Round 6 - Statice
2nd place
Draco absolutely can't fucking believe it. She agreed. Hermione Granger agreed to dinner: a private date.
After years of working together, he made his move and feels endlessly fortunate she would give him this chance. Granger is the kindest, most brilliant witch he knows.
Not to mention, she has killer legs and a head full of fuck-me hair he can't wait to thread his fingers through.
He's near her office when he hears the object of his most ardent and inappropriate affection chatting with her friend, the agitatingly earnest Harry Potter.
"I just don't see the appeal. Money, I suppose," the wizard offers with a nasty little chuckle.
She scoffs to Draco's relief. "Please. I do just fine on my own. He is handsome though, and terribly witty." In the corridor, Draco preens at her assessment.
"And, of course," she adds, "I have a weakness for status."
With a bit of a double-take, Draco backs away quietly.
That, Draco didn't expect. If there was anyone he thought immune to the pull of his name, it was Granger. It's disappointing, to be sure, but perhaps should have been expected. She's on the fast track to Minister, and the name 'Malfoy', regardless of wartime tarnish, still carries weight.
He tells himself it doesn't matter, that his prestige is simply a way to get what he wants, just as it's always been.
And what he wants, is her.
At the restaurant, however, some exclusive place that his name can access, Draco grows more bitter by the hour. His surly demeanor has managed to snuff out her usually sunny disposition.
Granger's hand lays across the cheque the moment their server delivers it. "I can cover my half," she says, stiff and cold. "I apologize for however I've soured our evening, but let's not add financial debt to the mix."
"Nonsense," he says, plucking the parchment away. "What do I have to offer if not my background, right?"
He feels her eyes on him as he marks his Gringotts credentials.
"I thought you had a lot to offer," she says softly. "Draco, I…Those flowers you sent, with all of my favorites…"
He looks at her but stills his tongue, waiting.
"You likely didn't realize, but you sent status." At his very confused look, she repeats, "Status. Sea lavender? Tiny purple blossoms? That's my mother's favorite. I've not seen her since before the war, and it just felt like a sign."
Status. Statice.
Oh, fucking fuck, Draco is an complete idiot. He backpedals like dementors are on his heels.
"Granger, I apologize. I had a difficult day, and I've been dreadful company. Please allow me a nightcap to make it up to you?"
She hesitates, and he can't quite get a breath. All of this over such a silly misunderstanding. When finally she agrees, his heart starts to beat again.
Later, In a tiny bistro, two glasses of champagne going warm between them, Draco kisses her and buries his fingers in that luxurious hair.