Thursday Morning, March 30, 2000
"Are you sure you don't want to go with me this Saturday to the Minister's birthday ball?"
Oh good gods, she thought, rolling her amber eyes at the well-dressed, insistent man lounging at his desk across the room from her. "Positive. You really enjoy putting me in a bad mood on Thursdays, don't you, Malfoy?" Why am I saying no? Oh that's right, I hate these types of events.
"I don't know what you're on about, Granger. If anything I've been trying for a month to put you in a good mood this Saturday." She caught the lofty look that went right along with his wryly amused tone.
"You're trying to put me in a good mood by making me dress up and dance?" she scoffed.
"Yes, it'd be to your benefit. You work too much, Granger; you need to get out and live a little, mingle with other members of the species." He paused at the sight of her narrowed eyes before huffing dramatically. "I'm beginning to think you just don't like me."
That did it. She looked away and broke into a grin, finally losing the battle to keep a straight face. "You work just as much as I do! And I'm one of about three people in the entire Ministry who can stand to talk with you for more than five minutes, you prat."
His brow furrowed in thought for a moment. "Who are the other two?"
Hermione gave an unladylike snort. "Do the names Zabini and Nott ring a bell?"
"Well yes," he conceded, "but while they may not be complete idiots, I can't exactly take them as dates to social functions now can I? Potty and Weasel might get the wrong idea."
She glared at him, pursing her lips in annoyance for the poke at her two friends. "You still won't like how they act if you show up with me," she said, remembering the fit Ron and Harry threw when they realized she wasn't going to apply for a different partner. They still only semi-tolerated Draco, although Harry was honorable enough to stay professional while working with him. "Just take one of the secretaries who are always batting their eyelashes at you."
"Ah but you see the problem there is that they bore me out of my mind. You already pointed out that I can only talk with a few people here. I can only talk to the simpering secretaries."
Hermione tilted her head back and stared at him appraisingly, trying to figure out her partner's new desire for being able to hold a conversation with his dates. Draco kept up the mildly amused, somewhat aloof front he generally wore while bantering with her. Merlin, but the man was hard to read, although she liked to think she had spent enough time with the blond by now to know him better than most. People saw what he allowed them to see, which was helpful considering all the undercover work he did. It was very rarely that he displayed any deeper emotions, having been taught from a young age that wearing one's heart on one's sleeve was weakness. Unfortunately for most people, Malfoy didn't consider arrogance, impatience, or contempt of others' stupidity as anything he needed to hide - something that had resulted in him being shuffled from person to person before the Department Head dropped him in her lap.
"Did you just work that out or are you finally tired of sleeping around with the floozies your mother sets you up with?" Not that it concerned her, but she was curious. They were still young, but she eventually expected him to settle down with a Pureblooded witch from one of the old Wizarding families. As did everyone else, despite his revamped views on blood purity following the war; his reputation may have suffered greatly in recent years, but that had never seemed to deter the ladies who still chased after his body, pedigree, and money.
Smirking, he waved the question away. "It's just the pointless nattering I'd like a break from." Pausing to raise his eyebrows and look at her seriously, he added, "I'm a little pickier nowadays in any case."
She closed her eyes and heaved a sigh. Am I really doing this? "Fine, Malfoy. I'll save your brain from turning to mush on Saturday. Not like we don't already spend too much time together."
"You'll go?" he asked, showing his surprise.
"That's what I said didn't I?" Was it her imagination or did he seem almost... relieved?
Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger had been Aurors in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for six months, working together to find the many Death Eaters who had escaped capture after the Final Battle at Hogwarts.
Draco's punishment for allowing Death Eaters to infiltrate Hogwarts and attempting to kill Dumbledore back in sixth year started with a year of house arrest with his mother at Malfoy Manor. The Wizengamot decided that besides that and taking a quarter of the Malfoy fortune for war reparations, they would also make the young man useful upon his release. After all, he had hardly been as eager as many of the other Death Eaters to take the Dark Mark and follow Voldemort's orders. Along with all the knowledge and shady connections that came with possessing the Malfoy name, he was quite bright and resourceful, so it was decided that Draco would complete a year of Auror training and then work at the DMLE for a minimum of four years.
He wasn't thrilled, especially when he found out he wouldn't be working by himself, but it beat being Kissed by the Dementors like his father.
