A/N: Two more chapters after this one, and I couldn't be more happy about all the positive feedback this story receives. THANK YOU, readers!
In addition to a huge thank you to niffizzle (are you reading Somewhere Down the Line? You should ;) )who had so much work to deal with me and this chapter especially, another thanks goes to LaBelladoneX who inspired a certain James Bond reference here.
Over the next week, the students worked harder and more diligently than ever before. That could have been due to the weather change from sunny to persistent rain, but Hermione liked to believe that they had simply found their intrinsic motivation promoted by learning success.
All in all, Hermione had long since overcome her initial moodiness and was in teacher heaven with small groups, time for individual support, and no distractions by weather that enticed them to spend time outside the library or the classroom. Masters had executed a duel on a decent level without hurting anyone - not even himself. Stevens had managed to brew three out of five potions correctly while enduring a perfect Snape imitation by Draco (Disillusionment Charm and famous phrases included). Even Jacob Higgins, after a step-by-step repeat of the instructions, transfigured a teacup into a pencil and then back again.
In addition to all that, the fact that the boob-tempted boys had somehow prepared a decent breakfast and, more importantly, a good coffee, Hermione was in a quite generous mood. And because she was Hermione Granger, premiere ambassador for the Muggle culture, she couldn't be generous towards her students without giving them an opportunity to learn something new.
And a movie night turned out to be a really good idea.
They had gathered all the students in the Great Hall, and she had organised the technical equipment while Draco had conjured sleeping bags, pillows, and soft blankets and arranged them on the floor. After contemplating for some time, Hermione had chosen two films: 'Finding Nemo' as entertainment for the younger students and a Bond movie ('GoldenEye') for the older ones. The latter one was already nearly a decade old, but it was the first in the franchise with Pierce Brosnan, whom she'd had a small crush on at the time of release, and, honestly, she did it for him and not for England.
"What's it with Muggles and their fascination with movies?" Draco asked, curiously. He sat beside her on the cushioned floor, behind all the students, and kept his eyes on the screen with interest.
She scooted a bit closer to him so that the students wouldn't be disturbed by their talking. Or at least that's what she told herself. Ever since she had kissed him - briefly - she often found herself in very close proximity to the wizard, mostly not knowing whether it was him who stepped into her personal space or the other way around. She simply enjoyed the casual closeness, the occasional touches, and most of all, the excitement.
"I can't speak for all Muggles, but it's really just something I grew up with. It's a favourite pastime of many people for logical enough reasons. It tells stories and allows identification and escape."
"Identification?"
She could feel his low voice vibrating through the fabric of her sleeve where it touched his arm.
"Yes. Let's take a look at James Bond here. He's the perfect picture of a man. Successful with the ladies, smart, mysterious, and saves the world on a daily basis. So when you're working in an office from nine to five, have two children, a dog, and a wife who isn't anywhere close to looking like these Bond girls, it gives the viewer a sense of 'what if', and he can pretend to be like him for a bit," she explained, trying not to be too distracted by Draco's presence next to her.
"Then why don't we have an equivalent of that in the wizarding world?" he inquired further. "I mean, it's not like we all live an exciting life here and personally vanquish the world of all evil like you and Potter."
Hermione smiled in the dark at his thoughtful ponderings. "You know, it wasn't as adventurous as it sounds," she admitted. "But if I had to take a guess, I suppose it's because the objects with whom the people identify with are a bit different in the wizarding world. Powerful sorcerers, Quidditch players, and such."
"And the children?" Draco continued, deep in thought. "They also need reasonable role models and identification options. And I don't think all parents are up to their standards."
Hermione instantly knew he was talking about himself and Lucius. "Absolutely. But you grew out of it, didn't you? You distanced yourself from your family's beliefs," she said softly, placing a comforting hand on his arm.
"But it took a lot of pain and blood for me. And a long healing process." He pensively rested his eyes on her hand.
"I know. But look where you stand today. You are a responsible, hard working, and admired professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. The students look up to you. Would you have expected that some years ago?"
Smiling softly, though with a definite layer of playful, Draco took Hermione's hand in his. She was helpless upon this gentle act. "No," he said. "I didn't expect Hermione Granger to call me responsible and admirable. 'Evil, loathsome, little cockroach', yes, but-"
She interrupted him by tugging him back with the hand he held, causing him to tumble to his side, leaving the other unprotected for a tickle attack. Yes, Hermione knew Draco was ticklish, and he usually underplayed that, but this time, she took him by surprise.
