"So, what did you do to snap your students into line?" Draco refilled Hermione's glass and resettled the wine bottle onto the coffee table.
Hermione grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know?" She wasn't that drunk. She wasn't planning to get that drunk. Definitely not with Draco around, and definitely not when she was guarding more than one secret.
"Come on, haven't I earned your confidence? After everything I taught you about the art of glowering?" Draco placed his elbows on his knees, and the movement jolted Meowfoy off of his lap. He sent Draco a scathing glare, then sat with his head high, as if he'd intended to move to the floor all along.
"Yes, and it was so helpful." Hermione frowned at Draco's untouched glass. "How come you brought wine over if you weren't going to drink any?"
The corner of his mouth turned upward in a sly smirk. "Oh, very good, change the subject. That removes all of my suspicions."
"Speaking of suspicions, I know you know things."
"Why thank you Granger, I'm so glad you noticed. I, in fact, know many things. For instance, I know from the tilt of your head and your teeth on your lip that you're mulling over a secret. You're dying to spill it. Go on, let's hear it."
Whoops. Draco had the right idea to refuse the wine. She shook her head, as if doing so could clear her dizziness. "No, not… not my secret. McGonagall. Lavender. What's their deal?"
Draco's eyebrows furrowed. "I have no idea what you mean."
"Oh. I was hoping…" Another dead end. Was there nothing else to it? Was it as simple as a Headmistress with a soft spot for Gryffindors?
Draco's fingernail tapped against his too-full wine glass. He was obviously scheming. Thinking of some excuse to brush his hand along her waist, or lift her knuckles to his lips. Shocking he hadn't tried something already. The last time he'd touched her, they'd been holding their wands and casting magic at the front door.
It should have been exactly what she wanted. He'd finally noticed her lack of reciprocity and backed off. Good. Fine. Perfect.
"Do you want to play a game, Granger?"
"That depends on what it is." Spin the bottle? Some horrifying wizard version of Monopoly?
"Truth or drink." He smirked.
Hermione's brain buzzed. She'd had enough to drink already, and there were certain questions she was not willing to answer. But at the same time, she'd never seen Draco drink, and drunk Draco was a chapter she was dying to add to his book.
She twirled her finger in her hair. "I reserve the right to end the game at any time."
"Of course."
"And I get to start." Hermione scooted forward on the couch. This was going to be good.
"What do you know about Tomás Haden?"
"Oh, come on Hermione, I thought you wanted to get me drunk."
Hermione shrugged. "Not more than I want information."
"Tomás seems like a troublemaker, but he's really just bored. He likes to impress the ladies and he has loads of talent. The two together… well, honestly I think he's just suffering from James Potter syndrome."
"And what would you know about that?"
"Far too much, thanks to my embittered father. My turn. Two questions for me."
"That's not fair!" Hermione threw her hands up into the air, almost spilling her wine in the process.
"You asked me two questions, so I get two questions."
"Slytherins." Hermione rolled her eyes. She should have known better than to expect a fair game.
"Why thank you, Granger. Question one: Why did you run away from me after we had such a lovely dinner together last week?"
"You were too close. We are coworkers, and absolutely not dating, remember?" Heat rose to her cheeks at the memory of his lips against her knuckles.
Draco nodded. He took the time to settle Meowfoy back into his lap before he spoke again. "Question two: Why did a clever witch like you name your cat something so ridiculously pedestrian?"
Hermione took a drink. "I think I'm done playing your game."
October 27
Teddy Lupin
There are many differences between Muggle and Magical medicine. When a Muggle gets sick, a doctor slices them open with a sharp knife and cuts the sickness out of them. It sounds kind of awful to me, but Harry says-
Thud.
A book the size of Hermione's hand landed in the middle of Teddy's essay. Pink bubble letters on a cream background read Your Kneazle and You: The Everything Guide to Decoding Behavior. Hermione scrunched her eyebrows together and stared up at Draco Malfoy. "But Meowy hasn't escaped since last week."
Draco shook his head. "It's for my cat. She's been acting peculiar this week."
