Hermione absently stirred milk into her tea and stared off into space. Did Draco have any idea what he'd admitted to her last night?
His words wouldn't leave her alone. Though her (admittedly, sort of adorable) drunken lover had all but fallen into her bed and was asleep within seconds, Hermione had been awake much of the night. Had Draco unwittingly revealed the true depth of his feelings for her under the influence of whisky?
In vino veritas. Or perhaps in Draco's case, In whisky veritas.
Was Hermione ready to return such serious sentiments? A pleasant shiver ran through her body at the memory of last night. Perhaps she already had her answer. Draco hadn't said anything quite so dramatic since that night at his home when he'd loudly confessed to being in love with her. The "L" word hadn't entered any conversations since, but last night was an extremely strong declaration of intent on Draco's behalf.
Hermione sipped her tea and honed in on her emotions. She should be afraid, right? She should be concerned that this was too soon and that there was too much bad history between them, or that one or both of them would only end up hurt. But when she searched her feelings, Hermione felt no trepidation. That Draco could feel something so monumental and everlasting for her felt… thrilling. Her face stretched into a stupid smile so wide she'd roll her eyes if she could see her own reflection.
Merlin help her, she'd well and truly fallen for Draco.
Giggling quietly to herself, Hermione switched on the radio and decided to fix some food for both herself and her, most likely, hung-over guest.
Hermione cracked a few eggs into the hot pan and hummed the chorus to one of her favorite songs when she heard a familiar drawling voice from behind.
"Are all your Muggle songs just blokes whinging about girls?"
Hermione shook her head and chuckled. "He's not whinging."
"That guitar sounds like it is."
"No, no, his guitar is gently weeping."
She looked back over her shoulder briefly and was rewarded with a predictably puzzled expression at his missing the Muggle pop culture reference.
"He's just shouting some witch's name."
Needling her about Muggle music was a favorite pastime of Draco's. Hermione gave the frying eggs a flip and responded, "It's about an unattainable love."
From his silence, Hermione could tell he wanted her to elaborate. "Layla is the wife of his best friend, but he's hopelessly in love with her. He doesn't think she's being treated the way she deserves, but well, she's married to his best mate, so obviously that results in some angst on his part."
Hermione left the eggs to finish cooking and grabbed a mug from the cupboard. "It's a true story, you know. He wrote about a real woman."
"What happened? Did she leave her husband?"
"She did." Hermione added some bacon to another pan. "She left her husband and, get this, they all remained friends."
"Bollocks."
"Nope! It's quite fascinating actually, I've read all three of their autobiographies."
Hermione filled up the mug with freshly brewed coffee and turned to hand it to Draco. She stopped short of handing him the mug, taking a second to appreciate the view before her. Draco leaned up against the kitchen island with one hip, arms folded across his chest, perfectly at ease. Hermione noticed lately that with each stay in her home, Draco became increasingly comfortable in her presence. He was clad only in his trunks and a t-shirt, and though the circles under his eyes betrayed a hint of a hangover, his platinum hair looked as pristine as ever.
Prat, she thought, but with affection.
He accepted the mug of coffee with a small smile and Hermione's heart fluttered. Not a smirk, not a sneer, but a real smile.
Good Godric, she was a goner.
I want you every day for the rest of my life.
Hermione turned back to the stove swiftly, lest her face give her away. If Draco noticed her strange behavior he made no comment, and she heard him take a seat on one of the stools.
"How're you feeling this morning? Do you want any more pills?"
"Nah, you gave me coffee, I'm cured of all mortal ailments."
Hermione laughed and prepared two plates piled high with bacon and eggs. A light piano melody filled the silence.
"This song is much better," asserted Draco.
"It's the same song."
"One must not tell lies, Granger."
Hermione snorted into her tea. "Believe me or don't, but this is the second part of the song. Figured you'd take to it, you favor piano."
"Was that a thinly veiled way of calling me a snob?" He drawled.
Hermione whirled around and stuck her tongue out. "Snob," she enunciated and earned a playful glare.
She joined him at the counter and they ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, listening to the radio. Draco broke it when he delicately placed his fork on his plate and cleared his throat.
"Granger, um… look about last night…"
Hermione froze. Oh sweet Merlin they were going to talk about it and she could already tell Draco felt uncomfortable. Wonderful. Yes, go on, let's talk about how you perplexed and astounded me with the weight of your feelings only for you to now backtrack and make me feel like a lovesick idiot.
