Friday, December 21, 2007
Hermione hadn't felt this nervous in quite some time. This was their last morning together before their Christmas break started and they most likely wouldn't see one another until the New Year. It was now or never. But maybe she should just wait and send this through owl post. That way, he could open it in private and she wouldn't need to witness his reaction. She considered her options as she tapped her pen rhythmically against her notebook and shifted her weight to cross and then uncross her legs. Maybe she could just hand it to him when they parted for work and—
"Did you accidentally order espresso again?" His bored drawl tore through her anxious thoughts.
"Sorry?"
"You're fidgeting in your seat like a First Year who just discovered peppermint toads and your face is all blotchy and red. What gives?"
Her eyes widened in mortification at being called out for her odd behavior and appearance and her nervousness increased by ten-fold. Subtlety was clearly not in her skillset.
"Granger, seriously, is something wrong? You look like you're going to—"
"I have something for you!" she blurted loudly and inelegantly and watched his eyebrows raise in surprise.
She waited with bated breath as Draco's mouth opened and then closed in shock, and he seemed confused by what she had practically shouted. Unable to take the awkward silence any longer, Hermione huffed and reached into her bag.
Pulling out two small, wrapped gifts, she placed both on the table next to his hands, biting her lip as he stared them down.
"You got me a gift?" he asked hollowly, not meeting her eyes.
"Two actually," she quipped, making a brave stab at humor.
Draco's face was impassive as he reached a pale hand toward the first and Hermione felt like she was waiting for the guillotine to fall. He was taking ages to unwrap it and Hermione only just resisted pulling out her hair. Oh sweet Merlin, why had she thought this was a good idea? Of all the ill-conceived, moronic, presumptuous things she could have done, buying Draco Malfoy a Christmas present had to be top of the list. He could afford to buy himself literally anything he wanted, not to mention he probably received all sorts of extravagant items from his mother, so why on earth did she think her meager offering would be appreciated?
A warm, genuine chuckle interrupted her thoughts of self-doubt. "Oh, well played Granger. This is bloody brilliant. Don't even think about borrowing one off me, all these pens belong to me!"
Hermione let out a huge exhale in relief at his gleeful reaction to the packet of ballpoint pens. She'd have to be blind not to notice how he jealously eyed her writing instrument every morning, admiring the ease of use over quills. And now he wouldn't have to interrupt her work every morning by demanding to borrow one.
"I'll have to teach you to hold one properly, your handwriting is atrocious," she teased and he shot back a playful glare.
As he reached for the second present, Hermione held her breath again. The wrapping fell away to reveal a small, handsome leather case. Draco propped it open and picked up the solid gold pen contained within. He held it up with long, graceful fingers to the light, eyeing it curiously, and then rotated it in front of his eyes to read the words Hermione had engraved for him: Draco Lucius Malfoy. Turning it over again, his eyes took in the opposite side design, which had a pattern of stars that formed his namesake constellation.
"That's called a fountain pen," she explained quickly. "Muggles usually reserve them for special occasions or for signing important, valuable documents because they're considered a luxury good and status symbol due to the limited amount of ink and manual refilling process, plus the gold material of the pen itself. Since I know you're in charge of all your family's financial obligations, I thought you might like something nice for significant agreements or donations. Of course, if you think it's stupid or don't want to use it I can always—"
"Granger," he interrupted her babbling.
"Yes?"
She watched his throat bob as he swallowed before speaking. "This is the most… You really didn't… you really shouldn't have done this for me."
The gray eyes that met hers were so intense, it made Hermione's breath catch in her throat. The strong, earnest emotion contained there… was it guilt? Shame? She certainly hadn't meant for her gift to make him feel anything negative.
"It was nothing, Malfoy," she assured him softly.
"It's not nothing. Th-thank you," he countered, and Hermione detected a slight tremor in his voice.