The Golden Trio had enrolled in a year of Auror training once they finished their seventh year at Hogwarts, with Hermione adding a few months on to the standard program length to focus on field medicine, and Ron dropping out halfway through to help George run the joke shop. She had barely been at the DMLE for a month before Malfoy got placed with her... he made, if possible, an even bigger fuss about working with her than he had with any of his other partners. But she stuck it out to spite him, knowing at the very least he wasn't going to be overly impulsive and force her to deal with his mistakes all the time. Not to mention he wasn't bad to look at.
Their current trust in one another probably had a lot to do with saving each other's neck on a regular basis, but Hermione liked to think that they had eased into a sort of friendship too. Draco seemed to respect her abilities more than he did anyone else's in the department - at least if the insults and scowls everyone else regularly received were anything to go by - and now, he had asked her on what most would consider a date.
That realization took over Hermione's train of thought and gave her an unfamiliar giddy feeling, a fluttering in her belly - the possible reason for which was promptly beaten down and manhandled into a deep corner of her mind. She was still able to smile slightly at how unlikely it sounded though: Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater and Slytherin Pureblood Prince, my partner, just asked me, the Muggleborn Gryffindor Princess and brains of the Golden Trio on a date, didn't he? A nonromantic date, of course, but still... this is not going to go over well with Harry and Ron. And I'm pretty sure Hell just froze over.
Merlin, I didn't think she'd ever agree, thought Draco, watching his partner concentrate on finishing up the paperwork for their most recent case. He had patiently been asking Hermione every Thursday for the past four weeks if she would come with him to the ball. For four weeks, he had known an attack was going to happen on Saturday night at some unknown location from one of the underground Death Eater cells he'd wormed his way into. The only people in the Ministry who knew were him, the Department Head, and the Minister himself, who had ordered, without much explanation, that slightly more Aurors than usual be on duty that night - preparing for a full-scale attack would be too obvious, so the Minister wanted to appear as just being a bit overcautious. Draco's connections in this cell were worth the minimal collateral damage expected from the attack, so no definite action was taken.
If too many people caught wind that he had supplied this information, his cover as a Ministry leak would be toast. Burnt toast. All that work down the drain and an avada for his trouble. He wanted to tell Hermione, but was discouraged by both his superiors and his instincts. If the attack happened at the birthday ball, other Aurors would be present and she would be where he could protect her. If - and this was a worry he had only mentioned in passing to the people he was reporting to - the underground murmurs of getting back at the Golden Trio were to be believed, he didn't want Hermione anywhere near her flat while nearly everyone she knew was out of reach at the ball. Spies in the Ministry would report that she almost never attended such events, and as a result, would be a sitting duck if the cell chose to target her.
Not that she couldn't defend herself; she was the most capable witch he knew. But strong wards and a single witch's Stunners wouldn't be enough to overcome a group of determined Voldemort sympathizers with more than a few brain cells between them. Telling her would only make her want to bring in a group of Aurors to lay in wait while she used herself as bait. Gryffindors, I swear. It was out of the question. Not only would she be risking herself unnecessarily, but the attackers would know that Hermione had been tipped off and Aurors had been ordered in to protect his partner. His famous, very-much-known-to-be-his-partner partner for whom he did not much care to find a replacement. Usually he went undercover using glamour spells or Polyjuice, but this latest case had required him to go in as himself, acting like he had access to confidential Auror information and wanted to go back to his old ways.
Her parents, another possible target, had remained under Ministry protection ever since the war so that wasn't his worry. Nor was the Potters' flat or Weasleys' hovel, but that was because he simply didn't care about the Golden Trio farther than his own third went - Potter he only tolerated for Hermione's sake and because they shared a workplace, but Weasel was still an obnoxious arse who wouldn't drop the subject of Draco's past. He had resigned himself a few months back to the fact that he cared in some way for the stubborn, curly-haired know-it-all, but refused to think about it any more in-depth than that; nothing would come of it anyway. They worked well together, and she no longer hesitated or looked suspiciously at him like the majority of the building, which was all that mattered at the moment. He refused to let one of the few friendly faces he had a legitimate claim to in this world be taken away.
"What?! Why am I only finding out about this now?" Ginny cried, chastising her friend during their lunch break in Diagon Alley.
"Well I only said yes on Thursday," Hermione explained, patiently weathering the lightning storm of indignation that was Harry's fiancee and the Holyhead Harpies' seeker.
"I would've thought Malfoy of all people would know you needed more than a couple of days to get ready for something formal like this, being as you never go."
"Oh, you're on about the timing? He's been asking every Thursday for a month. I've just kept saying no is all."
"What? I can't believe this! Well now we're really going to have to make you look good."
"Ginny, I already told you it's not a romantic date; we work together, and he's still Malfoy."
