Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
Summary: Hermione just really wants to smash their faces together in order to generate the eternal love they're supposed to share.
#
It's very obvious, to everyone. The way Harry's default face around Malfoy is a potent mix of I love you come swap saliva with me and oh my god go away you're icky my friends said not to play with you. The way Harry frowns when people ask him about Malfoy, and then makes That Face that makes it clear as day to everyone that, yep, the Boy Who Lived has the hots for his childhood nemesis, and he has it bad.
And then there's Malfoy. Malfoy, who sends heated, wistful glances at Harry when he thinks no one can see it, the way he's so clearly pining after the brunet, the way he's just so Malfoy about it all that it makes people want to shake their heads and coo about silly boys and their feelings.
Hermione watches them. It's like a hobby for her, people-watching. Only it's not as creepy as it seems because she doesn't spy on people, she just observes, and there's a world of difference and alright, shutting up now. So… Hermione likes watching people, but most of all she likes watching Harry and Malfoy.
''It's like this complex animal mating ritual, wizard edition,'' comments Ginny, idly nibbling on her breadstick. The ginger – redhead, she insists, but she's really a ginger – joins Hermione in her Potter-watching sometimes. ''Here you have two males, both hot, both single, and both too proud to admit that the very thought of the other makes them pant like a bitch in heat. And they circle around each other like lions preying on a wounded gazelle.''
Hermione got over her embarrassment about sex a long time ago. It's kind of a must if you're friends with Ginny, let alone with two blockheaded boys who think it's the height of amusing to tell jokes about farts, belching, vomit, boobs, farts again, and more boobs. She inspects the two Aurors standing on opposite sides of the street as far away from each other as they could get, overseeing some minor arrest. ''Ten sickles says Harry crumbles first.''
Ginny scoffs, pointing accusingly her half-eaten breadstick at Hermione's face, making the older woman go cross-eyed. ''Yeah right. Harry's had, like, years of practice in self-delusion. You can't fool me, I dated the bloke. I bet Malfoy. All that pure-blood denial, you know. Malfoy's got to be bursting at the seams by now from all the repressed crap that's accumulated over the years.''
Hermione is forced to admit that, yeah, pure-bloods are weird, so… maybe. But she still bets Harry. She knows her best friend – you can't fool the power of female friendship insight!
''Who do you think would top?'' Ginny wonders, a dazed look colouring her face for a moment. ''Malfoy? Bet Harry wouldn't take that lying down.'' A sloppy smirk licks up at her lips and she jabs Hermione with her elbow. ''Heh, lying down. Get it, get it?''
Hermione exacts revenge by pinching her friend under the table. ''I get it. And you have such a juvenile sense of humour, you know that? Besides, Harry would so totally wear the pants in that relationship. Malfoy just seems like someone with a dominatrix kink. Harry could pull that off – the leather, the chains. Maybe a whip.''
The two take a moment to appreciate that mental image. ''Is it wrong that I'm a little turned on by that?'' Hermione asks uncertainly. ''Harry's like a brother to me, and Malfoy's Malfoy, but… damn.''
''You're dating my brother,'' Ginny says blankly, still caught up contemplating the image of Harry in leather. ''I'm pretty sure there's something wrong with you for that anyway, so if you want to go all the way and chase after Harry too, well. You have my sincere blessings. But Harry's gay. Heaven knows that I wouldn't've had any problems with Harry going all alpha male on me – you think I would've let him go just like that?''
Hermione pulls up short at that. ''Gay? Are you sure? He did date you, you know? And then there was the whole Cho fiasco in fourth through fifth year.'' Hermione's relatively sure that Harry's at least bi, if not completely straight. And Malfoy looks like a girl enough to pass for one if he ever decided to wear a dress, and besides. He's Malfoy. The universe makes exceptions for people like him.
Ginny just shrugs. ''Gay, not gay… who cares? He's obviously got the hots for Malfoy. Oh, hey, look at that!'' She waves her hand at Harry, who's shifting on his feet while the woman whose shop he and Malfoy prevented from getting robbed curls up next to him, all flushed cheeks and starry eyes and –oh dear! – wandering hands. ''He's got his bitch-face on again.''
