to my dearest Tori Gingerfox. May your birthday be filled with love and laughter. 3 I adore you darling!

Teleworking.

It was supposed to be bliss, right? Hermione thought she'd be lounging around in pajamas, sipping coffee without a care as she perused the spreadsheets. Listening to podcasts on full blast without worrying about who might pop in on her and ruin her productivity.

It sounded bloody heavenly—but teleworking was absolutely not what it was cracked up to be.

First off, her cat would not stop trying to knock over her drinks throughout the work day. There was also the matter of her neighbors who, although super nice and generous, decided to seek new employment opportunities in this mid-pandemic world and enter the line of adult entertainment. Which, evidently, meant filming during business hours.

So, between dealing with a pesky feline, and trying to figure out how to soundproof her home office so her coworkers didn't hear the blissful (albeit loud) throes of passion from her neighbors, Hermione was at her wit's end.

Of course, this was all before he showed up on her Zoom meetings.

Theodore Nott.

Financial analyst extraordinaire and new hire to Gringotts Credit Union.

Theo, as he'd requested to be called, was handpicked by old Sluggie—supposedly some sort of numbers guru he'd stolen from Royal Bank of Scotland. While Hermione had noticed how bloody smart he was, it was his appearance that really set him apart.

Honey brown hair, olive complexion, strong jaw, and a cleft chin. It was like someone had gone into her brain and plucked her favourite features about a man and built him.

Their first meeting, if these virtual sessions could even be called that, went about as smoothly as bathing a cat. She had zero intentions of popping on the webcam that day. No makeup, no semblance of a hair style, wearing her college jumper.

Had she known Sluggie was going to make everyone show their face to greet their newest member, she might have put in effort—had she been warned that he was so fucking handsome, she certainly would have.

Instead, she was forced to wave at him for her .05 seconds on camera like some sort of basement dwelling cave troll before she hastily turned off her webcam and died of embarrassment.

Thankfully, she'd been prepared for future meetings, making sure to doll-up (from the waist up, it was teleworking after all), and look semi-put together. Though, she suspected she didn't stand out. Not when she worked alongside people like Lavender, and Pansy—both of whom shared a passion for fashion and dieting, as opposed to pastries and pizza, like herself.

Hermione was content to watch him from afar, literally and metaphorically. He was easy on the eyes during those long meetings, and a hidden fantasy for once she crawled in bed. It was simple, uncomplicated, and frankly, just how Hermione liked this.

Which obviously meant something had to change.

Because if working during a time of pandemic wasn't hard enough, Hermione had to go ahead and fall in love.

It was stupid, really, how it all came about.

A shared work project, 1:1 meetings, and joint trips to the office turned that distant fantasy to reality. He knew her name. He laughed at her jokes, and worse, he enjoyed texting her. It was awful, really, because how dare he be so fucking perfect all the time.

T. Nott: How's my favorite feline today?

The distinct ratatap of a Slack message pulled her sleep-riddled brain back to reality, and she leaned back in her rickety desk chair, navigating away from her Twitter browsing to respond.

H. Granger: Sleeping on my pillow still.

T. Nott: Good boy. Keeping you safe.

Harmless flirting. That's all that this was. She'd stalked his social media enough times to know precisely what his exes looked like, and Hermione didn't even compare. Especially not now that she'd put on what her mother lovingly referred to at the 'Pandemic Padding.'

T. Nott: Got time to video chat before Slug's 9am?

H. Granger: Can we not?

H. Granger: I'm in my pajamas and haven't showered in three days.

T. Nott: Then we'll be a matching set.

T. Nott: With the pajamas… not the bathing. That's gross. You should shower.

H. Granger: Oh, piss off

Before she could so much as swallow the mouthful of coffee she'd just sipped, the video chat notification flashed across her screen. The shrill tinkle was accompanied by the familiar headshot of her new work friend/fantasy man.

"Seriously?" A long sigh bubbled up her throat, and she leaned forward, uncurling from her office chair to set down her mug before she looked over her shoulder to Crookshanks, who sat just out of frame. "What is wrong with this man?"

Crookshanks didn't so much as lift his head from his paws, in fact, the only indication that her constant companion was even remotely aware of her existence was the subtle twitch of his ear.

Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the laptop and clicked accept, because she knew by now Theo was going to keep calling until she bloody answered.

She'd seen him dressed down before, but the image that awaited her was… was something she was not expecting.

"Good morning, Granger." Theo sat in his office, elbows spread wide, hands curled behind his head, and that same devilish smirk in place that he often flashed her in morning meetings. While under normal circumstances his devil-may-care attitude would be more than just a little appealing, it was the fact he was wearing what appeared to be footie pajamas that made her burst out laughing.

Her hand rose to her lips as she tried to stifle her laughter. Her eyes were wide as she took in the bright pink unicorn hood that covered his head, white sparkle horn glittering in the early morning sun. "Theo… what in the bloody hell—"

"What?" He cocked his head to the side, brows lifting as he reached up to adjust the horn on the hood. "Something the matter?"

