Story title/link: Session One
School and Theme: Durmstrang; Revealing your soul
Mandatory Prompt: [Plot Point] Muggle AU
Additional Prompt: [Genre] Comedy
Year: Exchange Student 1, filling in for Year 1
Wordcount: 2878
Gossip abruptly ceased, half-eaten sandwiches chucked in the bin and fingers furiously typed on keyboards as Hermione Granger strode past.
Knocking sharply on the door marked Kingsley Shacklebolt- Prime Minister, she opened it even before a deep gravelly voice bid her come in.
The Prime Minister was sitting behind his large oak desk, which had once belonged to Queen Victoria, pen poised in hand. Hermione gave the desk her usual covetous look before flourishing a printed email in his face.
'Mandatory mediation sessions! You can't be serious?'
'Why good morning to you too Miss Granger, my joint-favourite Chief of Staff. Do sit down,' said Kingsley with an amused smile.
She glared at him, before poisoning herself on the edge of the seat. 'You only have two Chief of Staff. Although why you keep the other one around, I have no idea.'
'Hence the need for the email you are currently crumpling in your fist.'
Hermione looked down with a start, hastily smoothing out the paper. Just the thought of that man was enough to get her blood boiling.
Draco Malfoy.
Getting Chief of Staff at such a young age had been such a coup, even skipping a few steps in her 10-year plan. The ultimate goal of course being Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. She'd happily let Ginny take her out for some cocktails at The Leaky Cauldron to celebrate.
And celebrate she had, she hadn't been able to stop smiling, or dancing for that matter all night. Her revelry only ceased with the horrifying discovery that she would be sharing the position with Draco Malfoy.
A discovery resulting in a lifetime bar for them both from The Leaky.
Hermione still missed their Mai Tais. No one could mix a cocktail better than Tom the bartender.
'Surely, there's another solution, Prime Minister,' she said, giving him her best smile. 'If only Mr. Malfoy would be more reasonable on the housing issue, I'm sure…'
Kingsley held up his palm like a traffic warden. 'Housing is not the issue.' He gave her a stern look. 'The issue is you and Mr. Malfoy. Do you know how many staff I have off because of stress?'
Hermione opened her mouth to argue. Surely that wasn't because of her and Malfoy, after all, it was very stressful helping to run a country.
The recent Cabinet meeting came to mind. She had to admit it had been completely derailed by the two of them. Kingsley had barely been able to get a word in edgewise. She blushed as she remembered Malfoy and her standing on top of the table, fingers pointed threateningly at each other.
Unprofessional. That was the word to describe it. She, Hermione Granger, had become unprofessional.
She slumped back in her seat and groaned.
Kingsley softened his expression. 'Hermione. Without the two of you, I doubt very much I would be sitting in this office, and perhaps my fondness for you both has clouded my judgement. But enough is enough. Unless something changes, I may have to do something drastic. The fate of the country may depend on it.'
Her eyes widened in shock- something drastic? Like demotion? Removal from the party altogether? Perhaps he would just fire Malfoy. But no, Kingsley was always fair.
He was watching her carefully.
Sighing, she threw her hands up in the air. 'Well, if the fate of the country depends on it, I suppose I could give it a go.'
'That's my favourite female Chief of Staff.'
Hermione stood with her finger hovering over the buzzer.
'Fate of the country…fate of the country. You can do this Hermione Granger. Not for nothing were you made one of the youngest Chief of Staff in a century.'
She started at the sound of a mocking laugh behind her. 'Talking to yourself again Granger. First sign of madness I hear, but then you've always been on the brink, haven't you?'
'Malfoy,' she said, through gritted teeth. She had been mentally preparing for this all week, strategizing at length with Ginny, but just the sight of him made all those pep talks fly through the window.
He was wearing a crisp white shirt and a suit that surely had to be Armani. She'd made an effort with her appearance, having recently read a book about looking good to feel good. Hence she was wearing the floaty red dress Ginny had convinced her to buy to celebrate her promotion.
She had even managed to tame her curls into some sort of order. When she'd left the house, she had looked in the mirror and grinned. Looking good did indeed feel good.
But Malfoy with his artfully disheveled blonde hair, and his no doubt £5000 suit, sapped her confidence.
'I believe that someone else holds the position for youngest chief of staff in a century. Who could that be?' He tapped his lip thoughtfully. 'Oh yes, that would be me,' he said, smiling his crocodile smile.
She scowled at him. He knew just where to stick the knife in. Hard to believe that they'd once been friends. My Golden Ticket, Kingsley had called the two of them during the election campaign. Together they really had felt they could accomplish anything.
She turned to him, suddenly earnest. 'Can't we just…'
'Yes?'
She slumped, shaking her head. There'd been too many shots fired. For a moment she thought he looked disappointed but dismissed it. She just hoped this Trelawney person could teach them to be civil enough to satisfy Kingsley's requirements.