"Yes he is Malfoy, the albino ferret who used to treat you like scum on a daily basis in school, who now treats you with a sort of respect and possessiveness that I've never seen him direct at anyone else." Ginny remembered one morning just a couple of months earlier that she had visited Harry down in the DMLE and decided to drop in on Hermione to coordinate their lunch plans for the day. She stopped short in the doorway to Hermione and Malfoy's joint office upon seeing Malfoy seated at her friend's desk with his feet up and his arms crossed. Watching Hermione sleep, obviously deep in thought. I was under the impression these two were past the planning-each-other's-demise phase, but apparently not, she had mused. Clearing her throat to announce her presence, Ginny was awarded with a gratifying jump on Malfoy's part. And a brief flash of defensiveness in his silver eyes before the expression smoothed over and he proceeded to ask what she wanted. Quietly, so as not to wake his sleeping partner. Interesting.
"He's pretty affectionate toward his Mum," Hermione muttered uncomfortably, a slight blush staining her cheeks. Ginny just looked at her narrowly. "Honestly Gin, he's no stranger to sleeping around - although he does seem to be getting better about that; but still, it's not like he's holding out for someone special so get it out of your head."
"I bet he doesn't look at any of those bimbos like a dog guarding a bone, though."
"Just let it go!" Hermione finally cried, refusing to let Ginny give her any kind of hope in something so clearly hopeless. "We both know he's going to marry some rich Pureblood girl, so it's a dead-end anyway. And we work together! He's probably just glad he has someone in the department who won't get him killed."
"Accidentally, or on purpose?" Ginny couldn't help asking dryly, pleased that she had finally managed to get a reaction from Hermione and now content to leave the subject for another time.
"Both." The other Aurors held Draco in as much contempt as he did them; most didn't trust him as far as they could throw him, despite having proved his worth on numerous occasions. He still occasionally found that the Aurors meant to work with him on group assignments tended to disappear, leaving him uncovered and alone to deal with the enemy. He had reluctantly admitted this to Hermione after getting injured a few times and she grilled him about how he always seemed to take curses to the back. It had taken persistence and an unexpected display of worry mixed with anger on her part, and pain medication and being confined to a hospital bed on his to pry out the truth. She was sure it happened more often than Draco was letting on too, so from then on she did her best to make certain either she, Harry, or Theo were present to keep him safe in the field. She also thoroughly chewed out the Aurors who had disappeared on him; that had been entertaining for Draco, and a warning to everyone else in the department who still viewed him as a Death Eater.
Ginny's voice cut into her memories. "So do you want to go shopping for dress robes tonight after work? Tomorrow too if we don't find anything right off the bat. Then we can get ready at my place on Saturday."
"Sure, Gin. That sounds like a plan."
Near the Ministry of Magic's entrance in Muggle London, Draco sat down to lunch at a cafe with Blaise Zabini who had worked his way up to a few positions beneath the Head of Magical Sporting Events and Regulations. Blaise kept professional Quidditch players' brooms up to regulation standards, and was the go-to man for free Quidditch tickets - free for a favor of course. The suave Slytherin had never taken the Dark Mark, his family preferring to stay neutral in the war, so he escaped the fate of Draco and Theo who were now stuck in the Aurors' department.
"You look like shit, mate," Blaise stated bluntly; the dark circles under his friend's grey eyes spoke of sleepless nights, most likely from the nightmares he had about Voldemort's stay at Malfoy Manor and the war in general.
"Why thank you Blaise, I didn't realize you cared."
"I don't really, except when I'm forced to look at you for extended periods of time. What's happening with your pretty lioness? She finally agree to go to the ball or are you going to have to kidnap her?" Blaise was aware that Draco felt his partner would be in danger the night of the ball for reasons the blond could not disclose.
"She gave in today. Just in time too. I had to hit her from the angle that I was tired of not being able to hold a conversation with the girls I normally take out."
"Are you?" Blaise inquired, eyebrow raised.
"Am I what?"
"Tired of not being able to hold a conversation with all the empty-headed birds you bring home to shag?"
Draco fixed him with a glare. "Perhaps. But as you so eloquently put it, I don't take them to fine restaurants expecting intellectually stimulating discussions."
"Right, that's what you have Granger for. Oh, last time she came to say hello, I overheard Smith and MacLeary in my department chatting about how difficult she might be to get in the sack. Theo also seems to be paying more attention to her lately, if you get my drift."
"What exactly are you getting at Zabini?" Draco replied evenly, doing his best not to look like he was going to maim someone very shortly.