When he finally broke their shared gaze, Hermione still felt like her breathing was unsteady. She had agonized over her decision all week but he had liked her gift!
As they walked silently together to work, Hermione felt the giddiness of the holiday season coursing through her, and it was perhaps the high from his positive reaction to her gift, the impending holiday break, or all the sugar from her hot chocolate that influenced her impulsivity.
Hermione turned to face him and beamed. "If you get bored over the next week in that big fancy home of yours, send me an owl. Happy Christmas, Malfoy!"
Before he could mutter what surely would have been a stoic response to her effusive goodbye, Hermione stepped lightly toward him, and threw her arms around his middle in a quick hug. Draco's entire body seemed to stiffen in shock before his arms came around her in a tentative embrace. The whole motion lasted but a few seconds, but it was enough for Hermione to relish in the feeling of strong arms wrapped around her shorter frame.
Dropping her arms and ending the hug, she turned quickly on her heel and walked away briskly before he could see the blush staining her face.
Hermione walked away so fast she never noticed that Draco remained rooted to the spot she'd left him, eyes never leaving her back until she disappeared around the corner.
The Ministry cafeteria was less crowded than usual today, which meant for once, Hermione could sit and eat her lunch at one of the coveted tables by the enchanted windows. Today's magical weather display was gently falling snow and bright sunshine. Magical Maintenance must be feeling the holiday spirit.
A pair of young witches sat at the table just behind her, gossiping cheerily over the latest issue of Witch Weekly. Apparently, the year-end edition had come with a list of 2007's most eligible wizarding bachelors, and the women were eagerly debating the merits of each man.
Hermione tried to tune them out by focusing on her final draft of the crup-breeding regulations, and wondering if she might send a quick letter to Hagrid with a question, when a familiar name broke through her thoughts.
"…Charlie Weasley, oh, absolutely! Plus, he tames dragons, so there's definitely something sort of rugged about him!"
Hermione chuckled under her breath. Poor Charlie, his mother was always trying to set him up with one witch or another. Molly had even made hints in years past about what a lovely couple Charlie and Hermione would make, but Hermione had quickly shut that down. Not only would it be beyond weird to date her ex-boyfriend's brother, but she had a growing suspicion that Charlie preferred the company of wizards to witches.
"Oliver Wood, that's a no-brainer there…" sighed one of the witches.
"You love your quidditch players, don't you? Would you offer to handle his broomstick for him?" The women dissolved into giggles and Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to hide her own mirth.
She heard a rustling of magazine pages behind her as the women flipped to the next suitor and they both let out a gasp of surprise.
"Is that…? Oh wow, it is! He's definitely never been listed before!"
"Is that a recent photo? Merlin, he is gorgeous, though, isn't he?"
One of the women clucked her tongue at her friend and scoffed, "Sure, if you can get past that pesky little Dark Mark on his forearm."
Hermione froze, feeling a creeping sense of dread. They couldn't possibly be discussing…
"'Sole heir to the Malfoy fortune… generously donates to many philanthropic causes… successful quidditch scout… hasn't been seen publicly with another witch in years…'" the woman's friend read aloud and Hermione's heart sank.
"Look, I get that he's outrageously fit and all, but come on, you'd really consider a relationship with someone from that family?"
"Who said anything about a 'relationship'? I certainly wouldn't be looking for anything long-term," the woman giggled.
"Hmm, but long-term might mean a very luxurious lifestyle."
"And what happened to being disgusted by his Dark Mark?"
"With the amount of gold in his vaults, I think I could look past it…"
Hermione snatched up her papers and work bag and stormed out of the cafeteria before she could hear another word, leaving half of her lunch forgotten. Swiping at furious tears that sprang suddenly to her eyes, she hurried to her office. Once behind the safety of her closed door, Hermione tried to sort through the feelings that caused the tears. She steadied her breathing and began to focus. She felt angry, obviously. Angry at those women for the callous way they spoke of her friend, and at the cruel nature of gossip in general. Having been on the receiving end of her fair share of negative press and downright defamatory articles from several wizarding publications, she was all too familiar with the viciousness of the magical rumor mill.
