his skin.

“You feel so fucking good, Hermione,” he said against her shoulder, groaning as his cock buried deep in her cunt. “So tight, fuck.”

“Gods, yes,” she panted in response, hands moving up his body until they were locked around the back of his head, gripping his hair in her fingers as she held onto him, hips rocking with his for as long as she could stand it before her legs would wrap around his waist again and she would arch off the bed, moaning as he fucked her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, unwrapping his arm from under her so he could palm her breast that had been bouncing in his view. He squeezed it lightly, thumb brushing over her nipple as she whimpered and he leaned back in so his teeth could graze her neck.

“You fit so perfectly,” he growled against her skin. “Every part of you.” And then he was sucking on her neck as she turned to expose more of it to him.

“So good, so good,” she moaned incoherently from beneath him, “I think I’m—Draco, I’m close again,” she panted. “Just like that—with your hips, gods,” her breath hitched, “Yes.” She moaned louder, neck rolling on the pillow as her hands moved from his hair to grip the back of his neck, “Draco.” And then she came with a breathy whine, her cunt spasming around his cock as he groaned into her neck, keeping up his pace as he neared the edge with her.

“I’m done, Hermione,” he said like a promise. “Lost. Yours. Fuck.” and then he came hard inside of her, the arm that had been holding him up slipping underneath her as he held her to him like a lifeline. 

There was a beautiful silence of heavy breaths and satisfied groans between them for a few moments as his eyes closed and he pushed his hips forward one more time, feeling her pulse around him. And then Hermione whispered in a half-present voice, “Careful, Draco, if you keep saying things like that, I’m going to start thinking you’re in love with me.”

“I am so in love with you, Hermione,” he said in his own post-orgasm haze, not even caring if she knew it anymore; if he said the words out loud. Because for all he knew, maybe he hadn’t. He was still somewhere in the clouds, floating high on something euphoric.

“I think I love you, too,” she said quietly, nails running softly down his back.

At this, he pulled himself out of her slowly as he lifted his head so he could think more clearly and see her properly, “Do you?” he asked, finding that spark in her eyes and letting himself bask in it.

“Yeah,” she said simply with a small smile. So effortless, so easy, so unabashed. So unquestionably the confident, decisive Hermione Granger he knew so well. 

“Since when?” His mind was reeling to catch up.

She seemed to think for a moment with a hum before she spoke. “It sparked the first time I saw you give advice to one of the incoming muggleborn students. It expanded into something more when you gave me a safe space to talk to you about my parents and shared all of these vulnerable parts of yourself in Hyde park; I felt myself really opening for you after that,” Her fingers played with the ends of his hair again absently. “But I think I knew I was falling hard when you came to Wales for the Harpies match with my friends and I didn’t want you to leave. And then when you told me about Cambridge the next weekend I felt such a strong urge to just know everything about you; everything I didn’t know, I wanted. I was so enthralled by this person you’d spent years working to become,” the smile on her face was angelic as he tried to catalog every part of her features in this beautiful moment. “By the time we danced at the gala, I had this feeling that I didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world but right there in your arms, looking back at you. And last week, when you finally kissed me; when we finally got to voice where we were with each other, I felt you solidify this place in my heart that I think has just been waiting for you.”

He kissed her again, pressing his lips to hers over and over as he floated back down to earth, basking in every word and every admission and this overwhelming sense of relief and elation he didn’t think he’d ever had before. “How did you know?” he finally asked, “That I felt the same? I didn’t know if you would yet.”

“Because you, Draco Malfoy,” she said, raking her fingers through his hair now as though it was hers to do as she pleased, “Are not a subtle man. The way you talk and the way you look at me… once you were in, I knew you were all in. And I want you to know that I am too.”

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“I am all in,” he confirmed with a crooked smile, sure his eyes were sparking back at her the same way.

“Can I ask for one more birthday gift?” she asked and he tilted his head with a chuckle.

“I guess you can.”

“Can we have some of that leftover cake that Mrs. Weasley sent home with us for dinner?”

