A/N: Hey friends! Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you all have a lovely day, and please know that I'm sending you all a bazillion hugs for all your wonderful reviews.
Chapter 7: No Teaching the Teacher
Hermione had nothing to wear.
It wasn't that she had nothing to wear; she had a whole closet full of perfectly suitable clothing. But she had nothing to wear that was appropriate for a date, and certainly nothing that would be conducive to sitting in a Quidditch stadium with a very attractive healer.
And even though she wanted to scream and could have cast a Silencio to muffle it lest the walls were much thinner than she thought, she waved her wand, quickly casting a Patronus. The little, ethereal otter swam through the air and deftly avoided Crooks' swiping paw. It came to a stop before her, cocking its head to the side and looking at her expectantly. With a terse tone, she dictated, "Malfoy, I need help. You know the address, and the Floo is open."
Another flick of her wrist sent the otter out the window and into the early morning, and Hermione collapsed on her closet floor, staring at the ceiling and waiting for salvation to come in the form of Draco Malfoy.
When had her life gotten so utterly ridiculous?
After five minutes of existential crisis, during which Hermione decided that something must have gone wrong during the war, thus explaining her current partnership with Malfoy and why she was going to him for fashion and love advice, of all things, the Floo roared to life in the sitting room. Malfoy's amused drawl echoed down the hall.
"In here!" she shouted, refusing to move from where she'd collapsed against boxes of old clothing for donation. Bugger anyone's opinion on her own petulance; she deserved to pout a little bit.
Despite her call for help, Hermione could hear the dull din of his voice issuing down the hallway, and her pout deepened. When he didn't appear after several moments, she rolled her eyes, settling further into her slouch and calling, "Any day now!"
Finally, his footfalls sounded down the short corridor and she could see his shadow where he paused in the hallway. "Granger?"
With a huff, she replied, "I said in here." To emphasize her displeasure, she stuck her hand out the open door and waved it about with a heavy sigh. "Honestly, I'd have—"
But Malfoy rounded the corner, staring down his pointed noise at her with an imperiously lifted brow. Upside down in the crook of his elbow, her traitorous cat purred, simpering under Malfoy's attention. "You called," he drawled, staring down at her.
Despite how irritated she was at his irreverence, she stuck out a hand. The nonverbal request for help suspended between them for a moment, and she shook it again, grousing, "I don't know what to wear." Even to her own ears, the words sounded whiny, and she cringed, dropping the hand and pushing herself upright. After clearing her throat, she said, "Okay, so you're the mastermind behind all of this. What do I wear to a Quidditch match that's both comfortable for hours of sitting in the stands and attractive enough that I won't look frumpy."
With a deep sigh, Malfoy bent at the waist, depositing Crookshanks on the floor. When he righted himself, he cocked an eyebrow first at her and then at the walk-in closet. "Granger, for such a self-sufficient woman, you're incredibly needy." A long-suffering sniff preceded his entrance to her closet, and he began to paw through her clothes unceremoniously.
"I'm not needy. I just don't want to make a fool of myself," she countered, embarrassment a sharp shot through her. "And if you are already offering help with other wardrobe issues, I thought the first date wouldn't be outside the realm of possibilities either."
Malfoy grumbled to himself, extracting a pair of skinny jeans she hadn't touched in years from the top shelf near the back. "You're lucky I like you, Granger." He tossed her the jeans, already turning towards the blouses she'd hung along the opposite side. "Put those on."
The denims dangled limply from her hand while she watched him rifle through her clothes. After several moments of awkward silence, he turned to her, lifting a brow and gesturing at her to hurry up. Her jaw dropped open with an audible pop. "What— now?" She spluttered. "You're in my room, Malfoy! It can wait."
Hangers screeched across the metal as he tore through them, his gaze growing more and more unimpressed as he went. "Granger, just do it." He paused in his perusal, throwing a glance over his shoulder while waggling his brows. "Besides, it's not like you have anything I haven't seen before."
Rage boiled up in her as she stalked across the room, setting the jeans down at the bed with a sullen huff. Fine, if he thought he'd seen it all before, then he could just choke on his words.