"Peculiar? Look, Malfoy, if this is your way of finagling another 'dinner as colleagues…'"
With a wave of his wand, Draco moved one of the student chairs next to Hermione's and sank into it. "She's off her food. She gives it a couple sniffs, eats a few pieces, and then turns her nose up at it. I can't figure it out. I've tried all her favorites-chicken, tuna, steak, salmon."
Hermione frowned. "Do you suppose she's lonely for Meowy? He calls for her an awful lot."
"You think she's on a hunger strike? Perhaps if we get the cats together for a purr-date, she'd start eating again?"
"Well, what does your book say?"
Draco snatched the outrageously twee handbook and flipped through the pages. "I'll tell you what. Bring Meowy over to my flat tonight. We can let the cats snuggle up together while we look for answers. I'll make dessert."
Every alarm bell in her head screamed avoid-avoid-avoid, but what came out of her mouth was, "You can cook?"
He nudged her shoulder and shot her a smoldering grin. "Why don't you come over and find out?"
Her shoulders sank into her sigh. "See you at seven."
She bit at the side of her lip as she rapped on his front door at exactly 7:01 that evening, Draco Meowfoy quietly earnest in her arms. "Just a minute, baby. Just a minute, and you can curl up with your sweetheart and lick her fur to your heart's content."
A low chuckle rumbled from the other side of the door a second before it swung open. "Are you talking to yourself, or your cat?" Draco asked.
Hermione dropped Meowfoy the ground, and he scampered off to touch noses with his tortoiseshell girlfriend.
"Surely you could have figured it out from context clues. Why would I ever wish to lick Kneazle fur?" She didn't intend to stomp into Draco's flat, but darn it if he wasn't getting under her skin already.
Oh, Merlin. So he was one of those people. It looked like a pet store had exploded all over his living room. She counted at least five cat beds, an enormous, life-like tree with several windows carved into the bark, and... was that a leather cat chaise? Hermione squinted. Yes, yes it was, and on it was a book opened to illustrations of birds. No wonder Meowfoy hadn't wanted to leave.
Over the plush cream rug in front of Draco's couches, two tails disappeared into a cat house shaped like a golden snitch. The purring was deafening.
Draco settled into the plush leather of his loveseat, which matched the cat chaise, because of course it did. He leaned against a fluffy throw draped over the back.
"Is that… demiguise fur?" She frowned and ran her fingers over the throw. Demiguises were adorable and shaggy. They did not deserve to be turned into comfort objects.
"Don't worry your pretty little head. It's transfigured. No creatures were harmed in the making of this blanket." He pulled the offending object off of the couch and draped it over his legs. "It's terribly cozy. Come and see."
Hermione tapped her fingers against her leg. She really shouldn't.
Draco pulled his Kneazle book from the side table and wiggled it at her. "Come on, how else are you going to look over my shoulder and correct my pronunciation?"
She sighed. Studying the book was the whole reason she was here, wasn't it? She settled in next to him and draped the blanket over her legs. "Oh! Does it have a warming charm?"
"Why, yes it does. It's enchanted to not only be extra fluffy, but extra cozy."
"Dang it, Draco, you're going to get me addicted to your blanket."
His bright smile distracted her as he inched closer and held the book open between them. "Good. The more you come to visit me, the less my cat will yowl at my door."
Draco read aloud from a section entitled Troubleshooting: What to do When Things Get Hairy. Hermione soon found herself yawning, soothed into a stupor by the steady sound of his voice. Her eyelids drooped, and her head felt heavy. What could be the harm, really, in leaning it slightly to the right until it found a shoulder to rest on? After all, she'd done it in that pub in Hogsmeade and nothing wild had happened.
And she'd been so good lately. There had been next to no touching since he'd helped her cast the advanced Kneazle ward on her door, and that barely even counted. Didn't she deserve a reward?
She glanced at the silk of his black button-down shirt, so soft and so close. His adam's apple bobbed as she stared, but he turned the page and kept reading.