"Look I… I owe you an apology."
Hermione turned to face him fully. He fidgeted on the stool and rubbed a hand down his face with a long-suffering sigh.
"Whatever for?" Was he going to take back his words? Say he didn't mean them? Tell her this is moving too fast and he needed time away from her?
If possible, he looked even more nervous. Pink patches appeared on his pale cheekbones and he kept his eyes still firmly on his half-finished breakfast.
"I shouldn't have treated you in such a manner when we were… when we were uhh…" Draco gave another awkward cough.
Shagging? Screwing? Fucking like mad?
"…when we were together. I fear I may have said things that were highly inappropriate…"
Oh did you ever and oh Merlin was it sexy.
"…and I handled you far too roughly…"
I liked it. I loved it. I want you to do it again and again and again and again…
"…being drunk is no excuse, so I hope you can accept my apology for being so um… improper and forward with you… I hope I haven't ruined things between us."
The only things you've managed to ruin, Draco Malfoy, are my knickers.
"Oh gods, Granger… I didn't even ask permission to be with you and I'm so sorry."
She could only stare as he hung his head in shame. This was not the conversation Hermione had expected this morning. He felt guilty for talking dirty? He was ashamed for acting something less than deferential to her during sex?
This odd dichotomy of Draco amused Hermione: the well-mannered, unfailingly proper man before her now, and the impatient, demanding, and dangerously seductive man from the night before.
But his last statement caught her ear and needed to be addressed first.
"Malfoy," she began softly and didn't continue until he met her eyes. "You have nothing to apologize for."
His throat bobbed as he swallowed and Hermione clocked the complicated swirl of inner turmoil clouding his gray eyes.
"I should have asked for your explicit consent before we engaged in anything," he stated and Hermione, at last, felt like she'd solved just one of the mysteries of Draco.
All the times he'd abruptly stopped steamy proceedings to tentatively ask if she was all right, all the hesitant moments before fully penetrating her, double-checking that she really wanted him… she knew there was a reason behind that behavior.
"I enjoyed everything we did last night. Everything." She voiced quickly. Draco didn't seem entirely reassured, a small frown playing about his mouth. Hermione reached for his hand and though he stiffened slightly, he didn't pull away.
"I really enjoyed it. Every time we've been together you've never given me a reason not to trust you with my body. You don't need to beat yourself up over this. We're two consenting adults with a mutual attraction and it's normal to act on that feeling. If I'm ever uncomfortable with how you're touching me I'll tell you to stop, all right?"
Draco let out a held breath and nodded slowly. She squeezed his hand and gave him a small smile, knowing she was about to make the situation a thousand times more awkward. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to but… is there a reason you always pause before we uhh…"
Holy hell, she's a grown woman and a war survivor and she can't even look her boyfriend in the eye and say the words "have sex."
Draco didn't need her to finish the sentence, and his cheeks flushed again. "As part of my sentencing after the war… or I guess the Ministry would term it 'rehabilitation'… I was required to take certain classes."
Hermione squeezed his hand again and waited for him to continue, aware that displaying any sort of vulnerability did not come naturally for him.
"One of these classes was on consent during sexual activity… given the rumors about certain followers of the Dark Lord and what happened to some of Greyback's victims…" Draco trailed off, but Hermione didn't need him to elaborate. Rape and sexual assault had been a notorious specialty of Greyback's, while most Death Eaters preferred the less plebeian and more sophisticated form of torture only a wand willing to bend to Dark magic could bring to victims.
Suddenly, Draco gripped her hand tightly and spoke passionately. "I need you to know that I never… I would never do that to a woman. I did a lot of awful things to protect myself and my parents but never… that. Nothing of the sort happened at the Manor."
Hermione didn't have any good words to comfort him, and so instead, closed the distance and wrapped her arms around his middle. She stroked up and down his back a few times and felt his breathing calm.
"I still would like to apologize for last night… I said some very… aggressive things to you and—"
"I liked it," she mumbled into his chest, then lifted her head to meet his eyes.
Draco stared down at her, dumbfounded. "You… what?"
"I liked it," she repeated firmly and bravely held his gaze, even though she knew her cheeks were aflame.
"Oh."
He looked confused and a little lost and Hermione wanted to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment.
