a/n: hi! so this is my first try at fanfics bc i'm usually the reader and not the one who comes up with everything lmao but well i made this oneshot for the anon who asked dramioneasks in tumblr for a fic like this. she gave the idea and i gave it a shot so to whoever you are, this is for you! hope you like it :-)

Hermione Granger furrowed her eyebrows in deep concentration. She's been at it for 27 hours straight, only giving herself ten minutes at most for loo breaks. She barely got any shuteye for the past week and with this additional workload on her plate, she figured her sleep's status quo would not change any time soon. The assiduous witch certainly looked worse for the wear—robes wrinkled, eyes weary and bloodshot, shoulders sagging from exhaustion. And her hair, oh sweet Merlin her hair, looked to be housing terrifying Amazonas instead of just serving as a cover for that pretty little brain of hers. An overwhelming number of coffee cups littered her work table which clearly indicates that her blood is gratifyingly charged with buzzing caffeine. Piles of dusty old tomes surrounded her, building her a fortress of yellowed pages and that musky old smell found solely in books. Crumpled parchments and old issues of The Daily Prophet lie innocently on the floor, forgotten. But Hermione dwelled neither on her appearance nor on her surroundings, and if her furious scribbling is anything to go by, she hasn't been dwelling on anything beyond her quill and parchment.

The case she was currently working on is giving her a massive headache. A lesser man would've given up by now, would've declared it hopeless. But not Hermione Granger. Never Hermione Granger. Failure was not in her vocabulary. Not once had she left a work half done, and although she was much tempted to, this wouldn't ruin her streak.

"Knock, knock."

Hermione jerked, startled with the sudden voice. She looked up and found her bespectacled best friend's face grinning at her. He was leaning on the doorframe and looking at her with barely concealed amusement. "How long have you been here?" She asked.

"How long have you been in here?"Harry countered. "Merlin, Hermione, I've barely seen you all week! What's got you holed up in this," he looked around, surveying the mess that was her working space, "lovely office of yours, hm?"

Only then did she notice what a disaster it really is. She sheepishly sent him a smile and rubbed her temples. Her throbbing head is not getting any better. "Sorry, Harry. I've got myself drowned in work and you know how I get when I'm working. I promise to make it up to you." She looked at her watch, noting that it was already three in the afternoon. "In fact, how about we get some late lunch?" Halfway through her sentence, she began cleaning her table as much as she could and stood up to prepare to leave. She smoothed out her robe and tried to tackle her hair in a decent ponytail.

Harry held out a hand. "Oh, no. Stay where you are. I've brought takeout."

The pair happily ate their food, all the while sharing laughs and giggles. They chatted enthusiastically, telling stories and updating the other about what's currently going on in their lives. Hermione, while grateful for Harry's visit, tried to ignore her headache to no avail. It became unbearable to the point that she would wince every five seconds.

The action didn't escape the wizard, however. "Hermione, are you alright? You don't look good."

"Oh, thanks for the self-esteem boost, you oaf." She weakly joked.

Harry shot her an unimpressed look. "You know what I mean." He looked at her worriedly. "Maybe you should go home. Have a rest. Let me guess, you haven't gotten any sleep, have you?" Her grimace was enough of an answer. "You're working yourself to bloody death!"

"Oh, look! It's half past five already. Harry, shouldn't you be picking Ginny up from practice?"

He ignored her tactless attempt at getting rid of him. "Hermione Granger, you will go home and get some rest! I will not let you touch those papers unless you're feeling well. Don't make me speak to your superiors, because you know I will." He threatened.

"Fine, fine." She relented. "I will go home, I promise. But really Harry, you should go pick Ginny up. She'll be done and waiting for you soon."

He walked over and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Okay. Just take care of yourself more, yeah? Ron and I, we worry sometimes."

Hermione cut him off before he starts going on again about how she needs a boyfriend. Honestly! She didn't need anyone. She can take care of herself. For Godric's sake, she's twenty six! "I know, Harry. I will. Now shoo! Get your girlfriend, O Chosen One."

Laughing, he stuck his tongue out at her and left.

She sighed. Reminding herself to drop by the apothecary later to buy some Pepper Up potion, she tried to immerse herself once more in her papers. However, not even five minutes have past when she heard her office door swing open.

Without looking up, she said, "Harry, for the last time, I—"

"You filthy, insufferable little bitch! How dare you?!"

Hermione, shocked and caught off guard by the sudden intrusion, accidentally bumped her arm into her ink bottle, soiling everything with black blots of liquid. She stared openmouthed at her papers, everything that's happened not quite sinking into her just yet.