From what she'd learned from getting to know Malfoy, he was a very private person as an adult, and he would likely be horrified by the attention this Witch Weekly spread would garner.
Sympathy and hurt were also coursing through her. Hurt on behalf of her friend for the way those women discussed his reputation, and sympathy knowing that many of their world agreed with them. He had been a child, forced into a war and performed desperate acts to save his own parents. He'd done what he could during a war to take care of his own, misguided though it may have been. Could either of those witches say the same of their wartime conduct?
And at the bottom of her pile of feelings, she recognized a niggling sense of shame. Just over a year ago, would she not have also thought uncharitable things about Malfoy? When he'd first approached her in the café, did she not also assume the worst of him?
But that didn't excuse the way those stupid women were talking about him! One of them clearly thought of Draco as nothing more than a wealthy pureblood bigot, making despicable assumptions about his character. Nothing that daft woman couldn't overlook for a bit of gold, apparently. While the other viewed Malfoy as a desirable object to play with and then discard; a handsome piece of meat with no value beyond his good looks.
Hermione wasn't blind, she saw how most women, and some men, in the café eyed Draco every morning. More than a few jealous death glares had been cast Hermione's way since they started sitting together all those months ago. It made sense, really, that he would be ogled openly in the Muggle world. In that world, he was just an anonymous and obnoxiously handsome young man, with alluring white-blond hair, molten silver eyes, and perfectly tailored suits complete with ornate cufflinks.
No one at that Muggle café except for Hermione knew the burden of his past actions and family name that he carried on those broad shoulders. Hermione let out a groan and covered her face in her hands. Of course she noticed his attractiveness, who wouldn't? Yes, obnoxiously handsome was accurate, especially when he put on the aristocratic airs, complete with a sneer or a smirk. But when he well and truly smiled? When he smiled because she'd said something funny, or complimented him, or he snagged the last blueberry scone? That genuine smile made Draco Malfoy devastatingly handsome.
Hermione shook her head and sat upright. She had plenty of work that needed doing before she knocked off for the holidays, and sitting here daydreaming about Malfoy's painfully gorgeous face was certainly not productive. He's your friend. He's only your friend. Friend. Friend. Friend. A friend that you hugged for the very first time today, which is completely normal, really, because you hug Harry and Ron and Neville all the time.
And are you usually this flustered after you hug Harry or Ron or Neville?
Perhaps that young new assistant in their department had left a spare copy of the latest Witch Weekly out on the common area table again?
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Draco tore down the streets of Diagon Alley like a man possessed. He really was a stupendously selfish, short-sighted moron. Why the fuck didn't he think to get Granger a Christmas gift?
He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. Leave it to Granger to give him something impossibly thoughtful that it had just about rendered him speechless yesterday. He'd remembered to thank her properly, right? The morning had honestly been a blur of guilt and shame and other pesky and melancholy feelings that he still hadn't quite sorted through.
But underneath all the angst at being caught flat-footed and embarrassingly empty-handed, a stubborn feeling of unbridled joy was still taking up residence in his chest.
She had thought to go to all that trouble for him? Draco wracked his brain for a recent memory of a Christmas present, or any present, that hadn't come from either his mother or Theo. His childhood years had obviously been filled to the brim with an extravagant number of material items waiting for him come Christmas morning, courtesy of his parents.
Now an adult and with his father gone, Draco's Christmas haul generally comprised new dress robes, cufflinks, and Parisian cologne from his mother, and an expensive bottle of some vintage alcohol from Theo. Very nice gifts, of course, but Granger's more personalized offering yesterday had just about shattered him from the inside.
