"The Quiz starts at precisely 6:30, Potter. It is 6:29, and you are down a teammate, which means, in approximately," he took a quick glance at his watch, "forty-eight seconds, your team must forfeit."
Potter rolled his eyes. "Malfoy, you're the only one who takes these rules seriously, give me a break! Look, I promise, I have a fifth, they will be here any second, if you just-– A-HA! Thank Merlin, I was about to have a heart attack."
Draco turned to look through the open door of the Leaky Cauldron, and almost dropped his glass of elf wine. Granger. A very wind-swept, pink-cheeked Granger, unwrapping a ridiculously long Gryffindor coloured scarf from her neck and apologising profusely to Potter.
"I'm here, I'm here—I'm so sorry, I was just submitting my final report to Percy when I noticed I had forgotten a footnote ... " Her eyes locked onto Malfoy, looking far less surprised than he did.
I've been set up! These conniving, little-–
"Alright, there, Malfoy?" Hermione gave him a tight smile. "You look as if you've caught a couple of ghosts with their trousers down."
Before he could answer, Harry handed her a pint. "This is for you, my very special friend, a.k.a. 'Brightest Witch of Her Age,' a.k.a. my teammate for tonight's Pub Quiz." They clinked their glasses. Potter gave Draco a mischievous grin, before leading Granger away. "Over this way, Tonks got us a table."
Draco finally managed to unstick his throat and gave a quick, "Good luck, then, Potter. Granger." Granger whipped her curls around and had the nerve to say, "Oh, I'm fairly certain it's not me that will be needing luck tonight, Malfoy. After all, I was the Pub Quiz Champion during my year at Oxford."
"Of course you were," Draco said through gritted teeth. Without acknowledging his reply, she bounced over to the table with Potter, Tonks, some Ravenclaw from their year ... Boots, maybe, and another longtime Auror whose name he'd forgotten immediately after being introduced.
Before he had time to even fully process Granger's presence, Hannah Abbott stood at the front of the bar, pointed her wand to her throat and cast Sonorus. "Listen up you lot, it's time to start Week 4 of this month's Ministry of Magic Pub Quiz." A few hoots and hollers sounded out across the bar. "This week is sponsored by the Improper Use of Magic Office who asks you to remember not to drink and fly." Dean Thomas from Magical Games and Sports, and his teammate (and rumour had it, boyfriend), Charlie Weasely, took that opportunity to chug their pints.
Hannah cleared her throat and continued, "Right. A quick recap of the current standings: In last place, we have Magical Transportation, in fourth, the DMLE." Tonks made a loud groan. "Having a rough month, are we? Then, in third place, Improper Use of Magic Office. Second, Magical Games and Sports. And in a strong lead, International Magical Cooperation."
Draco took his seat at the IMC's table next to Cormac McLaggen who shouted "Fucking right!" and smacked Draco a bit too hard on the back, spilling a bit of his drink. It was McLaggen who dragged Draco to this ridiculous event two months ago, insisting it was an IMC tradition. Draco loathes the Leaky Cauldron and loathes forced Ministry get-togethers even more. But after getting a taste of soundly kicking Potter's arse at something, Draco never missed a night.
Hannah quickly reminded them of the rules: four rounds, a final timed round and, if needed, a lightning round tie-breaker. Draco was seated directly across from Granger, one table over. He noticed she was furiously writing down every detail Hannah uttered—he could not have rolled his eyes harder. This fucking swot.
"A little bit of an extra incentive this week. Winner of tonight's Pub Quiz, regardless of overall standing, will get a ʛ 20 galleon gift certificate to Flourish and Blotts." Draco could have sworn he heard Granger audibly gasp. His lips twitched.
"Now remember, you are limited to the knowledge you can recall in your own brains. I've got some serious anti-cheating wards up tonight, so no extendable ears, or Legilimency, or any other tricks you may be tempted to use. Let's get started!"
The first round, Famous Witches and Wizards, went by quickly, three of the five teams getting perfect scores, the other two teams not far behind.
