Chapter 21: Hermione

Rita Skeeter's article had been removed by Saturday evening, and I read her apology while I ate my breakfast on Sunday morning.

'My dear readers, I promised you more Dramione coming soon, and it pains me that it is in the form of this: my public apology.

My recent article about the fledgling relationship between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy contained mistruths and misquotes from an unreliable source. I am deeply repentant for the humiliation that my words may have caused these two wonderful young people.

Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy have been rightfully heralded individually for their extraordinary accomplishments over the years. But consider for the moment their decidedly different backgrounds: Miss Granger, the Muggle-born daughter of middle-class dentists – I am told that this is a type of tooth healer, how positively decent! – and the young aristocrat, Mr Malfoy, a reformed Death Eater and the sole heir of the renowned Malfoy estate.

If a relationship does exist between them (and my beloved Propheteers, this remains unconfirmed!), one can only marvel at the hurdles, challenges and prejudices they must have faced before being accepted as a couple! They should be lifted into the light and held there, don't you agree, my faithful readers? I am profoundly, unequivocally sorry for the public condemnation or shame that I may have contributed to, and I, like my cherished readers, continue to hold out hope that one day, we may see Dramione come to light!

What a heartfelt apology.

Sure, the words 'sorry' and 'repentant' were used, but they were squeezed in between the liberal sprinklings of Rita's usual conjecture and snobbish nonsense, but I'd expected as much. As Ginny had previously pointed out, this was not my first rodeo with Rita, and it was unlikely to be the last.

My phone buzzed with a text message; it was Harry. 'Just saw Rita's article. You must be overwhelmed by such a sincere apology. Hope you're alright :)

I chuckled and typed out a brief reply, and then set my phone down. All I could think about was the utter clusterfuck I had found myself in. Shacklebolt, my boss and father figure, and the most powerful man in the Wizarding Britain had told me under no circumstances was I permitted to have a relationship with Malfoy while we were on the Project – an endeavour with an undetermined end date due to the additional plans he had charged us with developing. Logically, I understood the expectations.

But whatever it was that I felt for Malfoy was not cerebral. It was visceral, and it confused the hell out of me. I didn't want to want him. I was never the one to be ruled by my emotions. That was Harry's job.

I had spent so much time recently reminding myself of why I resented Malfoy, only to get caught up in that chemistry between us that I couldn't explain. Even when I could stay away from him, like the other night at the bar, I'd be so desperate for relief from the tension that I'd touch myself, thinking of him and feeling completely dissatisfied because it wasn't my hands that I wanted to feel.

After yesterday's meeting, the look in Malfoy's eyes was so tormented and conflicted. I was sure he was feeling the same way I was, which felt even worse. If I were alone in this, maybe the feeling would go away. There was undeniably something there that neither of us wanted to admit to. I had wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull him to me, immediately hating myself for forgetting so quickly everything that Shacklebolt had said to us not five minutes earlier.

Try as I might, I simply couldn't bring myself to despise Malfoy anymore. The time I had spent with him allowed me to see him in a different light and I realised that our motivations in life weren't so dissimilar - our passion and our ambitions were both driven by a need to prove ourselves. His arrogance was still an ever-present, intrinsically Malfoy trait, but in many ways, it was well-justified and I no longer begrudged him for it. From the other night at the bar, I learned that he was also fun to be around, quick-witted and possessed a wicked sense of humour.

But my job was still important to me and gave me a sense of value. Being part of the Project meant being able to contribute in a way that mattered. My honesty and integrity were still paramount. I couldn't have all of those things and still be involved with Malfoy.

I didn't feel like I could talk to any of my friends about it either. Luna's advice on the topic had been pretty sound: will you respect yourself in the morning? Ginny wasn't an option - she was still my ex-boyfriend's sister, and I didn't want to make her feel awkward. Harry? Hard no. Plus, it seemed that there was more to his relationship with Theo than he was letting on, and he perhaps needed the space to work through that. Normally, I would talk to Pansy about this kind of dilemma, but she'd told me in no uncertain terms to keep my distance. And in this instance, she wasn't just my friend; she was Malfoy's, too.