No one in Draco's life in the past several years, or possibly ever, had put such thought and care into a gift for him. Granger had spent actual spare time (and a fair bit of gold it seemed, on the fountain pen) all to give him a small measure of happiness. That he would rank so highly in her life was as thrilling as it was terrifying.
She'd been so nervous of his reaction, he could tell it would break her apart if he'd responded negatively. He couldn't blame her, this dynamic between them being so new, she probably still anticipated that curled lip of his and a biting insult. But he'd well and truly meant it when he expressed his appreciation. Damn it all, he really was going soft, wasn't he?
And then there was the hug. The hug he would have to think about later, because Draco did not need to be any more indebted to Hermione Granger and so he needed to focus on how to repay this Christmas kindness somehow.
This was why Draco found himself tearing through wizarding London on one of the busiest shopping days of the year. Where the fuck should he even begin?
Jewelry was a laughable option. That was far too serious for a friend, and outside of a few small, delicate looking pieces, she didn't seem to wear much of it anyway.
Dress robes? Dear Merlin, no, he'd probably suffer a public panic attack if he had to discuss his best guess at Granger's measurements with a shop proprietor.
Sweets wouldn't be enough, and he couldn't be sure what her favorite candies were either. He made a mental note to ask her soon.
Wine? Flowers? Both options were too impersonal. Come on, fucking think. What was Granger's passion?
As if the universe wanted to supply the answer for him, Draco found his feet had landed him right outside Flourish and Blotts. Of course, books!
Almost an hour later of squeezing past other patrons of the busy book shop and combing through every genre of every section, Draco was no closer to selecting a gift for Hermione. Every time he picked up a book and read the title, he would eventually place it back with a sigh. She'd most likely read every book in here, how the hell was he supposed to select one she didn't already own? He needed something more original than a stupid book.
Circling round to the back again, his eyes landed on a table of handsome leather journals. Picking up two of them, he turned them over in his hands, an idea taking shape. It would take a significant amount of charms work on his part, but he was confident enough in his skills that he could get the journals to do what he needed.
Smirking to himself, he completed his purchase and left the bookstore. Another idea struck him as he stepped back out onto the crowded streets and he knew there was one more stop to make before going home.
"Hello Draco Malfoy!" called a cheerful, dreamy voice.
Draco stopped dead in his tracks as a young woman with long blonde hair and protuberant blue eyes approached him with a confident smile. Loony? No, Granger said that was cruel… Luna? Luna Lovegood. Then Draco remembered with a swooping sense of shame that the smiling witch before him was once imprisoned in his Manor's dungeon for a few months.
"Erm, hello Lovegood," he tentatively replied. Her smile, if it were possible, grew even wider.
"Oh good, you do recognize me! You can call me Luna, if you please. It's been a number of years though, hasn't it? Since we've seen one another?"
"I suppose it has," he offered, completely unsure of himself or why this witch had bothered to flag him down in the middle of the street.
Luna cocked her head to the side and narrowed her wide eyes slightly. "Did you just buy a present for Hermione?"
What the fuck?
"I—I mean, I… perhaps I did pick up something for Granger, what's it to you?" If Luna Lovegood was bothered at all by his aggressive tone, she didn't show it. She simply shrugged carelessly. "I saw you coming out of her favorite store just now. You also seem to be in rather a hurry, much like the rest of the last-minute Christmas shoppers today, so I assumed you were picking up a gift for someone. Plus, I am aware that the two of you are friends now, which is quite nice, in my opinion."
"Granger told you we're friends?"
Luna only offered another shrug and those slightly mad, wide eyes. "Not personally, no. But I often overhear her talking with Ginny about you when we're all at the Burrow. Sometimes even my friends can be forgetful of the fact that I have two working ears. They used to be better about hiding their conversations. You seem to be a most perplexing creature, but then Hermione also has been quite happy as of late too, which I gather is your doing."
Draco opened and closed his mouth, lost for words.