The second category, Quidditch Quips, was an unexpected round requiring the teams to match famous quidditch players with well-known quotes. Well known to some anyways—Draco could see the disappointment cross Granger's face. However, with her teammates' help they only managed to miss one.
The third round, History of Jinxes & Charms, caused a bit of a stir. After reading out the answers to the round, Draco could hardly believe his eyes when Granger actually raised her hand. "This isn't Transfiguration class, Granger, just give a shout!" Granger ignored him and kept her hand straight in the air.
"Erm, yes, Hermione? Question?" Hannah walked closer to their table.
"Yes, thanks, Hannah. My issue is with the answer you've put for Question 3. I believe there must be an error, because the name of the witch, not wizard, who invented the Fidelius Charm is actually Felicity Fortescue, not her husband Fabian. A common misconception that was recently cleared up when her descendant, Florian, unearthed some of her old notebooks—"
"If I may be so bold," Draco interrupted, earning a furious glare from Granger, "while Granger is correct that there is a claim that Felicity invented the charm, it is still an open question while those notebooks are being authenticated."
"Actually, Malfoy," Hermione corrected without a small amount of condescension, "It was an open question until last month when the notebooks were officially proven genuine. So, that would mean the correct answer is Felicity Fortescue, not Fabian."
Granger gave a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Draco's teeth were grinding so hard he was certain he could feel them crack.
Hannah looked uncomfortably between the two of them, unsure how to avoid escalating the dispute. "Oh, well, that is such a recent development—I certainly had not heard and I'm guessing many others weren't aware ... I'll accept both answers, just to be fair."
The smile slowly slid off Granger's face, while Draco's returned with a vengeance. He turned to Hannah with a magnanimous bow of his head, "That is most fair of you, Hannah, wouldn't you agree, Granger?"
Granger's curls seemed to spark with magic as she started to rise out of her chair and protest. Potter pulled her back and whispered something in her ear. She breathed slowly through her nose and gave him a curt nod.
Round 4, Hidden Herbology, separated the men from the boys (so to speak), covering questions about rare and extinct plants. The DMLE and IMC took a hearty lead, leaving little chance for the other teams to catch up. DMLE was just one point behind IMC.
"For the final round, I will magick up a board with twenty questions. You will have ninety seconds to answer as many of these questions as you can. The category is Peculiar Potions. These will be deep cuts, ladies and gents, not found in your old copies of Advanced Potion Making." A sinister smile spread across Draco's lips. Potions was decidedly not a passion of Granger's, though she was, of course, a natural talent. He had heard a rumour she had brewed Polyjuice in their second year, a rumour she did not exactly dispel when he confronted her about it during a late night N.E.W.T. study session.
However, Draco's knowledge of potions ran deep. His godfather, Severus, had spent hours with him in extra lessons throughout his time at Hogwarts, and during the harrowing year the Dark Lord lived in his home. Draco thought Severus was giving him an excuse to pause his "training" with his Aunt Bellatrix, and Draco could not have been more grateful. In addition to helping Draco develop his skills as an Occulumens, he and Severus would spend time each week with a new exceedingly difficult potion.
After Hogwarts, Draco had completed his Potions Mastery at the wizarding campus at Cambridge. Though now he was currently stuck in a dead-end job with the Ministry—it appeared no one was interested in having a former Death Eater brew their potions for fear it may turn out to be poison.
Unless of course, they wanted a poison, in which case he was exactly the person to owl. As a result, Draco had developed a good rapport with the DMLE, passing on intel for the more unsavoury inquiries he received, and providing consultations for cases involving poison, giving them immensely helpful insight and even brewing antidotes on rare occasions.
Draco rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles, giving Granger a wink. She scowled, shushing Potter and Tonks telling them she needed silence. My gods, this was satisfying to watch.