“Two slices of cake is a wild amount of sugar to have in a day, Granger,” he huffed, “But it is your birthday and I will do literally anything you ask.”

“Cake it is, then,” her smile broadened and he nodded, rolling away from her and stepping off the bed.

“Cake it is. Stay here, I’ll bring it to bed.”

Chapter Text

Draco trod down the stairs towards the sitting room carrying yet another box of jingling bottles as he walked it over to the fireplace and set it by the pile that had accumulated there. He stood back with an exhale of breath from the exertion of going up and down the stairs all morning.

“Last one,” came Hermione’s voice as she descended the stairs and he looked over with a grin. She was in those gods forsaken leggings and a sports bra with her hair tied up in a mess of a bun on top of her head, wand sticking through the center.

”Thank you,” he said, meeting her at the bottom of the stairs to grab the box of books she must have cast a featherlight charm on. 

“The brewing lab looks so bare,” she sighed.

”It’ll be a good space for you to make yourself an office,” he leaned over the box to kiss her as her hand grazed his cheek.

”As much as I love sharing your office space, it will be nice to spread out my things,” she tapped his cheek again a couple of times before walking around him towards the sitting area where she began moving boxes onto different sides of the fireplace to better organize them for moving and Draco stayed where he was and stared at her ass as she bent over.

”When is everyone getting here to help?” She asked, rifling around in one of the boxes to ascertain its contents. 

“Eleven,” he said, finally pulling his gaze to glance at the clock on the mantel as he slowly walked over to her, “So within the hour.”

”Now that we’ll have help with the rest of the move, I think I’ll shower and change.”

”I’ll join you,” he nodded before leaning down for another kiss. As he pulled back, a streak of orange fluff trounced across the room, “He won’t get into the lab things, will he?”

”Crooks?” Hermione furrowed her brow, “Of course not.” She gave the definitely-not-a-cat a good rub down as she passed by him and he arched his back with a purr. As Draco passed to follow her to the stairs, Crookshanks did little more than stare him down with daggers, as he did most days. Draco rolled his eyes at the cat before pausing with one foot on the first step to take in all the moving boxes that were stacked there, taking up half the sitting room. Three years ago, he may have day dreamed that this day could be in his future, but he didn’t think he could have gotten here without Hermione; without the summer he spent melting the ice between them and warming the waters little by little until it boiled over into this all-consuming thing in his life that gave him purpose and drove him to continue wanting to be more and wanting to be better.

So much had happened in those three years that it felt like a decade must have passed for both of their lives to have moved from where they were in the summer of 2008 to where they were now, heading into the summer of 2011. 

Witch Weekly had finally gotten wind of their relationship the week after Hermione’s birthday and had run [what Draco would consider to be] a very adorable photo of them walking into Elevated Elixirs in Evanshire, hand-in-hand and sharing a laugh over a story he’d been telling her about Theo and Neville’s first date in which Theo had sent an oversized bouquet of a hundred roses to Neville’s flat before arriving to see he’d accidentally ordered a hundred bouquets of a hundred roses, which were overflowing in Neville’s sitting room. 

The Witch Weekly article had claimed they had the exclusive story about how Draco and Hermione were reintroduced to each other and could report that things were going very well. The exclusive story had been provided by Pansy, who had also provided the scoop on her relationship with Harry, which was less exclusive because they’d been caught snogging all over Diagon Alley by then. And though the excitement over their relationship had subsided somewhat over the next few months, Witch Weekly still liked to run a candid photo of them out on dates, or kissing on a walk in the park, on a quarterly basis. Neither Draco, nor Hermione, were overly bothered by this since they were much too content in what they’d found in each other to let a little press get on their nerves.