Harry's bitch-face is a thing of beauty. Harry's bitch-face manages to convey his exact levels of anxiety and oh god why me while at the same time remaining perfectly bland and pleasant. It makes him look a bit like a baby panda who's had its fur shaved off but is unwilling to admit to such a thing ever happening.
Hermione muffles a squeal in her hands. ''And look at Malfoy!''
Malfoy takes pining to new heights, and his sudden snarling drives off the unfortunate woman.
''Mm,'' Ginny nods sagely. ''Here we see a specimen of alpha male feeling threatened by a lower ranked female looking to mate herself to the male's desired partner. The partner, hereby codenamed Nile – get it? – is using all his energy to ignore both the male and the female throwing themselves at him. There is only one way this can end.''
Hermione hides a grin behind her teacup. ''Yup! And that's in tears, with lots of collateral damage done to the surrounding property. Can you imagine Ron when he finds out that Harry and Malfoy are together together? He'll have a heart attack. And I'll just sit back and enjoy it.''
''We'll all sit back and enjoy it,'' Ginny agrees.
They watch as Harry twists out of both the woman's and Malfoy's grip, doing that shimmy-dance thing with his butt that makes everyone in the vicinity stop and stare. Well, more like gawk, but who gives a fiddle, right? Hermione hums, Ginny studies the movement clinically, and Malfoy looks like someone brained him with a fish, that struck stupid look clashing with his slicked back hair in the best way possible.
It's purely a scientific curiosity that drives Hermione to ask: ''Can you imagine what their babies would look like?''
Ginny chokes. ''Oh Merlin – they'd be, like, Veela-level cuties. With Harry's eyes, all big and gooey, but they would have Malfoy's egos, and the world would bow down to them. I bet you wouldn't be able to say no to them.''
''All hail the Overlords,'' Hermione says dryly. And then: ''Harry would be a momma-bear, you just know it. He'd be one of those dads that don't let their daughters date until they're twenty, and even then he would gather Ron and George and everyone and corner the poor boy on his way home for a talk about – well. I pity his daughter, and I pity his daughter's boyfriends.''
''And Malfoy would teach them to be ruthless little gold-diggers and they would be so adorable,'' Ginny adds, chewing on another breadstick. Hermione envies her; the redhead is a professional Quidditch player so all the fat just melts off her. ''How would they give birth to them?'' Ginny wonders. ''Would they, what? Crap it out? Damn, but arse-babies have never been so attractive.''
Hermione makes a vague jerking motion with her hands. ''Yuck, we don't talk about that, ever. And anyway. First they have to get together.''
They both stare at the two men.
''Yeah,'' Ginny drawls. ''They're going to need some help in that department.''
Harry studiously ignores everybody around him and continues to nod along to the testimony of some witness or other. Malfoy growls like an animal at everyone who looks at him, at Harry – at anyone, really. They need help. Desperately. Hermione just really wants to smash their faces together in order to generate the eternal love they're supposed to share.
''Maybe if we locked them in a closet?'' Ginny suggests, eyeing the empty basket that used to house breadsticks. Before, that is, that Ginny devoured them all. ''I don't think anything short of being forced to do the dirty will get through Harry's thick skull.''
''I doubt rape will inspire the tender feelings of love and devotion to blossom in Harry's little black heart,'' Hermione responds. ''A blind date, perhaps?''
Ginny smirks. ''Yeah, good luck in getting Malfoy to agree to that. He'd probably summon a couple of demons to escort you off his property. Or he would rip out your lungs and serve them to Harry like some weirdo kind of courting gift. And if Harry hears that you tried to set him up on a blind date, he might just actually eat those lungs of yours.''
Hermione blinks slowly, carefully crushing her sorbet into liquid pink mush with one shiny silver spoon. ''You disturb me sometimes, you know.''
''So do you,'' Ginny retorts. ''The tender feelings of love and devotion, really? And who says blossom in this day and age?''
''I bet Malfoy does.''
