Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Bygones
"Come on, Hermione!"
The witch in question looked up from the parchment concerning a disagreement between the Ukrainian and Romanian Ministries on the proper way of dealing with the current flobberworm infestation devastating their cabbage crops. If she understood it correctly, the Ukranian Ministry wished to kill off the flobberworms by overfeeding them, whilst the Romanian Ministry thought it best to divert the pests into the Black Sea. A recent discovery of a spell by the Bulgarians—who abhorred the wanton destruction of flobberworms on moral principle—that induced flobberworm hibernation while still enabling them to produce mucus (the number one ingredient in Bulgaria's most lucrative export outside of Viktor Krum, which the Bulgarians neglected mentioning) had injected new life into the five-year old debate. The three ministries agreed to form a committee of wizards from their respective nations to assess the advantages and disadvantages of each plan and combinations of each plan. Truly riveting stuff, as were the other scrolls piled high in her in-box, no doubt.
Just over the top of the mountain of work, a patch of flaming red hair appeared. Not that Hermione could see the person's face, but from the higher-pitched voice, she assumed the voice belonged to Ginny Weasley. That or Ron's most private parts had recently met with a bludger.
"Ginny," Hermione whined back, mimicking her friend in pitch and tone. "I can't possibly go. These scrolls will not read themselves."
"But it's a Friday night! You should have been out of work…" The patch of red moved, and Hermione figured Ginny had turned to look at the wall clock, "two hours ago!"
Sure enough, the little bird in the cuckoo clock her parents had purchased in Germany made its presence known, chirping out that it was seven at night. Ugh. She hadn't realized it was so late. But that changed nothing; she still wasn't going.
"You aren't staying here because of Malfoy, are you?" Ginny asked.
Hermione shot up from her chair, mouth open in horror. "Ginny!" she hissed, casting a furtive glance toward her office door. Closed. Thank Merlin. "Where would you get such an idea?!"
Usually Hermione's swotty know-it-all tone put many a wizard and witch in their place, but sadly it had no effect on Ginny. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, staring at Hermione in that unnerving way of hers she'd inherited from Molly. As if she knew Hermione's deepest, darkest secret. "I may not be as smart as you, but I have an excellent memory. Even when drunk."
Bugger!
Hermione sank back behind the pile of scrolls and into her chair with a groan as the shame and ignominy of that night washed over her. It was the first time she had voiced the idea of possibly, just maybe, probably not having a tiny, miniscule, really nonexistent crush on the Malfoy prat. Ginny had been so pissed out of her mind, Hermione doubted she even heard the guilty avowal of feelings for the Ferret, much less understood it. In the month that followed, Ginny hadn't said anything, and so Hermione thought she'd escaped that moment of madness without penalty. Obviously not.
Well, no point in denying it now. "He left an hour and a half ago." She knew this because she'd been watching his office door, the one right across from hers. Not that she was a stalker or anything. He'd given her a nod in that casual way of his, wished her a pleasant weekend, then strode down the hall to the elevator to shine the light of his beautiful countenance only Merlin knew where.
"If he's gone, then you have no reason to stay," Ginny pointed out.
Hermione fiddled with the sleeve of her robes. "It doesn't bother you at all does it? My, er, possible infatuation with the Ferret?"
"I'm not Ron or Harry. You don't have to call him that in front of me."
Good to know. "Still, it's Malfoy."
"How long have you worked with him?"
"A little over a year."
"And how long have you liked him?"
"I don't know. Anywhere from two to six months."
"Well, there you have it. If you think he's changed, then I'm sure he has. You don't need my permission or anyone else's to like him."
"I know that, but…" Five years of bullying, two years of coercion and enslavement to Voldemort, almost killing Dumbledore, watching his aunt torture her and doing nothing, wanting to turn Harry over to Voldemort even though Harry had just saved him.
Ginny shrugged. "Bygones."
"Bygones?"
"Yes, bygones." Ginny hopped onto Hermione's desk, seating herself on the corner of the old mahogany structure. The movement caused the tower of scrolls to quiver, like a fascinating game of Jenga. Would they fall or wouldn't they? The scrolls tumbled over and rolled off the side of the desk, landing in a disorganized heap on the floor. "Oops."
Hermione pushed herself out of the chair and knelt to pick up the mess of files. "Yes, I'm sure you're quite broken up over it."
"I didn't do it on purpose," Ginny said contritely. With a wave of her wand, the scrolls were back in Hermione's in-box, teetering as precariously as ever before. "Now let me make that up to you by buying you a drink."
Hermione shook her head, brushing away the curls that annoyed her face. Pulling her hair back, she quickly twisted it and pinned it in place with her quill. "I hate going to pubs. They're loud, and they smell of smoke, sweat, and strange people. I'd probably have a better time here at the office."
"That's because you never drink alcohol when we go."
Good thing too. Hermione was an utter lightweight. Balloons had nothing on her. Give her one drink and her mind floated away on a thestral, abandoning her poor body behind. Generally, nothing good came of this, for when Hermione's brain and mouth were disconnected, she had this terrible habit of confessing truly regrettable things. Like admitting to Ginny that she fancied Malfoy. Or telling Ron he kissed like a fish. Though to be honest, she didn't regret that. It effectively ended the relationship she no longer wanted to be in. She just wished she'd been a bit more tactful. Ron probably did too.
At Hermione's unimpressed look, Ginny tried again. "I'm sure some of our old Hogwarts friends will be there. It would be good for you to see them. Neville just got engaged."
"I know, and I'll make sure to give him my congratulations. At the Christmas party. Next week."
Ginny slid off the desk, sulking over to Hermione's chair. "You're no fun, you know that?"
A twinge of annoyance curdled in Hermione's stomach, and she swallowed down the resentment that sprung up against her much more fun and exciting friend. "I can be fun. Just not today."
"Alright, I'll leave you alone." Ginny held her arms open for a good-bye, which Hermione stepped into. Like an idiot, albeit a trusting one. "But only after you've had something to drink!"