Ripping her shirt over her head, she admired herself in the mirror. She'd certainly aged, but not so much so that her body reflected it poorly. Though she'd lost the definition in her abs that she'd boasted in her youth, the skin of her stomach still stretched smooth. Her breasts were still perky enough, especially so with the aid of the bra that Malfoy had gifted her.
It took everything in her not to scream at his correct assessment of her bra size.
Her hips had widened just enough to create a slight hourglass shape, and when she pulled the jeans up over her hips, she muttered a sigh when the button couldn't quite close.
From within the closet, Malfoy shouted, "What was that?"
Gods, did all Slytherins have the hearing skills of a freaking bat? A quick wave of her wand expanded the material, and she snapped them shut, admiring the fit despite the amendment, and she stalked over to the closet, placing her hands on her hips and tapping on her hip bone impatiently. "Well, which shirt?"
He spun, a hanger in each hand, and froze, eyes widening comically as his gaze dropped to her chest. The noise that came out of his mouth wasn't human, but Hermione smirked anyway, reaching for the hangers limply dangling from his fingertips. "Granger, what in Merlin's name are you doing?"
Sashaying back across her room with a spring in her step, Hermione chuckled. "I thought you said it wasn't anything you hadn't seen before?"
He cleared his throat, red tingeing the tips of his ears as she stared at him, shirts abandoned on the end of her bed. "It's not, but… er—"
Another laugh, only this time filled with scorn, tinkled out of her. "Of all the things I thought I'd do today, rendering Draco Malfoy speechless with my breasts was not something I anticipated."
"I am not speechless," he argued, following the sweep of the blouse as she pulled it over her head and settled it in place. Once fully covered, he managed, "I just wasn't expecting you to parade about in the nude just before your date. Undo the top two buttons; adds to the intrigue."
Following his advice, she popped the top two buttons loose, admiring the little hint of cleavage that peeked through. She picked up the second hanger, a navy cardigan shot through with beige threads that matched the shirt he'd paired beneath. Shrugging it on, she shot him a thumbs up for approval, then approached the mirror, summoning a bottle of foundation and concealer she saved for special occasions. "Y'know, I wasn't nude; all the bits and pieces were covered."
Waving away the correction with a muttered, "Semantics," Malfoy settled on her bed, watching her carefully apply the foundation, a thin layer of lippie, and a coat of mascara. "How do you do that?" He pushed up on his knees, crossing the room and crouching down behind her to watch in the mirror, transfixed.
"Carefully," she murmured, mouth open in a small 'O' as she layered her lashes. He leaned into her space, back warm against hers as her lashes darkened, several layers more than she usually applied as he settled against her.
His Adam's apple bobbed in his reflection, and her gaze snapped to it, hand freezing as he hummed behind her, and she turned, infinitesimally closer to him, watching his eyes lower to the dip of her shirt, the top two buttons left undone. Affecting a breathy tone, she gazed up at him, batting her lashes. "Malfoy?"
"Yeah?" His eyes followed her, the rest of him stock still as she shifted.
A throaty chuckle left her as she recapped the mascara and swung around the other side of the chair, jarring him loose as she stood. "You're staring."
A torrent of indistinguishable curse words left his mouth even as he grinned and shook his head at her. "No teaching the teacher, Granger."
From the living room, her Floo roared to life, Theo's voice filtering through, "Hermione, are you home?"
Heart leaping into her throat, she wheeled around to look at the clock on her bedside table. A quarter to eleven… Theo was early.
"Shite. Shiteshiteshite." She ran around her room, frantically searching for an acceptable pair of shoes. After a moment, Theo called her name again, and she shouted, "Come on in; I'll be out in a minute!"
Another rapid pace through the room, and Malfoy caught her by the shoulders. "Breathe or you'll pass out on the floor."
Sucking in another desperate breath, she huffed, "I don't think I can do this."
"You're gonna be fine. You know how I know?"