Hermione had finished writing her book—now titled A Newcomers Guide to the Wizarding World —at the beginning of the year and had finished the editing process that spring, helped tremendously by the larger role Hannah had taken on in the Muggleborn Initiatives Office. Hermione had felt so comfortable with Hannah’s work that they’d made the decision that she would take over the office beginning in the fall of 2011 as Hermione embarked on a new journey of her own. She’d interviewed with different offices at the Ministry to learn more about what kind of impact she’d be able to make depending on where she took her career next. She’d ultimately decided to accept a position as the Associate Undersecretary to the Minister, reporting to the Senior Undersecretary, with her role primarily focused on new legislation initiatives within the Minister’s Office. She would complete one more summer program session with the Muggleborn Initiatives Office in a support role, with Hannah leading the charge, before she’d start with the Minister’s Office in the fall after a quick two week book tour to promote the book for anyone it might benefit, as well as to spread awareness about the department and its purpose.

Draco, over the last three years, had completed his community service requirement and then proceeded to undertake a Potions Mastery, studying for two years under a renowned Potions Master in London while he worked on the applicable licenses and applications for his own shop, and waited for the right real estate to open up so he could move forward in the process. He didn’t think he’d have ever really cared to do his Potions Mastery if it hadn’t been to try and keep up with the accomplishments of his brilliant girlfriend, but he was overwhelmingly glad that he had, as it would look good for the shop, to be ran by a Potions Master, and it felt good, for him, to have accomplished another academic achievement. As an added bonus, he found the potions mastery work and research to be the perfect way to keep himself busy and fill his time during the work days when he could not distract Hermione with excess ravishing. Luckily, the evenings were always fair game. She needed to release all the pent-up tension and stress from everything she had going on in her very busy life, after all.

Hermione had moved in with him two years ago now and it had been so refreshing to see her at the end of every day and to wake up with her in his arms every morning. They’d fallen into a routine over those two years and it was a routine he wouldn’t change for all the galleons in the world. During the week, they would both work on their respective projects in the daytime and then take a walk through Hyde Park together, talking about their days and letting the stress of work float away with the breeze, before returning home where Draco would make dinner. There were a slew of social outings that would hit the calendar during the weeks, but most nights were spent curled on the couch with a book, or wrapped in the sheets because someone couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.

On Friday nights, they rotated weeks between poker with friends—both his and Hermione’s; their friends, especially now that the friend group was so blended with both Harry and Pansy and Theo and Neville together and inseparable—and trips to Wales for Harpies games, when they were in season. On Saturdays mornings, Hermione went to yoga and Draco did not, but they went to Queen Bean Cafe together when she finished before she, usually, went into the Ministry, or spent the rest of the morning working on her book in his office. They would go to the South of France to see Narcissa one Saturday each month, as she had finally left the manor for good. And on Sundays, they would have brunch with the Weasleys and go to the farmers market with Harry and Pansy.

Blaise and Daphne had gotten married at a beautiful wizarding vineyard in Tuscany the summer following his community service with Hermione's department and the whole group had made the trip out for a week’s holiday drinking wine and exploring the countryside. They’d all rented a villa next to the vineyard and it had solidified something in their group of friends that made it feel a bit more like family as they stayed up late into the night playing card games and exploding snap and wizard’s chess and telling stories from years past.

Things had changed with their own families, as well, over those three years. Narcissa had not only finally left the manor, but had also taken Draco’s advice to take a muggle class to understand a bit more of what he had gone through on his self-growth journey. Though she thought herself much too old to take a university class, and opted for a muggle cooking class with a Michelin-starred chef in Nice. Hermione was under the impression that Narcissa was romantically linked with this chef now, or had at least had some kind of affair, because there was a slight blush that would rise to Narcissa’s cheeks while she averted her eyes from them anytime she’d say his name—Claude—while telling a story of one of her cooking experiences. Draco thought this was preposterous and that his mother could not possibly be having an affair with the muggle chef, regardless of how far she progressed in her own growth, simply because Claude was fifteen years younger than her. It was a constant point of debate and they often fished for details when spending their monthly Saturdays in France.