"I've made you uncomfortable haven't I? Please, forget I mentioned anything and—"
But Draco now grinned down at her in a delightfully wicked way.
"You misunderstand me, Granger. I was just surprised is all." He held her tighter and pressed his lips to her ear.
"Who knew a good girl like you would want me to whisper dirty things to her?"
Hermione smirked and brought her lips to his. "Do you know what else is dirty?" she murmured against his mouth and he shook his head.
"These dishes."
She twisted out of his grasp and skipped out of the kitchen.
"You're in charge of the washing up as penance for crashing my girls' night and if I hear a Banishing Charm consider yourself banished from the bed!"
And Hermione pretended not to hear the Evanesco as she darted into the bedroom, laughing.
June 2008
"You're joking."
Harry was not having a good day. Work had been absolute hell at the DMLE between a distraught, senile witch convinced her son-in-law was Grindelwald back from the dead and a young, moronic married couple who had dabbled in some questionable transfiguration spells in order to "spice things up in the bedroom."
The details in the paperwork on that last case made Harry want to burn his own eyes out.
Needless to say, he was most definitely not in the mood for one of his wife's jokes today. And really, did she think he'd fall for, "Before Hermione and her boyfriend arrive I should probably tell you… she's dating Draco Malfoy"?
Because honestly, it's like Gin wasn't even trying with that one. Who on earth would believe that? But when Harry said, "You're joking," and his wife responded with a dry, "Nope. Not joking." Harry felt the world tilt on its axis.
"Hermione is dating Malfoy?"
"Yup."
"Draco Malfoy?"
"That is the name I gave you and also the name of Hermione's boyfriend, yes."
When Ginny had informed Harry earlier in the week that they would be joining Hermione and her mysterious new boyfriend on a double date this Friday evening, Harry had been excited, elated even. It had been years since Hermione had brought a bloke around. Though their relationship had only ever existed on the plane of siblings, Harry knew Hermione was most definitely a catch, and it thrilled Harry that this relationship was serious enough to introduce him and Ginny. Hermione was always a good sport about it, but Harry knew it could be tiring to be a fifth wheel when they went out with Ron and Padma. Hermione deserved more than anyone to be happy.
All that being said… Malfoy!?
"Gin," Harry pleaded to his wife. "You can't be serious. How long has this been going on for?"
Ginny shrugged in an infuriatingly casual manner and inspected her nails. "You can ask them yourself, they're coming now."
Harry whipped his head toward the entrance to the restaurant and immediately clocked the familiar, signature white-blond Malfoy hair. Merlin, if there was one bloke Hermione could have chosen to date with hair as recognizable as hers, it was Draco sodding Malfoy.
"No, I can't accept this… I mean, it's Malfoy!" Harry fumed under his breath. His sharp green eyes tracked the lean form of his former childhood nemesis. The cruel little bully who used to do anything in his power to make his and Ron's lives miserable was now the man escorting Hermione out to dinner. That same snotty boy who had hurled disgusting slurs at his best friend was now holding the door of the restaurant for her like a proper gentleman. The scared, gaunt teen who couldn't bring himself to murder Dumbledore was now helping Hermione out of her cardigan with a familiarity to his movements, as if he'd done this a few times with her before.
Draco Malfoy may have apologized to Harry, he may have even grown up to be halfway decent after surviving a fucked up childhood, but that did not mean Harry wanted to be confronted with the sight of Hermione giving Malfoy an affectionate and comforting smile before she looked out over the tables for Harry and Ginny.
Ginny hissed one final warning in his ear. "Harry James Potter, you listen to me right now. You will not ruin this for Hermione do you understand?"
"But Ginny, I—"
"Behave or the baby's middle name, no matter the sex, is going to be Muriel."
"Fine," Harry breathed out with a scowl. "But don't think we're not discussing how you kept this from me."
Though Harry was a bit cross with his wife, he begrudgingly respected her strategy of delaying the big Malfoy reveal until 30 seconds before Harry would have to face him with Hermione. She had robbed Harry of the opportunity to throw an epic fit and refuse to attend the dinner. Not for the first time, he cursed the influence that Fred and George had on their sister growing up. So now, due to Ginny's plotting and Hermione's penchant for privacy, Harry would be stuck spending his Friday evening in the company of Malfoy. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Harry tried to look less miserable, but really, what kind of prat wore a custom-made suit to a casual dinner with friends? The man sported an amethyst tie pin and matching cuff links, for Merlin's sake. Harry could see the shining stones from all the way across the restaurant and with a sinking feeling in his stomach, noticed the shade of purple was the exact same color as Hermione's wrap dress. It was such a "couple" thing to do that Harry almost grabbed a passing waiter to order a double of the strongest alcohol available.