"Huh," he said, trying to cover his laughter. Thankfully, the movie was loud enough to do so. Satisfied that she had interrupted his teasing, Hermione stopped her attack, leaving Draco practically lying over her lap. And he didn't make a move. "I think I'm staying here. If you can keep your hands to yourself, that is," he challenged with a taunting smile.
Hermione really didn't want him to leave. He was warm and comforting, especially when he rearranged his position and rested his head on her thigh. Her heartbeat accelerated, and she longed to run her fingers through the blond locks.
"Well, I think I could, but not everyone has that much of a grip on themselves, it seems." Hermione pointed to two sleeping bags about fifteen metres away. Unfortunately, they weren't the only ones making use of the cosy, darkened environment.
With a heartfelt sigh, Draco pushed himself into an upright position to see what was going on. And indeed, two students, judging by the soft noises and movements, were snogging heavily.
"Keep it in your pants, Worrington!" Draco bellowed. "And Miss Woods, hands where we can see them!"
The group reacted with a wave of laughter and giggling when Fiona, who herself laughed the loudest, stretched both arms over her head, wiggling her fingers.
"One hippogriff space between you two from now on!" Draco ordered, and the students obliged. After the two put some distance between their sleeping bags, the laughter quieted down, and the group concentrated on the movie again.
Hermione couldn't suppress a snorting laugh. "You are so mean!"
"I know," Draco replied and resumed his former position. "With great power comes great responsibility."
She snorted again but finally sunk her fingers into his hair. And yes, it was as soft as it looked - soft and strong. Unbidden, her brain conjured images of her grabbing the very same hair while its owner lowered his head between her naked legs. Hermione slowly exhaled, trying to control her body and mind. Merlin, could Draco smell her aroused state? She shook her head and cast a light Delusionment Charm on them, not wanting the students to see them so close to each other, even innocently so.
Instead of unholy thoughts, she concentrated on how Draco felt beneath her fingers and looked at his face. He had closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. She thought she had never seen him so vulnerable, so relaxed, so… adorable, for the lack of a better word. It felt perfect. Her heart filled with warmth, and she focused on the screen and the movie again.
At some point during the film, Draco must have fallen asleep, for Hermione heard him mumbling, with closed eyes, "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." She traced a finger over his cheek and his lips curled into a smile. Her insides turned to pudding.
By the Founders, she was in serious trouble.
"For the love of Nargles, we're friends. And it's not a date or something!" Hermione muttered to herself.
Three days had passed after the movie night and what had happened there between Draco and her made her somewhat nervous to ask what she was about to ask.
Draco raised an eyebrow at her incoherent mumblings, curious for the reasons behind them. It was not unusual for her to do that, though, but typically it was when she was grading essays in the staff room and oftentimes involved a lot more eye-rolling.
Then, she drowned her coffee with finality and asked as casually as possible, hoping her devious plan would work, "Draco, do you own a formal Muggle three piece?"
"Why?" Draco inquired, his own coffee cup sitting mid-air.
"Because I think we deserve an evening away from the students." Hermione tried to sound confident but couldn't stop herself from nervously running her finger around the edge of her now empty cup. "And I already checked with Neville and Hagrid, and they agreed to watch the children on Saturday for us, and-"
"Just spit it out already, Granger." Draco's eyes sparkled with humour. "You're not Slytherin enough to make me believe you don't have an ulterior motive, so what do you want?"
Oh, Hermione wanted a great many things from him, but first on her list was something a bit embarrassing. She sighed again and decided to come forth with the truth. "My cousin Peter is getting married this Saturday, and I'm in a bit of a bind. You see, my parents can't go because they are on a cruise in the Mediterranean Sea. He's one of the few people in my family who know about my magic. But the rest of them are just -" her voice trailed off.
"As bookwormish as you?" he suggested without malice.
Hermione scoffed. "No, they are the exact opposite of that. My father must have been switched at birth or something, because we're so different from the rest of the family-well, except for Peter. They're all just so superficial, and so uninterested in culture, and a tad snobbish, too," she explained.
"And because I'm all that as well you want to invite me to be your plus one?"