This was silly. She was tired, his shoulder was there, and she wanted to take it. With a deep breath, she leaned against his side and dropped her cheek to his shirt.
Her heart raced at the feel of his jaw moving against her hair. Well, she wasn't going to be able to sleep like this. This was a mistake. A stupid, self-indulgent mistake, but it was too late now. She'd look ridiculous if she backed away as soon as she'd given in.
His arm wrapped warmly around her shoulder, and his volume dropped to just above a whisper. When he came to the end of the chapter, he dropped the book into his lap and ran his fingers through her hair. "Granger-"
Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by an insistent rapping at the door.
Draco groaned and raked his fingers through his hair. "Who in Merlin's name—"
He stalked to the door and yanked it open. On the other side stood Lavender Brown, a pastel briefcase in each hand. "Why hello, Professor Malfoy! And I see you have Professor Granger over as well! Wonderful."
She marched through the open door, not even waiting for an invitation, and placed her cases on Malfoy's marble coffee table. "I'm so pleased to meet with two of my best customers at the same time! You're going to be very excited about my newest business venture."
She pressed a button on the side of the mint green case. It popped open to display a collection of bottles and jars in the same sickly green. "These enchanted cleaning products will take all of the wand work out of your cleaning routine, before you can even say-It's Magic!™"
Hermine pinched the bridge of her nose. She had hoped that indulging in Lavender's Lulawitch products would get her off of her trail. Clearly that, like hanging around Malfoy despite knowing better, had been a huge mistake. If Hermione stayed, she'd only encourage this ridiculous behavior. The last thing she needed was more leggings, or cleaning products, or anything that came out of a pastel briefcase.
She could try to ask her about McGonagall, but the way Lavender tended to ramble about her sales, she had no hope of making any headway. Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, as I was saying-I really should be getting home. Early morning tomorrow, and all."
Draco shot her a murderous glance. "But we never ate-"
"Goodnight, Draco!"
At her call, Draco Meowfoy poked his regal nose out of the cat house. Hermione scooped him into her arms and scurried out the front door.
"Now, seeing as we are nearly finished with the Muggle transportation unit, I thought a bit of review was in order. This method is called Jeopardy, and is based on a Muggle television series. It's quite popular in the American school system."
Hermione magicked a series of gold-numbered boxes onto the blackboard.
"Yes, Miss Simmons?"
"Will we win points for our teams, for the class contest?"
"The winning team will earn fifty points."
Excited murmurs filled the room. With only one week left until November, and thus the end of the class competition, spirits and tensions were high. Teddy's team had managed to pull ahead of Tomás' by 37 points, and were eager to keep that lead-and, of course, Tomás was eager to upset it.
Think of the devil. "Yes, Tomás?"
Tomás wore a wicked grin. "You have a visitor, Professor Granger."
Hermione jumped at the sight of Draco leaning against her door frame. He was holding a suspiciously squishy package topped with a silver bow.
"Excuse me, class."
Twenty pairs of mirthful eyes stared at the doorway, presumably imagining Draco wearing any number of ridiculous ties.
"Having a contest, are we? Your students seem awfully invested. It makes me wonder what you're offering as a reward."
Snickers scattered around the room. Hermione glanced back at her students and shut the classroom door behind her. "Can I help you?"
He pressed the package into her hands. "I assumed since you left me alone with that wretched peddler last night, it was your way of implying you wanted me to surprise you with a token of my affections. So, surprise!"
Hermione grimaced. "Oh, no."
"Oh, yes. I thought these would be perfect for next Thursday."
"And why is that?"
"We're going for a walk. Specifically, we are taking our Kneazles for a walk. Fur…" Draco blinked and readjusted his robes. "My cat is getting fat."
A portrait of a stern witch in pristine robes flinched at Hermione's outburst of laughter.
"Getting… fat? So you want to… walk them? What, with a leash? Draco, cats don't go on walks!"
He pulled that ridiculous Kneazle behavior book out of his robes and flipped it open to a bookmarked page. "...in the case that you should find your Kneazle to be taking on extra weight, it may be beneficial to entice them to exercise."