"Ginny!" Hermione shrieked, but it was too late. The tell-tale feeling of side-along apparation pulled at her insides, and they landed in an alley just outside the Leaky Cauldron. Well, Ginny landed. Hermione stumbled straight into the back of the person next to her.
"I am so sor—Oof!" Hermione's apology was cut off by the bony shoulder of the aforementioned witch being jammed into her chest. Hard. Clearly no accident. Hermione rubbed the sore spot as the abuser pivoted on her heel. Hermione, who was now bent over at the waist, felt rather than saw the witch glower over her. "Stupid cow! Next time watch where you're going," the witch hissed.
"I'm sorry," Hermione snapped, trying to keep her patience. After all, she'd barreled into the girl first. Whoever she was. Hermione stood up to her full height, getting her first glimpse of the person who broke her fall. The face seemed familiar, but with the poor lighting from the evening winter sky, she couldn't be sure.
"It was an accident," Ginny said, stepping in between Hermione and her accuser. "Now run along."
"If you think—"
"Lay off, Pansy," Ginny warned.
Pansy Parkinson?! Hermione blinked, seeing the surly witch with new eyes. She'd done something to her nose, and her normally black hair had been bleached a light shade of blonde, but there was no mistaking that haughty sneer.
The witch's un-puglike nose wrinkled as she ran her hands over her robes, smoothing the impeccable and expensive material. "Why don't you take a picture, Granger? It would last longer," she spat.
Thank Merlin for the darkness. It suitably hid the red creeping over her cheeks and down her neck. Of all the humiliating things in the world, she had to be caught walking about like a graceless gorilla and staring at Pansy. Malfoy's ex-girlfriend.
"I didn't recognize you," Hermione said in her defense.
"Must be the nose job," Ginny said, smiling triumphantly at their childhood nemesis. Pansy shot Ginny a glance as withering as a basilisk's bite, but turned away and walked into the dilapidated store-front hiding the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron from Muggle eyes.
"Happy Christmas, Pans!" Ginny called out, badly stifling her laughter.
Then she turned to Hermione. "Shall we?" Ginny offered her elbow, and Hermione weighed her options. Stay upset with the person who'd tricked her and caused the run-in with Pansy Parkinson, or forgive the friend who'd put that harpy in her place?
Hermione took Ginny's elbow, giggling all the way as Ginny dragged her into the Leaky Cauldron.
A wall of warmth, sound, and scent enveloped her the second they stepped in, and whatever resentment she felt toward Ginny instantly gave way to the sight of cheer on display before her. A group of wizards were standing at the bar, arms draped over each other, swaying unsteadily as they waved their mugs in the air and bellowed out a bar tune about the Wizard McFarlane and his most magical, sparkly pants. It was like Frosty the Snowman, but instead of an innocent ditty about a hat that brought a snowman to life, the song described a pair of leather chaps that had made its wearer irresistible to all witches. The tension in Hermione's neck ebbed away as her shoulders fell down from about her ears for the first time that day.
Ginny had been perfectly right. Hermione needed a break. And a drink. Ginny already knew her deepest, darkest secret, and there wasn't anyone here she could embarrass herself in front of. Where was the harm?
Hermione's fit of giggles grew until she was nearly bent over, twitching with merriment she felt all the way to her belly. "I shouldn't be laughing," Hermione said, shaking her head.
"Yes, yes, I know. And I shouldn't make comments about people's personal appearances."
"True. And what about bygones?" Hermione asked, wiping her eyes.
"Not for her. I can't stand her," Ginny said.
Hermione silently agreed. Which was further proof her crush on Malfoy really needed to stop. How could she be attracted to a man that had once dated that odious hag? Pansy was pretty, she grudgingly admitted. Even prettier with her new nose, but her insides resembled a mountain troll's backside. Which meant Malfoy either liked evil girls or was incredibly shallow. Her mother had warned her about men like that, and Allison Granger was always right about these things.
The sound of someone approaching their table distracted Hermione from her musings on Malfoy. Hermione smiled at the familiar face of the owner of the Leaky Cauldron, Hannah Abbott. Stray hairs stuck out every which way from the blonde braid that hung over her shoulder. Stains covered her apron, and her pink-face was abnormally flushed from bustling about taking care of so many customers. Hermione imagined how frazzled she'd feel in Hannah's place, but the witch looked positively luminous. "Hello, ladies. What can I get for you?"
Their orders placed, Hannah snapped her fingers and the drinks appeared on the table.
Ginny motioned to Hermione to grab her shot of firewhisky. Having already given up fighting her irrepressible friend, Hermione picked up the shot glass, and together with Ginny, downed its contents in one go.
Slamming the glass back on the table, Hermione tried to keep a straight face as the firewhisky's vapors burned in her nose and down her throat. Coughing, she opened up her watery eyes, immediately spying something shiny on Hannah's finger.
"I can't believe I forgot! Congratulations, Hannah!" Hermione jumped out of her seat to hug her newly affianced friend, flinging her empty shot glass over the edge of the table in her zeal.
Ginny lunged forward just in time to catch it before it shattered on the floor. Holding up the glass, she smirked. "I think Hermione is already drunk."
"I am not! Just happy for My. Newly. Engaged. Friend," Hermione squealed, each emphasized word growing higher in pitch and volume. Alright, maybe she was a little tipsy, but it wasn't often that her friends got engaged. "Another round for all of us!" Hermione crowed happily, then clarified, "To celebrate Hannah and Neville's engagement!"
"I was wondering when you'd notice," Hannah said, wiggling the fingers of her left hand in front of her friends, while serving up the new drinks with her right.
Hermione lifted her glass, and the other girls followed. "To Hannah and Nevile," she said.
"I probably shouldn't drink on the job," Hannah said.
"And I probably shouldn't have another shot," Hermione giggled. "But just this one drink shouldn't hurt."
"Bottoms up, ladies," Ginny said, and they downed their drinks together.
Hermione felt the firewhisky burn through her veins, which sounded very painful but was actually quite pleasant. 'Burn' was definitely too strong a word. Maybe 'warmly flicker'? Or 'gently smolder?' Hmm, perhaps she was drunk. This would definitely have to be her last drink.