'Let's just get this over with,' she said, pressing her finger on the buzzer.
The door swung open, revealing a winding upward staircase, a candle flickering on each step. Hermione took a step back to check they had the right place, bumping into Malfoy who had been closer on her heels than she realised.
Her face collided with his chest, and she gripped his shirt to stop herself from falling.
'Steady on there Granger,' said Malfoy. He stared down at her, his cheeks tinged pink. For a moment she stared back, a memory tugging at her. With a gasp, she realised she was still holding on to him and let go.
Smoothing her hair she stepped past him to check the name on the outside of the door.
'Giving up already?' Malfoy said sharply.
'Of course not,' she bit back. Refusing to explain her actions, she swept past him and gingerly walked up the stairs, already composing the email she would write detailing the many ways unsupervised candles on a stairway breached fire standard regulations.
She regretted her decision to wear heels but that too had been an empowerment decision. Even with them on, Malfoy still towered over her.
Malfoy sighed deeply. 'Anytime today. Some of us have better things we could be doing with our time.'
'Oh, have another hot date with one of England's finest, do you?' The retort flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. She hated that Draco's constant parade of blonde airheads got under her skin.
'For a spinster, you take an awfully keen interest in my love life,' he said, sounding smug.
Spinster? Just because she hadn't had a date in a while. It wasn't that long ago she'd broken up with her childhood sweetheart, Ron. Well 2 years ago… but still. Maybe she should finally say yes to Cormac McLaggan.
She shuddered, remembering her near-miss with him under the mistletoe at the office Christmas party. Strangely it had been Malfoy who had come to her rescue, even if it had been to continue their argument on public schools versus private schools.
They had finally reached the top of the stairs and were greeted with the sight of pink gauzy curtains, fluttering dangerously near large white candles on either side of the doorway.
'Come in,' said a dreamy voice.
It was hard to see where the voice had come from through the haze of incense and dim crimson light. Hermione wasn't sure what she had been expecting but it certainly wasn't this.
Plump cushions adorned the floor and pink and purple silk curtains hung across the ceiling, making Hermione feel like she was in a circus tent or a haram.
Her eyes gradually adjusted, and she could make out a woman in the corner, sitting in a chintz armchair. She was wearing layers upon layers of shimmery material and had huge owl-like glasses.
Where had Kingsley sent them? Was this his idea of a practical joke? She looked to see how Malfoy was taking in their surroundings and smirked at the aghast expression on his face.
'Miss Trelawney,' she said brightly, determined to pretend she was completely in her element, despite her strong urge to ask to see the woman's qualifications. 'I am Hermi…'
'I know exactly who you are,' said Miss Trelawney, 'but the question is do you?' She asked this as if she was a medium in an old-fashioned horror movie.
Malfoy snorted but only quietly enough for Hermione to hear. The next second, he was oozing Malfoy charm. 'But of course, of course, we are but humble students and place ourselves in your capable hands.'
Miss Trelawney giggled. The woman giggled, and she had to be old enough to be his mother. Hermione folded her arms.
'Yes,' she said stiffly. 'I too am here to learn.'
Miss Trelawney stood abruptly, nearly tripping on her dress. Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.
Narrowing her eyes at Hermione, Miss Trelawney drew herself up. 'You have chosen to come to me for the beautiful art of mediation. I must warn you from the outset that if you do not open your mind there is very little I will be able to do.'
Kingsley obviously hadn't told the woman that these were mandatory sessions. Open your mind… that sounded ominous.
Malfoy sneezed beside her, and she automatically said, 'Bless you.' He did have some awful allergies so this incense must be driving him crazy. She tried to ignore the twinge of sympathy.
'Take a seat,' said Trelawney.
Hermione looked around at the cushions and wished she hadn't worn a dress. There was no way she was going to be able to sit in a ladylike fashion. It was Malfoy's turn to smirk at her realising her dilemma as he settled himself Rajah-like on a pile in the centre of the room.
Hermione went to sit down from him as far away as she could.
'Closer, my dear, come closer,' said Trelawney, shepherding Hermione until was sitting facing Malfoy, knees practically touching. 'The eyes are the windows to the soul… You will gaze into one another's eyes, hoping to glimpse the truth of the other's soul within.'
Stare into Malfoy's eyes? What on earth? Couldn't they just have a rational discussion? Even being forced to talk about their feelings would be better than this.
'For how long?' Hermione asked.
Miss Trelawney looked down at her with a surprisingly wolfish smile. 'Until I ring the gong.'
She moved behind Hermione to sit back in her armchair. 'To begin, close your eyes. Breathe deeply. In and out. Focus on your breaths.'
Breathing, ok, she could deal with breathing so long as she never had to open her eyes. Even with them shut, she was minutely aware of the closeness of Malfoy. She shifted in position and her hand brushed against his.