She opened her mouth to answer, but there was a sudden pinch behind her forehead and Malfoy's voice flooded in her head. Because I'm gonna walk you through it.
Her eyes rolled severely as she pushed him backwards desperately, hands on his shoulders. "I don't know how the heck you did that, and I'll question it later, but right now—" She shoved him in the closet, following in to throw her arms briefly around his middle in an awkward hug. "—Thank Merlin for Legilimency." She pulled back, brows pinched. "But how will you—"
Malfoy laid a finger over her lips, a condescending move that only served to ignite a flame of irritation in her stomach, but then he pulled a thin, rectangular piece of paper from his back pocket. "I already had plans to go to the game; now I'm just killing two pixies with one stone."
Relief settled in her stomach, and she reeled backwards with a whispered, "Thanks," and flashed thumbs up. She'd just made it to the door after one more check of her makeup when the closet door banged open.
"Granger!" Malfoy's voice was a low hiss, and she darted back to him, incredulity painted across her features.
"What? I'm going to be—" But a pair of trainers flew at her from within the depths of the closet, striking her in the stomach and knocking the wind out of her.
Malfoy slunk forward, arms crossed as a satisfied smirk curled up his cheeks. "Nice hands, feet." He nodded at her bare feet. "Probably best not to walk around a sporting event without shoes."
She grumbled under her voice, mimicking him as she sunk to the ground and pulled the comfortably worn shoes on. Without a backwards glance, she darted for the door, wrenching it open and stumbling down the hall as she summoned her handbag.
When she walked into the sitting room, though, Theo was nowhere to be seen. A frown tugged at her features as she glanced around, searching for him in the small space, but then the Floo sounded again, and he walked through.
"Hermione!" A bright smile lit up his face as he approached, both hands behind his back. "Good morning." With a flourish, he extended his left hand, a bouquet of pink carnations in his hand.
The gesture was sweet, even if she didn't like flowers and especially not carnations, but Hermione pasted a grin on her face as she took the bundle. Strictly out of obligation, she stuck her nose in them. When she pulled away, she could already feel her sinuses rioting against the move. "Theo, thank you! They're lovely."
Pleasure flitted across his face, uninhibited by any cursory glance he sent around her flat. "When you weren't home, I popped back over to mine to grab those; I wasn't sure if you'd be ready or not, so I didn't want to risk bringing them by only for them to be left out to wilt."
A genuine smile unfurled on her face then, both at his forward thinking and the bashfulness that coloured his tone. A wave of her hand summoned a vase from the top of her fridge, and she spoke to him as she arranged the flowers within. "Well, I appreciate the thought; they'll look lovely on my table. Er—" She turned, eyeing the stacks of paperwork and discarded briefs that littered the top. "Though perhaps they'll be better off on the side table."
Chuckling, Theo followed her, carefully moving aside a framed photo. When he held it up, a soft huff escaped him. "You all were so young." He studied the moving picture, one of her favourites from sixth year, shortly before Ron had become so infatuated with Lavender. "This is Harry, and I presume the redhead is Ron Weasley?"
She nodded, reaching for the photo and tracing it, momentarily swept up in the memory: an afternoon picnic alongside the Black Lake, one of the few afternoons Quidditch hadn't monopolised Harry's time. "You presume correctly. It was a good day."
When she set it down on the table, a quiet meow sounded from her feet; Crookshanks' paw darted out from beneath the table, snaring on her trainer.
Laughing, Theo crouched, withdrawing a pack of treats from behind his back. A slight shake was all it took to catch the kneazel's attention, and he wriggled out from beneath the table with an inquisitive merow.
Theo laughed, chuffing Crooks on the head affectionately before he opened the pack of treats and shook a few into his hand. "Couldn't forget about you, now could I, little guy." He paused, glancing up at Hermione for permission. "May I?"
But before Hermione could respond, Crooks reached up, impatient with the wait, and snagged the bag, tail flicking as he stared at them with the treats dangling from his mouth.
Hermione froze, staring at the furry menace as he eyed them mischievously. "C'mon, Crooks, drop the snacks."