Hermione reached for Hannah's hand, admiring her ring. The diamond sparkled against its gold setting, each of its facets lit within by a prism of color. Hermione sighed, smiling happily at her friend. "It's beautiful."
Hannah beamed, rotating her hand and watching her engagement ring glitter. "Neville picked it out all by himself."
"And how did he propose?" Ginny asked as Hermione and Hannah sat down in the booth.
Hannah sat down with them, placing her left hand in the middle of the table. "I went to see him at Hogwarts last week, and he took me down to one of the greenhouses to show me a flutterby bush that was blooming, which he said was odd for this time of year." Hermione smiled knowingly at Neville's lie. The flutterby bush, her favorite shrub, only bloomed in spring. And when it did, what a sight to behold. The leaves, colored and shaped like butterfly wings, opened and closed, trembling as if poised for flight. Hermione leaned forward, eager for more of the story.
"The flutterby was one of the blue species. Neville told me its name, but I can't remember it. Anyway, it looked like those tropical butterflies, and he told me to lean down and look closely. When I touched one of the leaves, the whole bush took off. They were actually butterflies he'd charmed to stay there. So, while all these butterflies flew around the greenhouse, he knelt down beside me. Underneath the bush was a box with my ring in it…He said I made his heart soar."
The three girls released a collective sigh, and Hermione's insides melted. Gods, how romantic. She only hoped that when it was her time to become engaged, her wizard would be just as thoughtful and imaginative. That is, if she were ever lucky enough to date again and find a boyfriend whose kisses were less fish-like.
"Aw, how sweet."
Hermione's insides congealed at the sound of the lazy drawl. Hoping against hope, she prayed that when she looked up that voice would belong to someone other than Blaise Zabini. It did not. And sure enough, behind him stood his close friend Draco Malfoy. He must have just come from the cold, for his cheeks were bright red, accenting the high bones. His gray eyes were unusually bright, standing out even more against his pale skin. Snowflakes rested on the shoulders of his black coat, and had probably melted in his hair, causing the white-blond strands to appear darker. Hermione looked away, irritated at his presence and then more irritated that his being there should upset her in the slightest.
Why were they here?! Their kind did not frequent such common places as the Leaky Cauldron except to get in and out of Diagon Alley. Perhaps if she ignored him, he would go away.
"Congratulations, Hannah," Malfoy quietly said. "Neville is a lucky man."
Hannah stood from her seat, her lips drawn into a taut line. "May I help you?" she asked.
If Blaise noticed a change in the usually cheery Hufflepuff, he didn't let on. "I'll have a firewhisky, and Malfoy will have…"
"The same," Draco said, taking the seat beside Hermione, leaving Blaise to sit next to Ginny.
"And two more for the ladies," Blaise added.
Before Hermione could object, their orders appeared, and Hannah left without another word.
Hermione watched her walk away, fighting a frown. It had been five years since the end of the war. Six since the death of Hannah's mother at the hand of Death Eaters. While Draco's parents had defected at the last minute, and it had been shown that Draco acted under duress, it still did not change the fact that they had been in league with Voldemort. Perhaps, some wounds were too big for bygones.
Mildly sobered by such thoughts, nevertheless Hermione could feel the firewhisky quickly working its magic. Draco sitting in such close proximity to her did not help matters.
"Imagine running into you here," Blaise said, glancing back and forth between Ginny and Hermione. "Almost like a Hogwarts reunion."
"Feeling nostalgic?" Ginny said, eying him curiously.
"Not in the slightest. I detested school."
Draco shifted in his chair, and Hermione stole a peek at him. He always possessed impeccable posture, but the way he was seated now, with the rigid set of his shoulders and his stiffened spine, bordered on the ridiculous. Utterly uncomfortable, which he must have been. Thinking back on Hogwarts couldn't be much fun for him. For Zabini, he probably disliked it for the same reasons most young people did—boring professors, too much work, too many rules. But with Malfoy, were there any good memories? For the first five years, he was a whinging braggart, and then after the imprisonment of his father, he labored under the belief that if he didn't kill Dumbledore, he and his parents would die. Far more stressful than sitting for OWLs or NEWTs.
Hermione raised her drink, breaking the dreary silence that had settled over the table. "A toast to interhouse unity."
Ginny winked at Hermione. "And to bygones."
"Indeed," Malfoy said, clanging his glass against Hermione's and offering her a small smile, which nearly made her upset her drink. Setting it down, she watched the others slake their thirst.
"Busy night." Zabini observed. Setting his glass down, he watched a stream of wizards and witches go through the Diagon Alley access. "Likely everyone had the same idea as us to get their Christmas shopping done early."
Ginny snorted. "Early? It's a week before Christmas. Hermione's been finished since April."
"That's not true," Hermione protested, irritated at the picture Ginny painted of her. Why didn't she just compare her to one of Professor Binns's history lectures—uninteresting, tedious, and predictable. "Just last week I bought—"
A ridiculously expensive gift for Malfoy that was completely inappropriate for a coworker. The last minute purchase had been an act of whimsy. She'd been out one day, saw it in the shop window and had to purchase it. But just in case she chickened out, she had a second gift in reserve. Of course, she couldn't reveal any of this. How unfortunate for her that the one thing that demonstrated her wild and crazy streak also displayed her more than healthy interest in the wizard sitting next to her.
"You were saying?" Malfoy said, his grey eyes trained on hers. Merlin, she wanted that firewhisky. How could he look at her and not see how much he affected her? It took all the courage on hand not to look away. "Nothing. I just bought something last week. That's all."
"How very interesting and informative, Granger. As always," Blaise drawled, stifling a yawn.
Hermione wrapped her fingers tightly around her glass. Stupid git!
"Excuse me?" Blaise said sharply as Malfoy let out a loud laugh.
Hermione gasped, covering her mouth. "Did I say that out loud?"
"Yes," snapped Zabini, clearly affronted.