Slowly, she looked up. Her eyes found a brunette woman standing in the threshold of her office, flushed with anger and panting. Her obviously designer robes were colored with a hideous shade of fuchsia, diamonds and jewels adored her neck and wrist, and the strong and concentrated sweet smell of expensive perfume wafted into the whole room. A pureblood probably, she thought. She looks familiar. Ah, Miss Rosier perhaps?

Her headache worsened even more.

Calmly, she waved her wand to shut the door and put silencing and locking spells in the room. "I'm sorry. What can I help you with?"

Visits like this are not unusual for her. As a matter of fact, she wouldn't be surprised if someone from every pureblood family in Wizarding Britain has already had a 'talk' with her. After the war, she decided that eliminating prejudices and establishing equality for witches and wizards regardless of blood weren't enough. With the fervent participation of magical creatures on both sides of the Battle, it was just fair that reinstating their rights and protecting their well-being are also a must. And so, she applied for a position in the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. In the three years that she'd worked there, she had made laws protecting the rights of house elves, centaurs, fays and even giants. Even after she transferred in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, her works in her previous position have been her legacy. Most house elves have been freed and then hired again, with added benefits such as salary and holidays. It's safe to say that Purebloods are not particularly happy with that.

"The nerve of you! What right do you have to convict my brother? We played no part in the war! We stayed far from our father to ensure that we not get caught up in the Battle! And yet, you imprisoned him!" She was seething, her arms flailing in wide gestures to help emphasize her statements. "He was just . . . just—"

"Proven to have murdered a house elf?" Hermione cut in drily. She stood up. "Look, Miss . . . Rosier?" She continued after seeing her sneer. "We went through all the necessary proceedings, collected all evidences, and even let you acquire a lawyer for your case. Also, all the elves were registered and listed. With the registration comes them being magically charmed to be monitored by the Ministry. We would know if they are being abused or hurt. We also checked Mr. Rosier's wand. All evidences point to him. Forgive me, Miss Rosier, but I must—" A strong wave of dizziness came over her, causing her to stumble. She began seeing tiny black spots in her vision.

Miss Rosier mercilessly cackled, having obviously noticed her weak state. "Is this really the Hermione Granger?" She disarmed Hermione and her wand came flying to the other side of the room. "The Brightest Witch of Her Age? Doesn't look like it now, does it? You pathetic excuse for a witch! Protecting herself with stacks of books, trying and failing to prove that she's worthy of magic. Clearly you haven't matured from your . . . swotty tendencies since Hogwarts." Another ugly sneer was sent her way, Rosier looked down her nose on her. "Pity."

She began advancing to Hermione's unstable form. "Let me tell you this," she began in a deceptively calm whisper, "No matter how much book you've read, spells you've mastered and laws you've established, you're nothing. Mudblood!"

Bright purple light escaped her wand and shot straight to Hermione. She crumpled to the floor with a cry. Rosier quickly fled.

For a while, nothing happened.

And then, blackness.

Draco Malfoy is having a bad day.

He grunted as another stupid Ministry worker elbowed him in the crowd. If only that damn employee of his hadn't done a half assed job, then he wouldn't even be here right now mingling with blundering idiots. But his employee had done exactly just that, so now here he is, trying to shoulder his way past the thick mass of people hurrying to get to their working positions on time.

Coupled that with the fact that he was nursing a raging hangover after his friends dragged him off for a night out, he was seriously considering on murdering somebody. He hadn't had the time to take a sobering potion because he was running late, and after arriving at his office his headache was completely forgotten after he almost popped a vein shouting at that bloody pillock almost ruining the bloody company and that he should pack because he's fucking fired. But although he was feeling completely wretched, his face remained calm and collected. Though if anyone looked closer, they would notice how stiff his posture is, and how hard he clenched his fists.

From an outsider's point of view, he must have looked like a king swaggering through his vast lands. His long strides made it seem like he was strutting. Chin held high, nose up in the air, anyone would be intimidated to be in the presence of the young Malfoy. His clearly expensive robes bellowed after him, making people be reminded of one hook-nosed snarky potions master.

Now, he needed to fix the mess his workers made or else his potions business would be threatened to close. He knows he needed to have Granger's clearance, being the Head of the Liaison Office of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but he hadn't talked to her since the Final Battle. Sure when they pass each other in Diagon Alley, terse nods and uncertain smiles were given but no more than that.

Finally arriving in front of Granger's office, he stopped. He raised his fist and knocked brusquely. No one answered. He rapped on the office door once more but he can't hear a thing. Getting impatient, he pushed the door open only to be met with an empty—and messy, very messy—room.

