Arriving in Falmouth felt different this time.
Instead of having Hermione's hand in his, Draco's arm was linked with his son's.
Instead of excitement, he felt only anxiety and fear. He'd barely been able to pluck up the nerve to Apparate to the stadium, and then the crowds and noise intensified his trepidation. The stands were already filled with dark grey Falcons and yellow Wasps jerseys, and he was thankful the match wasn't between the Falcons and the Cannons.
He could remember Ron Weasley sporting ghastly vintage orange jerseys on weekends and proudly telling anyone who would listen that he supported the worst team in the league.
Shaking his head, he resumed obsessing over the upcoming afternoon. How would Hermione choose to interact with him? Would she ignore him and focus her energy on the children? Would she be shy and embarrassed, barely able to look at him after the way he'd kissed her?
Would Weasley turn up, apoplectic with rage?
Scorpius gently tugged his arm away.
"Are you okay, Dad?"
Draco nodded, smoothing his hair back with his hand. That was one of the last words he'd use to describe himself at this very moment. He didn't want to admit how much this was affecting him to his son.
"I am. It's just going to be a little uncomfortable at first, I think."
"Well, I promise I'll be talking to the Minister. You can enjoy the game with Rose. She's far more interested in Quidditch than I am, so I'm sure you'll get on famously."
Clapping a hand on Scorpius' shoulder, Draco laughed. "Thank you. I'm glad you're willing to make that sacrifice for me."
"What can I say? I'm the best son anyone could ever ask for," he replied, smirking. "You're lucky to have me."
He knew Scorpius was trying to joke and lighten the mood, but he also spoke the truth. He resisted the urge to ruffle his son's hair the way he used to.
They walked the rest of the way to the Minister's box in silence, the tension radiating off Draco, thickening the air around them. When they reached their destination, the door was slightly ajar and they were able to hear Hermione's voice. Rather than waiting for Draco to be ready, Scorpius knocked and Rose Granger-Weasley opened the door, her red curls piled in a messy knot atop her head.
"Come on in!" she said excitedly, grabbing Scorpius' arm. "We didn't know if you were both coming! We're just figuring out what we should order for snacks."
As Draco followed them in, he noticed that Hermione was pointedly pouring over a small menu, as if she didn't know what the options were already. He walked past her to the front of the box, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked out over the pitch.
He tried not to think about how she'd straightened her curls again today and wondered if it was to remind him or simply to conceal her identity. He tried to forget that she was wearing a pair of skin-tight denims whichrivalled the black trousers she wore around her flat. And he tried to unsee the bare expanse of her freckle-dotted shoulders, all the while wishing he'd had the choice to kiss every single one of the sun-darkened spots of skin.
Why did she have to look so damn good?
"Where's Hugo?" Scorpius asked, breaking his reverie.
"Oh, he's with Uncle Harry and Lily. They're around somewhere," Rose replied. "Mr Malfoy, would you like to order anything?"
At the mention of Rose's Uncle Harry , his stomach had dropped even further. Had Weasley sent Potter as some sort of chaperone? Or had Hermione asked him to attend to act as a buffer between them?
Steeling himself, he turned around to look at the assembled group. When Hermione cautiously met his eyes, his mind didn't offer a single suggestion for greeting.
Scorpius, much to his credit, grabbed the menu from Rose and said, "My dad always gets chips and usually firewhisky. There's no way he needs to look at this."
"Mum, you heard that, right?" Rose asked. "I can't order the firewhisky obviously."
Hermione stumbled over her words. "Of c-course. I'll see to the drinks for Dr-Mr Malfoy and myself."
Mr Malfoy?
"Thank you, Minister," Draco said before turning his back to her and surveying the pitch again.
The following silence was nearly deafening. Hermione was likely stunned he'd greeted her so formally and Scorpius and Rose were probably at a loss on how to fix whatever had broken between them. The atmosphere was so different from how it had been only last weekend in Hogsmeade.