Starting to panic, Hermione squirmed in her seat, looking toward the Leaky Cauldron's entrance and devising an exit strategy. Too bad her brain seemed to be operating under a Confundus spell.
Ginny pushed Zabini's drink towards him. "Bygones, Zabini. Drink up!"
Zabini didn't look convinced and opened his mouth to say something. Before he could utter a word, a rustle under the table distracted Hermione from her mental flagellations. She leaned back in her seat to peer underneath, but a loud grunt from Zabini diverted her attention from below. His brown eyes narrowed, focusing a great deal of anger on her seat buddy. When she looked over at Malfoy to see what the problem was, he simply shrugged. Zabini on the other hand angrily grabbed at his drink, tipped it back and drained its entire contents. Accosting a passing waitress, he demanded another.
"Me too," Ginny said happily. Finally, she had found another person who could keep up with her drinking. The waitress looked expectantly at Malfoy and Hermione, but they both waved her off.
Hermione watched as Ginny and Zabini matched each other sip for sip, draining another glass of firewhisky, then asking for another. Glancing out the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy's lips moving, but when she turned to hear what he said, there was nothing.
"I can't hear you," Hermione said, gesturing to the crowd of wizards at the bar, who after a brief intermission had just started bellowing the ballad of Fin the Enchanter, a merman whose sea green eyes made all the girls wild with passion. One look from them, and it was like being struck by a jelly-legs curse.
Draco resolved the problem by leaning close to her. "I see you finally broke free from work," Draco said in her ear. The smell of pine and rain clung to his skin and clothes, and Hermione ordered herself to stop breathing. "Had enough of Ukranian and Romanian wizards battling it out over cabbage and worms?"
"Ha ha, yes, and don't forget the Bulgarians," Hermione said, cringing at how unnatural she sounded. She scooted away from him, cursing the tiny remaining space between her and the end of the booth seat. His closeness unnerved her, and her lungs clamored for oxygen untainted by such foul things as trees and water. In her haste, her elbow brushed against her drink, nearly knocking it over onto him. That crisis averted, she realized she was in danger as long as the drink was anywhere near her. "Here, have mine," she yelled back over the din, thrusting the liquid disaster toward him.
"Why do you want me to drink your firewhisky?" he asked, just as the ballad of Fin the Enchanter ended.
Naturally this attracted the attention of their buddies. Zabini magnanimously took a break from his unspoken drinking contest with Ginny to make some pithy comment.
"I suspect she has something sinister in mind. Admit it, Granger. You're trying to get him drunk so you can have your wicked way with him."
Ginny laughed loudly, careening into Blaise's shoulder. "Good one."
"I'm designated apparator tonight," Hermione said defensively, playing with her coaster as she sank lower in her seat, mortified. "And I'm going in to work tomorrow."
"Good girl," Malfoy said, patting her on the back. Tingles shot down her spine, and it almost felt like she'd had another two shots of firewhisky. She pushed her drink farther away, afraid that she'd forget and accidentally imbibe the liquid. "At least one of us should be responsible," he added. "I can come in tomorrow to help," he added.
Hermione shook her head. "That's alright. No need for both of us to work on a Saturday."
Zabini laughed. "Your company must be so awful for her to turn down the extra help."
Ginny giggled, bumping into Zabini. "Don't let her fool you. She'd love for Malfoy to come and help her."
Hermione blushed, but thought that the dim lighting would hide it. And she could always blame it on the alcohol. Besides, Ginny's comments needn't be taken to mean she liked Draco, just that she would want his help. Still, she needed to clean up some of the damage. "Ignore her. She's drunk and spouting nonsense. I'll be fine, Malfoy. But thank you for offering."
But Zabini refused to let it go. "Pardon me, but did you say Granger—"
Hermione waved her hands, both interrupting and dismissing Zabini before he could reach any conclusions. "She's clearly drunk."
"And you're clearly blushing."
"No, I'm not!"
Zabini reached across to the table to try to touch her cheek, and she smacked his hand away. "What are you doing?!"
Fortunately, Hermione was saved by her friend, though she knew Ginny was too drunk to be intentionally helping her.
"We saw your girlfriend tonight, Malfoy," Ginny said, tapping the side of her nose. "Love the new look."
"Oh. Is she here?" Malfoy turned his head to the side, examining the sea of witches and wizards filling the pub. Hermione's stomach sank. Had Pansy and Malfoy started dating again?
"If she is, she can't sit with us," Ginny said.
"I wasn't going—"
Ginny interrupted Malfoy. "Did you know she had the nerve to insult Hermione?"
Hermione could feel Ginny's gaze boring into her, but she refused to look up. She knew what Ginny was doing. Redirecting the conversation back to her, paying her compliments, keeping Malfoy's focus on her. Hermione did not appreciate the friendly interference.
Zabini laughed. "With Pansy, that's par for the course."
Malfoy took a slow sip of his drink, then said. "I don't think she knows how to be nice to anyone."
Malfoy's tone suggested annoyance with Pansy, but Hermione did not want to set her hopes too high. After all, there was much she didn't know about their relationship. Generally, she and Malfoy only discussed work. Or if it strayed into the personal, it never included exes. So while a curiosity to know more about his feelings toward Pansy consumed her with the fire of a thousand suns, Hermione had always let the conflagration burn within her, unanswered. Maybe that's why she was perspiring so badly now.
"Well, if you have any influence over her you should tell her to exercise caution over that great, rude maw of hers. The things she said to Hermione were awful."
"What did she say to you?" Malfoy asked quietly, turning back to her.
"Nothing I couldn't handle."
Malfoy smiled, a true smile this time, and nudged her with his elbow. "Since you seem to deal with Pansy so well, I'm leaving you in charge of protecting me from her."
Her stomach flipped, but it was immediately followed by another sensation. Something that felt awfully like a toe digging into her shin. Unfortunately, it wasn't Malfoy playing footsies with her. Just Ginny poking her under the table. Still, Hermione was nearly giddy. Someone other than herself had witnessed Malfoy flirting with her. But she told herself not to get too excited. How many times had she thought he'd shown interest before, only to be mistaken? Now if only Ginny would stop kicking her.
