Late upload. For Round 7 of Dramione Duet (2015). Beta read by Thora.
Draco Malfoy was going to murder Harry Potter.
It had been years since the two became rather close friends, being co-workers in the Auror Department, and it had been even longer since Draco had actually harboured ill will towards the bespectacled hero of the Wizarding World, however, this moment was special.
It had begun that afternoon at lunch. It was no surprise, really, how Draco became friends with both Hermione and Ron after being friends with Harry. The three seemed to function as one unit. That afternoon, Draco was having lunch with the three, fooling around with Harry, teasing Ron, and engaging Hermione in intellectual banter. During a particularly long lull in the conversation, Hermione suddenly spoke.
"So, Malfoy," she began, "I heard you were fancying someone."
It took all Draco's years of training in proper manners and pureblood etiquette to not sputter out his food in shock. Harry's and Ron's eyes bulged out of their sockets as the two surreptitiously cast worried glances at each other, then to Draco.
"I was at the Ministry Library with Ron and Harry yesterday," Hermione continued, "and instead of helping me research the Great Pixie Uprising of 1577 like they were supposed to do, the two of them were gossiping about your love life like old housewives."
Draco inwardly cursed. Stupid Potter! Stupid Weasley! Why did he even trust them with his secret? Why did he even tell them he was in love with someone?
Oh right.
Because they were best friends with the girl he was in love with and he needed all the help he could get in wooing Hermione Granger.
Taking a deep breath and shooting murderous glares at the bumbling duo, Draco tried to speak as confidently as he normally would. "I never pegged you as a busybody, Granger," he said with a smirk.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm only trying to help, Malfoy. You probably need all the help you can get." Draco snorted, yet inwardly he agreed. "Come on, Malfoy. Spill."
"Not telling, Granger."
Hermione huffed in annoyance. "How come you tell them but not me?"
"Who I tell is at my discretion, Granger."
"Please?" Hermione wheedled. "I only want to help. I'll even set the two of you up."
A few years after the war, Hermione had developed a penchant for matchmaking. It had begun as S.P.E.W. had; she'd seen something wrong and set out to change it.
It was the moroseness her friends exhibited even years after the war that had set her off. She was still haunted by those nightmarish days, yes, but enough was enough and they all had to move on. They couldn't wallow in misery forever. She thought and schemed and finally settled on a solution.
And the solution she settled on was love. She would show her friends that it did no good to dwell in the past and that the future was a much more exciting thing to behold if only they didn't let yesterday's chains bind them.
And she had succeeded. In her two years of matchmaking, Hermione had successfully hooked up the likeliest and unlikeliest of couples: Harry and Luna, Blaise and Ginny, Ron and Pansy, George and a Muggle cousin, and Padma and Ernie. Now, it seemed to Draco that she had settled on a new target: him.
"I don't need your help, Granger, so you better sod off," Draco scoffed.
"Au contraire, my dear boy, whether you need my help or not, and I'm pretty sure you do, I am going to help you. Now, who is the lucky – or not so lucky – object of your affections?"
Draco groaned inwardly. This was not the way he'd planned on confessing his feelings to the girl he had loved for a few years now. He levelled a glare to Harry and Ron who swallowed nervously.
"Fix this!" he whispered frantically to Harry as soon as Hermione was distracted with stirring her coffee.
"I would if I knew how!" Harry whispered back.
At that moment, Hermione raised her head from her cup and smiled brightly at the three young men in front of her. "So! Ready to spill?"
"Hell, no!" Draco shouted, quite loudly, and a few people from neighbouring tables glanced in their direction. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh, "Just please let it go, Granger."
"I don't understand, Malfoy." Hermione frowned. "Why don't you want me to help you? My success rate is perfect." And it was. Ever since she got into this matchmaking business, the people in the matches she helped form couldn't have been in a happier place. She reached across the table and took his hand. Draco's breathing hitched from the contact and he felt his heart beat more erratically. Physical contact with Granger happened rather frequently ever since they became friends, and despite the innocence of the contact, it never failed to cause an effect in him.