Scorpius cleared his throat nervously and said, "Minister Granger—"
"Don't be silly. Call me Hermione ," she interrupted, and Draco didn't miss the emphasis on her name. "I'm only 'Minister' when I'm officially working."
"Er, well, Hermione," his son began shakily, "I was hoping we could talk today."
"I'm certain we will at some point," she said kindly. "First, I'm going to ask your father to accompany me to handle these snack purchases since you and Rose can't get everything on your own."
He took a deep breath and forced a smile before he turned around, even though he and Rose clearly knew there was no need for them to leave the box.
"Since you aren't Minister Granger today, what shall I call you? Ms Granger? Mrs Granger-Weasley?"
"Hermione," she repeated, meeting his eyes. "Or you could revert to Granger."
"But if you're calling me Mr Malfoy ..."
Her face flushed a bit. "Fine. I should've called you Draco." Taking a deep breath, she added, "I was nervous, and I panicked."
He noticed Scorpius and Rose exchanging a glance and decided to follow her advice.
"Okay, Granger. Let's take a walk."
They exited the box side-by-side with his anxiety acting as an unwelcome third wheel.
Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry, Draco. I know I blindsided you—"
"Stop," he interrupted. "That's not what bothers me about all of this, and you know that."
"I don't know that," she hissed under her breath, trying to keep their conversation as quiet as possible. "You haven't talked to me since you left my office, and you didn't tell me then."
"I did," he replied, pulling her into an alcove and shielding her with his body. He didn't want anyone to see her face. "You just chose not to discuss it."
When she looked up at him, Draco could tell she was genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"
"I'm angry because you're letting him control you after years of unhappiness. Do you intend to let him make you miserable for the rest of your life?"
"No," she said quietly. "I told you — I just need some time to figure it out."
"After everything you've done for our world, don't you think you deserve some happiness? Something for yourself?"
Worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, she looked up at him through her lashes. "Of course I do. But don't you get it, Draco? I'm trying to protect not only my children, but also you."
"I'm a grown man, Granger. I don't need protecting," he replied. "Do you think anything Weasley will say about me hasn't been said already? Because let me assure you, he's not clever enough to come up with something new."
She snorted a laugh. "I hear what you're saying. Really, I do."
"But?"
"But I still have to think about the kids and what would happen if Ron's... indiscretions were made public." She grabbed the front of his shirt when he started to pull away. "But I also don't want to lose you. I've always..."
Draco froze, waiting to hear what she was trying to say.
"I've always been attracted to you, even when you were the world's biggest arse."
She was testing his resolve. Sure, she'd openly admitted that she would've been willing to try to date him post-war, but this was different. She'd always been attracted to him.
"Are you going to say anything?" she breathed, still looking into his eyes.
In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to lean down and capture her lips, but it would only lead to another torturous night alone. She wasn't willing to walk away or to move forward into new territory. They were stuck in purgatory, in limbo.
"No," he replied, glancing down at her lips. "Nothing I say is going to change your mind. I'm not a fool."
She exhaled sharply. "Draco—"
"You can't have it both ways, Granger. I'm not willing to have a... relationship with you in private and act like we're polite acquaintances in public."
"That's not what I was suggesting!"
A hand landed on Draco's shoulder and, on instinct, he quickly grabbed the interloper's wrist, turning to face them, wand already out of its holster. His movements were fluid, honed through years of Auror training, and required very little thought.
"Potter," he snarled, releasing him. "You should know better than to sneak up on an Auror like that."
"And you should know better than to have conversations like the one you're having in a very busy Quidditch stadium without a Muffliato ," Potter said, raising an eyebrow. "You're lucky I sent Hugo back to the box the moment I saw you."
Hermione straightened and stood beside Draco, her cheeks flushed. "Hi, Harry."
He rolled his eyes at her. "I'm assuming you two are—" he made air quotes "—getting snacks."
She nodded. "We are. We're going to walk over there right now."
"Do you need a chaperone? Or should I send a search party if you're not back in fifteen minutes?" Potter asked.