"You know, people always say we look related, but I think my shade is much more yellow." Without any further warning she walked right into Draco's personal space and lifted a bunch of her hair against the side of his head.
"Hmm, see I was right. My blonde is much more yellow than yours." She took a step back and gave him an appraising stare.
"Lovegood, what the hell was that?"
"Would you like to join me at the Hog's Head?"
"Would I like to… what?"
Luna Lovegood actually had the audacity after her weird little hair stunt to cross her arms impatiently over her chest and appear annoyed at having to repeat her abrupt and insane question.
"Would you like to join me at the Hog's Head? I'm meeting Ginny and quite a few other friends for drinks and general merriment. Would you like to come and celebrate in the Yuletide spirit?"
Draco didn't know whether to laugh at her, shout at her, or simply turn on his heel and leave her in the middle of the street, babbling nonsense.
"No thanks Lovegood—"
"Luna."
"Right, no thanks, Luna, I've still got to finish my shopping." He could not get away from this odd witch fast enough. How the hell was Granger friends with this person?
The same could be said of you, could it not?
"Oh well, perhaps another time when you will feel more welcome. I hope Hermione enjoys the gift you bought. Have a safe and festive Christmas!"
She left Draco muttering under his breath and began walking away. He counted to ten breaths before he cursed the very day he was ever born before calling her back.
"Lovegood! Wait, please."
"Luna."
"Whatever. Listen, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the time you were… forced to spend in my family's home." He couldn't even bring himself to say the word "imprisoned." Coward.
"Oh yes I remember!" She exclaimed happily, as if he'd just brought up some pleasant memory of them bonding over pygmy puffs.
"Right, well, sorry about… all that. Enjoy your evening with Weasley." Draco made to turn away, but her small hand quickly grabbed his own.
"It's Potter. And I do rather think you were as much a prisoner of the Manor as me. Farewell Draco Malfoy!"
Dropping his hand, she gave him a cheery wave and skipped down the street, completely oblivious to the perplexed stares of passerby.
The door to the Hog's Head creaked open and Ginny looked up excitedly to see Luna stroll in from the snowy street.
"Hey Luna! Got you a butterbeer already," Ginny slid the drink toward her friend.
Luna considered the drink but then shook her head. "Hmm, I think I'll trouble Aberforth for a gillywater instead. Rolf is home from his trip tomorrow and I think we're going to start trying for a child."
Ginny blinked back at her friend in surprise. "All right then, I guess I can finish this one off as well. Did you just apparate from Diagon?"
"Yes, I was performing my annual check for nargles at the apothecary. Levels were low this year, which is a good sign. Oh and I had a lovely conversation with Draco Malfoy."
Ginny's jaw dropped as Luna glided up to the bar to receive her non-alcoholic beverage. When she slid back next to Ginny, the redhead didn't know which question she wanted to ask first of the million that were on her tongue.
"You ran into Malfoy? How uhh… well how did that go?"
"Quite well!" exclaimed Luna. "I think I left him a little flustered after he apologized to me. Oh, and I invited him to join us here."
Ginny whipped her head toward the door, expecting to see a smirking pale face walk through, but none came.
"Don't worry Ginny, he politely declined. He was busy finishing up his Christmas shopping for Hermione."
Throughout her years-long friendship with Luna, Ginny liked to think she had become quite immune to her friend dropping ridiculous statements. Most of her creature or conspiracy related posturing hardly raised an eyebrow from her anymore. But Luna dropping into conversation that Draco Malfoy was running around a few days before Christmas trying to buy Hermione a gift? Well that earned another jaw drop.
Before Ginny could compose herself enough to interrogate Luna, a boisterous voice called out to them.
"Oi! You two started drinking without us?" Seamus strode up to the table with a teasing grin, accompanied by Dean, Parvati, and Padma. Ginny and Luna made room around the table, as their old Dumbledore's Army comrades joined the party.