Hermione gave her friend a subtle glare. While Ginny was no mindreader, Hermione stared into the amused brown eyes of her friend, pleading, for the love of all that is good, please let this drop.
"If Pansy thinks you have any interest in Malfoy, she will come at you with claws extended. And she fights dirty." Zabini grinned evilly. "Perhaps I should tell her."
"Hermione helped take down Voldemort. I'm sure she's quaking in her boots," Ginny said, giving her the thumbs up.
"It's good to know I'm in such capable hands," Malfoy murmured as he looked at Hermione.
If Hermione had been drinking something, she would have spit it across the table. Fortunately, Ginny was there to pick up her slack.
"Whoa there, Weasley. I came inside to escape the wet," Zabini said, taking out his wand and drying himself. Ginny ignored him as she sloppily swiped at her mouth with a napkin, then took another swig of firewhisky. Hermione frowned at her inedbriated friend. "Ginny, perhaps you'd like a glass of water instead."
Hermione's attempt to dilute the alcohol content of her friend was summarily ignored.
Ginny leaned across the table, finger pointing at Malfoy. "If she's so horrible you want Hermione as your bodyguard, why did you date her?"
"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed, though inwardly she thanked drunken, tactless Ginny. She'd been dying to know herself.
"Another failed attempt at pleasing my parents," Malfoy said as he swirled the firewhisky round in his glass.
"Really?" Ginny asked, once again proving her worth as a friend. "You dated her to make your parents happy?"
"I didn't think I had many prospects. And of those people that still wanted to associate with an ex-Death Eater, why not choose the ones that made my parents happiest?"
"But she's a bitch."
Hermione's hand slapped over her mouth.
"My, my, Granger. I don't remember your vocabulary being quite this coarse at Hogwarts. Malfoy's influence, no doubt," Zabini said.
Draco raised his pale eyebrows, saying nothing.
Before she could apologize, Ginny cut her off loudly. "I'm sure plenty of girls would want to date you, Malfoy. You could probably ask any girl in this bar on a date, and she'd say yes."
"Even Granger?" Zabini asked.
"Any girl," Ginny reaffirmed. "Well, maybe not Hannah Abbot," she added with a giggle.
Hermione sank in her seat, resisting the urge to reach across the table and choke her friend.
But it seemed Draco was either oblivious or intentionally ignoring Ginny's heavy handed match-making attempts. "I care for Pansy, in a way. We've been friends since childhood. But I don't love her, and the more she tries, the more I dislike being around her."
"Don't look so upset, Granger," Zabini said, grinning at her wickedly.
Hermione blinked and looked up, belatedly realizing that Draco's dislike for Pansy had caused her face to light up with a wide grin. Trying to cover it up, she murmured," I'm just happy that Dr—" she cleared her throat, "That is to say, I'm glad Malfoy is out of an unhealthy relationship. It is the worst when you are with someone who feels more for you than you for do for them."
"Is that why the Weasel broke up with you?" Zabini.
Ginny punched Zabini on the shoulder. Hard. "Hermione was the one that ended it, you idiot. Not Ron."
"Do tell," Zabini said, leaning forward.
Hermione began to rise from her seat. "I think it's time to—"
"Hermione was drunk and told Ron he kissed like a fish, and he got so mad at her that they fought and she dumped him."
Sadly, that pretty much summed it up. For two people who had gone through so much together, it was amazing how shallow their romantic relationship ended up being.
Zabini hit the table with his fist, and let out a bark of laughter. "And to think the whole time I thought Granger was madly in love with the Weasel."
"Nope," Ginny grinned. "She was madly in love with the Ferret."
Beside her, she heard Draco inhale sharply. Across from her, Zabini blinked, and then his lips twitched at the sides.
Hermione started to tremble. How was it that she was able to stare down Deatheaters, but could not face her crush? Easy! Then she'd had time to plan and study her mode of attack. She got to choose how and when she was called into action. But this?! It wasn't supposed to happen this way. First, she wasn't even supposed to like Draco. And second, Draco was supposed to fall for her. Draco was supposed to pursue her. Draco was supposed to confess his undying love for her in some insanely romantic way that would surpass even her own fairy-tale imaginings.
But she'd deal with her disappointment later. Now was the time to improvise.
Summoning all her Gryffindor courage, Hermione stood up as gracefully as she could. "Very funny, drunken Ginny. Excuse us, gentlemen, but I think it's time we headed home. Clearly my friend has had entirely too much to drink." Then she laughed, and Merciful Morgana, it sounded completely natural.
Hermione could look back to that very moment with pride. She had handled it so well, so believably that neither Draco nor Zabini would have suspected Ginny's words to be anything but the ramblings of an intoxicated lunatic.
Too bad Ginny had to ruin it. The ex-friend in question gasped and nearly burst into tears. "Hermione, I'm so, so, so sorry. I never meant to say that; it just slipped out. Now you'll never trust me with anything again," Ginny wailed, then seemed to think better of what she was doing. "I didn't mean it, Malfoy. I was only joking around—" Ginny stood up and swayed, " I was just…ugh, I don't feel so good."
The two wizards at the table sat in stunned silence, but Zabini was the first to recover. Raising his glass toward Draco, he smugly said, "In vino veritas, mate."
Hermione did not wait to see if Draco joined in on the congratulations.
"Excuse us," she said, dragging Ginny roughly with her toward the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. The task was not made any easier by Ginny's constant protests that she was going to throw up.
"I don't care," Hermione hissed through her teeth. And she really didn't care. Served Ginny right. What Hermione did care about, though, was getting the hell out of the Leaky Cauldron as quickly as possible. Too bad the inhabitants of the crowded pub seemed to be fighting over who could delay them the most.
Five steps from the door. Only five more steps until she was in the alley and could apparate home, curl up in her bed, and die of embarrassment.
Only it was no longer five steps from the door, but five steps and Pansy Parkinson.
The newly-nosed Slytherin sneered, but that quickly changed to a smile directed at something over Hermione's shoulder.
