"All right, first time we had a run-in, I proposed. The second time, you proposed. This makes our third run-in, in which we are alone," he waggled his eyebrows, "and so, it makes it my turn to propose."
"Oh, not this again."
Draco smirked.
"Yes, this again."
Hermione sighed.
"I am trying to work."
"Well, I am trying to propose. Now I know your proposal is hard to beat, over the cake war that we had and the first time I proposed I merely stated it. But I am a Malfoy, therefore, I always win."
She huffed, she really needed to beat this deadline and she would, if she could just locate the final pages of the report she had been working on. It was up to her and this report to close the case after all.
"Please, please, please, Malfoy. Bother me any other day but just not today." She ducked under her desk. "I'm sort of busy right now – which, by the way I should remind you, so should you be! – and though I really like besting you, now is not the time. I've lost some of the most valuable pages of my report–"
"What, you mean these?" He said, holding said papers as far to the edge as he could, seeing as how they were completely drenched in coffee.
"WHERE?" She demanded, still under the desk and in her excitement, consequently bumped her head on her way up. She groaned when she emerged from that evil hole (glaring at it heatedly) and Malfoy had to stifle his laughter lest she direct her glare to him.
When she did look at him, sans glare, she cried "Oh no!" with her mouth hung open, horrified. "My report!"
Malfoy looked confused for a moment before saying, "Whoa, I am experiencing great déjà vu right now." He touched his head. "I remember that same tone of your voice, screeching the same thing except about an essay, scrambling for your wand (much like you're doing now) shouting–"
"Scourgify! Dammit, SCOURGIFY!"
"–then more shouting–"
"MALFOY!"
"–Gods, if you shout my name like that when you're angry, what more when we're in the throes of passion–"
"YOU RUINED MY REPORT!"
Malfoy looked at her incredulously. "Seriously I am experiencing extreme déjà vu right now." He shook his head. "Anyway, I didn't really do anything except point them out to you, love."
Exasperated at the fact that he was right, she said, "Look, I really don't have time for this today and if you insist on these bloody proposals, how 'bout we make a deal."
"And what does this deal entail?"
"No more proposals from you–"
"What?"
"–unless" she gave him a pointedly disapproving stare for interrupting her, "I get to give the signal as to when you can propose to me, the next time we have a run in."
He pouted. "That's completely unfair, what if you forget and never give the signal."
Hermione, almost affectionately like a devoted owner would to its cat, patted his cheek and said, "As if you would ever let me forget, Malfoy."
His eyes lit up at that and he clapped his hands. "You're right, you're absolutely right. I knew I made the right choice in you being my future wife."
"And who says I didn't choose you?"
"To be what, your future wife? Are you swinging that way now?"
"Draco, don't be obtuse." She tutted. She glanced at her watch and sighed, she had but fifteen minutes left to get the report to her boss and beat the deadline. Good thing it only took her less than two minutes total to get to his office seeing as the DCMC was but one section of the floor with her boss' office being three doors down her own. Hermione's office was the last in the hall while the one immediately next to hers belonged to Pansy. Each girl had their own offices as a reward for the valuable work they put into the department and their conversely, high positions. Hermione as the Assistant Head to the department and Pansy…
Well, Pansy was more like her assistant. As she thought about it, Pansy probably just paid the Ministry ridiculous amounts of money to have her own office. The girl, admittedly, was a hard worker of course. But no way would she work as hard if she had to sit with the rest of the department staff who were resigned to cubicles clustered all over the rest of the space.
She'd probably AK anyone who annoyed her with their quirks and Pansy wasn't exactly the most patient person.
Hermione paused.
Perhaps it was best she had her own office after all.
As to the matter of the third office, however, it belonged to none other than…
Draco was smiling in feigned relief when he said, "As long as you're swinging my way, we're all good really."
She sighed, speaking of which. "We're digressing."
Swinging the direction of the conversation to their initial topic, she stuck out her hand. "Do we have an accord?"
He took her hand but instead of shaking it, he bent low and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss upon her knuckles, much like he did that night in the woods of the Burrow. It unwillingly sent chills throughout her body. She tried not to show it by clearing her throat and stiffening her shoulders but by the smirk on his lips and the way he was eyeing her from his still bowed position, he was not fooled.
She withdrew her hand.