She was now peering at him from beneath her lashes, an innocent smile on her face. Oh, Merlin, Draco thought. Any more of this and he would be reduced to a puddle at her feet, willing to do anything she asked.
And he was about to. Spill his guts to her. Thankfully, Ron snorted in disbelief beside him, waking him from the aphrodisiac that was Granger's touch, and saved him from prematurely confessing in the Ministry cafeteria. Really. Confessing in a noisy, smelly cafeteria? That was not a story he wished to tell their grandchildren.
"You're such a sucker, Malfoy," Ron sniggered. "I can't believe you're going to fall for that trick again. Hermione must have made you do a thousand errands you refused to do using that technique."
And she had.
Just last month, Draco had been her shopping buddy, being dragged from store to store in Muggle London as she searched for the perfect gift for her parents' wedding anniversary.
And just two weeks ago, he had been fetching her coffee every morning from the shop across the street. He had been at it for five consecutive days before he caught her smirking as she sipped from the steaming cup. Realizing he had been played, he put his foot down.
Hermione released his hand – to his utter disappointment – and rolled her eyes at Ron.
"I can see the three of you are adamant about this," she said diplomatically. "However, so am I." Draco groaned. "Since we are not leaving here without a resolution, and I have only ten minutes of lunch break left, you are going to play a game with me."
"What game?" Draco asked warily.
"Easy. I'm going to guess who this person is you're crushing on. I get three questions about this person. No dead giveaways, like asking about Hogwarts houses or names. You answer my questions, truthfully might I add. If I don't guess right, I drop the issue."
Draco cheered inwardly. There was no way in hell she was going to guess correctly. Hermione Granger was many things, but narcissistic was not one of them.
"How will you know he's telling the truth?" Harry chimed in.
Hermione once again placed her hand on Draco's forearm and ran her fingers against his pale skin. Draco felt goosebumps forming on his flesh, and his mouth turning dry from her touch and the way she looked at him beneath her dark lashes. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you, Draco?"
She'd used his given name! Usually, he was Malfoy and she was Granger, but how he'd longed to hear his name spill from her lips. Now that it had, how could he ever deny her? Draco swallowed audibly. "Of course, Hermione," he whispered.
"Suck-er," Ron sing-songed with a smirk that earned him a glare from Draco.
"First question," Hermione said in an authoritative tone, bringing his attention back to her. Draco noted that she was no longer touching him, but the ghost of her touch still made him giddy. "This was a person you bullied in school, yes or no?"
Draco snorted. "Yes. But that's not saying much, Granger. I bullied almost everyone."
"Not true. That question eliminated the majority of Slytherins. And limited the pool to people in our year. And I guess the people up to two years below us, to be safe. It also means your crush graduated from Hogwarts," Hermione said smugly.
That sly witch! She said she wouldn't ask about Houses but she didn't say she wouldn't find a way to figure it out. Draco was disliking this little game more and more.
"Second question. The cause of your hesitation is that this person is currently in a relationship."
"What? No!" How dare she accuse him of such a thing!
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "For a second there, I thought I would be forced to turn away and not help you. You know I only set-up single people."
Draco rolled his eyes. "I wish you would turn away and not help me," he muttered.
"Last question," Hermione said. She turned somber and the mirth left her eyes. "This is a match your parents will never approve."
She was right. Post-war had done wonders for Narcissa and Lucius' prejudices. They had atoned for their ways, and had even been genuinely nice to Hermione and his other friends when they came over to the Manor for tea one afternoon. However, he was pretty sure that that was the extent of their tolerance, as his mother was dropping hints about him producing Malfoy heirs, and about a possible arranged marriage to a certain Astoria Greengrass if he didn't go looking for the right woman to bring into the family immediately.
"Yes," he whispered.