"I think we'll manage," Hermione answered, "especially since you just interrupted us."
Draco wanted to say something snarky, but he couldn't muster the wit at the moment. Instead, he gestured to a nearby concession stand and started walking, Granger hot on his heels without Potter in tow. When she was beside him again, she cast a Muffliato.
"I didn't mean I wanted to conduct a relationship in secret," she reiterated.
Sighing, he rubbed his face with both hands, trying to wipe away his embarrassment. "Well, what do you want, Granger? Because I have no fucking idea."
"I want to keep getting to know each other," she said quietly. "I know he'll come around eventually. This is what he always does. He gets mad and then cools off once he realises he was wrong. It's been the same way since we were eleven years old."
"Charming," Draco snapped. "It's good to know that he hasn't matured since first year."
She sidestepped so they were standing shoulder to shoulder in the queue, the skin of her arm against his.
"Can we try being friends? Having lunch like we were before?"
Before he'd kissed her. Before they'd both acknowledged the building attraction between them. Could he go back? Was it better to have her in his life as a friend rather than not at all?
Somehow, she managed to step even closer, pushing their hands forwards, and he felt her fingers lace their way through his, squeezing for just a second before releasing.
"Please?" Hermione murmured. "Please, Draco."
Those words on her lips and the feel of her skin brushing against his made his mind wander to very, very inappropriate places. He imagined her begging for something else in a different context.
He huffed. "I can try, but you're not making it easy for me by standing this close."
Laughing, she stroked his hand again. "Friends touch."
"Maybe your friends do," he began tightly, "but I've certainly never held hands with a friend. And when you do that, you don't feel like my friend."
She took a step to the side, giving him a few more inches of space. He missed the feel of her closeness immediately.
"I suppose you're right. I'll stop pushing my luck."
"Good. I'm glad you can take some instruction," he drawled, glancing at her sideways and noticing a rising flush in her cheeks.
Silence stretched between them as they stood in the queue for snacks. While they'd cleared the air, he didn't know what else to say. She wanted to get to know him better but, since the humbling experience of the war, he hadn't been comfortable talking about himself. He preferred to wait for questions, to be prompted for details.
But she stayed quiet, making him wonder what she was thinking about.
A few people approached Hermione, greeting her and shaking her hand, glancing at Draco nervously. He didn't jump into any of the conversations unless he was addressed first. When their time came to order, he happily accepted the drinks tray, holding it with both hands. There was an individual serving-sized bottle of firewhisky and cup for him, a cider for Hermione, and several Butterbeers for the children.
"Should we have gotten something for Potter?" he asked, looking at her.
"Bollocks," she said, turning to face the concessions worker again. "Could we get another cider please?"
Hermione levitated the tray of chips and pretzels and other assorted snacks in front of them, the additional cider in her hand. She sipped from it and smiled.
"My son is going to talk your ear off," Draco stated. "He's just as much of a bookworm as you were back in school. I think he wants to be just like you."
"I'm more than willing to listen," she answered. "My enthusiasm for Quidditch is in short supply, which you know. Rose will likely chatter on endlessly since you're knowledgeable about the sport. And won't bore her to death with talk of the Chudley Cannons and their rosters dating back to the early 1980s."
Draco scoffed. "I wouldn't waste my breath on the Cannons."
They started walking back towards the box, the air thickening with uncomfortable silence again. He wanted her in a way he hadn't anticipated at the start of their friendship, and knowing that she was attracted to him too intensified his longing tenfold. Even thinking about sharing the same space for several hours made both his mind and his blood race, but he knew he had to repress it, to hide what he was feeling. No lusty or lovesick looks, no seemingly accidental touches.
Draco knew Potter would be there, along with their children and possibly Weasley's sister, and he knew he should be grateful — he didn't normally open up in front of an audience — but every single person they interacted with seemed to introduce more strain today. It was so much easier when they were on their own, alone together.