Strong bonds had formed amongst the group during the awful last year of the war. Under Neville's leadership, this ragtag group of students left behind at Hogwarts grew close as they sought in their own way to support Harry, Ron, and Hermione's mission. Roughly once a month, as many of the group as possible tried to get together at the Hog's Head to catch up and irritate Aberforth.
Soon their group had taken over most of the bar, with the arrival of Susan Bones, Ernie MacMillan, Hannah Longbottom (nee Abbott), Terry Boot, Cho Chang, Michael Corner, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Demelza Robbins, and Jimmy Peakes.
Several rounds of butterbeer and firewhisky later, and Parvati produced her magazine's latest issue, containing the always hotly-debated list of Most Eligible Wizarding Bachelors to the delight of the women in the group.
"Seriously Parvati, thank you for finally getting Ron off the list. We've only been dating for four bloody years." Padma complained wryly.
"You're just mad because of how smug he was for months afterward," snickered Ginny, earning an eye roll from Padma as she muttered "insufferable git, I'll show him 'eligible'" under her breath.
"Yes well, I reminded Romilda Vane that she owed me a favor after I convinced Madame Coursant to design her robes for the Ministry gala," replied Parvati coyly, flipping through the spread. Parvati was well connected in the wizarding fashion world as the fashion correspondent for Witch Weekly.
"Looks like your brother Charlie is the only Weasley this year, Gin," remarked Susan, and turning the page, she wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, Romilda included Cormac McLaggen? That man is a seriously uncouth prick."
"If you think that's bad, flip back to page 36," clipped Parvati.
The female section of the party all bent their heads to huddle over the magazine as Susan dutifully returned to page 36. Ginny's stomach dropped as she was confronted once again, with the subject of too many of her conversations with her friends these days: Draco sodding Malfoy. The magazine had only included a few photos that Ginny could tell came from his appearances at recent quidditch matches for work. Other men on the list, like McLaggen, had actually volunteered to be photographed personally for their pages.
"Huh." Remarked Cho, after a few beats of silence. No one else seemed brave enough to offer an opinion one way or another.
"All right, I'll say it for the group, the man is ridiculously good-looking," said Susan firmly.
Demelza let out a frustrated sigh. "You're right. He's fit. Very, very fit."
Parvati tutted in disapproval. "Come on, none of you are taking this seriously. Malfoy was a Death Eater, lest we all forget. I can't believe Romilda thought this was appropriate! He let them into our school!"
Ginny bit her own tongue, tamping down the urge to speak up in Malfoy's defense. She knew that Lavender's death at the hands of Fenrir Greyback still haunted Parvati, and anyone associated with that depraved werewolf or his Death Eater cronies was a sore point for her. Ginny didn't much feel like arguing on Malfoy's behalf, no matter how tragic his circumstances had been, when she still was working through her own feelings on his apparent redeemed character.
Surprisingly, Susan took up the mantle instead.
"He was a scared, stupid kid Parvati," she began gently. "And I don't know how many of you have spent time with him recently, but I worked on a project with him this summer and fall and he was nothing but professional."
The group turned to Susan in surprise and she shrugged. "He helped my department organize the international charity quidditch match with France. Not only is he fluent in French, up close you can observe just how form-fitting those dark, tailored suits are under the robes."
Most of the women released tense giggles and the subject of Malfoy was finally dropped. But Ginny's mind couldn't help but wander back to try and piece together all this new information from Hermione, Luna, Maureen Tyler, and now Susan Bones.
Really racking up those goodwill points these days, aren't we Malfoy? Merlin, maybe nifflers have indeed learned to fly…
A/N: Thank you all for reading. The world outside is a stressful place, but this fandom brings me a lot of joy. Also I'm on tumblr now ( heyjude19-writing) and it's safe to say I've no idea what I'm doing, but hey, why not? Ideally I'd like to create aesthetics and post excerpts from upcoming chapters once I get the hang of it. Thank you all.