"Why can't you just shake my hand like a normal, sane, person?"
"Because Granger, I'm so crazy for you that my senses just take their leave whenever I'm near you!" He said in a saccharine tone. "I'm so glad we're to be married."
She looked at the bane of her existence with an alarming amount of exasperation on her face. Was he seriously starting to believe they were getting married?
Well, she thought, maybe I ought to be concerned about his sanity after all.
She looked at her watch and saw she now had less than ten minutes to get to her boss' office, all cause of her supposedly 'future husband' and his weird, psycho way of thinking.
"Oh to hell with it," she muttered.
Hermione resigned herself to her fate. He was, after all, exceedingly good at cleansing charms that she might as well get some use out him while he was there. It's just as well she play along lest he have an episode or something.
She always played along anyway.
"Draco dear, please Scourgify my documents of the coffee so that I may be on my way."
Draco beamed at the endearment, evidently very pleased, and with a flick of his wand, her report was free of any stains at all. "Thank you." She mumbled as he opened the door for her. There would be no episode from him today, it seemed. Thank Merlin for that, she thought.
"Anytime, Granger." He pecked her on the cheek before tipping his hat towards her, much to her surprise. She touched her cheek.
"Good luck with your reports!"
He sauntered to the direction of his office and she, despite his shocking gesture at his departure, was about to sigh with relief when he shouted for all and sundry to hear,
"I SHALL EAGERLY AWAIT OUR WEDDING PROPOSAL ANNOUNCEMENT!"
Her mouth opened in horror as her co-workers began to look at her and talk, in barely-hushed tones:
"Hermione and Malfoy? Together?"
"Even more scandalous, engaged!"
"I didn't even know they were dating!"
"Must have been shagging in broom closets, if it had to be so secret."
"They couldn't very well shag on the office desk, could they!"
"A pureblood and muggleborn union? How times have changed!"
"So that's how Malfoy got his own office, shagging the boss' assistant!"
She glared at that one.
A few of her co-workers even dared to congratulate and hug her when really, she wanted to pummel her questionably future-husband considering he would survive her wrath.
And then, she was going to pummel herself for even beginning to associate the term 'future-husband' with the blond ferret! Since when was she thinking of him as that to her?
Ugh, he was getting to her more and more in their, she shuddered, shared workplace. And he hadn't even been on for more than two weeks!
The clock struck ten am, it was officially the deadline of her report.
Malfoy was going to drive her batty, but she was determined all the same to get him to not propose as much as possible.
She had a feeling he knew that and would try to thwart her anyway.
She sighed.
So much for beating that deadline.
"So…" Pansy started glibly, spearing some lettuce onto her fork. They were on their lunch break in one of Pansy's favorite, midscale restaurants. (By midscale it meant it was fancy enough in food and atmosphere to appease Pansy's lavish tastes but quite modest enough in staff and prices to satisfy Hermione's)
"You and Malfoy, huh?"
Hermione dropped her utensil.
"I've no idea what you're talking about Pansy, there is no Malfoy and me."
"But you guys in the wedding!" She cooed, grinning madly. "And don't even get me started with the sexual tension in the office!"
Hermione's eye twitched. "The only tension I'm getting is the one in my neck and at the back at my head, from this conversation." She rubbed her temples and muttered, "I think my blood pressure is up again."
"Well you want to know what I think?"
"Not really, but you're going to tell me anyway, I can tell. You have that look on your face."
"What look?" She asked coyly, "The seemingly-demure-and-modest-but-really-wise-and-cl ever one?"
"No, the you're-going-to-shit-yourself-if-you-don't-tell-me , one."
Pansy dropped her own fork.
"Hermione Granger! Language!"
Said Granger merely snickered. "You sound like my father."
Pansy, presumably about to continue her tirade, paused and asked instead, "Father?"
Hermione shrugged. "Mum was a flower child. She wasn't much of a disciplinary figure. She would rather suffocate you with her hugs, peace, love and rock and roll." She paused. "And drugs, of course."
"Drugs?"
"Well, those were only if I was really laying the temper on thick. You know how stubborn I get."
Pansy stared at her. Hard.
"You're joking. You would never, not in a million years and a million lifetimes, ever seriously admit your bullheadedness."
She grinned.