Ginny stares at Malfoy like it will somehow allow her to glean into his soul. The blond shifts from foot to foot, visibly uncomfortable, though it's hard to say if it's because of the force of Ginny's blatant staring or Harry's continued pretence of living inside a bubble. A bubble that doesn't contain Malfoy. ''Yeah,'' the redhead says finally, sounding a little in awe. ''I bet he does say that. I bet he says that all the time. I bet he says that during sex.''
Hermione wrinkles her nose. ''That's so gross.''
''Oh Harry!'' Ginny cries out and clutches her chest, making the other patrons of the café turn and stare at them. ''Your excellent technique makes my heart blossom in love! Err, from love. And your sophisticated style floods my body and the tender devotion that blazes within my spirit with every –''
''That's enough!'' Hermione slaps a hand over Ginny's mouth. ''Ew – did you just lick me?''
Ginny shrugs unapologetically. ''You were asking for it. And your hands taste like strawberries. But back to the topic: getting Harry and Malfoy on a date. I honestly can't think of anything. I'm drawing up a complete blank. Maybe if we kidnapped Malfoy and sent Harry the ransom letter?''
''That –'' Hermione blinks once, twice. ''…That might actually work. Harry has that hero complex of his, and Malfoy would make a pretty decent princess if we gagged him. The hair, you see.'' Ginny nods along sympathetically. The hair, indeed. Hermione hums. ''We'd just have to find someone to help us with the technical details, which –''
''Is pretty easy,'' Ginny declares. ''Just threaten Ron with sleeping in the dog house and we're all set. He'd never dare disobey you with sex on the line.''
Hermione feels like she should feel a bit more wracked with guilt over this whole shindig that she actually is. This is her best friend, her brother in all but blood, her platonic soulmate she's talking about here. And she's plotting with his ex-girlfriend on the best way to kidnap his fated lover. But then again…
Malfoy has his finger under Harry's nose, hissing something with an expression of utter rage on his flushed face, and Harry's going a bit cross-eyed in the attempt to keep the offending finger in his field of vision. The poor baby looks so confused as to why his partner is angry. The random people on the street are shaking their heads, and the street practically reeks of romance and boys being stupid.
…Nah. Anything Hermione does from this point onward would be an improvement in the situation.
Hermione soaks up her strawberry sorbet soup with the complementary sponge, making Ginny pull a disgusted face. ''I think we'll have to enlist the help of George and Lee for this, and also possibly Luna. Luna's the only one outside his little Slytherin circle that Malfoy pays any heed to. If she asked him to meet up with her somewhere, he'd come. We could get him then.''
Ginny slurps up the last remains of her tea mournfully. ''Why must you make everything so complicated, Hermione? We could just knock him out with a well-aimed Stunner while he's on his own somewhere, and then drag him off and make use of him. Not like Malfoy could stand up to the combined might of Hermione Brain-You-With-Knowledge Granger and the awesome me.''
''Because that would be assault,'' Hermione says primly.
''Yeah,'' Ginny drawls, eyebrows climbing up all the way to her hairline. ''Because recruiting your hapless fiancé and my imbecilic brothers to do it for us isn't assault.''
Hermione works all over the Ministry. She doesn't really have a stable position in some department. She just does a lot of work for a lot of people. As a result, she has her fingers in a lot of pies. Hermione has connections, and connections mean a lot even in this post-war anti-nepotism anti-favouritism anti-fraternising anti-everything era. She smiles secretively, her eyelashes casting fragile shadows on her cheeks. ''I'm sure it isn't.''
Ginny bites her lower lip briefly, eyes darting around at the people surrounding them in case someone is listening in. She lowers her voice to hushed murmur. ''Sometimes, Hermione, you scare me. And I mean in that and they never heard anything about her ever again kind of way.''
The frizzy-haired brunette moves her shoulders in that what can you do way, and doesn't say anything.
Harry and Malfoy continue arguing in front of their horrified and morbidly fascinated spectators. Harry finally snaps and yells back at the ranting blond. Malfoy breaks Harry's nose, and then all hell breaks loose. Ginny sort of really wishes this wasn't her life.
#
Unedited, un-beta'd.