Harry couldn't do this, he just couldn't. Ginny could name the baby Splendifero Muriel Cornwallis Potter for all he cared, because one smirk from Malfoy and he'd implode, he could feel it.
Their walk to the table happened both in slow motion and faster than Harry would have liked. Ginny got to her feet with a swift elbow to his ribs, and Harry decided it would be best to follow his pregnant wife's example of cordiality rather than risk further bodily harm at her hands.
Ginny wrapped Hermione in an exuberant hug. "Hermione, you look gorgeous, I love your dress!"
"Thanks Gin!"
As Ginny stepped lightly to the side so Harry could embrace his friend, he immediately softened at the look on Hermione's face. Her cheeks were lightly flushed as she smiled nervously at Harry. It was a smile that said "please don't be angry with me, Harry." It broke his heart. When had Hermione ever asked anything of him?
This was the woman who steadfastly remained at his side while they hunted for Horcruxes. This woman who had given up most of her youth and even a healthy relationship with her parents, and all for him. How many times had she put her life on the line for Harry? He would give Malfoy a chance, if only for Hermione's sake.
"Hi Hermione," he embraced her tightly and when he pulled back, saw a look of relief flash across her features.
Malfoy hovered awkwardly just behind Hermione. With a half glance back at him, Hermione ploughed on bravely.
"You both remember Malfoy, of course."
Harry bit back a snort and let his wife take the lead. "Evening Malfoy!" she said brightly, and cheekily offered her hand for him to kiss.
Malfoy looked as if it physically pained him not to roll his eyes. "Weasley," he greeted and brushed his lips briefly to her knuckles, like the pampered little pureblood he was.
"It's Potter," she corrected cheerfully, and Harry noticed a muscle twitch in Malfoy's jaw.
"Right," he clipped and then his cold, gray eyes shifted to Harry. "Potter," he offered with a stiff nod and Harry mimicked him with a terse "Malfoy." Neither held out their hands to shake. Hermione seemed to be holding her breath.
"Now that introductions are out of the way, why don't we commence with the dinner part of this evening, seeing as I'm famished!" stated Ginny with determined cheer. Merlin bless his wife, she really was going to force friendliness, or at least civility, between all parties tonight.
Harry and Ginny resumed their seats and Malfoy provided his second shock of the evening when he didn't sit down right away, but held out Hermione's chair for her.
Ponce.
With Malfoy settled stiffly in his own seat, a tense silence descended upon the foursome. Since he was directly across the table from him, Harry would have no trouble keeping the shifty little ferret in his sight all evening. One of Malfoy's pale hands resided on the table top, where he drummed his long fingers out of either boredom or restlessness, but the other remained underneath. Interesting. Suspicious.
"Wine!" Ginny exclaimed suddenly. "Let's order wine!"
As a waiter appeared, Ginny took the lead. "Hermione, what was that bottle we had last time?"
"It was the petite Syrah."
"Ok, two bottles please! But just three glasses, I'm afraid I have to abstain tonight."
As the waiter bustled off, Harry turned to his wife with a frown. "Two bottles Gin, really? For only three people?"
She merely shrugged. "Alcohol is a social lubricant."
Harry rolled his eyes and noticed Hermione try to suppress a smile.
"Not drinking tonight Weasley? Your team is on a bye this week, surely you can indulge a little," drawled Malfoy.
"Malfoy," Hermione hissed. "She's pregnant."
"Oh, right." Malfoy had the grace to look momentarily abashed. "Er… congratulations," he said tonelessly and inclined his head at Harry.
Harry merely raised an eyebrow, but Ginny responded with, "It's Potter and thank you! We're very excited!"
"Have you told the team yet Gin?" asked Hermione.
Ginny shook her head. "I'll have to next month. It's early enough that I can get by with some extra protective enchantments during practice and matches, but I'll have to bench myself soon. Speaking of," she turned to Malfoy. "Not a word of this to anyone else in the league, Mr. Smooth-Talking Quidditch Scout."
