Draco Malfoy was awoken by the infuriating din of birdsong which, by his estimation, was louder than actual explosions. Although irritating in its own right, when coupled with the blazing sunlight threatening to spill into his closed eyes at any second, the whole thing became intolerable.
When his attempts to bury his head under the pillow failed him, he cursed Mother Nature and her litany of cruel alarm clocks as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, groaning when the movement caused his head to throb. He paused, rubbing the sleep from his bleary eyes while attempting to remember the circumstances that had led to this unfortunate morning.
As he shuffled out of his bedroom and into the kitchen, he began to remember bits and pieces of the night before. Yesterday had been Potter's combination birthday/bachelor party; one that had started as wholesome fun before quickly devolving into far more raucous activity.
While filling a cup with water, memories of flip cup came rushing back, followed by a wave of pride at the recollection of Draco's triumph as the winner of their little tournament, Rummaging through his potion cabinet for a vial of pepper-up potion was accompanied by off key choruses of joyous, and certainly drunken, karaoke.
Although much of the night had flooded back into his consciousness, Draco couldn't ignore the nagging confusion about the end of the night. He had woken up in his bed, in his flat, but he had no recollection of getting himself here, a sure sign that he hadn't been sober enough to accomplish such a feat on his own.
Before he had much time to ponder, a familiar voice called out from the Floo, the birthday bachelor himself, Harry Potter. "Draco, are you there, mate?"
"Yeah, Potter, I'm here; although I've got a hangover from Hell, so I'm not really in the mood for a chat," Draco replied, ambling into his sitting room and settling into the delightfully squishy armchair positioned in front of his fireplace.
"In that case, I just wanted to let you know that you left your keys here at mine, I can just bring them into the office on Monday if you won't be needing them."
At this new morsel of information, Malfoy's confusion grew, "What do you mean I left my keys? How did I get in last night without them?"
With Potter's chuckle, Draco's confusion threatened to turn to frustration, he hated feeling like he wasn't in control of things.
"Well, I can't say much about the mechanics of that endeavor; you'd have to ask Hermione, mate"
"In what convoluted way would that be of assistance, Potter. How on Earth is Granger supposed to know how I got into my house last night, does she have my flat beetled?"
"First, Draco, it's bugged not beetled, Second, no, she most certainly does not, and Third, she's the one who took you home at the end of the night. You were drunk off your arse and firmly declared that you would not be going home unless she went with you; it really was terribly dramatic of you."
Feeling weak, Draco let his head come to a rest on the back of his chair as he squeezed his eyes shut and let out a groan.
"I didn't say anything else, did I, Potter? Anything that I might need to know about in the light of day?" Draco asked, fearing what the answer might be.
He had forgotten entirely that Granger had even been there, a surprising feat considering that he suddenly remembered that he hadn't been able to take his eyes off her. The bridal party in all its wonder had left from Harry's house before going on a festive pub crawl. While seeing Hermione hadn't been unusual, her wardrobe choices had certainly been out of character. Unlike the smartly pressed skirts and blouses of the Ministry and the jeans and t-shirts she favored on weekends, Hermione had been wearing an ensemble that had threatened to stop Draco's heart.
He felt his desire for her stirring as he remembered the way her black leather pants hugged the curve of her arse, clung to her thighs, and skimmed over her calves. The black silk camisole that she had worn was a mouth-watering compliment, so close to lingerie that it had screamed at Draco to take it off, tempting him with an intoxicating whisper of cleavage hidden mostly by fine lace that had been stitched along the top of the garment.
"Honestly, that's another question for her. The only reason I know that she took you home was because she sent Ginny an owl this morning to let her know that the two of you had been returned to your homes safely."
"Well that was bloody practical of her," Draco muttered, feeling a sense of dread begin growing in the pit of his stomach. His desk in the Office of Magical Law Enforcement sat directly opposite hers, if he had said, or done, anything to embarrass himself this weekend, there would be no way to escape it on Monday.
His pity party was rudely interrupted by a sharp knock on his front door, a knock that demanded to be answered.
"That's the door, mate, thanks for letting me know about the keys, I'll pick them up from you Monday then," Draco said, ending the floo call before crossing his sitting room to open his door.
"Good Morning, Malfoy," Hermione Granger beamed at him, cradling grease stained bags and a box of coffee from his favorite local café.
At the sight of such a coffee bearing angel, the thudding behind Draco's eyes was quickly replaced by one in his chest.
"Well, well, you are quite the sight for sore eyes this morning, Granger" Draco drawled, doing his best to keep his voice even despite his growing panic as he willed his alcohol sodden brain to remember something, anything, from the end of the previous night.
"Oh, I'm sure your eyes are sore this morning. You were in particularly rare form last night," Hermione grinned, brushing past him and into the kitchen. "I thought I'd bring you breakfast, I had a feeling that you might wake up feeling worse for wear this morning," she explained as she unloaded steaming takeaway containers from the paper bags she had been holding.
"I suppose I should thank you for getting me home last night," Draco replied as he pulled plates and mugs out of a cabinet.