When they crossed the threshold, Draco saw Scorpius standing between Rose and Potter. Hermione's son — Hugo — was talking to another redhead, who he realised must be Potter's daughter, Lily.
"Okay, everyone," Hermione said brightly. "Feel free to dig in."
Draco grabbed his firewhisky and a portion of the chips before walking back over to the front of the box. He settled them on the railing and looked out over the stadium. The players were flying warm-up laps, their robes billowing behind them. Potter sidled up next to him, cider in hand, and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the railing.
"I can't even believe these boxes are wasted on Hermione when she hates Quidditch," he stated. "And she flat out refuses to give her tickets to Ron. And I have to hear him whinging about how he has to buy tickets to the Cannons now."
Draco rolled his eyes. "I know we've worked together for a lot of years, Potter, but we don't need to act like we're friends."
Potter chuckled. "Oh, I know. I'm just trying to break the ice."
"Did Weasley send you to chaperone this outing?"
"No, but Ginny thought Hermione might need someone here if you decided not to come."
Biting his tongue, Draco pretended to be fascinated by one of the ads flashing on the magical marquee. He didn't want to tell Potter that he was only here for Scorpius because he knew it would be misconstrued.
Rose must have sensed the tension because she somehow forced her way between them, smiling brightly. "I hope this match is a long one. I don't really want to get home early."
Glancing over his shoulder, Draco saw Hugo and Lily sitting in two of the seats, sharing a bag of sweets. Scorpius was standing beside Hermione, his face a little flushed as he chattered away. She was smiling at him and listening to every single word.
It made him happy to see his son excited again. The past year had been understandably difficult on Scorpius.
"Lily and I need to leave by four," Potter told Rose. "And I'm supposed to bring you and Hugo to your dad's house."
Rose waved him off. "I can Floo to Dad's from Mum's flat. I'm staying to see the whole match."
Potter sighed. "We'll see what your mum says if the match isn't over by then."
At four, Potter left, taking his daughter and Hermione's son with him. Rose had, in fact, put up a fight to stay, and Hermione relented after being reminded that she wouldn't be around much during the week.
"It's not right to guilt your mum, you know," Draco said to her when Hermione and Scorpius started another conversation, still standing on the other side of the box.
Rose sighed and looked down, taking in the crowds in the lower seats. "I know. I didn't want to leave. Dad was pretty mad at me after the train."
"Well, this probably won't make him any happier."
She shrugged. "It's just not fair."
Unsure of what she meant, Draco asked, "What's not fair?"
"They weren't happy together anymore," she answered quietly, glancing over at Hermione. "And Dad, he's in denial. I know I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but until you were in the picture, he didn't seem to care. But now..."
He shook his head. "I'm not really in the picture."
Rose bit her lip and looked up at him. "I think you are. She told me about your lunches and the Quidditch match. She was smiling the whole time."
Draco's heart squeezed, but he didn't get a chance to reply. At long last, Scorpius and Hermione had run out of things to talk about. Hermione moved closer, Scorpius following behind her, and he knew he couldn't continue this conversation with Hermione's daughter. His son stood on the opposite side of Rose, and Hermione's gaze roamed back and forth along the railing, seemingly debating which Malfoy to stand next to. When she chose Scorpius, Draco wanted to breathe a sigh of relief; he didn't think he could handle her arm pressing against his again.
They all stood in a line at the edge of the box now, watching as the Seekers circled the pitch. He couldn't help but think about Rose's awkward predicament. She was caught between her parents, old enough to have formed an opinion and chosen her mother's side, but young enough that she was still able to be used as a pawn by her father.
Rather than taking Hermione up on her offer of friendship, he knew he should move in the opposite direction. But when he'd run, she had chased him. Not literally, of course, but figuratively. She'd owled him twice and made it impossible for him to forget about her.
They all leaned against the railing, alternating Granger-Weasley, Malfoy, Granger-Weasley, Malfoy, and watched the match in a tension-filled silence.
Until Rose spoke up.