As Sunday evening drew to a close, I was reaching my breaking point. I needed to do something drastic, or I'd drive myself insane. I took a deep breath and picked up my phone.

At 3:00 pm the next day, Malfoy sauntered into my office. My pulse jumped at the sight of him, dressed in an immaculately tailored black Tom Ford suit, and I recognised his silver tie as the one he had worn the previous week. I forcibly swallowed when I recalled the memory of it wrapped around my hand as he fucked me. Not helping. My throat went dry, and I reached for my glass of water. Malfoy smirked knowingly. It would be just like the bastard to have worn that tie on purpose.

"You okay over there, Granger?"

"I'm fine," I replied curtly. Liar. My black silk knickers were feeling the effects of the Pavlovian response I was having to the tie.

"Clearly."

Focus. I cleared my throat and wiped my palms on my dark green skirt. I reached into my briefcase, which was deceptively slim for the size of the file I retrieved.

"The fuck was that, Granger?" Malfoy stared at me, confused.

"What?"

"Your briefcase. It looked empty. There is no way that whole file was in there." Malfoy looked stunned until it dawned on him. "Expansion charms are still illegal, I believe, counsellor."

"They are. Which is a shame because I could teach you how to use it on your dick," I smiled sweetly at him.

Ooh, bitchy, Miss Granger.

Malfoy smirked, the tip of his tongue running across his teeth as his brain searched for an equally biting comeback. Good luck finding one.

"I don't know what Shacklebolt specifically discussed with you, but he wants to develop your idea about using magic to expedite the mass production of vaccinations safely," I pressed on.

Malfoy glanced at me, his brow furrowing.

"Right," he said slowly. "Go on."

I started rifling through the sheaf of papers in the file. "Here are the contacts at St Mungo's Infections Department, and Shacklebolt will give you the names from the Department of Disease Control and the Faculty of Public Health in London. You will need to assemble a research team -"

Malfoy raised a hand, cutting me off. "'We' need to assemble a research team."

I looked at him, pleadingly. Don't make this harder.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing an ankle over his knee and folding his hands in front of him. "You said that I need to assemble a research team for my idea. This is a joint venture, Granger."

I waved, striving to appear nonchalant. "Semantics. Now, I'd like you to -"

"It's not semantics. Where is your input into this? It was our idea that Shacklebolt liked," Malfoy said. "What is going on?"

"I don't have the necessary expertise."

"You're the legal advisor. You have all the necessary expertise that you would need for your part in this," Malfoy insisted. "Besides, your lack of expertise wasn't a problem until now."

"You weren't a problem until now," I blurted out before I could stop myself. I glanced up at Malfoy. I saw the moment realisation begin to dawn on him.

"What have you done?" he said quietly.

I shrank slightly into the leather chair. I quickly regained my composure and lifted my chin at him haughtily.

"I cannot work with someone who cannot respect the boundaries of a professional working relationship."

"Oh, sod off, Granger," he scoffed. "Don't insult us both by giving me a piss weak excuse like that."

"Fine. You shouldn't be forced to work with someone who cannot respect the boundaries of a professional working environment."

"You can't bluff me, Granger. I'm an excellent poker player."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"What have you done?" he repeated, firmer than before.

"Malfoy -" I started.

"Enough bullshit, Granger!" he yelled suddenly, his voice hoarse with unnamed emotion. I could feel tears prick at the back of my eyelids, and I blinked rapidly.

"I'm leaving the Project," I whispered, my eyes trained on something outside my office window.

"Why?" he demanded.

The tears were rallying hard against my resolve, and I sniffed. I refused to look at him.

"It's for the best," I replied meekly.

"It's for the best…" he repeated, trailing off disbelievingly. "I know that growing up with Potter and the Weasel means that you're used to being the brains of the operation. But I'm not a fucking idiot so don't treat me like one."

I finally looked at him. "Excuse me?" I asked with an affronted scoff. He glared at me, his nostrils flaring in barely stifled anger.

"Your boss put you in charge of this project for a reason, and now you're bailing on it? And you don't even have the nerve to be fucking honest about it?" Malfoy was furious, and I felt a tear slip. I quickly looked out the window again and wiped the tear away, hoping he didn't notice. He noticed.