"Draco! It's so good to see you! What are you doing here? Are you here with Blaise?"
Hermione felt herself on the verge of tears. Why couldn't she escape?! Hoping that Pansy would keep him distracted, she continued dragging Ginny toward the door.
Draco's arm at her elbow stopped her. "Granger, we need to talk."
Hermione did not turn to look at him. "I can go over the Bulgarian's proposals for the flobberworms with you next week at work."
Draco pulled her back towards him, so that her shoulder blades grazed his chest. "Perhaps if you weren't the brightest witch of your age I'd actually believe your attempts at playing dumb."
"Not now, Malfoy. Ginny's about to get sick everywhere, and Pansy wants to speak with you. Whatever it is you need to tell me, I'm sure it can wait."
Draco spun her around, cursing under his breath. "Is it true? Are you," he swallowed, leaning in and lowering his voice so that only she could hear, "are you in love with me?"
Hermione looked up into his grey eyes, unable to say anything.
And then the unthinkable happened. Pansy Parkinson did Hermione Granger a favor.
Grabbing Draco by the arm, Pansy cooed, "Aren't you going to say hi? I haven't seen you in ages. Are you here with Blaise? You have to take me to him."
But Draco shrugged her off. "Not now, Pansy."
Hermione watched Pansy's new nostrils flare in ire, but when she saw Hermione watching her, Pansy forced a smile on her lips. Still, she looked like she'd just sucked on a lemon.
"Granger, you don't mind if I steal Draco for a bit? I know you're a workaholic, but you really should leave that at the office and let Draco enjoy some time with his friends."
Even in the midst of her Draco turmoil, Hermione would not deign to respond to Pansy's ridiculous insult. Besides, Ginny's comeback was much better than any verbal riposte she could have crafted. Hermione dared anyone to top throwing up on Pansy's shoes.
At first, Pansy looked at her feet in muted horror, but that only lasted a few seconds before her shrill screams cut through the cheery singing in the Leaky Cauldron.
"Thank you, drunken, tactless, vomitous Ginny," Hermione whispered under her breath as she shoved Ginny out the door.
"For what?" a dazed Ginny asked as Hermione apparated them to Ginny's apartment.
Before Hermione could answer, Ginny ran to the bathroom and threw up.
After casting a cleaning spell on Ginny and helping her to bed, Hermione didn't feel quite so grateful to her friend.
The adrenaline rush that followed Ginny's masterful hurling on Pansy's shoes was quickly fading. She paced the room, trying to think of ways to control the damage Ginny and her firewhisky had inflicted.
Maybe this is all just a terrible dream.
A hard pinch to her arm burst that bubble.
But why was she pinching herself?! It was Ginny who deserved the bruise.
If only she had stayed in the office. Or not drank the firewhisky. Or made Ginny stop after the first two shots.
Hermione slumped down on the couch, rocking back and forth. All that was left was for her to accept her fate.
"O Merlin, my life is ruined," she wailed. How would she ever face Draco again?
Ginny stumbled into the room, her face contorted in a grimace. "I feel like a plague rat climbed into my mouth and died."
Whatever pity Hermione possessed had already been expended on herself. "That's because you threw up in it," she snapped.
Ginny sat down next to Hermione. "How embarrassing. I bet Zabini is going to tell everyone I can't hold my liquor."
"Would it make you feel better if I told you vomited on Pansy Parkinson?"
"No," Ginny said, though Hermione could tell she felt conflicted about her answer.
"Good, because I want you to feel horrible. I cannot believe you told Malfoy I was in love with him!"
"Not so loud please." Ginny groaned, cradling her head in her hands. "And there is no way I would do that."
"What were you thinking?!" Hermione roared.
Ginny covered her ears with her hands. "Are you sure I did that? I don't remember doing that."
"Ginny!" Hermione shouted. "I was there! And mostly sober, which is more than I can say for you."
"Maybe he won't believe me," Ginny offered hopefully.
"Of course he'll believe you. You kept apologizing over and over about how sorry you were for sharing my secret feelings for him. He even asked me if I was in love with him, and you know what I did? Just stood there and said nothing. That's as good as a yes." Hermione stood up, wringing her hands as she walked back and forth in front of the couch. "I could have said 'I'd never have a crush on a Deatheater like you.' Or 'Not in a million years, Ferret.' Or even just 'no.' Why didn't I say no?! Oh gods, Ginny, what am I going to do?"
After a few seconds of silence, Hermione turned toward her friend, yelling, "After so spectacularly ruining my life, the least you could do is try to offer me some advice."
Ginny answered with a loud snore, completely dead to the world around her.
"Thanks a billion," Hermione groused as she gathered her things to leave.
The apparation point nearest her house was in her driveway. Ignoring the unpleasant after affects of apparating, she trudged towards her front porch. The light was off, and with the new moon and few stars to provide any illumination, she made sure to look down as she carefully navigated the steps on her landing.
She reached for the door knob, and had just settled her hand there when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
Whirling around, she screamed, "Petrificus Totalus." Her would-be attacker immediately stood at attention, then toppled over to the ground.
Fumbling for her wand, she cast a Lumos spell and gazed down at her assailant. Breathing slowly, she tried to calm her racing heart.
She blinked. "Draco? What are you doing here?"
He said nothing.
"Oh, the spell! Finite."
Draco pulled himself inelegantly from the ground. "I demand an explanation," he said hotly as he brushed the dust from his robes.
What was there to explain? "I thought you were some strange man attacking me."
Draco sighed impatiently. "An explanation for your rude behavior at the Leaky Cauldron."
Hermione felt as if ice water had been poured over her head, but she tried to hide it with bluster. "I'm sorry that your feelings were hurt, but I did nothing of the sort. If I had been rude, I would have stayed around to chit chat about work while Ginny was so clearly out of sorts. Besides," Hermione said as she gave a vicious yank to the door knob and let herself into her house, "Pansy wanted to speak to you."
"You're jealous," Draco said, following her into her house.
Hermione scoffed. "Why would I be jealous of that pug-nosed snob?"