It wasn't his parents' prejudice that was stopping him from going after Hermione, though. They could disown him for all he cared. He had built his current reputation from scratch and he had already made a name for himself. No, it wasn't fear of losing his inheritance. It was the fear that Hermione might not think him good enough. Good enough as a friend, yes. As a lover and potential husband? Draco found it unlikely.
The look in her eyes was understanding, tinged with pity. Draco was nervous. Had she figured it out? Did she not feel the same way? Once more, she took Draco's hand in hers, but unlike the other times, it was not a way to wheedle him to do things for her. This was a sign of support.
"It must be hard, Draco," she whispered, "but don't worry. I will help you." She stood up, and beamed at him. "You will get your happy ending!" she cried before turning tail and leaving.
The three men looked at her, confusion in their eyes.
"Well," Harry said, "at least she didn't figure it out."
"Yes," Ron replied, "but from the look on her face, I don't even want to think what conclusion she came to."
There was only one conclusion to come to.
First clue. A Hogwarts student that Draco bullied. Slytherins and higher years were highly unlikely to be targets so this left Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws. Hermione limited the choice to people in their year and two years below it, assuming that they were the ones who most likely received Draco's attention, and consequently, his bullying.
Second clue. The person he liked was someone close to Harry and Ron. Draco was a secretive person. He believed that knowledge was a weapon, and telling people too much about yourself was like giving them a knife that could potentially stab you in the back. Heck, despite being one of his closest friends, Hermione sometimes found herself closed off from him. So it came as a surprise that he'd told Harry and Ron his predicament. It could only mean one thing. He was so in love with this person, he'd become desperate enough to ask for help. Since Hermione doubted that he would divulge anything to anyone who he thought would be unhelpful to his goal, this must mean that Harry and Ron knew this person well enough to give Draco assistance.
A person within their circle of friends. Right now, a lot of them were already paired off. At first, Hermione was scared that he'd fallen for someone already taken, but he'd quickly confirmed that the person was single. This limited the choices to Lavender Brown, Neville Longbottom, and herself.
Obviously not me, Hermione thought, immediately crossing herself off the list.
Her last question had given her the answer.
A person that traditional and old-fashioned blood purists, Narcissa and Lucius, would never approve of. Being pureblood and well-off, it was obviously not Lavender. Now, a homosexual relationship with Neville Longbottom was a different story.
Suddenly, Draco's reluctance to confess made perfect sense.
It was time to help one of her best friends.
Thankfully, Neville was bisexual.
At first, Draco thought nothing of it.
And then suddenly, the number of times he ran into Neville Longbottom became a tad too suspicious. Especially as he usually did it while running errands for Hermione.
The first time, he was fetching her coffee, after being suckered again into being her delivery boy with a single touch. She sent him to a different coffee shop, which he found weird but didn't question. Apparently, it was a shop that Neville frequented. He saw the man, exchanged pleasantries and went off on his merry way.
She asked if he'd seen Neville in the shop, and after he said that yes he did, she beamed at him. Despite finding her reaction a bit out of place, he thought nothing of it.
The second time, she actually sent him to assist Neville who was moving in a new flat. Being on quite friendly terms with the man and with the promise that Hermione would be there too, Draco agreed. A few minutes after the two men began sorting through Neville's belongings, Hermione sent an owl saying she couldn't make it because of an emergency with her parents but that he and Neville should have a good time and maybe get a drink later.
There were countless more times within a span of a few weeks that Neville Longbottom suddenly became a permanent fixture in Draco's day, but it was when Hermione invited him into a dinner for three in a posh restaurant in Diagon Alley and then suddenly bailed out at the last minute leaving him alone with Neville, that Draco finally connected the dots.
Massaging his temples to soothe the headache that he could feel was coming in, he approached the table where Neville was waiting, already wanting to set this misunderstanding straight.
He was about to speak, but Neville beat him to it.
"I know what she's doing," Neville said.
"Well whoop-dee-doo, good for you," Draco said with an eye-roll. "I only figured it out tonight, and let me just say for the record, that I am definitely not interested in you in that way, Longbottom."
