A/N: A drabble/thing for Wonder Woman Kyonomiko. Happy Christmas, ma'am.
Thanks to Mrs. Ren for giving this a quick once over to check if it was awful and/or confusing.
This is otherwise unalpha'd and unbeta'd. All errors are my own.
I own no part of Harry Potter.
"Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better."
Draco groans in his hand. And considers jutting Granger in the ribs with his elbow (she once told him it was 'unusually bony'), but decides to pull their shared blanket more to his side of the on-call cot they're currently sharing, grinning as she shivers and presses her back (and bum) further into his.
After all, he hadn't linked her absent-minded singing to his insufferable migraines in months. At least a year, if he's being honest with himself.
Which he's not at the moment, thank you very much.
Right now is for sleeping after working the last twenty-four hours, and volunteering to take this call-shift with Granger. Now is certainly not the time to allow oneself a moment of reflection to admit how much he actually missed Granger's lyrical melodies filling silent voids last month when she went on a brief holiday with the Ministry-Swot Weasley brother.
The present moment is for letting every clatter, clank and footfall in the surprisingly busy hallway of St. Mungo's dwindle and fade; not for relishing the memory of how soothing it was to have Granger's silvery dulcet tones meet him at the threshold of the break room door before he caught sight of her hunched over a stack of charts and parchment rolls. And he would sooner kiss Theo than to lay here and stew any longer how those luscious murmurs snagged him like an invisible net, drawing and depositing him to the chair next to hers for chart reviews her first morning back from said holiday.
In fact, there are only a few Draco Lucius Malfoy approved thoughts at precise moment. The first determining the reason behind the red rims around her chocolate and cinnamon irises when she lifted her gaze to tell him goodbye before padding out the breakroom. They'd been too busy with hellish double shifts to make inquiries (he blames it on December and Christmas insanity).
The second acceptable thought is that Granger's arse is heavenly. An allowable subcategory under the aforementioned train of thought is to ponder if it's possible to volunteer work call and double shifts with her more often to feign need for the cot always at the exact moment she claims need.
The third—
"Would you kindly shut it and give me back my half of the blanket you stole?"
"Huh?" He blinks and rolls over. The light from the corridor sneaking under the door illuminates her narrow gaze waiting for him. He hadn't even released his back felt cool and oddly lonely at the loss of her touch though their layers of Healer robes. Another two blinks and he decides that although obviously bothered, Granger's look is lacking the quintessential edge when she is truly irate about something.
"I can hear your thoughts whirring and buzzing like a snitch trying to out fly Harry," she elaborates, and he feels heat inexplicably warm his neck. "And if you kindly don't stop thinking and just go to sleep," she continues, "I'm going to demand you leave and let me have the bloody room to myself like I insisted on in the first place."
Ah, well, if she wants to play…
"I've just as much right to be in here as you do," he retorts. "You're not the only Healer on this ward working double shifts the past couple of weeks."
He can hear the typical eye roll better than he can see it. "I never said you didn't deserve the break." She snatches and tugs part of the blanket, and he finds himself biting back a grin at the triumphant gleam in her eyes when she brings her portion of the blanket to her chin. "As a matter of fact, Malfoy, I specifically remember telling you that I could handle things this call and that you should go home to rest."
"As if I'd be resting at all tonight, Granger."
Her grip loosens and her breathing shifts to something drawn and forced. She rolls onto her back, staring without blinking at the ceiling. "You're worried about them, too?"
He wants to sniff and scoff. He wants to emphatically decline her query… "Yes," he hears himself murmur, and makes to lie on his back now as well. "I'd hoped Theo and Blaise would drop out of Auror training, but they thrived and seemed to get on well enough. Theo even enjoys being partnered with Potter, funny enough. And I loathe the gnawing in my gut when I hear of missions involving Death Eaters still at large, but—"
"I know," she interrupts, a habit that once infuriated him, but he finds it only mildly bothering now. "Harry never tells me details, but he's started this thing of sending a brief note before he goes out on big things like tonight's raid we're on potential call for."
"How precious," he snorts. Something to distract him from forbidden musings at last.
"It's thoughtful!"