"No! Yes! Maybe," Hermione sputtered and pinched Draco's arm when he laughed at her. "It's just… you know how to behave around such people. And at Grandmother's eightieth birthday, they made a bit fun of me because I came alone. I figured you would impress them." By now, she had flattened her hand on his arm and was drawing soft, small circles with her thumb, gazing up at him with what she hoped were wide, pleading, damsel-in-distress brown eyes.
He chuckled at her obviousness, but she could have sworn his voice had been trembling every so slightly when he answered, "Because you have such charming arguments, I have no choice but to give in, don't I? I'm your date on Saturday."
"It's not a date!" She gave him a dazzling, honest smile. Then, she realized how her last words could be interpreted and, indeed, his coffee cup had stilled in his hand again. She jumped to correct herself. "Because taking you to a relative's wedding would be a sorry excuse for a first date, wouldn't it?"
Apparently relieved that she hadn't simply dismissed going on a first date with him, Draco smirked. "Yes, absolutely." And then he had stopped talking for the rest of breakfast, occasionally humming to himself. Hermione wondered if he was planning a date with her in his head.
The time until the next Saturday flew by in a whirlwind of teaching and tutoring, so Hermione had barely had time to think about her cousin's wedding until she actually got ready for it.
Wolf whistling accompanied Hermione's descent down the steps, and she grinned at Hagrid. The truth was, she felt positively gorgeous in her long, midnight blue dress. The flowing hem and the broad straps were decorated with small rhinestones, and the slit on her right side, ending just above her knee, added a bit of moderate sexiness to her outfit. Her black, high heeled sandals were as comfortable as her every day flats, thanks to some handy charms.
"Thank you, Hagrid," she said, smiling appreciatively at the gameskeeper, but her attention quickly shifted elsewhere.
Expectantly, she looked at Draco, who stood next to the half-giant.
"This is the part where you compliment me. Like, 'You look beautiful, Granger,' or something along those lines. I thought you were raised with manners." Hermione grinned at the blond, rearranging her tamed curls over her shoulders.
Two seconds later, Draco shook his head as if clearing it and then said, "Hermione, you are always beautiful, but tonight, you're stunning."
The sincerity and unexpected awe in his voice made her blush maniacally, and, due to her reaction, he blinked slowly twice, as if just then realising that his honest thoughts had actually left his mouth. To an outside observer, it'd be easy to believe that neither one of them had ever been on a date before.
But this was decidedly not a date, Hermione reminded herself.
"Thank you, Draco." she mumbled, trying not to show too blatantly how his words affected her. "You're looking quite handsome yourself."
And he did. His three piece Muggle suit, probably tailored to make every single one of his attractive physical attributes stand out, made her a bit weak in the knees when she looked at him too long.
"Thank you. Are we ready to go then?" He asked, about to offer her his elbow.
"Just wait one more moment, and then I'm all yours for the evening."
She walked into the Great Hall, where Hagrid (she couldn't even remember when he had left the two of them) had just sat down next to Neville. The students had already come in for lunch, and Hermione saw Draco glaring at a few older, male students who lingered at her form a bit too long. She found his misplaced possessiveness strangely endearing. Belated, Hermione realized that her and Draco coming to the Great Hall looking like that didn't exactly stop the ongoing bets about them from circulating.
"Okay, boys, behave and leave everything as it is. No magical creatures, no funny herbal teas, and no stupid pissing contests!"
"We promise, Professor Granger," Masters answered automatically, deliberately keeping his eyes over her (not even that deep plunging, but certainly deeper than her teaching robes') neckline.
"I'm talking to the Professors, not to you lot, sweetheart," she teased the boy. Long ago, she had found out that calling her students silly pet names worked efficiently to tease them (and, when the situation called for it, embarrassed them a bit).
Like a charm, Marsters blinked owlishly and lowered his eyes, receiving a laughing clap on his shoulder by his neighbour.
Draco snorted quietly but asked his two colleagues, "And are you really sure you will survive taking over our duties for one evening?"
"Yes, of course," Neville answered honestly. "You are here all summer, so you deserve a night off. Enjoy your evening." The Herbology professor made a shooing hand gesture, and with the feeling of a parent leaving their children to be supervised by a babysitter for the first time, Hermione let herself be guided to the nearest Floo towards the Leaky Cauldron, from where she would Apparate them.
As soon as they had landed behind a group of trees, Hermione started motivating herself.
"You can do this, Hermione. It's just a bloody family thing."