Neville smirked at him. "That's great. I might swing both ways, Malfoy, but I have standards."
Draco sneered. "Well you obviously have poor standards. I happen to have an appeal that works for all genders," he said haughtily.
Neville just smiled. "An appeal that works on everyone, you say. Too bad it doesn't work on Hermione."
For the first time in his life, Neville saw Draco with a colour that wasn't Slytherin green. Cheeks tinged with pink, Draco scowled at him. "She doesn't know, does she?" Neville asked.
"Seeing as she thinks I'm gay and is currently setting us up, I believe no," he replied dryly.
Neville chuckled. "What a joke. She's always been too observant, too perceptive of other people's feelings towards each other. She can pick up the subtlest of cues when one person likes another. It's what made her matchmaking venture so successful. Yet here she is, completely oblivious to someone's feelings for her."
Draco quietly agreed. "How did you find out anyway, Longbottom? Because I swear, if Potter or Weasley told you, I will Avada their arses to hell and back."
"Please, Malfoy. You might try to be a big mystery in most parts of your life, but your feelings for Hermione are something you wear on your sleeve. I don't think you're aware that you're wearing them, though," he finished with a grin.
Great, Draco thought, so much for being discreet.
"She's lonely, you know," Draco heard Neville continue, "she started matchmaking post-war as a way to cheer her friends up. But it was also a way to keep her busy." Neville looked Draco in the eye. "She did it as a way to save us from becoming shells of the people we used to be. But sometimes, I think she needs saving herself."
"What are you saying, Longbottom?"
"That people are pairing up, and Hermione finds herself more alone than before," Neville said sadly. "She doesn't begrudge anyone, hell, she set half of her friends up herself, but from time to time, I know it gets to her. Friendly hang-outs tend to be compromised from time to time by date nights, you know.
"
He knew. They were friends with the same people after all.
"All I'm saying, Draco, is that you can make her happy. You can make the both of you happy. Just take that leap. All our friends are rooting for you, you know."
Draco found that hard to believe. He might have formed friendships with those stubborn Gryffindors but that didn't mean that they thought he was good enough for their precious princess.
"They do," Neville insisted upon seeing the disbelief in his eyes. "We all do."
"Why?" Draco asked suspiciously.
"Because we have never seen Hermione more alive than when she is talking to you." He felt the need to add, "And we have never seen you with more emotion than when you are with her."
Draco kept quiet.
"You're our friend too, Malfoy. We want you to be happy as well. Go for it," Neville said with a smile before rising from his chair to take his leave.
As Draco watched Neville's retreating back, he came to a decision. He would finally throw caution into the wind and risk what he and Hermione already had for, possibly, something more. Draco now knew what to do. The only problem left was that he didn't know how to do it.
Nothing is fucking working! Draco thought angrily, as he paced the Manor's marble floors, wracking his brains for a way to communicate to Hermione how he felt.
He'd tried everything! Everything! But nothing was getting through to the woman! Brightest witch of her age my arse, Draco thought sullenly. She can't even figure out that I bloody like her!
He sent her flowers and she ruffled his hair playfully like she did to Harry and Ron as a gesture of thanks.
He took her to a romantic dinner in France and she kissed him on the cheek at the end of the night and called him her best friend ever.
He held her hand in public, nervously as he wasn't big on physical contact, and she clasped his hand with a smile while hooking her other arm around Harry's.
In a fit of desperation, he sent her a love poem he found in a book, and she gushed at him saying that Neville would surely love it if he sent it to him, too.
Short of plastering himself by her side 24/7, Draco, who had grown up in an environment where bottling up one's feelings was important, could no longer think of what to do. He was interrupted from his thoughts by the sudden entrance of his mother and father who were looking at him with a serious expression on their faces.
"Draco, we need to talk," Lucius said. Puzzled, Draco shrugged and took a seat on the huge leather couch as his parents took the seats opposite him.