Slowly, Theo reached his hand toward him, rubbing his free forefinger and thumb together to draw the half-kneazel's attention. "Don't you want to save the rest of those for later, little dude?" His hand crept forward, but the shift in his weight crunched a singular, miniscule piece of popcorn that Malfoy had missed the night before, and Crookshanks darted down the hallway, treats accompanying him.
Rocketing upright, an apology flashed over Theo's face as he made to follow after the cat, words spilling from his lips. "Hermione, I'm so sorry. I'll see if I can find him; it looks like he's gone into your room, so I can…"
The rest of his words drowned out as a sudden realisation crashed over Hermione. There were only two people in the world that Crookshanks ran like that towards.
Theo and Malfoy.
Malfoy, who was currently hiding in her closet and whom Theo had no idea was in her flat.
A strangled gasp tore from her throat, and she stumbled, flying around him and narrowly blocking Theo from entering her bedroom. As her breath gusted out of her, she tried for a charming smile, though she was sure it bordered on manic by the way she struggled to control her breathing. Relaxing her pose, she shot for nonchalant. "It's okay! Don't worry about it."
Brows puckering, Theo peered behind her, drawing his lip in between his teeth. "Hermione, I'm no magizoologist, but I don't think kneazles should have that much all at—"
Even as the truth of his words registered with her, she waved him off. "It'll be okay; he doesn't get treats often. Think of it as a way to win him over."
Theo frowned, glancing over her shoulder again when Crookshanks' plaintive meow echoed out of the dimly lit room. "Are you sure? I don't mind at all."
Malfoy's laughter spilled through the Legilimency connection, and it took every bit of her willpower not to turn around and snap at him for being so utterly unhelpful.
But she leaned forward, lacing her hand through the crook of his elbow and guiding him back towards the Floo. "Positive. Besides, if we don't leave now, we'll be late for the match."
With one last look behind him, Theo nodded, gracing her with a tentative smile as she led him to the Floo, inwardly cursing Crooks the whole way.
The trip to the field in Falmouth was largely uneventful. Theo had secured them a Portkey for the trip, a broken pocket watch that he carefully tucked away upon their arrival.
Though rain had threatened early in the morning, the sun beat down on them overhead as they climbed the stands to their seats. Hermione found herself grateful for the layers that Draco had suggested, peeling off the lightweight cardigan as soon as they found their seats.
They didn't have too far to climb, their seats nestled neatly in the middle of the field and approximately in line with the keeper's goals, but by the time Hermione settled into her seat, her breath was again leaving her in pants.
Theo, for all his charm, ignored her obvious discomfort and immediately bounded off for the refreshment stand, promising her some water.
Relax, Granger, I can hear the wheels turning in your head all the way from over here.
Malfoy's voice was loud in her ears, and she whipped her head about, expecting to see him sitting alongside her.
Down and to your left.
Sure enough, when she turned, discreetly scanning the faces of those around her, she saw the white-blond of his platinum mop winking in the sunlight. He didn't turn to look at her, but his hand rose in a slight wave, as though he had seen someone he knew but couldn't be bothered to make polite conversation.
Distantly, she wondered how this was supposed to go; she knew next to nothing about Quidditch, particularly given all the years she'd boycotted it even despite Harry and Ron's love of the sport, and she felt distinctly out of place in the stands among people clad in Falcon silver and black and Ballycastle scarlet. She hugged her navy cardigan closer, unsure if she was imagining the eyes on her.
They're looking at you because you look good. A pause. And also because you look uncomfortable. Loosen up.
With a sigh, she shook her shoulders out, settling back in the hard plastic chair. It was a bit unnerving, to have Draco Malfoy speaking to her in her head, but it wasn't altogether awkward. He was like the snarky sidekick she never knew she needed.
I heard that.
Stifling a giggle, she observed the crowd, taking a moment before thinking to herself, So how does this work? I just talk to myself in my head and you can hear me? She tried to infuse as much scepticism into the tone as she could.