"We should do this again," she said, her eyes darting from Draco to Scorpius. "We'll be on holiday for the first two weeks of July, but after then."
"The beach, right?" Scorpius asked, saving Draco from having to answer.
Rose nodded. "Yes, we'll be at the beach for a week and then we're going camping with Dad and Uncle Harry. Mum has always refused to camp."
Hermione scoffed. "I can't even believe your father and Harry want to camp. Nearly a full year was quite enough for me."
Her casual mention of the war twisted his insides, bringing his residual guilt to the surface.
"What will you be doing that week, Hermione?" Scorpius asked politely. "Working?"
"No," she answered. "I'll be staying at the beach house."
"By yourself?"
Hermione's eyes flicked to Draco and then away again when she realised he was watching her. "Yes. I'll be alone there, but it will be a welcome break from the office. I've already compiled a reading list."
Biting his tongue, Draco managed to refrain from teasing her. Instead, he looked back at the game, his eyes searching for the Seekers and the Snitch.
"Well, I'd love to go to another match," Scorpius said. "It's been a wonderful Saturday so far."
The children were trying to bridge the gap Weasley had created, that much was clear, but Draco couldn't seem to snap himself back into friend mode as easily as Hermione had.
"I've enjoyed myself as well. I'd be more than willing to make plans for a match as soon as we return," Hermione offered.
He could feel three sets of eyes on him, waiting for his response.
"We'll see," he said. "I don't know what my work schedule will be like. If I pick up a case, it might not be possible for me to come, but Scorpius is old enough to Floo over or Portkey on his own."
His statement killed the conversation, leaving them in an uncomfortable silence with only sparse small talk until the match ended nearly an hour later.
When the Snitch was caught, Rose had clapped and cheered excitedly before chattering about how excellent the Seekers' final charge had been.
Draco smiled at her. "How much time have you spent with your aunt and uncle?"
"Loads," Hermione lamented. "Harry and Ginny have spoiled her rotten. They had her flying before I ever would've let her near a broom."
Scorpius grimaced. "Dad tried to teach me how to fly when I was about six. I was absolutely rubbish at it."
Ruffling his son's hair, Draco said, "You could've learned if you wanted to, but I wasn't going to force you to do something you had no interest in."
"Dad wanted to teach me too, but he was a Keeper, and they don't really need the same skillset."
"Oh, he was so jealous when you wanted to learn from Ginny," Hermione laughed, the memory making her grin. "You should've heard him when you weren't around, Rosie."
"Remember how scared Mum was the first time you put me on a broom?" Scorpius said, smiling. "I think she cast Cushioning Charms over the whole back garden."
Draco's throat tightened. He remembered it like it was yesterday, but he was surprised Scorpius did. In his mind, he could see Astoria standing on the edge of the terrace, her wand clutched in her hand as she watched them in the air...
"I would've done the same, had I been given the choice," Hermione replied. "But someone convinced her aunt and uncle that I'd said it was okay for her to start learning."
Rose blushed. "In my defense, Albus had already been flying for over a year. It wasn't fair."
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. "I wanted my children to be entirely safe. Well, as safe as one can attempt to be on a hazardous, enchanted piece of cleaning equipment fifty feet in the air."
Draco recalled Astoria had said the same — she just wanted Scorpius to be safe.
"I could teach you now, you know," Rose said, looking over at Scorpius.
"I had flying lessons, just like everyone else," he replied, embarrassed. "I know how to fly. It's just not my favourite thing."
Draco had to stop himself from offering the same to Hermione; without even asking, he knew her answer would mirror his son's.
"Shall we have dinner?" Rose asked, looking between the adults. "I'm starved again."
Shaking his head, Draco said, "We should really get home. We're going to be moving—"
"Moving?" Hermione interjected, her eyes widening. "Really?"
Scorpius smiled. "Yes. Dad's found a place he likes in London."
"Where?" Hermione asked.