"It has come to our attention that, finally, son, you have set your sights on someone." Draco's breathing hitched at his father's words. They knew about his feelings for Hermione. Draco shook away his fear. He was twenty-eight years old, had made a name for himself, and had his own money. Whatever his parents wished to do, it could not and would not affect his relationship with Hermione.
"You know that it is your duty to produce an heir for the Malfoy fortune," his father continued, "and with your choice, I don't think that is possible."
Draco's blood began to boil. Their insinuation that Hermione, and his children with her, would not be enough to carry on the Malfoy name angered him.
"We can't control your choices, Draco, but at the very least, get married to a proper witch and have children with her! Keep your beau on the side for all we care, but marry a proper witch! We need an heir, Draco!" Narcissa said exasperatedly. It was obvious that she was stressed out by this.
Draco snapped. "How dare you?" he whispered angrily. "How dare you belittle Hermione? How dare you call her an improper witch? Has the war not taught you how much of a sham blood purity is?"
His parents' brows furrowed in confusion, but Draco continued his tirade. "How dare you imply that any children I have with her will be unworthy of being a Malfoy heir? How dare you imply that she's a lesser witch, a lesser human than you? Than any of us?"
"Draco, calm down." His mother tried to placate him.
"I will not calm down, Mother! Not until you apologize! You can't control my choices, you got that right, and I choose her. I will not go off and marry some pureblood slag that you approve of and keep her like a dirty little secret! I love her! I love Hermione Granger!"
"Why are you talking about Hermione Granger?" Lucius said confused.
Draco frowned. "What? Then who in Merlin's name are we talking about?"
Lucius snorted, "Neville Longbottom, of course, your boyfriend."
Draco counted to ten, and managed to grind out: "First of all, he is not my boyfriend."
Lucius interrupted, "You were on a date a few weeks ago. And don't tell me no, my secretary saw you. Le Chalet is an exclusive and romantic restaurant. You don't go there with a friend."
"Second of all," Draco continued as if Lucius did not cut him off from speaking, "I don't do boyfriends, because despite you finding it hard to believe, I. Prefer. Women. And lastly, the Le Chalet incident is bloody Hermione Granger's fault as she is under the delusion that I am gay and have the hots for Longbottom and decided to set us up."
Lucius and Narcissa stared at Draco in silence, as if letting his words sink in. He stared back. After a few minutes, Lucius began to laugh boisterously. It was different from his usual unfeeling chuckles and despite being the butt of the joke, Draco can't help but smile at his father's mirth.
"Let me get this straight," Lucius said, wiping tears from his eyes. "Hermione Granger, the girl you like, thinks you're gay and is setting you up with her queer friend?"
Narcissa clapped her hands in joy. "Oh this is wonderful! I am going to get grandchildren after all! You absolutely must bring Hermione to the Manor on Saturday so we can spend the day looking over wedding dresses!"
His mother's reaction confused Draco. "What, no lecture on me sullying the great Malfoy name by fraternizing with a Mudblood?"
Lucius rolled his eyes. "Your little tirade was unnecessary. The war actually did us some good, Draco. Blood purity holds no meaning for us anymore."
"But you were always pressuring me to find the right witch to bring into the family," Draco argued.
"And you automatically assumed that the right witch was a Pureblood with vaults of galleons?" Lucius said with a smirk. "Then by all means, Draco, the one with clouded views is you and not us."
They were right. He should have known. His parents were no fools. He should have known that they would have learned. That they, like him, would no longer be fooled by blood purist views and disregard the brilliance of a sharp mind and a kind heart.
"We want you to be happy, Draco," Narcissa said with a smile. "If it is Hermione Granger, or even Neville Longbottom," Draco spluttered, "your father and I will support you. I'm sorry about my outburst earlier. I was just disappointed. I really want grandchildren to pamper and an heir to train. Your and Neville Longbottom's relationship came as a shock and we reacted without thinking."