A moment passed, and she wondered if maybe that wasn't how it worked after all, when Malfoy's voice filtered through the crowd. Patience. I'm here; I'm just not jumping to answer every second of this.
Her lips pulled down into a contemplative frown as she considered his words. Maybe it was the intimacy of having him in her head, but he almost sounded… displeased?
"Hermione, here's your water!" Theo's bright voice jostled her from her thoughts, and she turned blindly, an answering smile on her face.
The cool bottle landed in her hand, and she cracked it, taking a deep pull before she settled it at her feet. "How was the line?"
Small talk, Granger? Yikes.
She bristled, sending a mental middle finger his way and answered with a scoff.
Theo, though, settled in next to her, an enormous plate of nachos stacked high in his lap. Despite herself, her lip curled in disdain at the fake cheese covering the crisps. Some Muggle trends should have stayed in the Muggle world. After a giant scoop of the cheese-covered monstrosity, Theo chewed thoughtfully. "Not terrible."
Silence settled between them, and Hermione shifted, scanning the field.
Ask him about his team.
Sending Malfoy a silent thanks, she crossed her leg over her knee, angling herself toward Theo. "So who's your team?" She waved a hand toward the field. "I assume you have one if you've already got tickets?"
Theo nodded, swallowing his mouthful before responding. "Well, I got these tickets from St. Mungo's—perks of the job, honestly—but I think I'm pulling for the Bats." He cut his gaze to her. "The Falcons are a little more belligerent than I find myself comfortable supporting."
Malfoy's disgusted smirk echoed through her head with an accompanying scoffed Nancy, but Hermione ignored it, leaning forward to watch the teams.
She was pleased; quidditch was not her favourite, particularly given the violence with which the competitors sometimes played. Squinting her eyes down at the field, she caught sight of a giant plush— "Theo?"
After a quick sip of water, he leaned into her space, following her gaze out to the field. "Yeah?"
"What is that?"
He squinted for a moment, scanning the sidelines and players' benches, and finally he loosed a short laugh. "The big fuzzy plushie?" After her nod, he said, "That's Barny! The fruitbat? He's their mascot."
Her confusion must have shown on her face after her weak, "Oh," because he leaned back, resuming a bite of his nachos.
"Surely you've seen him in Butterbeer advertisements, yeah?" He adopted a high, squeaky voice. 'I'm just batty about Butterbeer?'" When she shook her head, his shoulders dropped infinitesimally. "Oh. Well, yeah. He's their mascot."
Thankfully, the stadium was beginning to fill around them, and Hermione watched as people filtered in. She used the cover to desperately search for Malfoy, feigning interest in people watching. When a woman with an impossibly tall beehive hairdo—definitely upheld by magic because there was no way gravity would allow for such ridiculousness—finally sat, she scanned the area Malfoy had occupied minutes before.
Her heart sank when she realised he wasn't there. Some wingman he was.
Yes, Granger? Your wish is my command.
She jumped, the sarcastic drawl loud as it reverberated in her head.
Gods, she'd forgotten about the Legilimency.
What do we talk about? Aware how desperate she probably sounded, she shifted, trying again. Any ideas for conversation starters?
Silence met her for a moment, and then he said, Just relax. I'll walk you through this.
Nodding to herself with an absent smile, she responded, Just… make it sound natural? I don't want it to seem like I'm scripted or something.
Below them, the opening music started, each team's mascots putting on a short display. To her amusement and horror, Barny broke out a cart of Butterbeer, strutting alongside the stands while singing his Butterbeer song in an amplified voice and levitating cups to those who were sitting nearest the ground.
Theo clapped along politely, amused wrinkles crinkling the corners of his eyes as he watched on. After a moment, he leaned into her space. "Which team are you cheering for?"
Hermione lifted her shoulder in a shrug, her clapping half-hearted. "I don't have a thestral in the race, I'm afraid." She offered him a half-smile. "Though quidditch was always important to Harry and Ron, I'm afraid I never fancied it much myself." Colour drained from her face as she realised what she said and hastened to correct herself. "Not that I'm not excited to be here, but—"
Smiling sympathetically at her, Theo reached over, wrapping her hand in his and squeezing. "It's alright; I'm just glad you're here. I'm a bit of a fair weather fan myself."
