Chapter Forty-One:
Lost Love Letters by Fog Lake
March 27, 2000
"I think I'm going to vomit." Hermione grips the bathroom sink while white knuckling her toothbrush. She can see Draco through the bathroom mirror lounging in his four poster bed. She spent the night in Malfoy Manor, and is now severely regretting it.
She thought it would be a good idea to spend more time away from Grimmauld Place to give Harry and Ginny a little bit of privacy. Now that it was just the three of them living there she felt like more of a third wheel than a roommate.
Draco suggested going to dinner as a celebration. Dinner turned into drinks, drinks turned into an entire bottle of wine and soon she was leaving the Leaky Cauldron in a drunken state.
"Why is it that when there's something important going on you're always there and a pub is involved?" She levels him with a glare and he gives a nonchalant shrug, not bothering to look up from his book. Brushing her teeth carefully, Hermione breathes in the strong mint, hoping it will calm her hangover.
"Did you at least have fun last night?" Hermione can hear him enter the bathroom as she leans over the sink for a minute too long after spitting out her tooth paste.
"You know what, I did have fun, but I'm paying for it." He's standing behind her, hand on her waist, gentle smile on his lips. She takes a second, taking in her appearance, the toothpaste on her tank top, hair thrown into a bun, mascara on her cheek that she decided to throw on last-minute now smudged down her cheek.
"I have a present for you." Draco disappears out of the bathroom and she follows sheepishly, stomach still in knots.
"A present? Why?" She stands at the end of his bed, watching as he rifles through a dresser. There's a triumphant sound before he stands upright.
"It's only something small." Draco is holding a large black paper bag behind his back, there's shiny gold foiled script across the front. Hermione's heart races as he presents it to her.
She pulls a black box from the bag, smooth to her touch, it feels luxurious. She eyes him dubiously. Just something small…More like just something expensive…
"This doesn't feel small." Hermione pops the top off carefully, pulling out the rose scented tissue paper and revealing a simple brown leather tote bag with short straps. She pulls it from the box, the leather is thick, but not dragonhide.
"I bought it from a muggle shop in London, since you tend to wear muggle fashion." He takes the bag from her, unclipping the clasp to show her the inside. "I've charmed it so it will be light, no matter how much you put in it. There's a little pocket for your keys so you won't lose them, and it's wide enough that you can fit your files in it without the risk of folding the corners."
She stares at him as he explains all the features. Hermione can't imagine him conversing with a shop assistant, trying to explain everything he needed in a bag. How intense he would be as he perused the floor. He's always been a very specific person. He noticed how ratty her old book bag had become with years of use, and ensured the straps were reinforced so it wouldn't give out on her.
He's still talking when she takes his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze before she plants a kiss on his lips.
"It's perfect," she mumbles before kissing him again, feeling him relax, relishing in the feel of the tension leaving his body. "You always listen," she whispers against his mouth.
"Of course I do, I love you." Smiling, she brushes a stray hair from his forehead, looking into his eyes.
Hermione blushes. "I love you too…thank you."
"I'm glad you're finally reciprocating the sentiment." He cups her face gently, hand slipping to the nape of her neck and she furrows her brows at him.
"What do you mean finally? I told you I love you before the trial."
"I believe your exact words were I think I love you." He pitches his voice up in a mocking tone, but he's smiling.
"It was an I love you nonetheless." Hermione looks at him through her brows.
"Ah yes, I do believe you would have reciprocated the first time I said it if we weren't so—" he clears his throat in a suggestive manner, eyes falling to her cheeks as she feels herself blush. "—preoccupied in the library."
"I love you."
"I could listen to you say that all day."
Once again, the atrium of the ministry is full of reporters. Hermione holds her new bag up in front of her face as the cameras flash.
"Hermione! Hermione!" Her name shouted over and over again is something she will never get used to. One of the voices rises higher than the others and she can feel a hand on her shoulder.
"Connor! I'm so glad you're here," she whispers in a terse tone as they duck into a waiting elevator.
"I'm glad I caught you!" Connor is clutching a brown leather briefcase in both hands tightly, giddy with excitement.
"Are you nervous?" The lift is empty and Connor shrugs, running a hand through his sandy blond hair, the briefcase now positioned at his side. He seems nervous and Hermione can't help but share her own anxiety, "Because I am." His head snaps up in her direction, his cheeks flushed.
"D-don't be nervous, you're Hermione Granger, you can't be nervous." She can't stop the laugh that falls from her lips, a sharp sound in the small space. If only it was that easy.
"I promise you, I'm nervous about everything." Their conversation is cut short as they arrive on the fifth floor. Hermione motions for Connor to exit first and if he could have blushed more he would have.
"Ah! I'm glad to see you both so bright and early!" Kingsley greets them as soon as Connor turns the corner.
"Minister Shacklebolt!" His panicked voice rises a few octaves, blue eyes widening as he stops dead in his tracks.