"Tears won't get you out of having to explain yourself to me, Granger. I'm not that pathetic."

I glared at him. "I don't have to explain a fucking thing to you!" I spat.

"We're partners in this project, Granger. You absolutely have to explain yourself to me."

My heart grew heavy as I relayed my conversation with Shacklebolt last night. I had told him that I thought the publicity that surrounded Malfoy and I would detract from all of the good work the Project was trying to achieve and that the Project was too important to be overshadowed like that. I had even recommended that Blaise Zabini should take over as independent legal counsel.

Shacklebolt had resisted strongly. He didn't want me to worry about the publicity. He had even suggested that if it was too much of an issue, that we could remove Malfoy Nott as the investors, which I had vehemently protested against, arguing that it was good optics that they were involved. Shacklebolt eventually realised that there was no changing my mind and had unwillingly relented.

When I finished, Malfoy shook his head. "This is bullshit," he said.

"I'm telling you the truth," I protested.

"Maybe, but your excuse is bullshit."

"It is not!" I argued. I wasn't ready to tell him the real reason; I didn't know if I ever would be. Malfoy narrowed his eyes at me and stared intently. I felt a strange sensation in my head but ignored it. His eyes blazed, and this time when he spoke, his voice was almost menacingly low.

"You and I both know that there's more to it than this."

"No, there's not -"

"There is," he interrupted. "And I want to hear you say it."

I stared across my desk at him. His expression remained hardened, and his eyes were unyielding. Despite myself, I felt that pull, crackling in the air between us. It was too much, and something in me snapped. I snatched my wand from where it lay on my desk and whipped it around to cast a muffliato.

"Don't you get it, Malfoy?" I cried, losing my cool. "Isn't it fucking obvious? I can't be around you anymore! I cannot be near you and not be allowed to touch you! Every time you're near me, I can't think straight, and when you're not near me, I can't think about anything but you! It's just too fucking hard, and I can't do it anymore!"

The silence in my office was deafening. Without realising, I had risen from my seat and was leaning on my desk, palms flat against the glass surface. My chest heaved, and I forced myself to take a deep breath. Malfoy's eyes were like white fire, but he stayed frozen in place.

I released another deep breath and straightened, turning away from him. His silence was excruciating, and I stared out the window, waiting for him to respond. To get up and leave. To do something. The seconds that ticked by felt like years, and I idly ran my fingers across my lips. Just when I was about to open my mouth to say something, anything, just to break the agonising silence, he spoke.

"I don't know what the hell this is, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I felt the same way."

I squeezed my eyes shut against a fresh onslaught of tears. I knew I wasn't alone in this. I felt that odd sensation in my mind again.

"No, you're not alone in this," Malfoy said. My eyes flew to his face, and my mouth dropped open. A storm was gathering in his eyes again, and I realised what he had done.

"Stay out of my head," I warned. I wanted to reach across my desk and slap him, and then drag his lips to mine. "I don't know what else you want me to say," I whispered, my gaze dropping to my lap. My cards were out on the table. Where do we go from here?

"Tell me why you walked away from the Project."

"I already told you -"

"You said it was because you have feelings for me, but that's not the whole of it," Malfoy said. "Did you walk away from the Project so you could be with me, or just to avoid me?

"As long as you're involved with a Ministry project, you're subject to the 'no fraternization' policy. Me walking away doesn't change that."

"A real answer please, Granger."

I sighed heavily. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do," he argued. "The truth, Granger, or I'll just break into your head again."

"Don't," I demanded. "That's not fair."

"I don't play the odds, Granger. I play the man."

"You told me once that you'd never push me to do anything I didn't want to do. Using legilimens is the same thing," I argued.

"Fair play," he answered. "But I won't ask you again. Tell me the truth."

"Do you want me to say that I choose you, Malfoy? Is that it?" I asked drily. "Would it suit your overinflated ego to think that I fell on my sword for you? God knows you like to win big."

His face darkened with a scowl, and his hands were white-knuckled where he clasped them together on his lap in poorly suppressed anger.

"The truth is, Shacklebolt even suggested replacing you as the investor if it meant I wouldn't leave -"

"He fucking what?" Malfoy cut in. I held up a hand to stop him.

