House: Gryffindor

Year: 4

Category: Drabble

Prompt: [Speech] "If you say that one more time then I might actually die"

Word Count: 820

"Sweet Merlin." Draco Malfoy groaned, not giving a damn about how unbecoming his behavior might be.

It was certainly not a good time to be one of the Co-Supervisors of the Department of International Magical Cooperation (a title that he had scoffed at in an equally ungentlemanly way). He, and his bushy haired co-worker he supposed, had been inundated with work following a peace summit that had been nothing short of an absolute disaster.

"Leave it to the most-high profile wizards in the world to act like children over their places at the dinner table," he thought to himself as he skimmed an article in the Daily Prophet that featured exceptionally shoddy reporting.

He was just reaching for the next newspaper in the stack when Hermione Granger gave an exasperated moan of her own from somewhere behind the mountain of books she had constructed on her desk.

"What's wrong, Granger? Has there been an avalanche?" He smirked, hoping that she might bless him with one of her famous outbursts.

While he wasn't foolish enough to write Hermione Granger off as some office bimbo, he couldn't bring himself to fear her, even when all five feet of her was quaking with rage. She was just too damn cute, he concluded, as he rose from his desk chair to check on her.

"Knock, knock, Hermione," he said, gently rapping his knuckles against the smooth wood grain of her desk top.

"No one's home," she answered, her voice muffled by the papers on which her face was currently resting.

"Good thing I have a warrant then," Draco responded before gently pulling Hermione's chair away from her desk, forcing her to look up. "What's going on, then, Granger?"

"I have no idea what we're going to do about this fiasco. Everyone is angry and no one is listening and if we don't get this situation under control soon, all of the work that we've put into this agreement will have been for nothing!"

"Alright, Granger, calm down," Draco soothed, gently rubbing Hermione's back, "you're the Brightest Witch of Our Age, and if there is anyone who can wrangle these wankers, it's you."

"Don't call me that, Malfoy."

"What, Granger? If you're allowed to call my Malfoy, it's only fair that I can use your last name too."

"Not that," she replied, rolling her eyes, "the other part," she finished as she dropped her head into her hands.

"What? The Brightest Witch of Our Age? Why shouldn't I call you that? It's true, and it's a grand compliment, considering that I am of your age."

"If that were true, I wouldn't be sitting in this office dealing with all of this." She gestured, pointing out the growing chaos that was her desk.

"Pray tell, then, what it is you think you should be doing with your time, Brightest Witch of Our Age?"

"If you say that again, then I might actually die." She groaned, letting her head fall back against her chair with a dull thud.

"Hermione, I'm going to remind you of the incredible facts of your existence until you've internalized them so deeply that you've forgotten a time that they weren't a part of your identity. I assure you that you are the Brightest Witch of Our Age."

"Okay, I'm kicking you out," Hermione commanded, giving Draco a gentle shove towards his desk.

"Oh no you aren't, not until you tell me what you are," he countered, moving to lean against Hermione's desk so that she couldn't escape in her work.

"A perfectly average, run of the mill witch."

"Granger, I'm not going to go away just because you're willing it to happen."

"And yet here we are," she grumbled, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Why are you being so stubborn, Granger? So help me Merlin if you say it's the result of some principle of yours."

"That kind of title is too much pressure, Malfoy. If I mess something up, it's immediately intensified because of that stupid nickname."

"Hermione, the only thing I've ever known you to mess up is your dating life."

Hermione's mouth popped open as if she wanted to reply, but quickly closed again as if she had thought better of it.

"Fine, I'm the Brightest Witch of Our Age, Malfoy," Hermione conceded, before scooting her chair to her desk and giving Draco a sharp poke to the hip, "now go back to your desk and stop bothering me."

"I knew you'd come around, Granger." Draco smiled, before bending to give Hermione a tender kiss to the cheek, "I've always known it, and I hope you do too," he whispered before returning to his desk.

While Draco would never admit it, he found himself rejoicing in the delicate blush that had begun to spread over Hermione's cheeks.

"Score one for Draco Malfoy, brightest Wizard of Our Age," he congratulated himself as he returned to the pile of newspapers once more.