"Granger?" He hesitantly walked towards her desk where book piles and ink-soaked parchments lie. Looking around, he double checked if the room is really vacant.

Draco was absentmindedly tracing the spine of the book on top of one of the piles while admiring a particular snowball displayed on her shelf when he felt a sharp sting. "Ow!"

He immediately retracted his hand and inspected his pointer finger, bright red blood oozing from the small cut. Inspecting the books for a sharp object that he might have been cut with, he found nothing. What he did see, though, was a small worm crawling on the side. It must've bitten him.

Stupid, filthy, worm.

Glaring at it as though it will turn to ashes merely by the intensity of the look, he leaned closer and inspected it. The brown worm is lying innocently on top of the tome. It has coarse, spiky hairs scattered all over his body. It was wriggling enthusiastically, as if happy to be in his presence.

Funny, it reminded him of Granger. With her bushy, untamed hair, she definitely resembles the physical appearance of the worm. And it's also surrounded by books! Granted, the books were Granger's and the worm might have just been accidentally misplaced but still.

A worm on books. A bookworm.

Laughing at his own lame joke, Draco decided to just leave and come back at a later time when Granger is available when he noticed that half the body of the worm was off the book and was standing vertically, wriggling side to side. He frowned in confusion and squinted at it. If he didn't know better, he would say it was trying to catch his attention.

He shrugged and turned around to leave when he heard a small squeak. Whirling around in surprise, his eyes widened when he saw the worm almost violently jumping in its place. Draco thought he might be going mad if he's considering the idea of a worm talking to him but damn it if it doesn't look like it might be!

"Okay, I have no idea what's happening but bloody hell I must be drunker that I thought."

The worm crawled away and out of sight and for a moment, he wondered if he was just imaging things when he saw it return with a torn piece of paper from one of the open books in its mouth. It craned its neck forward like it wanted him to take the paper so he did. He almost choked when he read what it said.

Help

What the hell was that supposed to mean? A bloody worm was asking him for help! He must've really gone bonkers. Nobody would believe him if he told them—well, Lovegood probably would— so he's really trapped.

Deciding to just humour himself, he bent down to take a seat at the chair. He scooped the worm and placed it on the edge of the desk.

"So, say, this is actually real. You," he pointed at it, "are asking for my help?"

It nodded. At least, he thought it did.

"Alright. But who are you? What are you? I don't think I've ever seen an ordinary worm squeaking."

If someone came to Granger's office at this precise moment and saw Draco Malfoy having a very serious talk to a measly worm, they would've been stupefied even before they got a little yelp out.

The worm slithered—do worms slither? Or is it just for snakes?—over to the nameplate at the far end on the other side of the table. It read Hermione Granger.

It took half a minute to fully comprehend what the worm was trying to say. And when he did, his mouth opened and closed and opened again and again while he was trying to form a coherent response. He drew his wand as he stood up so fast the chair he was sitting on toppled over the floor.

"You mean to tell me that the Hermione Granger is reduced to a worm? Just how daft do you think i am?" Draco exclaimed. His wand is pointed at the pest.

The worm was now shaking its head, seemingly frustrated with him. It opened its mouth and a little squeal was heard again. It sounded exasperated, much to Draco's amusement. Its large coffee brown eyes kept blinking rapidly and he would've thought it odd had not he been focusing on just how similar that shade of brown is to a certain witch's irises.

It looked around, possibly looking for something that would convince him. Then, the worm perked up and its mouth slit open to reveal the teeth.

Honestly, is that supposed to be a grin? Draco blanched at the thought.

Making its way through various stationery, 'Hermione'—he still finds the idea to be very uncanny and farfetched but it was getting rather tiring to be referring to it as 'the worm' repeatedly—settled herself on a locked drawer under the desk.

When 'Hermione' gestured for his wand and then bumped her head invitingly to the drawer, Draco took it as a sign that she wanted him to unlock and opened it. Hesitation stopped him, yet there was a slight curiosity in him that makes him want to know what lies inside.

"Are you quite sure it's okay for me to do that? Granger might have me arrested by Weasel and Scarhead if she finds out I snuck through her things."

Hermione made that whining sound again and he sighed. Oh well, if Granger hexed him he'd gladly give the blame to that blasted worm. Not that she would believe him, of course. If he were she, he figured he wouldn't believe himself either.