"Right on, Pans. Anyway, dad was the disciplinarian. Mum was the mediator. I'm more like him than she'd like me to be."
"Which means you inherited his headstrong personality, and I presume, your hairiness. Honestly Hermione, when was the last time you had your legs shaved? A haircut? Don't even get me started on the atrocity of your eyebrows–"
"Thanks for that Pansy, next time I need a confidence boost I definitely know who to not call." She answered dryly while attempting to inconspicuously rub her legs.
"Anyway, as I was trying to say, for all that bravery your house boasted back in Hogwarts, I think you're scared."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Scared? What could I possibly be scared of?"
"Relationships, Hermione. Of opening yourself up to someone, of loving–"
"I'm open and loving! I certainly opened myself up to you!"
Pansy shook her head.
"Alright then, of opening yourself up to a man and falling in love."
"Ha! What is this Pans, a therapy session now?"
Pansy shook her head, suddenly very serious.
"Hermione… you've been taking care of everyone around you for so long that you've developed a way to live without having to prioritize your needs. I mean, if you could solve everyone else's problems, what's the point of facing yours? You don't want to be taken care of because, you feel you don't really need to be. Am I right?"
Hermione grew quiet and pensive.
Could it be? Was she so against the idea of opening up to someone and, dare she think it, falling in love, because she didn't want to seem like she needed someone? She had been taking care of each one of her friends for as long as she had known them, from Neville finding his toad on that first ride on the Hogwarts Express to locating the Horcruxes with Harry and Ron, then fighting alongside her dearest friends in the war.
Pansy continued, smiling sadly.
"I think you wouldn't know what to do with yourself if someone decided they wanted to take care of you. What's troubling you more, I think, is that you know this and some part of you wants that someone to be Malfoy, you know?"
Hermione's head, from staring sullenly at the table top, snapped right to Pansy's. She groaned.
"Merlin, does that man even have to follow me everywhere? In what universe does Malfoy equate to being, The One?"
Hermione dropped her head onto the table and began to lightly bump her head against it.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Hermione! Stop it!"
To Pansy's relief, she did stop the banging, but remained with her head face down on the table and her hands over them.
"Can we stop with the psycho-analysis now?" Hermione moaned.
Pansy sighed. "Fine, I see Draco has a way of getting under your skin. And for the record, I didn't say he was 'The One' for you." Pansy gave her a pointed glance (which she ignored), then she paused. "Getting under your skin wouldn't be so bad if you just let him, you know, get under you, if you catch my drift."
Hermione shot up into a sitting position again, mouth agape in incredulous disbelief.
"Pansy!"
Catch my drift indeed, she was about as subtle as a buffalo stampede.
Her friend merely grinned, "Alright, alright, I'll stop. As if you weren't thinking it anyway."
Hermione covered her face, "Pansy, what is wrong with you?"
Laughing, she said. "Ok, since you obviously need a break from this Slytherin madness, how about I set you up?"
More incredulous disbelief.
"This is your way of getting me to stop thinking about a man, setting me up with another one?"
"He won't be a Slytherin, I swear!"
Hermione closed her eyes. "Why do I get the feeling that you know so few men outside of Slytherin and those few are complete and utter gits?"
Boy, she thought, am I getting a lot of feelings today.
"Say yes, Hermione. You always do."
She tried resisting a few more, but really, it was Pansy and who was she kidding?
"I never could deny you."
"You didn't even stand a chance."
"Friend my arse."
"Best friend." She corrected. Hermione rolled her eyes and hid a smile behind her napkin.
"Well, what time and what should I wear?"
Pansy clapped her hands.
"Excellent!"
"I really hope this works, any more Malfoy in my system and I think I might explode."
Pansy nodded in agreement and patted her hand.
"He does have a stupid way of making you feel like that."
Hermione sighed, "Indeed."
A/N: So not much happened in this chapter, it's more like a filler for the next one, The Date!
Yaaaaaay!
On a more embarrassing note, I need your help. I, swishandflickwit, of ten-and-eight years have never been on a date. As you can tell by the title of the next chapter, a good date is imperative to the plot. Now, where do you come in, is what you ask?
Well, what are your ideas of a perfect date?
I'll see you all soon but, till the next installment, perhaps some… reviews?
(Shameless review whore, but on that note, I bid you all adieu, lovelies!)