"It was my pleasure," Hermione said, a small smile turning up the corners of her mouth.
It was then, upon seeing the mischievous expression that ghosted across Hermione's face, that Draco knew he must have done something absolulely mortifying. He also knew, beyond any doubt, that Hermione was betting that he had no memory of his return home.
Draco sensed that a direct approach would be far more effective than attempting to con Hermione into divulging the secrets she had about their time together; she had an uncanny ability to pick up on people trying to weasel information out of her, no matter how innocent the circumstances.
"I hope that I wasn't too much trouble for you last night, but I must confess that I have no recollection of our travels."
"Oh, Draco, it really was no trouble at all. In fact, I feel as though I've gotten to know a whole other side of you." Hermione smiled, sliding various elements of a full English Breakfast onto one of the plates before handing it over to him.
"How's that, Granger?"
"Let's just say that I had no idea you were such an emotional person."
Draco could tell by the sparkle in her eyes that Hermione knew she had the upper hand and that it was driving him mad. The frustration that he had begun to feel was beginning to return, he didn't like that his drunken memory loss had become the unspoken punchline to her jokes.
"I'm sure you already know this, Granger, but when I said that I don't remember anything that happened last night between us, I wasn't kidding. I didn't know that you were the one who got me here last night until Potter told me this morning," he confessed, keeping his eyes firmly on his plate.
"Is this your white flag? Are you, Draco Malfoy, asking me, Hermione Granger, for mercy?"
"Yes, I am asking the brightest bloody witch of her age, Hermione Granger, to just end my suffering and tell me what I did last night," Draco confessed, stealing a glance at her face. He was shocked to find that her cheeks had taken on an alluring shade of pink, almost as if she was embarrassed.
"You were very kind last night, really. You spent most of the time telling me that I was brilliant and you told me once or twice that you thought I was beautiful. When I finally got you into your flat, you told me that you'd like to take me on a date." she paused, then added, "All-in-all it was a pretty average Friday night," before punctuating her revelation with a dull-sounding laugh.
While the laugh alone had been off, the cloud that passed over Hermione's delicate features confirmed that something was wrong.
"If I did something, or said something, to upset you, I'm sorry, Hermione. While I'm sure I was nothing short of two entire handfuls last night, I've been known as an impeccably honest drunk."
Before he had a chance to study her face for further clues about how she was feeling, Hermione turned her back to him, leaning against his kitchen island to look out of the window above his sink.
"Don't worry about it, Draco. You were drunk and I knew it. I didn't take anything that you said seriously, so there's no need for concern about my feelings."
The thing was, Draco was absolutely certain that he had meant all of the things that had come out of his drunken mouth. Since he and Granger had been made partners at work, he had found himself falling under her spell, seemingly unable to resist her warmth and light.
Merlin, he could pick her out by scent alone if the need arose. He had found himself wanting, even needing, to come up with excuses to spend more time with her; it's why he had become chummy with Harry in the first place.
In that moment, Draco sensed a nearly imperceptible shift in the air; as if the universe was telling him that this was his chance to finally do something, to finally show Hermione just how he felt about her.
"Hermione, can I take you out tonight?" He blurted out as soon as the thought occurred to him.
"I've just told you that you don't have to worry about my feelings, Draco," she answered, still not turning to face him.
"Granger, as much as it pains me to admit this, I'm being purely selfish right now. I'm trying to take care of my feelings here."
With that, Hermione's entire body swiveled, revealing her flushed cheeks and wide eyes at last.
"Sweet Merlin, you're beautiful, Granger. Whatever I said last night, I'm sure I meant it. I've meant all of those things for a long time, but I never wanted to put my feelings in your way." He continued, making his way around the island to stand alongside her, abandoning his breakfast.
"I thought for sure you'd been trying to get a rise out of me last night," Hermione whispered, "You told me that you wanted to be my partner for life, but I figured it was only about work."
"Well," Draco smiled, gently taking Hermione's delicate hands in his own, "if anyone, even Potter himself, thinks that they're going to split us up, I'll quit my job, that's true. But, Hermione, I find myself desperately searching for reasons to spend the other parts of my life with you. I go to Sunday dinner to see you, certainly not for the Roast. I let my hand to hand combat certification expire so that I could ask you to retrain me."
A moment of silence stretched between them, before being broken by Hermione's bright laugh, "I knew there was no way you would have forgotten about your certification, Harry owes me 20 galleons!"
"Wait, What? You and Potter bet about why my certification expired?" Draco asked, confused as to how the conversation had taken such a turn.
"Yes," she giggled, "Harry said that you were distracted and I said that it had to be purposeful, you're far too Type A to let something so important slide."
"Technically though, I guess you were both equally right. I was distracted enough by you to make a purposeful effort to shirk my responsibility."
Hermione frowned, obviously trying to figure out how the payout was supposed to take place now, "In that case, Draco, let's make a deal. You can take me on a date, but only if tell Harry that I win the bet."
"For you, Granger, anything," Draco grinned, feeling buoyant with optimism for how his day was shaping up.