Blaise sat back with a sly smile. "Only that you should figure out why I'm currently rather frightened for the men I just named off. I was actually kidding about Theo, but the other two deserve it I suppose."
"I already told you, she's the only person besides you and Nott I actually talk to in the whole building. It's natural that I'm protective of her; she's one of the few Aurors I trust not to hex me when my back is turned or let me die from sheer incompetence."
"Sounds like you think very highly of her," Blaise said in his best 'yes, go on' voice.
"Everyone thinks highly of her! She's bloody Granger! She probably could have given old Mad-Eye a run for his money with all the spells shoved in that big head of hers."
Blaise grinned. "And what a lovely head it is, don't you think?"
"Shut up, Blaise. I don't like what you're implying."
This made Blaise smile even wider than he already was, enjoying the game he was playing with his friend's head, which would hopefully end with Draco realizing he had certain feelings for the brunette in question. "I'm implying that you should get your head out of your arse and take action before some bastard who won't respect her like MacLeary, does."
With a sigh, Draco finally capitulated to his nosey friend who refused to let this go. "Even if that was something I wanted, it's not like she would actually consider saying yes; I bullied her mercilessly in school. She knows I used to sleep around a lot, knows that my mother wouldn't welcome her with open arms. Merlin, she was tortured in my house by my aunt! While I watched! Plus Granger was practically the poster child for the Light during the war, along with The-Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die and Weasel, both of whom are still quite attached to her and quite opposed to me."
"Have you apologized for all the crap you gave her in school?"
"Of course I have, you idiot," he snapped.
"How about the torture?" Blaise continued, unaffected.
"Months ago, although she still has nightmares about Bellatrix every now and again. Do you think we could work together hardly at all if we had those things hanging over our heads? But that's another thing. She probably wouldn't say yes for the simple fact that we're partners."
"Well her godsawful taste in friends and being coworkers may be issues, but all that drivel about being on different sides is pointless now. She's quite obviously put it behind her."
"How can you know that?" Draco asked, not wanting to start hoping for more than he already had for fear of losing it all on a gamble.
"The way she interacts with you now is comfortable; you used to make her tense up like a rubber band, remember? And if the past has ceased to matter to you, why would it matter to her? She's always been a bleeding heart anyway, so getting a second chance was nearly a given so long as you were sincere."
"Alright fine. If you were in my shoes, how would you theoretically proceed?"
"Well you are going on a date aren't you? Don't go all out Casanova on her, it'd freak her out, but at least show off your dancing skills and be a gentleman." A mischievous glint suddenly came into his eyes. "Maybe you could get together in secret with the She-Weasel. I'm sure she'd be thrilled to meddle in her friend's love life."
"No," came the flat reply.
"Hmm. You know, I might just talk to Little Red myself. I won't even count it as a favor you need to pay me back for," Blaise went on, seriously considering following through, and having far too much fun with this in Draco's opinion.
"Joy," Draco said, in a tone that indicated he felt anything but. "Whatever the hell you end up deciding to do, don't let Granger catch on. I'm going to return to the office." With that he got up and began the short walk back.
Blaise stared after him for a moment, his 'plotting' look firmly in place. Looked like Weaselette would be getting an owl soon.
The rest of the work day passed without incident for Hermione, although Draco had seemed rather quiet when he returned from lunch. She didn't mind; it gave her a chance to sort through the conversation she'd had with Ginny earlier.
What would she do if her friend was right, if Malfoy's feelings were more than friendly? Did he really look at her like that? Would she jump in? Should she jump in? What scared her was that she wanted to, really wanted to see if, given the chance, it could ever pan out between two former enemies.
Draco's thoughts were also busy, and one thing in particular was bothering him. Turning to Hermione suddenly, he asked, "Hey Granger, by any chance do you know Smith or MacLeary from Blaise's department?"
Her eyebrows furrowed. "Well Smith was in here just the other day asking about confiscation procedures for broomsticks, all very run-of-the-mill material really, and MacLeary - well, I don't think I could pick him out of a lineup but the name is familiar. Why do you ask?"
Keeping his eyes on the file in front of him, he told her, "They're not a good sort. Just thought you may want to know." He was slightly flushed with anger at the idea of Smith stopping in while he wasn't there, but managed to keep his face blank.
Hermione wondered what he had found out today that gave him the opinion that the two men were bad news. "Was it something Blaise said?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to tell me what it was if I ask?"
"No."
She considered this and raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"
"Probably not."
