Hermione lit the sparkler with a whispered Incendio, and waved it gently back and forth. She took five steps backward, paused to place the sparkler in a metal vase, and then waited. Thirty seconds later a dark shape emerged from behind a bush and darted forward, its features blurred and wispy, like smoke. It was getting faster with every attempt. She stepped in front of the vase, staring it down. She saw its wings start to twitch. 'Now,' she whispered, making the agreed upon hand gesture. 'Now!'
The wings fluttered, and the animal hovered slightly above the ground, becoming more distinct as it gained solidity. It was really quite adorable, but she stood her ground with a determined glare. On her first try she had been disarmed by its cuteness, a dark fluffy little mammal sprouting floppy ears like a bunny, with shimmery golden eyes and wings. She knew better now. The little beast only got in a few flaps before Draco jumped out from behind a tree and somersaulted through the air, tackling the Flootecoote to the ground. It was only the size of his hand, so he was able to pin it down easily with the special fabric designed by his team, a transparent cloth that prevented it from morphing back to its wispy state. Hermione imagined Draco must have taken some sort of lessons to prepare for this. He had some skill on a broom, but she had never imagined he could pull off something like that on the ground- it was a move that would make any gymnast proud. She clapped sarcastically at his dramatics, but inside she was impressed. They had been at this for hours. The tiny critters secreted a substance through their paws that paralysed their prey, and also held the key to developing one of Snape's ideas for a new pain relief potion. Draco's team would gently collect some of the gel, then release the Flootecoote back into the inner-city garden where they had found it. For her part in the adventure, Hermione would earn access to any of their research on the Flootecoote venom that was relevant to Professor Lilith's projects. It seemed almost cruel to leave the Muggles exposed to the Flootecoote's mischief, but it was their natural habitat, and the Muggles were probably used to tripping over nothing, and finding acorns dropped on their head by mysterious forces. Hermione shook her head as Draco performed a little victory dance, showing a level of glee she had only seen during Quidditch or bowling victories. She turned to douse the sparkler they had used as bait, only to hear a high-pitched shriek. Draco had a Flootecoote clinging to his head, clawing at his face, shifting forms every few seconds so that he couldn't get a grip on it. It seemed that their quarry had a friend. How very clever. It had stayed hidden for hours whilst they tried to capture its partner, patiently waiting as backup. She had read about their intelligence, but this was impressive.
Fifteen minutes later, Hermione threatened to use a stunning spell on Draco if he couldn't hold still long enough for her to heal his scratches. Hermione wasn't sure if he wanted to supervise the ingredient collection or to take revenge on the Flootecootes. He had certainly grown a lot since third year, when he milked his Hippogriff injuries for all they were worth. She supposed they had both seen enough of real horror and pain to put things in perspective. Hermione kept Draco at wand's length as she cast her healing spells, strongly resisting the urge to look into his eyes. Eye contact was dangerous, and she wasn't taking any chances.
'We make a good team, don't we?' Draco asked as she sealed the last cut.
'We had a common enemy,' she said.
Draco gave her a look.
'Ok, yes, we were a good team. But if you've decided to start a career as a Flootecoote hunter, you're on your own.'
After that, they stood around awkwardly as they watched Draco's team clean up. There had been a few casualties from the chase- bins had been overturned, benches had been crushed. With a little magic the park was spotless again. The Flootecootes were set down within a ward that would deactivate in ten minutes, giving them time to depart safely. The team set about dismantling the larger wards that had shielded the park from prying Muggle eyes, and Hermione decided it was time to depart.
'Draco,' she said, holding out her hand.
'Hermione,' he said as he shook it. It was a firm, professional handshake.
She stepped back with a silly little wave, and then Apparated away.
After arriving at her apartment, Hermione thought hard about her Draco problem while she made herself a cup of tea. It was the first time she had seen Draco in two months. Today had been almost fun. They did make a great team, bouncing ideas off of each other, getting into a collegial spirit. And when their eyes had met after their victory, there had been definite sparks flying. But when it came down to it, they couldn't talk to each other. They couldn't have a real conversation, without awkward pauses or someone pulling away. It was odd, because on paper they couldn't stop talking. She and Malfoy had somehow become pen pals since his opening missive had found her in France. For the last two months they had sent letters back and forth constantly across England and France. She was glad she was living in her own apartment now so she didn't have to suffer Harry's commentary on her correspondence. Not that there was really anything to comment on. The letters were the very picture of innocence. Business documents even, a business man informing an interested party on the progress of his research project. Draco had even offered her a cut of the profits from the potions projects in exchange for the journals. His initial offer had been 20%, but she had revised it down to a 10% stake. And yet. The main letters may have been all-business, but the post-scripts were getting longer and longer. That was the space at the end of the letter where they played at being friends. They made small talk, they told jokes, they played with hidden subtext for their passionate longing… The letters were becoming more and more like old-fashioned love letters, with deeper meanings behind ordinary words. Draco had included a very vivid description of a new potion ladle in his last letter, and she had been convinced it was a bizarre metaphorical seduction technique. Who could really be that passionate about a ladle?