"You're absolutely mad." Her smile was clearly infectious, based on the way Theo's own toothy grin gleamed back at her, bright even on the grainy camera screen. Her lips pressed together, hands dropping to her lap where she twisted the string of her joggers.

This weird sort of friendship still didn't seem possible—almost like some pandemic farce. Life would return to normal, they'd eventually end up back in office, and Theo might see her for the walking mess of a human she was.

Time, however, seemed to be running on a different type of clock lately, and somehow, someway, she found herself the object of this man's amusement. And while she understood exactly what this was—some sort of workplace friendship—it was hard to ignore the way butterflies burst to life every time he smiled at her.

"I'm mad? We have a meeting with Slug in an hour. Have you seen the state of those curls?" He reached off camera and pulled his own mug into the frame. The faded green face of Kermit the Frog smiled at her as he took a large sip. "Look, I don't mind—I think that derelict look is rather charming—"

"Derelict is a tad harsh, don't you think?"

"Okay, fine. Disheveled." He waved his hand in front of him, as if to bat off her rebuttal. "I dig it, and Slughorn won't say a word because you're brilliant, but I'd rather not hear the snide comments from Malfoy."

"First, he's a tosser."

"No argument here."

"Secondly, not all of us have personal stylists to come cut our hair at home during quarantine. He can sod off."

"Feisty today. Did my boy keep you up with his late night prowling?"

His boy? God, why did those playful little comments make her heart quiver? He meant nothing by it—it was just some sort of little game they'd fallen into. Crookshanks was frequently in the background of her frame, just as Charles, his Beagle, was in his. The dichotomy between their chosen animal companions wasn't lost between the pair, and they'd both taken to referring to the other's pet as theirs.

But it was nothing.

Just playful banter.

Absolutely nothing to read into.

She pulled her feet up, curling into the seat of her chair as she tilted the laptop so the image of her feline appeared just over her shoulder. "He decided my chest was a great perch at 2 in the morning."

Theo leaned forward and pushed his hood back so his thick chestnut hair came into view. "Aw, look at him. Such a handsome boy." He clucked his tongue, trying (and failing) to get Crookshanks' attention.

"Alright, was getting me on camera just some ploy to see Crooks?" Hermione cocked a brow, her lips curling in a smirk as she watched him feign shock.

"What? How dare you accuse me of—"

"It was, huh?"

"Absolutely. But seeing your morning updo is always worth it as well." He gave a lazy gesture to his own messy hair.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright. I'm going to go now. Get ready—tame the beast, so to speak."

God, he was infuriatingly charming. She really needed to do something about that—like find a new work friend so she could stop crushing on him. Or maybe finally hook up with the guy in C-1 so she didn't feel like some hyper-sexual teenager every time Theo so much as smiled at her.

"Fine. Spoil sport."

She gave him a quick wave, her typical sign off from their little sessions, but just as she hovered over the large red 'END CHAT' button, he said something else.

"Oh! Granger?"

"Hm?" Her eyes drifted back to his image on the screen, internally preparing herself for some silly comment—some of the schoolyard teasing that seemed to be his specialty.

"Good morning."

The greeting was simple. Sincere.

Despite her resolve to not let him affect her, she could feel colour rise to her cheeks, and those pesky butterflies tickled her esophagus.

"Yeah… you, too."

She had no fucking idea what she was thinking.

She was desperate.

Maybe a tad lonely.

Okay—really lonely.

Which is why, when Theo suggested they meet 'in office' to go over the final details of their presentation, she should not have agreed.

Because if crushing on him virtually wasn't bad enough, she was now forced to sit across from him in a tiny meeting room in a skirt that was too tight, a real bra, and a fucking mask.

It was easy to pretend she wasn't enamored with him via computer monitor. She could browse Amazon instead of stare hopelessly at him. She could scroll through Instagram and drool over the endless loaves of sourdough bread everyone seemed to suddenly know how to make. She could watch cat videos on Youtube! Distractions aplenty.

But now?

Now she was utterly fucked.

Even from across the table, she could see his eyes weren't just green, but rather like sea green. Dark, captivating, with a hint of yellow surrounding his irises. She could count the freckles that dotted his cheeks and brow—seven total—and dream of mapping them with her fingertips. She could notice how the sinewy muscles of his forearms flexed with each practiced keystroke as he revised her presentation.

And god help her, she could smell him.

Woodsy with the hint of salt, like she'd just stepped into a seaside forest. If his appearance wasn't challenging enough, it was that damn aroma that made it physically impossible to focus.

"Granger?"

Snap, Snap!

Hermione shook her head, eyes blinking away the forbidden fantasies of Theo bending her over the table that separated them. "Sorry, did you say something?"