"Of course not," he responded drily. "Not that the Harpies are even considered threatening this season. Though once you've removed yourself from the lineup, they'll be even less so."
"I'm going to focus on the part of that statement where you paid me a compliment," chirped Ginny.
"How's Tyler fitting in?" asked Malfoy.
"Oh Maureen? She's spectacular! Surely you must have noticed the jump in our goal statistics, and frankly, it's down to her beating skills…"
Quidditch talk between Malfoy and Ginny with a few distant replies from Harry carried the conversation all the way through the pouring of the wine.
When all but Ginny had a full glass in front of them, the redhead offered a gleeful toast to "friendships, old and new!" Harry downed half his glass in one go and noted that Hermione and Malfoy did the same. At least the three of them seemed to be on the same page for how this evening fared thus far.
"Hermione, how's work going?"
Seeing as she'd had precious little to contribute to the conversation on quidditch, Harry was grateful that Ginny had the social tact to let Hermione open up. Since Harry often saw Hermione at the Ministry and grabbed lunch with her most days, it also gave him the chance to tune out and observe Malfoy's behavior.
His former foe was sharply dressed, cutting a much healthier figure than the rain-soaked and bedraggled version that had shown up on the steps of Grimmauld Place years ago. He still had the same trademark hair, and but for the lines around his eyes and a tightening around his mouth, hadn't aged much since their school days. But Harry's keen eyes, honed from his days as a Seeker and only made sharper over the years as an Auror, could note the subtle differences of the man across the table now from the mean-spirited boy back at Hogwarts.
Malfoy was definitely on edge tonight. He held his lithe frame upright and stiff in his chair, his pallid fingers still drumming a steady rhythm on the table. Though he carried himself as the picture of easy money and unflappable arrogance, the obnoxious boasting from their younger years was absent. Harry could well remember the way Malfoy loudly held court over at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.
Now, Malfoy gazed at Hermione with rapt attention as she discussed her latest legislative efforts on behalf of centaurs. The impassive mask stayed in place, but there was a brightness in his normally cold eyes and a slight softening of his features that only seemed to occur when Hermione spoke.
"—and Juanita let slip to a few of us that she's planning on retiring in a few weeks, which means the Deputy Director position will be open finally."
"Will you put your name in?" inquired Ginny.
"I think so," said Hermione sheepishly. "I would hope they'd promote me internally, but if they open up the search to fill the vacancy from outside the department, I suppose I'll just submit my CV and hope I earn it on my merits."
Before Harry could offer his support, Malfoy scoffed. "Granger, quit being so modest. Only a fool wouldn't hand you that position on the spot. Not only do you work harder than every idiot at the Ministry put together, but you've ushered through a record number of laws in the few years you've been there. If your name doesn't get you the job, your track record certainly will."
It hit Harry like a bludger to the face. Malfoy looked positively besotted with his best friend and Harry was in dire need of more alcohol to accept this new fact of the universe. Harry reached for the wine and poured himself a generous refill. Maybe Ginny had a point in ordering more than one bottle.
This is bloody bizarre.
Hermione blushed prettily at Malfoy's statement while Ginny chimed in with "Hear, hear!"
Good Godric, Malfoy had just praised Hermione and made her blush like a school girl. More wine flowed for Harry.
The awkward group made it all the way through the salad course before another lull occurred in the conversation. Harry seized the opening.
"So, how did this happen then?" he asked abruptly and gestured vaguely between Hermione and Malfoy. Hermione's eyes widened at the brusque question while Malfoy's narrowed.
"What my normally polite and well-mannered husband meant to ask—" Ginny broke in and glowered at Harry. "—was how did you two meet, or um, reconnect?"
Hermione spoke up, eyes darting from Malfoy to Harry. "We ran into each other at the coffee shop. You know, the one down the street from me? Turns out we'd both been going there every morning before work for years and had never crossed paths."
It did not escape Harry's notice that Ginny seemed unsurprised by Hermione's explanation and that his normally inquisitive wife was not pelting the two of them with follow-up questions. Traitorous little witch.
"And what, you just… crossed paths one day?" Harry tried his best to not slip into his Auror interrogation tone, but failed miserably.
"Erm, something like that," said Hermione in a small voice and Harry immediately regretted his harshness.
He shifted his attention to Malfoy. "But isn't that café Muggle?"
Malfoy met Harry's stare with a challenging look of his own. "Yes," he clipped. "As is our current setting."