On the Granger side, Hermione’s parents had been making a concerted effort to not guilt her about the lapses in their memories. Mostly because, after meeting Draco and having an uncomfortable dinner a few months into their relationship, Draco had not been able to keep his mouth shut about their treatment of her, pulling her father aside to relay, in the most respectful, but pointed, way, that Hermione loved them and wanted them in her life, but that they were pushing her away and bringing her down by constantly digging the wedge in their relationship deeper with their obvious disappointment in her when the lapses happened. He’d reiterated that they were, indeed, in terrible danger when Hermione had made the selfless decision to protect them and that she was a hero in the wizarding world for her part in the war. Mr. Granger had not loved being told this, especially by Draco Malfoy, whose name unfortunately rang a loud bell in his memory as the bully Hermione had always complained about in school (though thankfully, not as a Death Eater).

His relationship with the Grangers and their relationship with their daughter had taken time, after that, but Draco thought that maybe they had just needed an outsider’s perspective on the situation to recalibrate what was important. And if their relationship with Hermione was important, they needed to focus on that rather than the memory lapses and they needed to accept Draco as she had. Because they did love her and Draco could see that and they could see she loved Draco. They just hadn’t known how to move forward with the rift. Once they’d come together again for another conversation, a few months later, they’d had the chance to reconcile more calmly with apologies on both sides and Draco had recommended an incredibly accomplished mind healer to them as a resource. Both of her parents had started seeing the mind healer after that as a new way to process what had happened to them and their memories. This was the real turning point in their relationship, for the better. Things were still strained when the lapses in memories happened, but they had been better about not acknowledging them quite so externally; not drawing out those moments and letting them pass to get on with the evening. Hermione was very grateful for this, even after her initial anxiety about the first meeting that had not gone as smoothly.

Hermione’s parents had met Narcissa once now, over dinner on a trip to Provence in the fall of 2010 that Draco, Hermione and Narcissa had portkeyed in for the day to join for. It had gone well, all things considered, as conversation had been polite and Draco had led the topics he thought they would be able to connect on: travel and the achievements of their children. Draco and Hermione had let out a collective breath when they’d returned home that night, glad to have that meeting behind them.

So, as Draco looked out onto the packed up potions boxes in his living room, he took in not only the satisfaction of what was definitively the next step in his own journey, but also the satisfaction of what was three years of the new experiences and growth and friends and love that got him to this point. He didn’t think he’d ever really wrap his head around what he’d done in his life to deserve it all, but fuck, if he wasn’t grateful for it. A crooked smile crept onto his features and he looked up the stairs again where Hermione’s humming was floating down from their bedroom and he started his climb, two stairs at a time, as he went to join her.

Hermione had already thrown all of her clothes into the hamper, hair let down and wand tossed on the bed. She was now walking, naked, across their bedroom floor towards the bathroom and its very large glass shower. Draco threw his clothes off and leaned in the doorway, watching as she let the water run through her hair, calming her always-lively curls until they were subdued along her back. He would never, in his entire life, take this view for granted as he let his eyes roam up her tanned legs, over her gorgeous backside and along the curve of her tailbone as she let the water fall on her chest.

”Are you joining me, or watching?” She asked without looking over at him. 

He grinned widely, stepping into the room and opening the door just as the walls began to fog over. He circled her waist from behind, kissing her neck as he held her there, one hand covering her breast just because he could.

”I can’t believe this is happening today,” he said against her skin. “Thank you for pushing me to do this.”

”You did it all yourself,” she sighed, leaning back into him contentedly.

”Three years ago it was just an idea I had in my head to feel like maybe there was something for me after the community service came to an end. But I don’t know that I ever would have put quill to parchment to go through the process of making a business plan and applying for licenses and approvals and shop space if it hadn’t been for you believing that I could do it.”

”But you could always do it, Draco,” she chuckled.

”I didn’t always have the motivation,” he shrugged. “My life could have been easy and quiet after my service period. I didn’t really have to do anything if I didn’t have a reason to. But I want to build something now—” he paused, not wanting to let too much slip. “I’m rambling,” he sighed again, “Just, thank you for finally accepting my damn application to your department three years ago and for helping me figure all of this out so we could finally be here for move-in day at the shop. This feels big.”