"Several things, in fact." He laughed, the deep timbre of his voice muffled behind the mask. "Are you feeling alright? You seem a bit… distracted."

Ha!

That was one way to put it.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just… just tired is all. It's been a long day, and… ya know…" Her voice trailed off as she gave a slow gesture to the empty office surrounding them through the glass walls. It was meant to imply the weirdness associated with working in an empty office space that once bustled with people.

Though, the hidden (more prominent) meaning was the fact they were entirely and utterly alone, trapped in a glass box smaller than her studio flat.

Theo nodded, hand ruffling his hair as he leaned back in the posh office chair. "Yeah… a bit odd, huh?" He shrugged as he looked around them. "Maybe we ought to call it an early day? Slug won't find out if we skiv off a bit early, right?"

Ah! Bliss. Much needed space—that was something she could get behind.

"Well I certainly won't tell if you don't." Hermione latched on to the sliver of hope that appeared before her.

"Perfect. Then I can finally take you to dinner"

She'd already started packing up, closing her laptop and putting her pens in her work bag when his comment sank in. "Uh… I'm sorry, what?"

"Dinner." Theo looked up at her, lips curled in a sharp smirk. Not that she could see it, but the way his cheeks pushed up gave it away. "You know, the meal between lunch and breakfast." He slipped his laptop in his bag and began to wind up his power cable. "You do partake in dinner, don't you?"

"Yes, of course I do. It's just… why?"

That question seemed to be on her mind a lot lately.

Why did he message her all day?

Why did he send her funny pictures to brighten her mood after a bad meeting?

Why did he buy cat treats for Crookshanks and mail them to her P.O. Box?

Why on bloody earth was this man wanting to spend any sort of time with her outside of work?!

Theo paused, his head tilting to the side and, despite the black cloth covering his mouth, she could make out the way his mouth pulled down in a frown. "What do you mean?"

Hermione was a smart girl.

Top of her class in school.

Valedictorian.

She had a Masters in Economics and was, by all accounts, a highly-functional adult.

But when it came to these interpersonal relationships? Well, she was rubbish.

Her best friend, Harry, had no qualms reminding her of that regularly.

"I just… Theo, I don't understand." She pushed up from the chair, no longer able to sit through the anxious wave that rose in her stomach, and she moved to pace the length of the glass box like some sort of feline, eyes staring holes into the carpet as she spoke.

"You're… You're so nice to me—which is fine. You're nice to everyone, but… you message me! You text my bloody mobile, and then you say these things and I can't tell if they're you just being friendly or… or—"

"Or something more?"

"Yes! Exactly! And I just don't get it. Am I some sort of… of pandemic charity case? Like all your other options are gone so might as well take a risk on that cat lady from work—"

"Granger." The firm way he spoke her name, coupled with his rise from the chair formed a lump in her throat the side of a cricket ball. She watched, her heels suddenly like cinder blocks, as he rounded the table and approached her. "Do me a favour and just shut up."

Her mouth formed an 'o', shock settling in as he unhooked the white elastic band from behind his right ear and let his mask dangle from his left.

Bugger.

Her eyes were drawn to his mouth, plush and pink. She gulped as he moistened his lips. His fingers flexed at his side as he cleared his throat. "Can… can I?" He made a motion for her own mask, and she halfway debated making a stupid 'I'm not sure it's safe' joke, but she figured now likely wasn't the right time for humour.

Instead, she gave him a half-hearted nod.

He reached forward, fingertips featherlight against her skin as he tucked her curls behind her ears before carefully removing her mask. A shiver shot down her spine at the ghost-like touch, and when he removed her paw-print patterned face cover, that nervousness that shimmered in his eyes gave way to something else.

Happiness?

Possibly… desire?

"I thought I'd made it rather obvious… but clearly flirting via the internet is not my strong suit."

Flirting?!

"Granger… I like you. You're clever, funny, and beautiful. And I'd very much like to take you to dinner tonight… and possibly more nights in the future if you felt the same."

There are those moments in life where it all feels aligned, like the planets and stars and everything falls perfectly into place. And this? This was one of those moments.

Suddenly, all those meetings she spent thinking about him—fantasizing about hypothetical 'what ifs' in a world pre-pandemic didn't feel like such a waste.

"So… you… You don't just like my cat?"

Theo laughed, his hand finding her cheek as the other curled around her hip. He pulled her gently into his orbit and leaned down as he brushed his lips across hers. Months of pining culminated to this, and that spark she'd prayed lived in this moment was alive and well.

Her hands pressed against his chest, and the steady thump of his heart tattooed itself on her palms as she leaned into the chaste, albeit romantic kiss.

He pulled back far earlier than she'd hoped, his nose nudging hers as he pressed their foreheads together. "This is absolutely because I like your cat… but you're just a nice bonus."

Author's Note:

beta credit to DreamsofDramione. She is brilliant, and I don't know what I'd do without her.

blame covid brain for this romantic comedy one shot.

until next time. xx