Though she didn't find it funny, a laugh slipped out of her to Draco's mumbled approval in her head. But then silence settled between them again, and she blindly reached out for Malfoy's help again.
Bugger, I don't know. This guy is more boring than Professor Binns was, and that's saying something. Why don't you just toss your hair a little bit. Lean forward and squeeze your arms together; use that bra to your advantage.
Rolling her eyes, she tossed her hair and leaned forward, batting her eyelashes at Theo as she squeezed his hand. Confusion flit across his features, but he extricated his hand from her grip, sliding it across the back of her chair and leaning comfortably into her.
Good job, Granger.
"Thanks," she replied, absently picking a piece of lint off her denims.
Theo cocked his head at her, studying her with an inquisitive quirk of his brows. "Sorry, but for what?"
Colour spread up her cheeks, embarrassment clenching in her stomach as she scrambled for a response. "I meant thanks for bringing me today." A wan smile. "Quidditch isn't my thing, but I'm glad to be here with you."
Nice save. Draco's voice flit through her mind, the words coming out of her mouth before she could register them. "Now that's a nice rack."
Even as her hand flew up to cover her mouth, Theo whipped his head towards her. It was almost comical how high his brows had climbed up his forehead as he forced an awkward chuckle. "I'm sorry, what?"
Fortunately, two chasers flew by, quaffle passing back and forth between them. Clearing her throat, she said, "Nice attack, I meant. Y'know, them going for the goal like that."
A beam lit up Theo's face as he hummed, and instead of answering, he lifted his arm, rubbing her shoulder and pulling her closer to him. But in doing so, he jostled her open water, knocking the cap out of her hand and into his lap.
Darting forward, Hermione reached for the cap at the same time that Theo shifted to avoid the splash of her water. And then she froze, face inches from his lap.
Oh gods, this was not happening.
She tried to scramble upright, hands seeking purchase on Theo's thighs, but it only made matters worse when Theo moved to help her upright and his hand tangled in her hair.
Somewhere in the back of her head, she could hear Malfoy's uncontrolled laughing, but then a flash and the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter sounded, and she gasped, finally wrenching herself backwards and leaving Theo with several pieces of her hair still wrapped around his fingers.
Above her, Rita Skeeter beamed down at her, rapidly dictating to her Quick-Quote Quill. "And what a lovely surprise to see Miss Granger, editor-in-chief of Witch Weekly out enjoying a date with St. Mungo's newest healer, Theodore Nott!" A sickly saccharine grin spread across the woman's face as Theo pulled Hermione upright and back into her chair, sending a stinging hex at Skeeter with a sharp wave of his hand.
Though the woman shrieked and rubbed at a red spot just below her elbow, she aimed a gaping mouth that Hermione assumed was supposed to be a smile at her. "Any comments, Miss Granger?"
She didn't think she could sink any further into her chair if she tried, but Theo settled in beside her, shielding her from the woman and making small talk until Skeeter left and Hermione felt comfortable enough to relax again.
Theo Portkeyed them back to London and offered to walk Hermione home, an offer she gladly accepted.
The warm day had settled into a crisp evening, so she wrapped her cardigan over her shoulders, searching for something to say to break the silence. "I had fun today."
"Yeah?" Theo walked beside her, hands in his pockets, but he swayed closer, brushing his shoulder against hers. "I did too; I'm really glad you came, even though quidditch isn't your favourite."
She laughed, smiling up at him. "Me too! I wasn't expecting to enjoy it, particularly not after Skeeter."
Reaching the door of her flat, they paused. Hermione looked away, tension lining her shoulder. "I'm sorry that the date wasn't the best; it's entirely my fault, but at least it was entertaining?" Self-deprecation coloured her tone, and she was relieved when he huffed a laugh.
"You're different, Granger. Not a lot of people like you out there, I think."