"I refused. He didn't want to anyway, I could tell. I said that you and Theo were too important to the success of the Project to replace you, which he agreed."

Malfoy looked thoughtful.

"So how does the truth feel, Malfoy?" I replied tauntingly. "Hmm? How does it feel to know that I walked away, and you keep the biggest, most important venture you have ever had? Your saving grace was the filthy little mudblood -"

Malfoy was around my desk and had me pinned to the wall before I could even think. It wasn't until I heard the clatter of his wand falling to the wooden floor that I even registered the opacity charm he had cast on my glass-panelled office wall. With one hand spread low on my hip, Malfoy gripped my chin between his thumb and forefinger with the other, forcing me to look in his eyes.

"Don't you ever call yourself that again, do you hear me?" he growled. "Ever."

I could barely hear him from the rushing of blood in my ears. His scent was overpowering my will, and I was melting under his hands. My hands gripped the lapels of his jacket like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to my sanity.

"Malfoy, please," I begged, but I wasn't sure what I was begging for. Did I want to feel his lips on mine, or did I want him to back off? I didn't know what felt worse - his proximity or the thought of pushing him away. His steely grey eyes darted frantically across my face as if he was trying to catalogue the minutiae of it.

"Tell me what you want, Granger," he whispered, his voice a low rumble in his throat. "I promise I'll give it to you." My mind flashed back to when he'd said those words to me in his office last week (shit, had it only been a few weeks since this started?). Same words, completely different context. And so much more implicit.

"I want you…" I breathed, but he seemed to catch my hesitation. He dropped his hand from where he still grasped my chin and took a small step back, my hands falling from his lapels. The distance immediately chilled me, and for a moment, I wanted to pull him closer again. But the space allowed my rationale to seep back in.

"My job and my values are important to me," I said softly. "I can't have those things and still be involved with you."

Malfoy still looked tormented, but he nodded. "I get it."

"It kills me to leave the Project, but it is for the best. If it means that the Project can go ahead without any disruptions from us, then I accept it," I continued. "And I know what it means to you as well. It's not right if you and Theo were the ones made to walk away from it."

"Thanks," he said, with a small smile. "So, what now?"

I sighed. "Everything is in that file. I need to finish some notes for Blaise but once I have received the accepted engagement letter from him, I'll Owl the file to him. And then that's it."

"That's it," he repeated. The air between us sparked and filled the space our silence created. I could feel my resolve weakening again. Malfoy's eyes darkened, and he took a step toward me.

"Except that's not it, is it, Granger?" he teased, his hand reaching out for my hip again. "Not by a long shot."

His woodsy, citrusy scent enveloped me, and that familiar warmth flooded me to settle low between my legs again.

"If you don't want me, Granger, that's okay. I'll back off, and you won't hear from me again. But maybe…?" his voice trailed off as he leaned in and pressed his lips to that sweet spot below my ear.

"Maybe just one more time," I moaned, reaching for his belt. Malfoy gripped my hand to stop me.

"If I only get to have you one more time, Granger, I'm not wasting it with another quickie against an office wall." He pulled away from me slightly, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket. He unlocked his phone and pressed it into my hand, the way he did at the benefit. Despite the torrent of feelings I was experiencing at that moment, I smiled and bit down on my lip. "Same drill. Give me your address, and I'll come to you tonight."

I did want him just one more time. If only to provide some sense of closure on whatever the hell this was. I quickly typed in my address and handed the phone back to him. He slid it back into his pocket, before bending to collect his wand from the floor at our feet. He quickly pressed a kiss to my lips.

"See you tonight," he murmured against my mouth before kissing me again. He sauntered casually out of my office, flicking his wand to dispel the charm on the glass panels as he went.

I flopped myself down in my chair and placed my elbows on my desk, my forehead resting in my hands. I still had a few hours of work left, and in particular, I needed to finalise my handover notes to Blaise. I steadied my breath and turned my music app on. Miike Snow, Paddling Out. Perfect. I rolled up the sleeves of my dark green shirt and got to work. I tried not to think about what was coming tonight until a text alert dinged from my phone. My stomach flipped when I read the brief message:

8:00 pm - DM