When Draco didn't immediately answer, Hermione turned around to find him standing on her threshold, quietly taking in his surroundings. "So this is where Granger lives."
Her eyes quickly darted over her living space, trying to think what her house said about her and what conclusions Draco would draw from it. The small domicile was nothing compared to Malfoy Manor, and there were many improvements she still wished to make, but at least her house was clean.
He walked across the room, stopping at her fireplace. Pointing to the picture hanging over the mantle he asked, "What's that?"
"Just a print from a children's book I liked. It's a prince and princess." She hoped he wouldn't notice that the prince had shockingly blond hair and beautiful grey eyes.
"One of your muggle fairy tales, I assume?"
"Yes and no. It's a muggle story, but it was written in the last thirty years, so I wouldn't call it a fairy tale." Hermione's brow wrinkled. "I suppose you could say it's similar to Beauty and the Beast, but instead of a beast the prince is turned into a dragon." Hermione bit her tongue, wishing she had left that last part secret. Indeed, this had been the present she had thought to give to Draco. There was a second print in her house, just on her desk of the prince in his dragon form.
"Fascinating." Draco walked over to her couch and sat down. Legs open wide, hands resting on his knee as he leaned forward. She'd seen this look before when they worked together. Draco was ready for business. "Why didn't you answer my question at the Leaky Cauldron?" he asked in a detached tone.
Thankfully, her mind had more of a chance to settle down from its alcohol induced high. It occurred to her that she could deny everything again, but what was the point? Best to get this over with as quickly as possible.
"Malfoy, I apologize for what happened earlier with Ginny. I promise to be nothing but professional in the future." Hermione extended her hand in a gesture of friendship, hoping he looked at her awaiting palm rather than the troublesome gleam of tears that had risen to her eyes.
Draco looked down at her token of peace, but made no move to grab it. After what felt like an age, but could not have been more than five seconds, her hand began to tremble visibly. Mortified, she crossed her arms in front of her chest.
"You said you'd protect me from Pansy, and yet in my hour of need, you left me," Draco pointed out dispassionately.
"I never agreed to be anyone's bodyguard. And it's not like you were completely helpless. Ginny did throw up on Pansy."
"That was just a fortunate coincidence."
An uncomfortable silence settled over the room, and Hermione turned toward the kitchen. "Care for some tea?"
"No. What I want is for you to come here," he placed his hand on the cushion next to him, "and discuss what happened at the Leaky Cauldron."
"Fine," Hermione said, trying not to pout. She inched toward the couch and sat down, careful not to come in contact with Draco. "What do you want to know?"
"Are you in love with me?"
"No. Thank gods." She wasn't completely insane.
"Are you interested in me sexually?"
"Ye-," Hermione caught herself, but not soon enough. "I mean no," she choked out.
Draco seemed to ignore her discomfort. "Which is it?"
Hermione's nostrils flared. How could he remain so composed? It was as if they were at work, parsing out the proposals of the Eastern European wizarding delegations and their flobberworm dilemma. Well, she could play that game too. "Yes, I am interested in you as a woman is interested in a man, but no, I don't fantasize about having sex with you," she said tersely.
"And how long would you say you've been aware of my…masculine otherness?"
"Anywhere from two to six months."
"That's a wide range of time, Granger. I would expect more accuracy from someone as meticulous as you."
It sounded like a compliment, but she knew he was baiting her. "If I had to pin it down exactly I would say it began when you shared your Fizzing Whizbees with me."
She actually had the date memorized, since it was the day after she had dumped Ron. Draco had asked her to his office to proofread a letter to the Romanian delegation. She sat in his chair as he stood behind her, leaning over to read from behind her shoulder.
There had been no mistakes, per usual. Just the obvious intelligence of the writer, undergirded with an imperceptible sarcasm she was only able to recognize because of how well she knew him. She'd let out more than one laugh as she'd read Draco's suggestions to the Romanians for diplomacy with the Ukrainian wizards.
"Thanks, Granger. It's unfortunate I can't hire you as my personal secretary. You'd be fantastic at it. And then I wouldn't have to pen these letters myself."
"While I have no doubt you'd make an excellent dictator that is what enchanted quills are for."
As she stood up, he held out a piece of candy to her. "I don't usually share these, but I'm in a particularly magnanimous mood today."
"Considering the acid that drips from your tongue, you are the last person I would have suspected of having a sweet tooth," Hermione teased.
"It counterbalances the venom," he said seriously.
Their fingers brushed as she accepted the Fizzing Whizbee. He'd smiled at her, then licked the edge of his mouth to get at the sugar granules left there by the candy he'd been sucking on as she'd read his letter. An unwelcome shiver traveled down the length of Hermione's spine as she imagined just how sweet his mouth actually tasted. And there was no doubt in her mind that Draco's kisses would be anything but fish-like. She left his office as quickly as she could, but it was too late. And she hadn't been able to escape her more than platonic thoughts of Draco ever since.
Draco narrowed his eyes. "That was ten months ago."
Hermione lifted her chin. "I know." Believe me, I know.
"And why do you like me?"
"I'm not going to answer that question. The only reason I'm even entertaining your curiosity is because we have an excellent working relationship, and I don't want this little aberration to get in the way of that. So please, can we just forget that tonight ever happened?"
Draco laughed. "I'd hardly call ten months an aberration. And what in our long acquaintance would suggest that I would ever forget, much less let you forget, this?"
Hermione's shoulders slumped. He was right. She'd never hear the end of this. It was either put in for a transfer to a different department or daily endure the subtle reminders of her crush on Draco from Draco himself. That bastard!
She turned away from him, facing the door. Fists clenched at her side, she snarled, "Get out. Now."
She heard Draco stand and cursed at herself for feeling disappointed. She supposed that somewhere deep down she had harbored the hope that maybe, just maybe-No! She would not allow her thoughts to travel down that path. Now she had only to regret that she hadn't been as harsh with herself those many months ago.
She felt a warm presence at her back. "What if I were interested in you…as a man is interested in a woman?" he said at her ear.