There was a ghost of his usual sneer, but Harry didn't care if he'd offended Malfoy. He'd sincerely accepted Malfoy's apology years ago, but if the git thought that made him worthy of dating Hermione he had another thing coming.
"And anyway," continued Malfoy in his signature drawl. "Granger is guilty of lying by omission. Little thief stole my table to provoke me deliberately."
Hermione immediately jumped to her own defense. "For the last time, Malfoy, it is a public space, meaning you cannot claim ownership of a café table and further, I didn't even see you!"
"I don't know if I buy that, Hermione, it's pretty hard to miss that hair," chimed in Ginny, giggling.
Oh good God, Malfoy and Hermione had an inside joke. He was teasing her, and in a… a boyfriend sort of way as opposed to a slimy, bigoted, arsehole way. They had a "how we met" story.
More wine. I need much more wine. I need enough wine to forget that flirty smirk Malfoy just threw Hermione.
It was simply… unnatural to see Malfoy displaying any sort of emotion close to affection.
"Yes, well, after he'd gotten over his little public tantrum, we started having coffee together last February and then a few months ago we uhh—" Hermione's face went scarlet and Harry wanted to sink through the floor when her pause made him fill in all manner of disturbing images. "—we decided to give dating a go."
Almost a year and a half. That's how long Malfoy had been in Hermione's life. A year and a half that she felt she had to keep this to herself. Harry felt a burning shame that his best friend didn't trust him enough to overcome any lingering ill will towards Malfoy to give her a chance to explain this new friendship turned relationship for so long. She shouldn't have felt the need to hide.
Be that as it may, Harry's irrational side piped up, it's Malfoy. Could Hermione really trust him? Could anyone? And why in Merlin's name was his right hand perpetually out of sight under the table? Overcome with a suspicious dread, Harry realized Malfoy probably had his wand aimed right at him underneath the tablecloth.
Rather than throw out an open accusation about Malfoy's dubious nature, Harry "accidentally" dropped his salad fork onto the floor. As the other three began discussing coffee preferences, Harry leaned down under the table with the pretense of retrieving his fork, knowing he'd be able to see with his own eyes the evidence of Malfoy's wand trained on him.
But upon lifting the cloth and grabbing his fallen cutlery, Harry was proven to be very, very wrong.
Oh buggering hell.
Instead, Harry was confronted with the sight of Malfoy's hand clasped tightly in Hermione's in a firm grip. Their fingers were intimately intertwined, Malfoy's knuckles taut and white even for his pale skin, and every few seconds Hermione's thumb gently smoothed over the top in a soothing fashion.
Harry's brain went into Auror deduction mode: Malfoy felt nervous about meeting Hermione's closest friends and tried to hide this; Malfoy trusted Hermione enough to display vulnerability to her; he sought solace in her touch and Hermione comforted him.
Sighing deeply, Harry pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he sat upright. Malfoy shot him a quizzical look but the women had seemingly noticed nothing and were now discussing Ginny's pregnancy cravings.
Harry warred with himself as he picked at his spaghetti Bolognese, appetite dulled for the time being. He pushed his pasta around his plate and wondered idly if he was too blinded by his childhood loathing of Malfoy. Hadn't that been the lesson learned too late by Sirius? By Snape? Upon learning the truth about the surly potions master during the Battle of Hogwarts, hadn't Harry lamented that if Snape (and by extension, Sirius and Lupin) had been more forthright about a few things, then so much pain and heartache might have been avoided?
Besides, Dumbledore himself had seen some good in Malfoy. Perhaps Malfoy, who came from a similar upbringing to both Andromeda and Sirius, (and was blood-related to both), had arrived at the same epiphany as his aunt and older cousin: That blood purity doctrine was utter bullshite.
Obviously, simply striking up a friendship with Hermione showed he thumbed his nose at his parents' way of life. But merely tolerating the existence of Muggleborns was not going to be enough, especially not with Hermione. That meant he must have done or said something to have earned Hermione's forgiveness and trust; two things that she did not dole out lightly. If Malfoy had shown himself to be worthy of affection from a woman as discerning as Hermione, then Harry was resigned to at least extend the courtesy of giving him the chance to either prove he'd truly changed or confirm Harry's worst fears.
Thinking back to how tightly Malfoy clutched Hermione's hand, Harry grimaced. Ron was going to absolutely lose it.