With a quick flick of his wand, he heard a soft click, indicating it worked. Reaching out, he grasped the handle of the drawer and gave it a light tug. For a split second, he wondered if he will find things to make fun of Granger with. Will he uncover, quite literally, her deepest secret? Perhaps she has a stash of things that is so embarrassingly unlike Granger that she thought it best to keep it hidden in a locked drawer?

What he found though made him freeze. In fact, shocked wouldn't even cover what he was feeling.

There, in that drawer, is a stuffed ferret.

There is a stuffed ferret in Hermione Granger's locked drawer and it has a green silk ribbon tied around its neck.

The confused wizard shot a disbelieving look at the worm and reluctantly grabbed it. It was soft and fluffy, just like how stuffed animals ought to be, but there is a barely noticeable but distinct thrum of magic around it. Surveying it with bewildered eyes, he saw that it was stitched with a WWW in gold thread at its backside. There was also a card attached to the ribbon. It read:

To our dearest know-it-all,

Here's a little something we thought might keep you warm at night.

Love,
Fred & George

PS. Enjoy! But not too much. We both know how you get when you're carried away. Picture George wriggling his brows suggestively while you're reading this.

He quickly dropped the toy as if it burned him. So it's a gift from the wonder twins, eh? He wonders what it does. Draco was not fooled by its seemingly innocent look and knows there's a trick lying there somewhere.

Turns out he was right. Because the moment the ferret hit the ground, a voice was heard. Or rather, his voice was heard.

"Granger."

His jaw dropped. Draco didn't even care how he would've looked unattractive with his mouth hanging wide open. He was too busy getting chills from what he heard. What the fuck did just happen?!

An accusing stare was directed at the worm whose form withered under his heated glare. Or should she say Granger?

This was all so confusing! His blasted headache went back full force and he groaned. Draco just wanted to lie in bed all day and not worry about clearance papers and Granger and the stupid worm that claims itself to be Hermione sodding Granger and ferrets with green ribbons and horrifying Weasley products.

He snatched his wand from where it lay on the table and proceeded to walk away. When he was at the door however, he stopped, his patrician face wrinkled in a frown. He appears to be battling himself, and after a sigh and a brief moment of uncertainty, he went back, took the worm to cradle in his palm, and went out the office to apparate back to his flat.

Arriving at the front room, he quickly shed his cloak and threw it away, not caring where it landed. He put down the worm at the nearest table and left. Striding purposefully in his study, he wondered if he would regret his decision to bring worm Hermione here in his place. Additionally, he could also not really forget the fact that there is a stuffed ferret in her office drawer. Nor could he also believe that the stupid toy was supposed to signify him. At least, that's what he concluded from the twins' note and his fucking voice coming out of the damn thing.

Shaking his head, he quickly rid himself of all thoughts. After gulping down a hangover potion, he quickly penned a note to Blaise, telling him to cancel all meetings today until tomorrow midday. He couldn't be bothered to get up early for work tomorrow after having the day he had.

He went to his room, not bothering about changing, completely forgetting about the fact that there is a transfigured witch in his front room, and plopped on the bed. Within minutes, Draco was deep in sleep.

Draco awoke hours later and, after a quick look outside the window, realized it must be really late. He sat up, wincing from the uncomfortable clothes, and rubbed the sleep away.

Turning to the clock by his bedside table, he noted that it was 9 minutes to midnight. A loud growling tore from his stomach but he paid it no mind for he was too busy eyeing a piece of paper beside the little clock. Slowly picking it up, he read what's written and slowly, his lips twitched until he was wearing a full blown grin by the end of the note.

Draco,

First of all, I would like to thank you for, erm, entertaining my not-so-human self. I understand it must have been quite tricky for you, to understand just what a little worm was trying to convey. See, I was transfigured by a vengeful witch who came complaining to my office earlier. I was feeling a bit under the weather and that is why I could not have defended myself properly. However, if I were in my completely well state, I assure you ridding her would not be a problem. Not that you should doubt it, of course. I am the Brightest Witch of Our Age, after all.

And of course, there is the matter that I presume would have disturbed you the most. My . . . that is to say, the toy you saw. I am almost positive I can imagine your head swarming with questions. Erm, not that I spend time imagining you.

But I really do appreciate your efforts. Let me thank you by treating you coffee sometime, yes? I'll owl you the details.

Sincerely,
H. Granger

The letter was full of erasures and scratches and that's what makes it more amusing and, dare he say, endearing. He was smiling so wide he's sure if his father saw him, he would've berated him because 'Malfoys don't smile, they smirk or sneer' but he couldn't care less.

Maybe his day wasn't so bad after all.

finis~