"I hope you're both doing well, I've come to show you where your headquarters will be." Kingsley sounds excited, and he can't help but smile. He leads them down a long hall filled with closed doors. Hermione can hear the sound of conversations being muffled by spells, the cacophony of laughter and camaraderie.
The slick black tile on the walls is illuminated by gold sconces peppered between the door frames. A few overhead chandeliers line the ceiling and she's almost glad it's darker on this floor.
Kingsley stops in front of one of the doors, letting them read the plaque before he throws it open. Liaison Between the Muggle and the Wizarding Worlds.
Hermione's heart jumps in her throat. This is really happening.
The room is filled with a table and six chairs. Across from the door to the hall is a grand black marble fireplace with a portrait of a young red-headed girl holding a little white cat above it.
Kingsley enters first, allowing them a moment to look around. There's three small rooms along the left side with brass plaques on the doors. Hermione can see her name glinting in the dim light with Connor's on the door next to it. The third plaque sits bare.
"Prime Minister Blair has appointed two of his cabinet members and a woman named Penelope Thompson as the head. You and Penelope will be working closely with one another on policies and procedures. The fireplace has a direct link to Westminster and is to be used when you need to meet or send correspondence." Hermione nods, walking towards the portrait and eyeing the little white feline, watching its tail swish.
"Whenever you need Penelope, Maeve will fetch her." The young girl gives an excited wave when Kingsley mentions her name. The little cat bristles at the sudden disturbance.
"I'm so happy Charlie and I can help, we can run quick messages too!" She smiles down from her height and Hermione thanks her.
"I have a meeting booked for all of us to meet in two weeks so you two have some time to familiarise yourselves with the office and some of the policies. You also need to start interviewing for the third person on your team." Kingsley gestures to the empty office.
Hermione gives a nod, "Thank you Kingsley, you never gave up on me and I really appreciate it." He gives her a broad grin before disappearing back into the hallway.
"You told Malfoy not to bring anything, right?" Harry sounds alarmed as he dances between pots on the stove. Hermione and Ginny sit at the kitchen table with a pile of dried flowers laying between them.
Neville dropped off a sackful this morning so they could make centrepieces for the wedding. Hermione helped Ginny nail down a colour palette of rich gem tones to match her ruby ring.
"I know it's a summer wedding, but autumn colours are so much more inviting," Ginny says, picking an orange-coloured flower from the pile and tying it into the bunch she grasps tightly.
The two of them spent most evenings and weekends writing out table cards with the help of a few charms. Ginny even roped Hermione into sewing chair covers last weekend which ended in a couple of mishaps but overall turned out to be lovely.
"Of course, I told him not to bring anything, that doesn't mean he will listen though," Hermione mumbles the last part, tying off her bouquet with a piece of twine before popping it into the vase.
She surveys her work for a moment before rifling through the stack of table cards next to her. Ginny's doing the same when she hands a card over.
"Oi, we never checked the spelling!" She displays a card with wonky penmanship resulting in a misspelt table number.
There's a rush from the other room, the unmistakable sound of the Floo opening, followed by the raucous voice of Theo. She turns in her chair, watching as Theo and a blushing Draco enter the kitchen.
"...and why did you bring a tart?" Theo's voice sounds antagonising, he stops mid-step realising he has an audience.
"Because, Theodore, it's the right thing to do. You attended etiquette classes just like I did." Draco grits out between his teeth, his eyes meeting Hermione's. In his hands is what she can only assume is the tart in question.
"You said he wasn't bringing anything!" Harry sounds defeated, standing in front of the range with his hands on his hips, sweat dripping from his brow that he wipes with the back of his hand. He sports an apron, but there are still a few splashes on his shirt.
"He wasn't supposed to!" Hermione says defensively.
"Apparently none of you people have manners." Draco grinds out under his breath, but no one seems to hear.
Ginny squints at Theo for a moment, "Where's Neville?" Hermione is clearing the table of their flower arrangements, picking up as many as she can before floating the rest to the sideboard.
"He's coming. Had to deal with a student before leaving the grounds." Theo makes himself at home, settling into the chair at the head of the table.
"Neville is reprimanding a student?" Ginny's voice sounds bewildered, she takes the tart from Draco who's still standing in the threshold of the doorway. He doesn't know what to do with his hands now that the tart is gone, clenching his fists before putting them in his pockets.
His steps are calculated when he cuts through the room, choosing to sit across from Hermione and next to Theo.
"Neville? Reprimand a student? Never. Someone's shown an interest in growing rare medicinal plants so he's giving them a list of reading material or something." Theo waves his hand flippantly like he can't remember. His eyes settle on the sideboard, scanning the top of it before noticing the record player.
Hermione's about to ask Draco if he wants a drink, but Luna and Melody appear through the doorway in a flourish of bright colours. Melody has a bouquet of sunflowers hiding her face.
