All The Things I Hate About You, Part XIII

Rating: M

Summary: All The Things, continued. Kate Advent, Day 13.

#13 Roses are red, violets are blue, this day sucks, I blame you

Draco dropped his suitcase on his desk with a loud bang and then rummaged through its contents for his practice snitch from Granger. It buzzed around the empty office with excitement, darting over and under his co-workers' desks and teasing him as it passed just out of reach every time it made a lap around the room.

It was a Saturday – so why was he volunteering to come in and work overtime when he didn't do any meaningful work in the Ministry anyway?

Because it was bloody Valentine's Day and it seemed like the better option as opposed to having to listen to Granger sniffle and sob her way through muggle romantic-comedy films and an entire tin of chocolates (and his only other friend was otherwise occupied by shoving his tongue down his newly fiancée's throat).

It was boring, though, because there was no one else in the office and – as he'd mentioned before – he wasn't responsible for anything on a normal workday, much less anything meriting overtime.

Which is how he ended up ranting to a Niffler he found in a storage closet; the dastardly creature continuously tried – and failed – to pickpocket him throughout his monologue.

"SO, THEN – I'm trapped by the way because she's blocking my exit – I say 'No, Granger, I said I'm fine' and she is fucking insisting by then that I take one of her biscuits. But that must be a trick, right? Some plot to figure out if I'm harbouring any romantic feelings for her – WHICH I'M DEFINITELY NOT – and so, I snapped back that I would take one of her stupid chocolate biscuits – WHICH IS ABSURD AND SO HER TO LIKE THEM, MIGHT I ADD – and of course, of course, I fucking love it. I mean, I still think dark chocolate is far superior to milk, but – Fuck, I mean – they were her biscuits and she fucking cherishes them. DID YOU KNOW SHE TRIED TO HEX ME WHEN I SIMPLY LOOKED AT THEM FUNNY WHEN WE FIRST MOVED IN, HM? – Now, she just offers it up? Just like that? I mean… What the fuck am I supposed to make of that?"

During this entire mindless monologue, Draco was pacing back and forth on top of his desk, kicking at various office supplies and aiming for the bin, yelling "Kobe!" just like Granger would in their flat even though he had remotely no idea what it meant.

The Niffler had finally snatched at one of his cufflinks and was currently working on securing the other gold heirloom when a paper airplane shot out from the fireplace in a roar of blue flames.

Draco took the note and read its contents, then reread it to make sure his eyes hadn't been playing tricks on him.

I need you. Come home immediately.

In a flash of gold, Draco disappeared into the Ministry's floo and reappeared in the one in their flat. His eyes landed on Granger, buried beneath a hoard of throws – none of which were hand-knit or gifts from gingers, thankfully – and gave her an openly worrying expression when her head of curls resurfaced.

"Oh, THANK GODRIC," she said, her teeth flashing brilliantly when she saw him.

"What?" Draco asked, surveying the room for any potential chaos or small fire she may have set. "What is it?"

"Can you pick me up a new tin of chocolates?" Granger asked weakly. She blinked up at him from beneath hooded eyelashes and dilated eyes. "Perhaps also a bottle of wine? This one's almost empty."

From beneath the blankets, a pale arm shot out displaying the wine bottle that was in fact three-quarters full.

His grey gaze slid over to the coffee table to see two empty bottles and a fuck ton of sweets wrappers. "Granger, what the - "

"MALFOY, PLEAAAAASE?" She whined, pouting up at him and swiping away at loose tendrils.

"Are you - " He blinked. "You're fucking wasted, Granger."

"Mhm," she nodded a bit proudly. "Absolutely sloshed. Positively pissed. Marvelously - "

"Alright, stop," he waved his hand and levitated the bottle away from her tinted lips. He knew she was a lightweight on a good day, but this amount – and of Barbera? She was fucking sloshed alright. "What the hell? THIS is the reason for your urgent owl?"

"OH, SO YOU DID GET IT!" She beamed, falling back against the sofa dramatically. "I was starting to wonder if you'd never come. Celebrations would be ideal, but if they're sold out by now, then Roses will do. Do not, I repeat, do not get Quality Street." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I will loathe you for all eternity if you do."

"Promise?" He asked, inclining his head in her direction.

"Fuck you," she snapped, though its usual dry vehemence wasn't in it, and she ended up stumbling off the sofa toward the confiscated bottle of wine. She took a swig before he reprimanded it again and ushered her back onto the sofa with a grumpy pout. "What?" She asked him, wagging her finger. "You're not going to say 'Promise?' to that."

"Did you want me to?" He challenged.

She opened her mouth, closed it to reconsider, and then settled on, "I miss sex." Her bloodshot eyes slowly lifted to meet his. She blinked, swaying slightly. "We should have sex. You and me. Me and you."

"GRANGER," his head whipped to face her full-on, eying the wistful expression warily. "Pray tell - " he said slowly. "What the actual fuck?"

"Don't you?" She went on, ignoring him. "Don't you miss having sex? It's a bit like an itch. Sometimes you can shift your focus away from it and it doesn't bother you anymore, but then sometimes you want nothing more than to scratch and scratch and scratch."

He gaped at her.

She blinked, then looked at him as if she had just realized he was sitting next to her.

"We should have sex, don't you think?"

"EXCUSE ME?"

"Well," Granger mumbled, consciously working through a slur in her speech. Her bottom lip was nearly bitten raw from how often she pulled it between her teeth during their conversation. He couldn't – for the life of him – understand why she was so bloody anxious when he was the one who had gotten assaulted with this information.

"It's highly practical." She explained, whether to herself or to him was unclear. "We're just friends, so it would have to be entirely non-committal and non-emotional. Purely physical."

Draco blinked. Frowned. Opened his mouth. Wisely shut it. Blinked again.

"WHAT?"

Then, in the middle of fucking nowhere, Granger succumbed to a massive yawn and curled up into a ball, clutching onto his thigh for dear life.

He frowned, shaking his leg to wake her up. "Granger," he tried. Nothing. "Granger," he hissed louder. Bloody brilliant. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Whispered nonsense and audible snoring ensued.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, eying the bushy-haired witch in his lap. "You're the worst," he told her.

In response, Granger turned over and clutched onto his shirt, inhaling his scent, and murmured what sounded an awful lot like, "Bloody terrible holiday," and "I tried, I tried, I tried."

A/N - Dedicated to Campbema. The next chapter will be up in about an hour, as well as a TAoB update xx