”It is big,” her arm lifted behind her back and her fingers found their way into his hair. “And everyone will join us here soon to take the boxes over and start getting everything from your lab set up in your new space, and tomorrow you’ll get your first big shipment of ingredients and cauldrons and bottles and we’ll spend the whole day making it perfect.”

”I love you,” he said, “I appreciate you taking a Monday off to help me with it all, especially the week before you go into your heavy summer program planning crunch.”

”Happy to help. Besides, this is my last summer with the program before I officially hand it over to Hannah and she’s been doing a great job running things the last few months to the point that she barely needs my oversight. It’ll make it easier to step away in September.”

”A quick book tour and then into your big Minister’s Office job,” he kissed her neck again, his hand running down her stomach and towards her core, “Ms. Associate Undersecretary.”

”Draco,” she lilted, “I thought we were just washing up and getting ready to start the move.”

”We’ve got a little extra time,” he said, his middle finger rubbing her clit as she sighed.

“Fine,” she said airily, hand still lost in his hair, “But make it quick.”

”Not your normal request,” he smiled against her skin before spinning her in his arms and catching her lips with his, trying to savor the taste of raspberry jam on her tongue from her morning scone.

Hermione pulled back, her hands running along the dragon on his chest as her heated eyes followed their path, “It is a big day for you,” she allowed as a caveat before flicking her eyes back to his and then slowly lowering to her knees.

”I was thinking I’d fuck you against the wall, love,” he said, not at all trying to change her current trajectory.

”You can,” she said, “But this will help.” And then she ran her tongue along the underside of his cock as he groaned before she swirled it around his head. He wrapped her wet hair around his hand and ran his thumb down her cheek with the other. He watched her tongue flick against the slit on his cock before sucking gently at him, his fist balling tighter around her hair. She looked up at him as she took him into her mouth, bobbing her head as she eased him back a few inches at a time, wrapping her hand around the base to cover the space she couldn’t quite fit. His eyes were feasting on every detail before him.

”I fucking love this view, Hermione. You’re so good with that little tongue of yours,” his voice was low and gravely as her head bobbed around him, eyes closed as she tried to take him another inch back towards her throat. “So fucking good,” he groaned. What he’d ever done to deserve this was lost on him, but he would never let go of it now. He’d had almost three years of loving this witch and showing her at every opportunity that presented itself; telling her over and over again, and working to be someone she’d be proud to have by her side. “Fuck,” he ground out as she gagged lightly on him as he hit the back of her throat. “Come here, Hermione,” he said, unable to wait any longer to ravish her. 

She pulled her mouth back from him, breathing heavily as he helped her to her feet and walked her back against the shower wall before devouring her lips again, kissing her hungrily and hotly as his tongue dove into her mouth and clashed with hers. “You beautiful witch,” he murmured before wrapping his arms around her thighs and hoisting her up against the wall.

”I love you,” she said in a whisper, hands framing his face as she wrapped her legs around him.

”So damn much,” he breathed back, his cock finding her entrance as he slowly lowered her onto his length, her head leaning back against the wall as she arched her back to take him deeper.

Perfect. His arm wrapped around her hips to keep her positioned how he wanted her as he gripped a handful of her ass cheek and kissed from her throat up to the underside of her chin. And then he braced an arm on the wall as he thrust into her and her fingers curled around his shoulders. 

“Yes,” she moaned. “Yes, Draco.”

Draco watched the droplets of water cascade down her body from her hair draped over one shoulder, her skin pink from the scalding water she liked to shower in and chest heaving as she panted his name while he fucked her. If someone cast the killing curse at him right here in this moment, he knew he’d die a very happy man.

Draco leaned in and kissed her hard as his hips moved frantically against her, his cock enveloped by her heat and body slick from the humidity in the air between them. His chest pinned her against the wall, lips at her ear as he ground out, “Tell me you’re mine, Hermione.”

“I am,” she panted as her hands moved into his hair, holding him against her. “Yours.”