"Alright then," she said resignedly, trusting his judgment.
A few minutes passed in silence, and five o'clock was drawing near. Draco had to come back at seven to check in and make a drop in a Muggle park; he would be supplying the cell he'd infiltrated with outdated information on the Ministry yet again. It was nothing very dangerous, so Hermione didn't feel it was necessary to back him up, or hang back in case he needed patching up afterwards. They could communicate using galleons spelled with a Protean Charm anyway. If Draco needed her he would grasp his own galleon and concentrate on where he was, and the coin she always carried in her pocket would heat up and display his location. The coins had come in handy on more than one occasion; Hermione used her training as a field medic more than she ever wanted to.
"Are you set for tonight?" she asked as she got ready to go meet up with Ginny.
"Yeah, don't worry about it. Gunther" - his high-ranking liaison in the cell - "seemed pretty convinced I'm committed to the cause when I looked through his thoughts with a discreet Legilimens during the last meeting. He didn't realize skilled Occlumens could lie with their memories. Unless he's also an Occlumens and I'm getting played. But that's a bit of a leap."
"Agreed. It's going to be at that one park in Wales right?"
"Yes. If I do need you to come, apparate into that patch of bushes a few hundred feet away from the drop point, the ones south of the pond."
"Got it. I'm going to be in Diagon Alley shopping for a dress with Ginny; did you want anything?"
"No, I'm good... But tell her to ignore any owls she receives from Zabini," Draco answered cryptically.
This request was met with raised eyebrows. "Will do. Be careful."
"Always," he replied, giving her a reassuring smile as she headed to the door and left.
Hermione and Ginny raided the four formal shops in Diagon Alley that were still open before they found the right gown - a flowing, sleeveless, ivory-with-gold-trim Grecian style dress.
"I know just how to do your hair with this one. Now we can get those strappy gold sandals you liked too; I know how much you hate walking in heels," Ginny giggled.
"They're death traps! I don't -" she cut off in the middle of what was going to be an entertaining rant about women objectifying themselves as the galleon in her pocket heated up. No longer paying attention to Ginny, she grabbed it and squinted to read it in the failing light. 'Your flat. Blood.'
Hermione blanched, and turning back to Ginny who was in the middle of demanding to know what was going on, she interrupted in a rushed voice, "It's Malfoy. He's back at my flat and he's hurt. I need to go, Gin, bye." She turned on the spot and apparated back to her flat, leaving Ginny staring at the space she had occupied a second earlier.
Malfoy was on the kitchen floor, groaning faintly and covered in blood, and she rushed over to him while digging in her bottomless beaded bag for the blood replenishing potion he was going to need. "Malfoy. Malfoy! Draco!" That seemed to get his attention; his eyes cracked open to watch as she felt how weak his pulse was. "Her-muh-my-nee..." he choked out as she quickly brushed back the hair on his forehead and shh'ed him before grabbing her wand. She scrambled to stem the bleeding from what seemed to be long, shallow gashes all over his body using a healing spell to disinfect the wounds and knit the skin back together. Cutting off his shirt, she could see a couple of gashes on his torso that had damaged the muscle as well, so she used a different spell to mend the fibers, covering the wounds with gauze until they'd be completely healed over a few hours later.
Easing his head up onto her lap, Hermione uncorked the blood replenishing potion with her teeth and set it to his lips. "Come on, Draco, come on, swallow it, damnit," she muttered worriedly. Draco was still conscious enough to follow her directions, and she sighed in relief as he finished the potion before passing out. Waving her wand over the length of his body, she checked for internal injuries, only finding a splinched spleen which was quickly taken care of with another spell.
She felt for his pulse again, finding it reassuringly stronger than before. Sighing in relief, Hermione vanished the blood all over her clothes, her partner and her kitchen floor before levitating him through the living room, to her own room and onto the unmade bed. The blond was pale, even more so than usual, but that was to be expected considering how much blood he had lost. She was amazed he had managed to apparate to her flat in this condition, and was glad she had changed the wards to let him in a while back.
Removing his shoes, Hermione placed them by the door. She then began tugging the tangled blue blankets out from underneath the man, before untangling and replacing them over his prostrate form. Deciding it was best to let him sleep through the night, she went into the guest bedroom that doubled as a library to pull down the covers on the lumpy bed. She would get the whole story in the morning.
Going back to her kitchen, which thankfully no longer looked like a war zone, Hermione gathered up the day's purchases to place in her closet. She paused in the doorway of her bedroom and couldn't help but smirk a little. Draco Malfoy was in her bed.