"Excuse me friends, the pregnant lady needs the loo," Ginny announced, pulling Harry out of his musings.
"I'll go with you," Hermione piped up. Harry did not miss the meaningful glance shared between the two women. He knew full well what that look meant: we need to discuss this evening's progress away from the men, so let's take an orchestrated trip to the bathroom.
As Hermione stood to leave the table, Harry's observant eyes caught the fleeting expression on Malfoy's face. It was momentary, but the emotion that had flitted across his face at Hermione leaving was panic. The poor sod looked frantic at the thought of her leaving his side for even an instant.
Harry refilled his wine glass again.
Now, having two best friends meant Harry remained loyal to both Ron and Hermione in equal measure. If he could give Malfoy a chance out of duty to Hermione, then he could also grill Malfoy a bit out of duty to Ron.
"All right Malfoy, what's your game?"
Malfoy slowly finished chewing the bit of scallop in his mouth, delicately placed his silverware down, dabbed at his lips with his napkin, and only then met Harry's glare.
"My game?" He repeated back, devoid of emotion.
"Yes. I want to know what type of game you think you're playing here with Hermione."
"You think this is a game to me?"
Harry made no verbal reply, but stared back stoically.
"Do you even hear yourself Potter? Are you implying that I have managed to pull one over on one of the most intelligent witches to ever exist? Me, the person that Granger has been calling on his arsehole behavior since she was 12 years old, somehow hoodwinked her into tolerating my presence for what—my own personal amusement?" Malfoy's gray eyes had taken on that steely glint Harry well remembered from school. He was hacked off. Good.
Harry remained undeterred. "Well, why else would you be here tonight?"
Malfoy sat back in his chair and swirled his wine. "I see." He downed the rest of his drink. "You want my statement of intent. While I could waste my breath and spout off all her best qualities, you've been friends with her far longer and are surely more than aware of what makes Granger so admirable."
Harry folded his arms across his chest. He certainly didn't expect Malfoy to start gushing about his feelings for Hermione, but he'd have to do better than such a detached response if he wanted to convince Harry of his affections for her.
It was Malfoy's turn to reach for a refill of wine. He waited him out, knowing Malfoy wouldn't appreciate the tense suspicion of Harry's silence.
And just as he predicted, Malfoy finally caved. "Do you know what I'd actually planned for this evening before your interfering wife made plans with Granger?"
"Enlighten me."
"The magical circus is in London, one night only, and completely sold out. However, a colleague of mine owed me a favor and I managed to procure two tickets off him. Granger has never been before. So, my evening was supposed to be taking Granger to her first ever magical circus performance and no doubt she'd be wearing some delightfully short Muggle-style dress, and I'd get the pleasure of her company and of watching her face light up in enjoyment instead of the pained little smiles she's been sporting tonight. Then, after dazzling her with my impressive choice of entertainment for the evening, I planned on taking her to a very exclusive cocktail lounge that has perfectly low lighting, which means I can sit as close to her as I like without glares from the general public. And finally, if I'm very, very lucky, she'd invite me back to her home for the night." He paused here and took a formidable swig of wine. "But I am not enjoying that wonderful evening that I'd secretly planned for Granger. No, I'm out to dinner with you and your moderately tolerable spouse."
Harry could only sputter out, "Er… why?"
"Because she asked me to be here tonight, so here I am." Malfoy replied, eyes fixed on a point over Harry's shoulder. There it was again: that slight softening around his mouth, the lightening of his eyes. Harry took a peek over his shoulder and saw what had captured Malfoy's attention. Hermione was walking back towards them, Ginny in tow.
"You do actually care about her then?" Harry asked quickly, before the women could hear their conversation.
Malfoy's intense eyes met Harry's, but his response was merely a quiet, "Yes, Potter, I should say I do."
Damn it all, this was really happening. Ron is going to need to be well-fed, slightly inebriated, and wandless when Hermione breaks this news.
Hermione sat back down with an apprehensive look on her face, glancing between Harry and Malfoy, but both men shot her tight smiles. No hexes thrown, Hermione. See? We can behave in public.
Dinner progressed less awkwardly, but still rather stilted from there. Harry managed a few questions to Malfoy about his work and even politely inquired about Narcissa's well-being.
There was even a moment of levity when the waiter dropped off the bill. Harry's hands were too quick for Hermione and he stuck his tongue out while she chastised him. "Harry James Potter you will let me pay for our meals!"