”You’re everything,” he murmured, words coming less coherently. “My everything. Fuck. You are—” he groaned, lifting his head to get more air as he thrust harder into her, eliciting a string of high gasps from her. “—Perfect , Hermione.”

”Draco, please,” she moaned, “Fast, right against me. Yes.”

Draco pushed his hips to her as he pumped himself in and out so she could rock herself against him and he watched with burning heat in his eyes as her mouth fell open in pleasure. 

“Fucking take it, Hermione. You’re so close,” the words were pushing out between his teeth and he barely held himself together as he watched her fall apart, “Come for me, take me with you.” 

She cried his name again as her forehead fell against his and she broke, hips still rocking into his as her walls pulsed around his cock and he rumbled a loud groan from his throat, readily following her over the edge, spilling inside of her and holding her down on him as she panted and let another moan fall.

“Fuck,” he drew the word out into multiple syllables as he thrust upwards once more and clutched at her as she spasmed around him again with a gasp. 

And then he nudged her nose with his as she lifted her head just enough for him to kiss her, too spent to think clearly as they stayed there catching their breath and pressing their lips together. And then, as his heart slowly began to normalize, he lifted her off of him with another groan and placed her feet on the shower floor, holding her there against the wall still as her hands rested on his chest and she regained her strength enough to stand properly.

”I love you,” he said, tilting her chin to him as she gave him a very dazed and satisfied smile before leaning up for one more kiss.

”And I love you, Draco. Now we need to actually shower so we aren’t still in here when our friends arrive.” So bossy; so dutifully respectful of time management. But still so soft under his touch.

”They can wait,” he said, basking in the afterglow, her chin still in his grip as he stole another kiss.

She gave him a look, “Draco,” and he smirked back at her.

”I love when you say my name so disapprovingly like that,” he nipped at her bottom lip before letting her chin go and backing up from her directly into the shower spray.

”I know you do,” she sighed, watching him from the wall with a smart little smile on her face as he pumped the body wash and ran it all over his chest.

”Are you joining me, or watching?” He raised an eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes before she laughed with a mutter of ‘incorrigible,’ before she did, indeed, join him under the water.

o-o-o-o-o-o

As Ginny Weasley stepped through the floo from Draco’s flat into his new apothecary on Evanshire Way, she added a box to the dwindling free counter space, “Malfoy, where do these books go?”

”On shelves, Weasley,” Draco answered, sifting through the box of ingredients he had brought through.

”You can be more specific, or these ones will go in the trash,” she said brightly with a smile.

Draco huffed despite himself before looking over and eying which set of books were in her box. “Those are going to go in the back on the shelf I have labeled for research texts.

”Much more helpful,” she nodded, picking the box back up and walking towards the brewing lab beyond the storefront.

“Theo, stop fooling around and get back to work,” Draco muttered as he passed by the boy, who had Longbottom caged in between his arms against one of the brewing counters as he whispered something in his ear and Neville laughed and shook his head, ears going quite red when Draco passed by them.

”Sorry, Malfoy,” Neville called after him in a very casual tone that signified that this happened often, which it did, with Theo.

In the back storage room, Pansy was unloading a box of ingredients and handing jars to Harry as he placed each atop the labeled spaces Draco had meticulously laid out the week prior.

”Potter, did you grab the box of ladles and measuring utensils?”

Harry looked back from the shelf he was directing a vial of acromantula venom up to, ‘I did—handed it off to Daphne since she’s organizing your drawers.”

”Thanks,” he turned to where Daphne, now five months pregnant, sat placing utensils and supplies in the cabinets and drawers of the main brewing area.

”How good does this look,” Daphne gave him a proud smile as she placed another empty beaker into a slot in the cupboard.

”Very organized,” he nodded his approval. “Did you get the box of ladles and—”

But before he could even finish his question, Daphne pulled out a drawer where the ladles were put away, and then pulled open the next where a variety of measuring utensils were organized smallest to largest for easy access.

”You’re top of my list right now for most efficient helper,” he said. “Definitely in the running for that vintage bottle of mead that’s up for grabs today.”