"It's in Victoria, near the Belgravia line," Draco answered, even though he had no idea where either of those places were in regards to Hermione's flat. "Just a simple row house."
His son laughed. "Simple in comparison to Malfoy Manor, he means."
"Mum, isn't that somewhat close to your flat?" Rose asked.
Hermione nodded. "It is. Probably about a fifteen-minute walk."
"I had no idea," Draco said, glancing at her and trying to show that he was being completely honest.
Rose and Scorpius looked like they were considering all the new, parent-trapping possibilities.
"We could get together in the city," Rose gushed, the excitement washing over her. "Have you spent much time in Muggle London?"
Scorpius shook his head. "We haven't ventured far. I'm not sure how to really get around."
"I can show you," she reassured him. "It'll be fun!"
Clearing his throat, Draco said, "I'm sure you'll be an excellent tour guide, Rose."
Hermione looked at him, her eyes suggesting she'd show him around, too.
"Mr Malfoy, could you take us there now?" Rose asked. "Just so I can have an idea of what's around."
"Rose," Hermione scolded, "I know you're trying to extend this visit, but that's really not necessary. We're not even sure of Apparition Points in the area of his new house."
Waving his hand, Draco said, "It's fine, but it's just not possible tonight. I need to learn how to get there without magic myself."
Scorpius sensed his father's discomfort and said, "As soon as we're settled, we'll figure something out, Rose. I'm sure it won't be long after you come back from holiday."
She nodded in acceptance. "Of course. I'll look forward to it."
Before an awkward silence could take root, Draco quickly jumped in to start their goodbyes. "Well, I'll see you at the Ministry on Monday. And Rose, I hope you enjoy both of your holidays in their own way."
"Thanks, Mr Malfoy."
Hermione looked at him and smiled sadly. "Will you have time for lunch next week?"
Even though he wanted to say no, he found he couldn't. Instead, he said, "I'll see what my schedule's like on Monday and let you know."
They watched as Scorpius and Rose hugged, somehow exchanging silent communication.
Stepping out into the main thoroughfare of the stadium, Hermione gestured for him to follow. Again, he was powerless to resist.
"Thank you for coming," she said, looking up at him.
Draco nodded. "It wasn't a hardship, Granger."
She bit down on her lower lip nervously. "I know you said you'd check your schedule, but I'll leave Friday lunch open for you. Take some time to decide and let me know."
"Okay," he responded. "I'll send you a note."
Scorpius and Rose stepped through the doorway and they all started to walk towards the exit as one group. Once they were on the other side of the gate, Scorpius thanked Hermione profusely and held out his hand to shake hers. Instead, she pulled him into a warm hug.
Draco wished he could go back to before the kiss. If he hadn't kissed her, a friendly hug wouldn't feel like it pushed the boundaries of propriety. And, if he wasn't mistaken, she felt the same way. Instead of a hug, she offered him a handshake.
"I'll see you next week, Malfoy."
He gently squeezed her hand in reply, and then she broke the connection, linking her arm through her daughter's and Disapparating.
On Monday, Draco was back in the office and he knew Potter was looking for an opportunity to talk to him. To avoid his boss, he hand-delivered case notes to the assigned solicitors, offered to train a recently graduated Auror on paperwork — something he hated — and ran to fetch coffee for the office.
After spending the weekend lamenting his own stupidity and the awkward goodbye he'd shared with Granger — not Hermione — he'd been happy to get back to work. He needed something to hold his attention and act as a distraction. Unfortunately, there hadn't been any calls for him to go in the field or mysteries to solve.
No, much to his chagrin, today was a perfectly ordinary, boring day.
He sat at his desk feeling like a caged Hungarian Horntail, watching the minutes on the clock tick by so slowly he doubted the hands were moving at all. For whatever reason, he'd expected a note from Granger to arrive at some point during the day, but there had been nothing. And he wasn't sure about being the first to send something, even though he'd told her he would let her know about Friday.
His stubbornness wouldn't allow him to cede control this early.