Hermione's let out a slow breath before answering. "Are you?"
"I haven't decided, and you aren't doing much to convince me."
"I am not going to beg you to reciprocate my feelings. Ever." Hermione turned around. His face was so close. She had only to rise on her tiptoes, and their mouths would meet. "I think I've been humiliated enough for this evening. Now kindly leave my home."
He tilted his head to the side, appraising her, "I could do without your bossiness. And yet, I know it stems from that bottomless pit of passion and drive that fascinates me. Your transparency, your complete inability to hide your emotions. I would need only touch you to know how you feel about me." He brushed his fingers against hers, the first time he'd done so since he'd handed her that piece of candy all those months ago. She closed her eyes. "It's quite flattering," he said matter-of-factly.
When she opened her eyes again, she reminded him in as swotty a voice as she could muster, "If I'm so unable to hide my emotions, how is it that you've been unaware of my feelings until now?"
Draco pursed his lips in thought, then gave a slight nod of his head. "You truly are my equal in every particular." He touched her temple. "Only you are smart enough to put me in my place." He traced down her cheek to her lips. "Only you are quick enough to challenge me." He caressed the soft skin under her eye. "Only you would figure out before me that we could be together." His hand drifted down her neck, stopping just above her heart. "And only you would be stubborn enough to force me to see it for myself." He spoke slowly, as if coming to these realizations only after the words came out of his mouth. She could not tell if he found these truths pleasant.
But they were all truths. Though to be fair, Hermione had never attempted to force Draco to see her in a romantic light. She always thought her feelings were madness, and therefore not worth examining them for any validity. But now, it suddenly all made sense. Only she'd needed him to point it out to her. Not that she'd admit that to him.
"I thought you said you were smart," Hermione said, covering his hand with her own.
Draco paid no attention to her insult, though his eyes focused on her mouth. "You're so beautiful, Granger. If you had been anyone else, I would have asked you out on a date years ago."
Hermione flung his hand from her heart. "What's that supposed to mean?!"
He smoothed her hair down, though she tried to bat his hand away. Not unlike her attempts to calm an irritated Crookshanks, may he rest in peace. "Calm down, Granger. I only meant you were entirely out of the realm of possibility. First, you're a muggle. And when I finally learned that didn't matter, you were a war hero and I was—correction, still am—persona non grata. It never occurred to me that you saw me as anything more than a flobberworm, much less a man. Plus, there was the Weasel and Pansy."
Hermione couldn't keep the look of disgust off her face.
"I would tell you not to be jealous, but I actually like it," Draco drawled.
"You smug, complacent, little toad! Are you quite finished? Because it's late, and I really need to get some sleep."
"One thing more."
"Yes?"
"Let me kiss you."
Hermione blinked, feeling a stab of pain in her heart. To her, their chemistry was a foregone conclusion. But perhaps Draco didn't see it the same way. "And if I say no, are you going to overlook all those reasons you just gave for why we'd be perfect for each other? When he said nothing, she continued, "I feel as if you think I'm some kind of car you can test drive and discard if you don't like the ride."
"Isn't that what you did with Weasley?"
"No! Ron and I weren't good for each other. If I felt for him even part of what I feel for you—" then it wouldn't have mattered how Ron kissed. She would have enjoyed it regardless. "It's completely different."
On this point, Hermione would not budge. Perhaps she was being too harsh on him. After all, she hadn't realized the depth of her feelings for Draco until now, but at least she'd been aware of something these past ten months. Meanwhile, he'd just figured out their perfection for each other in the last ten minutes. But she'd already given too many concessions tonight, and she could not make another if she hoped to have any standing in this relationship. If Draco couldn't understand why, then he wasn't as smart as she thought he was.
They stood, staring one another down. Finally Draco spoke.
"Be my girlfriend."
And then before she could answer, he leaned down and kissed her. She didn't analyze how Draco kissed. She could barely think at all, and the one thought she could formulate was that he needed to be closer. But Draco pulled away much too soon, and Hermione had to bite down a whimper.
"To be clear, I already knew we'd have excellent chemistry. That bit was for you."
Hermione laughed, not believing him for a second. "I think you mean it was for you. Draco, did you really think I'd dump you if I didn't like the way you kissed?"
Draco didn't answer, which she knew from her own experience was tantamount to a yes. Hermione's heart melted.
"If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm mad about you. You could kiss like five thousand fishes, and I wouldn't care. Though I might have had to give you some instruction," she said, smiling.
"You do so enjoy telling people what to do."
"That's right. Now kiss me again." And then to reassure him, she added "Just as you did before."
Of course he didn't listen. But Hermione could hardly complain. Indeed, she could barely speak at all when he was finished. "Why didn't you tell me it could be this good?" she gasped.
Draco smirked, but the smugness didn't reach his eyes, which were as gentle as she'd ever seen them. "I didn't know."
Hermione pressed her lips together, trying to contain her excitement, but failing miserably. Her body trembled from head to foot at the prospect of everything they'd learn and experience together.
Draco groaned, though not from pain. He'd obviously been thinking the same thing.
Hermione beamed up at him. "Think you can keep up?" she said cheekily.
His fingers dug into her waist, pulling her close against him. "I think you won't be able to form a coherent thought once I'm through with you."
"I think you're right, but I'm willing to risk it."
"Typical Gryffindor lack of self-preservation."
"Good thing you are Slytherin enough to take advantage."
Draco kissed her forehead. "I've just begun to join polite society again. I'm not sure the wizarding world would ever forgive me if I ruined the mind of the greatest witch of the age."
"They'll get over it. As my drunken friend Ginny likes to say 'Bygones.'"
"Bygones?"
"Yes. Now kiss me or I'll never forgive you."
The End
Author's Note: I've taken a long break from writing, and this probably shows. However, I was impatient to post this, because if I don't do it now I might never post it. It hasn't been proof-read by anyone but myself. I wrote the first half years ago, and the second half in the last couple of weeks. Hopefully you can't tell too badly. Anyone, hope you enjoyed. =D