“Excuse me,” Hermione said indignantly from behind him as she levitated a large cauldron to its new home on top of the first brewing station. “I helped you pack and move everything from your lab down to the fireplace before anyone even arrived today.”

”You are always my most efficient helper, darling,” Draco took her hand as she lowered her wand from the cauldron and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. “But you are not in the running for the mead since you have access to literally anything of mine that you desire.”

”Anything?” She asked with a sly look.

”Literally anything, Hermione,” he said in her ear.

”Stop fooling around and get back to work, Malfoy,” Theo said in a sing-song voice as he walked past them with a box of potion bottle labels that had been fresh from the printer that morning with the new designs for Malfoy’s Custom Brewing and Apothecary.

“Fuck off, Nott,” Draco muttered after him as Hermione laughed.

”He’s right, Draco, there’s a lot of work to get done today.”

He sighed, “there is,” and kissed her again before he stepped away and walked back to the storefront where Luna, Neville and Blaise were shelving stock potions that Draco had ready to go before the move. 

A knocking on the front door pulled Draco’s attention before he could grab the next box as he looked out the window and waved before striding to the door and pulling it open, “Weasley, Padma, come on in,” he nodded his head into the shop, “There’s a free counter in the back. I’ll let everyone know lunch is here. Thanks again for bringing it over.”

“Course,” Ron nodded, carrying three take-out bags as Padma followed with two more.

”Just sorry we couldn't spend the morning helping out,” Padma gave him a quick side-cheek air-kiss since her hands were too full for the hug she’d usually bestow. “Parvati’s been needing some extra hands around the house with her new little one and we’d promised to babysit while she ran out for a few appointments today with Dean.”

”Not a problem. Appreciate that you’re here for the afternoon,” he shut the door and followed them back as everyone abandoned their boxes and convened around the open table where Ron and Padma were unloading the lunch Draco had ordered everyone for their help.

It was loud and it was crowded and it made the space feel so damn full in a way that was both annoying and incredibly wonderful. And as he looked around at the group of friends that he’d become very close with over the last three years, he felt momentarily like he was watching the scene from outside. Like someone outside the shop, looking into the window and witnessing a scene from someone else’s life; a life that was easy and bright and lively. A life he would have been jealous of watching someone else have. But it was his. And it was so fucking good.

They spent the rest of the afternoon unloading boxes until all of his personal lab supplies were unpacked and put away. He’d thanked everyone with a bottle of Ogden’s on their way out with an inconspicuous wink to each couple that left before he and Hermione returned back to Mayfair.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

“Ready for our walk?” Hermione asked once they’d showered and changed from their day of physical labor, Crookshanks slinking over to the bowl of food she’d just filled for him.

“Yes,” Draco nodded as he pulled on a light jacket for the cool May evening and held Hermione’s spring trench coat out for her as she slipped her arms into it.

“Thank you,” she said, turning with a smile as she tilted her chin up and he placed a kiss at her lips. And then she stepped back and buttoned her coat before pulling on her walking boots.

Draco opened the door and they walked down the steps where he took her hand at the sidewalk with a grin as they set off for Hyde Park as they did every night before dinner. 

“All the set-up today oddly made me even more excited for the work to come tomorrow,” Hermione said with a contented sigh. “I know it’ll be a long day but it’s all coming together so nicely.”

“It is,” he nodded. “And we’ll get the last of our licenses by the end of the week, once inspections are done, with the ribbon cutting next Monday.”

“Draco Malfoy, small shop owner,” Hermione said airily. “I like the sound of that.”

Draco scoffed lightly, “Draco Malfoy, Potions Master,” he corrected. He’d worked hard for that title, after all.

“Draco Malfoy, Potion Master,” Hermione nodded with a smile, “and small shop owner.”

Draco huffed a laugh, letting go of her hand and draping his arm over her shoulders as her arm snaked around his back. He kissed the top of her head as they crossed the street and walked through the gates into the park. 