She let out a squeak and heard him chuckle in response.
All too soon Trelawney was telling them to open their eyes. 'Keep your gaze soft. Focus wholly on your partner as you begin this journey together. This journey of oneness and intimacy.'
Hermione slowly opened her eyes and made herself look directly into Malfoy's grey ones. They held their usual mocking glint as if daring her to be the first to look away. She narrowed her own.
'Soft gaze, Miss Granger. Soft gaze,' came Trelawney's voice from behind.
How could she tell? Hermione made herself relax and focused on her breathing. Across from her, Malfoy seemed to do the same, eyes fixed on hers. His gaze was intense.
He always did have a way of fixing you with his stare. Right back to the first time she met him.
It had been an initial informal campaign meeting for Kingsley, and Malfoy had swaggered into The Leaky with his Barbour coat and Rolex watch. She'd dismissed him as an arrogant Etonian and was surprised when he'd headed straight for their table.
Those first few weeks she'd been convinced he was a spy for the enemy camp, especially when she discovered he was indeed one of those Malfoys.
Her gaze flickered to that tell-tale blonde hair. It can't have been easy going against his father that way. She shuddered as she thought about the cruel and cutting things Lucius would have said. Kingsley had let slip that his father had cut him off completely.
Malfoy looked puzzled at her shudder and regarded her closely with a tilt of his head. She squirmed under his gaze; she really did feel like he was looking into the depths of her soul. What was he seeing? Was he also going on a trip down memory lane?
Countless flyer drops, bus tours around the country, late-night take-aways. Over the election campaign, both driven by their desire to see someone who would make a difference in charge, they'd dropped their walls, let each other in. Discovered despite their different upbringings they liked the same books, the same plays.
She'd been with Ron then, but they'd been gradually drifting apart for years, and the ever-increasing demands of the campaign had been the final nail in the coffin. That and how often she apparently mentioned Draco in their conversations.
Draco had always teased her about her relationship with the redhead, telling her she could do so much better than a Weasley; their fathers having once been fierce political rivals.
She'd been expecting him to rub their breakup in her face, but he had never mentioned it. Instead, she'd found on her desk the most gorgeous leather-bound journal, with the simple inscription inside; 'For new beginnings. Draco.'
Her eyes softened as she remembered and across from her Draco's lips quirked upwards in a small smile.
Draco. Since when did she think of him as Draco? More's the question, when had she stopped…
She took a deep breath in, remembering.
Dancing in The Leaky Cauldron with Ginny, celebrating her promotion in her new dress. Being joined on the dancefloor by Draco and Blaise who were delighted to bump into them. Blaise and Ginny pairing off, leaving her standing awkwardly with Draco. Dancing with Draco.
At the bar, he'd bought her a Mai Tai. 'Draco…' she had said, staring up at him, hand on his chest. Slightly tipsy from the cocktails, but still sober enough to know this is what she wanted. That he was what she wanted.
Her cheeks flushed now at the memory. He had inclined his head towards her, and she had been sure he was going to kiss her. So sure, that she had risen on her tippy toes, wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned forward.
Before finding herself abruptly pushed away. Draco had run his fingers through his hair, eyes wild. She had never felt more mortified in her life.
'Hermione, I have to tell you something,' he had stumbled out. 'I've been made Chief of Staff.'
She had laughed in his face. 'No, you haven't. I have.'
His eyes had narrowed. 'No, I have.'
'There's no way Kingsley would have made a Malfoy his Chief of Staff.'
There, that was the moment. After that things escalated rather quickly. He'd made a sneering comment about her upbringing and she'd thrown her drink in his face. He'd thrown his. She'd thrown Ginny's. He'd thrown Blaise's…
But there, right there had been the moment everything changed. No more moments of intimacy, no more Hermione and Draco; instead the all-out war that had led them here today.
Looking into Draco's eyes now, it was all so clear. How had she not noticed how hurt he'd been by her response? And bringing his family into it? That had been a low blow.
Her eyes welled up and she instinctively reached out her hand towards him, wanting to take away the hurt she had caused in that moment.
He was looking at her with such open admiration and her breath caught. She felt his fingers brush hers and she didn't hesitate before catching them.
A pure smile lit up his face and she blushed before smiling shyly back. His eyes never leaving hers, he cupped her face in his hand, leaned forward, and kissed her softly on the lips.
'I'm sorry,' he whispered.
'Me too.'
He kissed her again, more firmly this time, and she found herself leaning back against the cushions.
After several moments of delicious silence, she sat up abruptly.
'Trelawney!' she said, eyes wide.
Draco grinned and pointed to where their mediator was fast asleep on her chair.
Hermione gasped. 'How long has she been asleep for?'
'Oh, about one minute in, I'd say.'
She hit his arm lightly. 'And you didn't say anything?'
He smirked at her. 'And to think that was just session one.'