This was ridiculous. Their two worlds needed to collide, and she would force them to with a fiery explosion. She would write the most honest and romantic letter that she could, a real love letter, and she would demand that he show up on her doorstep so they could finally take it all off the page. She stepped into the lounge area to grab a pen and paper.
Hermione let out an undignified shriek and fumbled with her mug, only just saving it from smashing on the floor. She glared at the black owl that was sitting on top of her new sofa, glad that she had picked out the soft suede sofa rather than the leather option. She hadn't been considering sharp owl talons at the time. She didn't own an owl yet, as it was only a short walk to a public owlery, and visiting owls were usually polite enough to use the perch she had set by the window. But Malfoy's owl seemed to find joy in startling her by appearing silently in her apartment and perching wherever he pleased, waiting to be noticed. She didn't know the owl's name, but they were very familiar with each other now. How on Earth had the owl gotten here so quickly? She had left Draco's side less than half an hour ago. And he had already sent her a letter. She had no doubts about its contents. He had beaten her to it. Now when they told this story, Draco would be the romantic one, the one to make the first move. Her letter would have been beautiful, like poetry!
Then Hermione noticed the rose in the owl's talons. It was clearly made of paper, but it had a red flower and a green stem. The detail was exquisite, the crinkles somehow forming delicate petals and thorns. She hesitated for a moment, stupidly worried about pricking her finger. She took it from the owl's talons, and turned it over in her hands, marvelling at it. Her curiosity warred with her admiration of the rose, but as ever, her curiosity won. She unravelled the rose gently, and its magic helped her along, smoothing out the edges and flipping over to the white paper on the inside, until she held a sheet of ordinary paper in her hand.
Dear Hermione,
If I knock on your door, will you let me in? Say 'Flootecoote' for yes.
Draco Malfoy
Well, it wasn't exactly Shakespeare. But the spellwork on the rose was beautiful, and if he had sent her a flowery sonnet she wouldn't have known how to respond. Now, all she needed to do was say yes.
She closed her eyes. 'Flootecoote,' she whispered.
Seconds later she heard the crack of Apparation outside her door. She ran forward and opened the door, not waiting for the knock. Draco looked almost exactly as he had when they parted, with combed hair and a few less wrinkles in his clothing. He held out his hand. 'A real one this time,' he said.
She took the red rose, and took a step backwards. 'I can be bossy,' she said. 'And stubborn.'
He stepped over the threshold, eyes intent on hers, the same way she had stared down the Flootecoote. 'I can be insecure. And I have a habit of running away.'
She took another step backwards, manoeuvring around the coffee table. 'Everyone would know this time. You would have to make nice with my friends.'
He followed in her footsteps, stopping at the other side of the table. 'You would have to deal with my mother.'
Hermione kept walking backwards until she felt the bedroom door at her back, hand on the doorknob. She took a deep breath. 'It would be real. We would be a real team, a couple. I could fall in love with you.'
'I could fall in love with you,' he countered, as he cleared the table, the only obstacle between them.
Hermione swung open the door, and stepped into the bedroom. 'Did I tell you how sexy your Flootecoote wrangling skills were?'
Draco grinned, and then in a blur she was being tackled onto the bed, and they were rolling around, fighting over whether they wanted to make love on top of the blanket or underneath it. Draco kissed her to shut her up mid-argument, and she decided that perhaps she could surrender just this once. He tasted of apple, and she could picture him stopping for a quick snack as he wrote her a letter. He would need the energy boost. It was their first time having sex on an actual bed, and she found that being warm and comfortable and not having branches digging in to her skin gave her more time to feel, and she wanted to feel everything. She felt the callouses on his hand from roughhousing in the park, she felt the sharp curve of his knee as he used it to pin her down when she became so restless in her frenzied excitement that she almost fell off the bed. She adored the way his lips moved on her neck as he whispered her name, over and over again, as they reached blissful surrender together. When it was over, she laid her head on his chest, and thought about what a nice start this was to their reunion, to the start of their lives together. And then she kicked his shin as she demanded that he share the pillow, because nice was overrated, and they were going to be complicated and messy and competitive and fun. In the morning, she was going to get up first and write her spectacular love letter to leave on the pillow she had stolen from him, because she was Hermione Granger and she always had the last word.