"Oh, I assure you, Granger," Draco drily remarked, "it's not as bloody as my family things. All the Muggles and creatures -"
She smacked him lightly, appreciating his effort to make her relax, and looped her arm around his. Together, they walked towards the nearby villa.
"Remind me then not to accept any invitation for a stay at Malfoy Manor if your family reunions are always like that. Oh, I forgot - been there and done that already."
Draco sobered instantly, halting her steps with his hand on her wrist in a gentle grip. "You should come and look at. It's been completely renovated. The Manor, I mean."
Before Hermione could reply, an amused, male voice interrupted them. "A manor? I'm afraid we can only offer you this modest villa." The man pointed at the vast building behind him.
She rolled her eyes and hugged her cousin. Peter had always been the sole person in her extended family that she got along with. He had always accepted her "otherness" as something natural, and they still remained close even after she had confessed her magic to him after the war - being friends with the Minister of Magic sometimes had its advantages when it came to the regulations of the Statue of Secrecy.
"This is Draco. We work together," she introduced her colleague, hoping she didn't sound too fond of him.
Peter quirked his eyebrows, obviously catching onto the evasiveness of her wording. Spending so many hours around a Slytherin had taught Hermione a thing or two. It was subtle, but it was more than enough information to convey that he was 'like her'.
"Pleasure to meet you, Draco," Peter said, extending his hand in greeting. "When you feel the urge to hex one of the relatives - well, just make it look inconspicuous, yes?"
Draco shook Peter's hand with confidence, and Hermione felt validated in her decision to bring him. "No problem. That talent is one of our Malfoy specials."
That smirk would be the death of her one day.
But, of course, she had been right in her assessment of Draco. He fit into the wedding party as if he did this sort of thing every other day of the week, and he certainly knew how to handle her nosey relatives.
"So you've become a teacher, Hermione?" Aunt Iris asked with thinly veiled haughtiness, her daughter Nora hovering nearby.
"Yes. I realised I could do more good in the world by teaching than by being trapped inside a Ministry cubicle. So I only worked for the Ministry for about a year before I went back to university." Not that she hadn't told everyone that years ago.
"And you, Draco? You're into business, I suppose?"
Draco smiled that kind of smile she knew was connected to a bout of superiority. "As much as my father wants me to follow him as head of our traditional family business, I must say I find the teaching position more fulfilling. Maybe one day I'll follow my ancestors' footsteps, but not for the next few years. The company has been there for centuries, so it won't go anywhere before then."
Hermione rolled her eyes when Iris and Nora ahhed in adoration, but she couldn't help feel a bit triumphant at Draco's subtle way of expressing that he came from old money.
The more the party progressed, the more opportunities Hermione had to admire Draco's ability to act totally effortlessly among her relatives. He charmed ancient Great-aunt Margaret by asking about her life in the 1920s (she had been a bit of a spitfire back then), expertly conversed about fishing with her uncles (how he had that extensive knowledge was beyond her; she only hoped it wasn't Legilimency), and even got one of the smaller guests to laugh again after the poor boy scraped his knee. She caught him conjuring a stuffed cat out of thin air which could have ended in disaster, but the others didn't notice, and little Sammy gave Draco a heartwarming, toothless smile, so she supposed she could let him off the hook.
Later that evening, Hermione found herself dancing with her favourite cousin while Draco led the bride across the dance floor with perfect ease. Just another thing he was exceptionally good at.
"So, am I going to be attending a magical wedding next year?" Peter asked with a smile, following her eyes towards Draco and his new wife. He and Hermione tried their luck at coordinated steps but ended up swaying from one side to the other together.
"No!" she said a bit too loud. "Draco and I are friends and colleagues, but nothing more."
"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" her cousin accused her, still laughing, and Hermione felt her cheeks warm involuntarily. Was she that easy to read?
"Stop it! I just barely wrapped my head around the fact that I might have a thing for him. And don't forget, we've already come a long way, him and I, considering we were far from being friends for many years." She didn't need to repeat the entire story, as Peter was already familiar with it. Not the nasty details like her being tortured on his family manor's drawing room floor, but rather the big picture of them being on different sides of the war and how Draco had redeemed himself.
"What's one more step then? I've known you my entire life, and I might only have met him today, but I can see how soft your smile gets when you look at him. Not to mention how he's always finding an excuse to touch you."