"Not a chance, Hermione."
"You got dinner last time!"
"And you brought me tea the other day."
"You brought me some of Molly's leftover treacle tart!"
Ginny finally interjected, "And Harry saved all of wizardkind but only because Hermione put up with his sorry arse for so long, blah, blah, blah. Just split it down the middle you two, Malfoy's probably bitten through his tongue by now to hold back some barb about self-righteous Gryffindors." She threw a hearty wink Malfoy's way and though he rolled his eyes, Harry swore he saw his lips twitch.
They said their goodbyes at the table, and Hermione hugged Harry extra hard after he offered his hand to Malfoy. Ginny waved them goodbye with a "Let's do this again soon!" and Harry thought it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, especially with how happy that suggestion made Hermione.
While Harry could admit that dinner with Hermione and Malfoy as a couple (ew, Merlin, that was going to take some getting used to) wasn't completely intolerable, a seed of doubt still niggled in his mind. Letting Hermione and Malfoy leave first, Harry tugged on Ginny's arm.
"Come on, I want to check something."
Ginny sighed. "You want to follow them in the cloak don't you?"
"Humor me, please Gin. You owe me for springing this dinner on me."
Ginny rolled her eyes and muttered, "Fine, you paranoid git."
Harry had timed their exit perfectly. Ducking into the coat-check closet, Harry threw the invisibility cloak over him and Ginny. Malfoy and Hermione were right outside the restaurant, having just retrieved Hermione's cardigan.
The sidewalk was crowded with Muggles, being a Saturday night, so Harry and Ginny followed Malfoy and Hermione as they ducked into an alley next to the restaurant, presumably to apparate.
Harry was unsure of what he thought he was going to find by following the couple, but he couldn't seem to squash his wary feelings when it came to Malfoy. They came to a stop a few feet away, close enough to hear any conversation between the unsuspecting pair.
The subject of his suspicion currently stood behind Hermione and helped her into her cardigan. As Hermione lifted her sheet of curly hair to shrug her sweater on, Malfoy leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the exposed back of her neck. Hermione turned around and smiled sweetly up at him.
"Thank you for coming with me tonight."
Malfoy shrugged. "Of course, Granger."
Hermione looped her arms around Malfoy's neck and pulled him closer. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. That was less painful than expected. Potter didn't even throw out an accusation about having you under the Imperius Curse."
Malfoy mostly achieved insouciance with his joke, but Harry detected the underlying vulnerability and immediately felt guilty. Malfoy had done nothing tonight to deserve his suspicions of underhanded behavior. It was high time for Harry to let go of schoolyard grudges.
Hermione wasn't fooled by Draco's attempt at breeziness either. "I know I already said it, but thank you. It means so much to me that you and Harry can at least try to get along."
"Anything for you, Granger," Malfoy said softly.
This was too much for Harry, Ginny, and Hermione.
Harry's jaw dropped in shock.
Ginny stuffed a fist in her mouth to hide her jubilant whoop of laughter.
Hermione tightened her hold on Malfoy, backed him up against the building, and snogged him in earnest.
Harry would rather hunt down another ten Horcruxes than stand rooted to the spot while Hermione sucked face with Malfoy, but Ginny had him by the elbow under the cloak.
When they finally broke apart after some of the most painful minutes of Harry's life (did Malfoy really need to grab Hermione by the hips and arse like that?), Hermione came up for air to whisper huskily, "My place or yours?"
"Surprise me," Malfoy replied with a smirk and the amorous couple apparated away.
Ginny threw off the cloak and doubled over in laughter while Harry glared at the space previously occupied by a very handsy duo.
"Serves you right," chortled Ginny. Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know, I know. Hermione's a grown woman but… I'm going to possibly need you to obliviate me."
Ginny looped her arms around Harry's waist and drew him in for a heated kiss. "Well if I weren't already up the duff I'd say you'd have a very good chance of getting me pregnant after that sexy show."
"Nice, Gin."
Ginny giggled and rested her forehead against his. "I love you. Now," She waggled her eyebrows up at him. "My place or yours?"
Harry begrudgingly laughed.
"Surprise me."
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this brief detour into a different POV and thank you so much for reading. I sincerely love interacting with you all, thank you for engaging with this story! Find me on tumblr: heyjude19-writing