He snapped the book shut. "So you see, cat walking is on your schedule for next Thursday evening. I will provide the necessary supplies and pick you up at 7 pm."
Hermione bit back a grin. She couldn't think of a reason to shoot it down-walking cats sounded like a horror show, not a date.
"Fine. 7 pm." She lifted the corners of the wrapping paper and tried to get a peek at what was hidden below.
Draco smirked. "You'll regret leaving me alone with Lavender." He turned on his heel and fled, his footsteps echoing on the cold castle floors.
How bad could it be? Surely nothing could top leech leggings. She tore a bit of the paper, just the tiniest peek-she took it back. There were worse things.
Next Thursday, Hermione sighed at her legs as she waited for the sharp rap at the door that would signal Draco's arrival. She still couldn't believe someone had designed leggings featuring "Hermione Granger, throughout the ages," according to the scrawling background text behind the portraits of her own face from infancy to graduation. She also couldn't believe that she was now wearing them, and was planning to wear them outside of her flat. At least they would be covered by her long winter cloak.
Draco tapped twice at the door and cracked it open, allowing his Kneazle to poke her shaggy head through. He was dressed in his usual nines, looking as though he might be quite at home at a very different kind of catwalk.
"Hello, Draco. Make yourself at home."
"I'd better not. If I let my cat off her leash at your flat she'll hide under the bed and never come out." He held out a small paper bag. "One Kneazle leash, for your walking convenience."
Hermione glanced at Draco Meowfoy, who was meowing at his girlfriend behind the invisible containment barrier. She pulled a black harness from the bag and held it up to inspect. "How does it work?"
"First, how did you like my little present? Wearing them, I hope?"
Hermione grumbled and stuck out her calf.
"Excellent." Draco grinned. "Simply place it on his back. It should attach itself automatically."
The cords twisted against the snowy fur of Meowfoy's back for a moment, then stilled with a final click. Meowfoy's belly slunk to the floor, his ears flat against his head. He looked exactly like teenaged Malfoy. If Kneazles could talk, Hermione was sure he would say, "My father will hear about this."
She would just have to carry him, then, and hope he didn't scratch her eye out in his fury. Cats in arms, the odd foursome bounced down the steps and out to the chilly evening streets below.
"So where are we going?" Hermione placed Meowfoy onto the sidewalk next to Draco's cat. They sat on the ground and sniffed each other's faces.
"There's a lovely garden park a few blocks down. There might be some fairies there to catch their interest."
"I hope so, because they seem to have very little interest in going anywhere now." Hermione walked five steps away from the puddle of fur on the sidewalk. Stubborn cat. He made no move to follow her, even when she tugged gently on the lead.
Draco raised his eyebrows. "Are you a witch, or not?"
"Oh, great cat whisperer, pray tell: what are the magic words that will turn my Kneazle into a compliant creature?"
He looked way too smug for a wizard holding a cat leash. "Simple. You don't even need a specialized spell." He waved his wand, and a canary appeared in the air in front of the cats.
Oh. Why hadn't she thought of that? She pulled her wand out and conjured a bird to match.
They followed the cats and the canaries all the way to a beautiful marble arch that opened to a sprawling garden surrounded by hedges. Delicate winter blooms and a few fall flowers filled hexagonal mulch beds. With a jolt of guilt, Hermione registered the statue in the center. Dumbledore. He peered out at the garden through his half-moon glasses, a sentinel over the enchanted roses. So close to her home, and she'd never even taken the time to visit before.
She traced a finger over a bulbous white flower that dangled from a tall green stem.
"A snowdrop," said Draco. "Traditionally used to symbolize purity in certain… questionable circles. I'm a bit surprised they've included it in the collection here."
Hermione tilted her head towards him. "It is a lovely flower. If it's important to your culture, you don't have to dismiss it on my behalf."
He scoffed. "This flower represents the exact opposite of everything I hold dear."
Hermione bit her lip. Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe he really didn't care about her blood status. All the times he'd been in the papers with Astoria or Pansy-maybe it didn't mean what she'd assumed it meant.