“This is nice,” Hermione commented as she looked around, “They don’t usually have the paths lit like this when it’s not the holiday season.”

There were strings of lights in the trees and along the walking path that would take them to a large stone fountain where they liked to sit with their iced lattes in the summer, and their hot cappuccinos in the winter.

“How strange,” Draco said with a grin as he looked around at it all. “You know, I love this walk with you every night. Putting the work and the daytime behind us and getting to hear about your day; tell you about mine. It’s always so easy. It always has been easy. Since the first time we walked this path together, getting to know each other and breaking down barriers between our past and where we were at in our lives three years ago.”

“I love that sentiment,” Hermione leaned into him. 

“Me too,” he said, keeping his voice even. “I love that we can continue to do it. That I still get to walk this path with you, literally, and metaphorically. That we get to keep learning new things about each other; exploring new things with each other,” he said this one with a bit of suggestivity in the words as she huffed a laugh that he felt in her shoulders. And then the fountain came into view around a curve in the path and her head lifted from his shoulder as she gasped at the view of the fountain, also lit up with string lights ahead of them. But the lights weren’t the only thing that caught her breath. It was the group of people standing off to the side by the fountain: their friends, the Weasleys, her parents, Narcissa… “I want to keep walking this path with you, Hermione,” Draco said in a low voice, just to her; just for them. “For the rest of my life.” And then he stopped in front of the fountain and unwrapped his arm from her shoulders before his hand disappeared into his jacket pocket and he pulled out a small box, her eyes moving from the scene in front of her, to him as her eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise as she gasped again. 

“Draco,” she breathed shakily.

Draco lowered himself down to one knee, opening the box for her, an unnecessarily large diamond reflecting the glimmer of the string lights, before his free hand grasped hers and their eyes met, his soft and pleading as hers seemed to prick with tears and he felt her hand shake in his. “Please marry me, Hermione. Please let me love you for as long as we have in this world.”

She swallowed, her lips spreading into a wide smile as a tear broke past her lids and slid down her cheek, a camera going off somewhere around them that would surely capture the picture they’d share with Witch Weekly, “Of course I will, yes,” she pushed the words out as she beamed at him, pulling at his hand so he would stand as her arms wrapped around his neck and he lifted her into his arms, kissing her hard as cheering and whoops and a few inappropriate curse words from Theo erupted behind them. He kissed her until he couldn’t breathe, the salt from her tears falling onto his lips as they took in this beautiful, momentous moment for themselves.

Finally, he set her down and pulled back as she continued to shine that gorgeous smile up at him. “I love you,” he said. “I promise I am going to be everything I can for you.”

“You are already everything for me,” she said with a shake of her head, “I love you, Draco.”

He had just enough time to slip the ring onto her finger before they were enveloped by hugs and congratulations from everyone who had covertly gone through the park string-light set-up after their day at the apothecary and had been patiently waiting for them to celebrate this moment.

“I’ve got champagne!” Theo called, passing around flutes as everyone clinked them together and Draco wrapped his arm around Hermione’s back, looking down at her with another grin as they clinked their glasses together privately once more.

“I don’t know what’s ahead for us in the future, Hermione, but I know it’s the only future I’d want,” he said before she shook her head with a small huff and a beaming smile, leaning up for another kiss.

“The staff at Queen Bean Cafe are going to be over the moon tomorrow,” she said as her eyes drifted back open. And then Ginny was slinging an arm around her neck and squealing something in her ear as she laughed.

As Draco looked around again, he saw his mother talking with Mrs. Granger, catching words like venue and planner and floral arrangements as Mrs. Granger excitedly indulged her. Pansy had immediately grabbed Hermione’s hand, breaking down the characteristics of the ring for her, as she’d already berated him for all the details. Everyone around them was there to celebrate the love they had for each other, just like they’d done for their friends every day of the last three years. And if those years were anything to go by, he could say, without hesitation, that the next three; the next ten; the next fifty, were sure to bring even more unexpected adventures and challenges and accomplishments into their life. Their very, very good life. 

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

The End