Her head dropped back with a groan. "Yeah, there will be all sorts of fires to put out at work on Monday with Skeeter's article, but I'll try to keep your name out of it."
Cocking his head at her, Theo motioned her toward her door. "You say that like you've got experience with her."
"You could say that," she grumbled. They reached the bottom of her steps, and she stopped, nodding toward her door. "Well, this is me, so… uh, thanks." Of its own volition, her hand jutted out, a pained grimace on her lips.
Despite the peculiarity, Theo took it, enveloping her fingers in his warm grasp. "You're welcome, Hermione." He paused. "Can I Floo you? I can't figure you out, but I'd really like to."
Suddenly Malfoy's voice was in her ear again. Idiot. I've had you figured out for years. A sigh, and then, One last try, Granger. Better make it good.
Hermione ignored his snark, nodding and accepting with a breathless yes as she stuck her chest out with what she hoped was a coy smile, and she turned for the door.
But then Theo's hand wrapped around her wrist, spinning and tugging her back towards him, and his lips landed on hers, warm and insistent in a soft kiss.
She melted. Gods, she hated to admit it, but she leaned into him, kissing him soundly back as she felt his lips lift into a smile against hers. When he leaned back, he tucked a hair behind her ear, looking her in the eyes. "Does that make up for Skeeter?"
Rendered mute, she nodded, her fingers floating to her lips as he released her and retreated, walking backward from her.
"I'll Floo you, yeah?"
Clearing her throat, she whispered, "I think I'd like that," just as he rounded the corner.
After a moment of stunned silence, during which she heard Theo's door close round the corner, slow claps sounded behind, and she whirled.
Malfoy sauntered towards her, a self-important twinkle in his eyes, and without thinking, she ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. "He kissed me! You were right!"
Forcibly extracting himself from her arms, Malfoy drew back. "Nah, Granger, that was all you. Against every opportunity otherwise, you nailed it." He backed away, heading towards the Apparition point.
Rocking up on her toes, she resumed her walk back to her door, she shouted, "I owe you one!"
A chuckle and then, "Publish the article and we'll call it even."
In a daze, she nearly floated up the steps to her flat door, unlocking it with a wave of her wand. Just as she entered, she thought she saw Malfoy pause behind her, glancing back towards her flat. Before she could scrutinise further, the pop of hs Apparition sounded, far too close to be at the Apparition point, and she frowned.
With a shrug, she pushed the door open. The lights came on as she walked through the door, but she paid them no mind, discarding her cardigan and handbag as she went. Hermione flopped on the couch, an uncharacteristically girly giggle escaping her as she threw an arm over her face.
Theo Nott had kissed her.
And not just a quick courtesy peck on the lips. He'd thoroughly snogged her beneath the amber-coloured street lamps, and she was absolutely over the moon.
After allowing herself to bask in the warm glow of the snog, she pushed herself upright, ignoring Crooks batting at her ankle as she passed, and took off towards her bedroom.
But she passed an uncharacteristically organized file folder resting on the corner of her breakfast bar. She backtracked, casting a scrutinous gaze over her work table to determine if it was something that she'd filed and forgotten about, but nothing looked out of place. And, truth be told, the file looked far fancier than any of the cheap bulk order she'd purchased the last time she'd visited her parents.
Propping her hip against one of her bar stools, she picked up the file, flipping it open.
On top was a sticky note in Malfoy's scrawling script.
Granger,
I thought I'd get this to you early. Looking forward to your notes on Monday, though I'm sure you'll appreciate my brilliance.
D.M.
With a snorting laugh, she flipped the folder shut, propping it against her coffee pot to look over first thing the next morning, and retired to bed, a smile on her face even as she remembered the false brightness on Malfoy's.
A/N: And a kiss for Valentine's Day! I am a little ashamed to admit that I planned publishing the fic this way so the kiss fell on Valentine's Day, but oh well! I'm a sap lol have a great weekend!
Alpha creds to the lovely LadyKenz347 and mcal - thank you both for your time and help!
Beta creds to In Dreams for making my words grammatically sound!