At the realisation that he was correct, about the touching thing, at least, something warm tingled in her stomach like a bottle of Felix Felicis. "But what if it's only… physical attraction? Or simply not enough of a spark to risk our friendship over it?" She hated how insecure she sounded.
"Listen to your experienced, hence married, cousin, Hermione. There's more than enough spark between you two. I'd even go so far as to call it 'magic'."
She laughed and interrupted their dancing to envelope Peter in a loving hug. "Thank you. I needed that."
For about a minute, they swayed along with the music, until Peter spoke up again, "So, whenever it comes to that wedding, you're going to invite me, right?"
Hermione grinned. Optimism had always been a strong trait of Peter's. Her eyes fell on Draco, who was all too easy to find with his distinctively coloured hair, and also spotted the tipsy woman with the too generous cleavage who was now dancing with him. "There won't be a magical wedding for you to attend if I don't step in right now, otherwise the potential groom will have been swallowed whole before he ever got the chance!"
Peter turned and agreed, "Ouch, yes, better go. Cousin Sophia can get quite handsy after she's had a few drinks."
Carefully lifting her long dress, Hermione walked over to the dancing pair. When her eyes met Draco's, she saw a mix of panic and disgust evident in them, and she could also see why. Sophia's hands were nowhere near his shoulders, but more wandering towards his delectable bum.
"Draco," Hermione tapped his shoulder, stepping in a bit rudely but not caring about it. "I'm afraid I've danced myself into a frenzy and feel rather heated. Would you accompany me outside to catch some fresh air?"
Dropping his arms like he had been burned, he drawled, "Obviously," before remembering his manners and adding a "Thank you for the dance, Miss," for appearance.
Once outside in the generous gardens, they were surprised by a clear sky, considering the day had been cloudy. The stars sparkled down on them, and the atmosphere was what one could call romantic.
Until Draco opened his mouth.
"I forgot how, excuse my language, horny women can become on weddings, even at a relatively small one like this."
Sitting down on a stone bench, Hermione replied, "Well, the Astorias of the world aren't exclusively witches." She had no idea why she even brought that topic up.
"What do you mean?" Draco frowned as he sat down next to her, so close that their thighs just barely touched.
"What I mean is that Astoria's intentions towards you were pretty clear, even if you rejected her."
"And what's so wrong about that? She's a young, independent woman, albeit with a good portion of pureblood princess in her. It's her right to proposition a man, don't you agree?"
Hermione groaned, frustrated. "Yes, of course I do. That's not… I…" she got stuck in her own feelings, and that incensed her even more.
"You're jealous!"
She snapped her head in his direction. "Am not!" Again, the denial came a bit too loud, too fast. And the stupid man had the nerve to smirk.
"No, you're not. My apologies." She wanted to make a remark about how rare apologies from Draco Malfoy were, but he continued with only a tad of sarcasm, "I can assure you, Hermione, that Astoria and I didn't - pay attention to the past tense here, will you? - have the same relationship as you and Charlie Weasley. I, for example, didn't send her any books with content too mature for the public part of the library."
Hermione coughed to cover her surprise at his words and glared at him.
"Don't look at me like that." He smirked again. Merlin, was that smirk embedded in his genes?
"Well, even I have an itch to scratch from time to time, but there's nothing more between us. Charlie wasn't available, so he thought it funny to send me that book."
"But it doesn't compare to the actual act, does it?" He gently turned her head with one finger under her chin, and Hermione was lost in his eyes. His soft touch stood in stark contrast to the topic of their conversation, but she could care less.
"No, of course not," she almost whispered, hyper-aware of his proximity, his scent, his long lashes.
"I'm going to kiss you now, Hermione." What was worded like a fact sounded more like a question that Hermione agreed to with a small nod. They both must have moved, for the next thing she remembered were his lips on hers, her eyes fluttering closed.
He was so warm and soft, and she could feel his heart beating through his lips. It was short and sweet, but when Hermione opened her eyes and met Draco's again, her insides quivered. She saw devotion and curiosity but also lust and smiles and a bit possessiveness. Everything lay open before her, and she had to inhale sharply due to the intensity of it all.
Smiling, he interlaced his fingers with hers. "We should probably talk about this, but I'd rather take you dancing now."
She nodded again, for once not wanting to analyse the situation but rather enjoy it to the fullest, and let herself be pulled up from the bench by Draco.
"I'm all yours, Professor Malfoy."
His grip on her hand tightened. "Merlin, I hope so."