"There is no relationship between me and Longbottom, Mother," Draco reminded her dryly.
"Of course, of course," Narcissa said with a wave of her hand. "Just a hypothetical situation. If ever you want to come out of the closet, we promise to behave better next time."
"I am not inside a closet in the first place, Mother."
"We can see that," Narcissa said.
"But the Granger girl doesn't," Lucius said with another bout of laughter.
"You really have to stop laughing at me now, Father," Draco sighed. "It's getting old and I've got to get back to plotting how to make Granger figure out that I like her."
"She doesn't know how you feel?" Narcissa frowned. "But why, Draco?"
Draco snorted. "It's not my fault that the brightest witch of her age can't figure it out. Flowers, poetry, romantic dates, nothing's working."
Narcissa looked at him thoughtfully. "Have you tried simply saying it?"
"Well, no," Draco admitted.
His mother smiled. "Tell her you love her. Tell her the way you told me and your father. Pure, raw, and full of emotion. Sometimes, Draco, the most effective methods are the simplest ones."
Draco looked at his mother and father. Two people that he thought would go to the ends of the Earth to oppose his feelings for Hermione. He thought how his cowardice, his reluctance to own up to his feelings had started this fiasco in the first place. He thought of how he continually evaded making a proper confession, in fear of the rejection he anticipated from her. He thought of his fear of baring his feelings to her. He was going to stop it now. He was going to be brave, just like her. For her.
Draco knew what to do. And now he knew how to do it.
At midnight, her flat is not as homey and warm as it looks in daylight, Draco observed as he stepped out of her fireplace. After the talk with his parents, he'd quickly Flooed to her flat, already anxious to deliver his confession before he could get cold feet. She usually worked late at home so he proceeded to her room where he was sure he would see her poring over some ancient text for work.
He was right. She was indeed wide awake, stacks of parchment in front of her as she scribbled furiously. He watched her for a while, mesmerized at the way her quill glided across the parchment, until she looked up from her work and addressed him.
"Draco? Why are you here so late?"
Heart hammering wildly against his chest, Draco took two long strides across the room to her and took her hands in his. He pulled her up from her chair and towards his chest so that they were looking at each other's eyes and their hands were trapped between their bodies. He took a deep breath and willed some of her courage to spill to him before blurting it out.
"I love you, Hermione Granger," he breathed. "I don't know when or why or how. Suddenly, one morning, I couldn't stop from smiling whenever I saw you in the Ministry. Suddenly, whenever I saw a woman on the street, I couldn't help but think how she couldn't be compared to you. Suddenly, when you touched me, I couldn't help but melt and when you looked at me with one of those smiles, my heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest. I love you, Hermione Granger. And I hope you'll give me a chance to prove it."
Hermione stared at him for quite some time, making Draco feel nervous. When he was about to break the silence that was beginning to become too awkward for him, she spoke up.
"I was wondering when you would tell me," she said with a smile.
Draco frowned. "You knew?"
She shrugged. "I figured it out. Neville told me you were straight after all, and really, after eliminating him from the possible choices, I was the only one left."
"You really turned my feelings into a logic game, didn't you?"
She smiled. "So? If I hadn't pushed you towards Neville, you wouldn't be here right now and expressing more emotion than I have seen you do in all the years I've known you."
"You should thank my parents. They told me that a direct approach would do the trick."
"They know?" she asked nervously, and Draco knew that she was worried about what his parents would think. "What did they say?"
Draco grinned. "That you should come over on Saturday so you could look at wedding dresses with Mother."
Draco felt her sigh with relief. "Isn't it a bit too early to plan our wedding, Mister Malfoy?" she said with a smirk. "I'm not even your girlfriend yet."
He enveloped her in his arms, hugging her tightly. He felt her arms snake around his waist, holding on to him as well.
"You will be soon, love. You will be soon," Draco promised.
He had no doubts. After all, Draco Malfoy knew what he had to do. And this time, he definitely knew how to do it.
THE END