When Ginny takes the flowers from her, the smile on her face falls immediately as her eyes settle on the men at the head of the table. Hermione catches those green eyes and gives her a reassuring look.
"Melody, this is Theo and Draco," Hermione says standing, watching as Melody's shoulders fall into a more relaxed posture. She can see her swallow and nod lightly in their direction before settling at the opposite end of the table to observe.
Luna puts a reassuring hand on Melody's shoulder before crossing the room to help Harry.
Neville bursts through the door, "Sorry I'm late! One of my students was showing an interest in the cultivation of—" He stops dead in his tracks for a moment, scanning the table and noticing no one has started yet. "—oh, I guess I'm not as late as I thought I was." He takes the seat next to Hermione as Ginny floats in a bottle of wine and glasses.
"Start pouring folks! Dinner's almost ready!" She announces and Neville takes the bottle mid-air before pouring a glass and passing it down the table.
"Where's Seamus and Dean?" He asks, taking a sip.
"Busy tonight, which reminds me—" Hermione focuses her gaze onto Draco as he takes a sip from his wine glass. "We're going to theirs in the next few weeks for a party. Do you want to come?"
"Oh, Theo and I have plans." Draco watches as Hermione's face falls for a second, "I'm kidding Granger, I have nothing planned, you know social pariah and all."
There's a snort from the opposite end of the table.
Melody's green eyes meet Draco's grey ones and they share a moment of camaraderie.
"Alright everyone elbows off the table! Yorkshire puddings coming in hot!" Ginny sounds so much like Molly when she's commanding the kitchen.
"That tart in there looks lovely, Hermione." Luna practically sings, taking her spot next to Melody.
"Oh it wasn't me, it was Draco."
"I hope this tart is good, let me tell you, our dear Draconi—"
There's a thud from under the table and Theo leans down to massage his shin. Draco stares daggers at him, baring his teeth but their row is cut short courtesy of Harry carrying in a rather large roast.
The table is full of all the mains and sides, Harry has put a record on and the wine has begun to flow. Neville and Hermione keep elbowing one another as they cut their meat and giggle. Draco and Theo sit ramrod straight, napkins on their laps. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Draco looking for a different fork for his main course than his salad.
"We only have one set of cutlery," she whispers, quiet enough for only him to hear.
Luna ensures Melody has enough wine at her end of the table, getting up to grab more.
"Ginevra, will you pass the potatoes?" Draco's voice rises above everyone else's. Ginny is holding the bowl of potatoes and it takes her a moment to realise he's talking to her. A sly smile plays across her lips.
"Sure thing, Draconis." His face pales in the dim light and no one speaks. Bernard Sumner's vocals on Temptation is the only thing filling the silence. Those grey eyes settle on Hermione and she feels a shiver run down her spine.
"You told her?"
"I had to! You don't take that kind of information to your grave!" Theo snorts at Hermione's retort, hiding his face behind his hand. The rest of the table has adopted a similar posture, but it's Melody who says something.
"Are you a Roman general? Draconis is so formal," she says nonchalantly and Hermione can't help but smile as Draco covers his face with both hands.
"The more they tease you the more they like you," Hermione whispers while reaching across the table to touch his hand.
"I'll take your word for it," he mumbles back as the conversations pick up again once more.
That night, after a little bit too much to drink, Hermione convinces Draco to stay at Grimmauld Place. They lay intertwined on her too small bed as Crookshanks looks on from the nightstand. His brows furrowed, golden eyes speaking of death as Draco traces lazy circles on Hermione's back.
"Thank you." She feels him pull away to look at her, his face illuminated by the light from the street lamp filtering in through the window.
"For what?"
"I know tonight was uncomfortable for you, I know how hard it is to be around people you don't know."
"Granger, we all went to school together—"
"I know, I know, but this is different. This was the equivalent of dinner with my family." She finds herself choking up, tears strangling in her throat as Draco pulls her tighter.
"I think Melody and I got on well," he whispers, lightening the mood and placing his chin on the top of her head.
"Which is very surprising honestly."
"Oh come on, give me some credit. I can be likeable."
"I don't doubt that, but Melody spent the first three months here as a cat because she was too nervous to meet any of us."
"So her and Crookshanks must be pals." Hermione snorts, feeling Crookshanks finally settle at the end of the bed. She watches as he keeps one golden eye trained on Draco.
There's a comfortable silence as Crookshanks begins to purr, kneading the quilt and closing his eyes.
"Did you actually bake that tart tonight?" She feels Draco scoff in what can only be annoyance and can practically sense his eyes rolling.
"Granger. Of course I baked the bloody tart, where else would I have gotten a tart from?"
"Pinky could have made it! You could have bought it! I just can't believe you've learned to cook so quickly."
"I haven't learned to cook, but baking and potions are very similar, you know."