Hermione ran her finger over the fragile petals. "Then why not give it our own meaning?"
Draco pinched the stem close to the ground and held the flower up to her in offering. "What shall we assign it, then? A purity in purpose? A heart as pure as the driven snow?"
She kicked her toe against the icy path. "If those are the requirements, I'm afraid I don't qualify."
"Well, I hope not. Even I can't claim to have innocent intentions-dragging you around Hogsmeade under the pretense of meetings between colleagues." He tucked the flower into the breast pocket of her winter cloak.
She blinked up at him and found herself lost in the smoky depths of his eyes. His hands caressed her arms below her shoulders, spreading heat down her ribs and into her stomach. If she stayed like this, if she didn't move an inch, she was sure to do something she would regret tomorrow. Would there be an alarm, some sort of non-compliance spell, that would sound if two members of Hogwarts' staff kissed?
She swallowed and broke his gaze. Ice spread over the stones beneath her feet, creating twisted patterns.
"It's because of my mother, isn't it? You're afraid my mother would never welcome you as my girlfriend. I can tell you that you're wrong-I've campaigned against pureblood bigotry for so many years now. She did eventually come around. You know that-"
Hermione jerked her head back up. His eyes were shifting, panicking as they searched for answers in hers. He hadn't mentioned his father; he hadn't needed to. It was unlikely his father would have any say on Draco's social life from his permanent cell in Azkaban.
"No, Draco, it's not—"
"Because of our past, then?" His face fell. "I know I was a prick. It must be difficult to see past all the horrific things I've done."
"I forgave you for that years ago, when you first started lecturing my students on the error of your own ways."
"Then why? Why the hesitation? I can see it in your eyes-I know you feel at least some part of what I feel for you."
And she did feel it. She felt it rising up in rebellion against the glass cage she had tried to shove it into. She knew there was a reason she'd lost herself in the beautiful, silvery eyes of her Kneazle when she'd spied him in the pet shop window. There was a reason his name popped into her mind when she adopted the cat who was more elegant than any animal had the right to be. A reason she could never have given it any other name.
"Draco, I-" The intensity of his gaze captivated her. She almost lost her voice, but then she dug deep into her Gryffindor courage. "I can't. Who knows what would happen? There's probably some kind of contract-breaking detection spell." The memory of Marietta Edgecomb's face, the boils painting the word "sneak" across it, made Hermione shudder. "We could both end up disfigured, or worse, fired."
A slow smile spread across Draco's face. "The rules-is that all?"
No. No, it was not all. Rules aside, she'd be an inappropriate girlfriend for him. She would fail miserably in high society, even if he didn't care that she was Muggle-born. Besides, what would Ron say? What would Harry do?
"That's enough, don't you think?" Hermione said.
He chuckled as his hand rose to caress her chin. "I wouldn't worry about the rules too much. I doubt McGonagall has any way of detecting whether her employees are stealing secret kisses."
"Of course you wouldn't worry about the rules. When do Slytherins ever worry about the rules, except to know how to break them?"
"Precisely." His teeth shone in the moonlight that had settled over the park during their walk. "And this rule in particular is one I am longing to break."
He traced his thumb over her bottom lip. He was unbelievably tempting, glowing in
the soft light and leaning towards her with apparent rapture. But before she could ruin her spotless employee record, Meowfoy's leash yanked her hand to the side.
"Oh!" He was chasing a pixie around the garden bench, running in a half-arc at the end of his tether. Thank Merlin for unruly cats. Now that the spell was broken, she had the strength to step away. "We'd better head back. It's going to be an awfully early morning tomorrow if I don't get started on grading."
The walk back to their apartments was quiet. Hermione couldn't calm the rapid beating of her heart as she replayed the feel of his hand on her chin over and over again.
Maybe breaking this one little rule wouldn't be such a bad thing, after all.
AN: Thank you to my betas, Ethan, Bex, and Gallagher8.
And, as always, Thank you for everyone who has shown support to this story by reading, favoriting, following, and/or reviewing. It means the world to me.