The blank parchment sitting in front of him was going to remain blank unless he ended up with some work to do or received a memo. It wasn't there to fold into flowers or broomsticks or dragons to fly off to the top office. Like the quill in his hand, it was for show. He wasn't going to actually use it. He simply needed something to fiddle with while he waited for the workday to end.
Draco was so focused on not writing a note that he missed Potter coming back through the DMLE doors after an afternoon meeting.
"Malfoy, do you have a minute?" Potter asked, making a beeline for him and looking him square in the eye. "There's something I want to discuss with you."
With a sigh, he stood and stretched. "I suppose so. Shall we go somewhere a bit more private?"
Potter gestured to his office and Draco followed him there.
"What, exactly, do we need to discuss?" Draco asked once the door was closed.
When Potter muttered a spell, he knew the inquisition was about to begin. "Hermione, obviously."
"Why do we need to discuss the Minister?"
"Oh, so she's only the Minister to you?" he asked, arching a brow. "You didn't want to get to know her better?"
Draco narrowed his eyes. "As I'm sure you know, I very much did want to spend time with her. However, your pet Weasel has put a stop to that."
"Listen, I know Ron's being a little bit of an arse—"
"A little bit of an arse? He cheated on his wife and then got his knickers in a twist when she dared to have lunch with someone else after they were already divorced!" Draco exclaimed. "Surely you don't agree with the way he's behaving?"
"He and Hermione are both family, Malfoy. Of course I don't agree with how he's acting, but he's always been this way. Especially when it comes to her." When Draco didn't answer, he continued, "She really seems upset that things are so awkward between the two of you. She wants it to go back to the way it was. She said it was easy to be herself with you."
Hope flared to life in his chest. If she wanted to go back to the way they were before...
"We connected," Draco replied with a shrug. "But I've already told her I'm not interested in a relationship we can't be open about. I've worked hard to put my past behind me. There's no reason why she and I can't do what we like. We're adults."
"I don't disagree. But how are you supposed to get back to that point if you won't speak to her?"
"I spoke to her on Saturday!"
"Hardly," Potter chuckled. "She said that she spent more time chatting with Scorpius than with you."
"Well, Scorpius wanted to talk to her."
"And you didn't?"
"You might not get this, Potter, but I put myself out there with her, even though I wasn't sure if I was ready to or not. I started to open up to her. I even talked to her about the good times with Astoria, and I haven't been able to do that with anyone yet." Draco sighed in frustration. "She started all of this — nearly pursued me — and then threw the brakes on once I'd decided I was ready. It's not a great feeling."
He nodded, signalling he understood.
"As soon as I had to work that case for Weasley, I should've stopped whatever it was with her. It got too complicated."
"Ron, he's the jealous type. Having six siblings can do that to a person, I guess. But he snapped when you taunted him at The Widow's Web."
Draco's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to say this is my fault?"
"No," Potter said, raising his hands in surrender. "Not at all. Just trying to explain Ron's train of thought."
"I don't care what he thinks, Potter. I really don't." Draco thought for a moment. "You know, he's actually irrelevant here. I'm more upset that Hermione would just back down and give him what he wants. That's not who she is."
Before Potter could respond, someone knocked on the door. Draco opened it, finding Hermione on the other side.
"Draco," she said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
Her hair hung loose today, flowing over her shoulders in a riot of curls, and her robes were a shade of blue he'd never seen her wear before. She was stunning and he had to make a conscious effort to look away.
"Just having a discussion with my boss. I think we're through now, right?"
Unable to contradict him, Potter nodded.
"The Chosen Head Auror is all yours, Granger."
She stifled a laugh and stepped aside to let him pass. When his arm brushed hers, he tried to ignore the static that passed between them, keeping his head down as he walked towards his desk.
"Draco?" she called out. He turned to face her. "I left a memo on your desk."
"I'll be sure to read it."
Quickly, he crossed the DMLE and sat in his chair, unable to stop smiling.
Maybe she'd remembered who she was after all.