She rose to the bait and he smirks. "It's silly." He rolls back over to meet her rebuttal head-on. "He knows you'll know if there's something dangerous happening because the head of our department will have received word and he makes inquiries for an extra Healer or two to be on call to be ready for potential injuries." She opens her mouth with a possible objection, but he doesn't let her cut-in, having one last niggling worry that needs to be calmed. "And just what does the future Missus Potter think of this level of closeness you share with her fiance?"
"Luna's been friends with us since Umbridge's tyrannical reign," she counters, as if that should make everything self-explanatory. "She knows Harry is family." There's watery shake to her voice that says what she doesn't include.
He sighs. "Things didn't work out with Weasley?"
She sighs. "I don't want to talk about it." A pause, and she amends that to, "At least, not now."
He allows a silent beat to pass. "Some other restless shift, then." The soft giggle she utters warms him inside-out, emboldening him to voice another observation. "You took call last Christmas also. And you stayed at Hogwarts Christmas our eighth year."
He can hear her lips purse, then twist. She gives a slow exhale. "Another story I'd rather save; unless you'd like to explain how you know these things because you had nowhere else to be as well."
"Pass," he says. Now, in a bed with Granger, with her skin brushing against his as she folds and unfolds her arms over her chest, is not the time he wants to delve into the complexities of his parental relationships while they're under house arrest. Especially with his father…
Everything inside him freezes as something, presumably Granger's socked ankle, touches his and she doesn't move it.
She. DOESN'T. Move. It.
He pulls a slow inhale. "Gran—"
"POTTER'S DOWN! I REPEAT: POTTER IS DOWN AND WE NEED A HEALER!"
They leap from the cot and Granger pulls her hair back, securing it with one of those black ties bands on her wrist as Draco throws open the door...
Finding Theo gesturing frantically about. "WHO THE BUGGERING HELL IS—DRACO!" His voice lowers as he crosses the room in a flash with his impossibly lanky stride. "Potter's been hexed beyond recognition and I couldn't tell if there's a timer on any of it and how last it will all be and if you don't fix him now, his fiancé may dump him altogether, robbing me of my first opportunity to give a best man speech."
"You're not the best man!" Potter's voice yells out from across the room. Draco spots him as two Medi-Witches are working in tandem to levitate him towards a free room.
"You know I am, Potter," Theo calls out over his shoulder, then turns with a flourish to follow the Medi-Witches, "Weasley dumped you for the joke shop, years ago, and—" He turns back around, making levelling a glare at the two flabbergasted Healers. "Why are you two just standing there? Potter's face needs fixing, Blaise is about to come in for some Skele-grow and there are several more Aurors to follow in need of fixings and whatnot here and there."
Granger catches up to the lanky, loquacious wizard first. "But you're all alright for the most part?"
Theo snorts. "Of course we are. The raid was a smash, they never saw us coming. The last of the runaway Death Eaters have been rounded up, we'll be filling out paperwork for weeks, and what in the name of Salazar are you waiting on Draco?" It's only then Draco realises he hasn't moved. "You better not be working with half a brain because I've just interrupted a long-overdue shag—OW!"
A swift kick in the shin as Draco passes silences the wizard, and he'd deny the now-red tinge to his cheeks if it weren't for the fact that Granger's cheeks mirrored a similar flush.
Interesting.
He'd have to add that to the permitted pondering list.
"Well," Granger huffed as she met him by the Floo station.
"Indeed," Draco mused, fighting to keep from falling asleep on the spot.
"For a successful raid—"
"There sure were several issues to resolve," he finishes. She grins and his insides suddenly feel quite warm and toasty. Like a perfect cuppa.
She waves and walks towards a fireplace, offering a Happy Christmas as she walks. His heart sinks as he watches her walk. He permits three seconds of indecision before…
"Malfoy—"
"Granger—"
His mouth snaps shut and he rubs his neck as she giggles.
"Look, I've obviously just come out of a relationship a few weeks back, but I was wondering if you'd like to have tea with me." He hesitates and she quickly adds, "after a kip and a shower, of course. Or full night's sleep, if you'd prefer." Her head tilts in anticipation and he can't help but marvel at the graceful curve of her chin and neck. "We could talk about all those things we decided to pass on earlier...or save those for another time. Whatever you'd prefer."
He finds he has no preference, just as long as she would be involved. But he says instead. "Sounds lovely, Granger." And confirms a time of arrival before they disappear through separate fireplaces.