Hannah waved her wand, and a chalkboard and large timer appeared with 1:30 seconds on the clock. As soon as the timer began, twenty questions appeared on the board, and the sound of scratching quills was the only sound in the bar. Draco had cast a Muffliato charm around their table to prevent anyone from listening in, and based on the lack of voices he heard, he suspected many other teams did as well.
His team first let him run through the questions without chiming in, knowing he had a much stronger background in potions, but after he filled in as many answers as he could, they put their heads together to discuss the ones he skipped, McLaggen primarily providing moral support. They had an answer for every single question except number 15, which was maddeningly just on the tip of his tongue. It finally came to him just as the timer went off and he scribbled furiously.
"Quills down, QUILLS DOWN!" Granger shrieked, pointing at Draco as he quickly finished the last question. "You cannot count that last question, they were writing after the timer went off!"
Draco raised his hands above his head letting Hannah take away the parchment to score. "Good lord, Granger, are you that concerned you're about to lose by one point?"
"My only concern is that the proper team wins, the team that has followed the rules." She retorted. Her curls were growing wilder with each passing round, they now looked as if they had taken on a life of their own, Potter had to continually push her hair out of his face. This riled up and rankled Granger just might be Draco's favourite version of the know-it-all witch.
That being said, it might be tied for first place with a flushed and flustered Granger.
The last time Draco had spoken to her was at some Quidditch event at Blaise's place about a year ago. Draco had shown up fashionably late, expecting to see the usual Quidditch royalty and pure-blood elitists. These events were exclusive; Mrs. Zabini strove to make it the most sought after invite, second only to the Malfoy New Years Gala.
Draco had been hoping to rub elbows with a few influential members of wizarding society. His attempts at rehabilitating his reputation had not gone as planned, but Draco was anything but a quitter. A few members of the Hogwarts school board were at the event and he had a large donation he had been intending on making. More than being a means to re-establish his family name as something other than Death Eater slime, he had developed a special interest in recognizing and supporting Muggle-born talent.
As he looked across the ballroom, he was surprised to see so many redheads in attendance. He quickly learned the Harpies had recently recruited the youngest Weasley, aka Weaslette. With that knowledge in mind, his eyes scoured the crowd looking for a familiar head of brown curls.
As the band ended a song, and the dance floor cleared, a witch in a golden, satin dress came into view. Hermione looked stunning—her hair tamed into an elegant french knot at the nape of her neck, the gold dress was a modern Muggle cut, showing nearly her entire back. The satin draped intoxicatingly between her breasts. She was smiling, and laughing, and charming the pants off every wizard in the room, moving with a graceful ease he normally didn't see when she was hunched over with a dozen books in her possession.
It was the Yule Ball all over again but somehow ten times worse. Because this time, she was on the arm of Ronald Weasley, the bloody git.
Draco's eyes did not leave her for the next twenty minutes. He knew he was behaving like a creep, but there was absolutely nothing that could pull his gaze away. Finally, he nearly involuntarily walked toward her, desperate to speak to her, to hear her voice again.
He approached the Golden Trio plus the Harpy Chaser sitting at a table. "Potter. Weasel." He nodded to men of the four-some sitting at a table, then turned to their better halves. "Weaslette. Granger." He dropped his voice just a bit lower for the last name, his gaze now locked on to hers and not moving. Four pairs of eyes stared back at him, the pair of honey-brown eyes looking cold and indifferent. An awkward silence hung in the air.
Mercifully, Potter jumped in. "Alright, Malfoy? Haven't seen you in a minute. How is, erm, where was it, King's College?"
"Cambridge, actually." He could tell that sparked Granger's interest despite her efforts to remain nonchalant. "I'm getting my Potions Mastery. They have a wonderful program there."
"Well, that's, erm, great! Right, Gin?" Bless ol' Saint Potter. Not sure what got into him but he was making an effort.
"Yeah, sounds great, ferret." Ginny spoke with the minimum amount of enthusiasm strictly necessary. The little Weaslette stood grabbing Potter with her. "Let's go grab another glass, shall we, Harry?"
"Right, well, see you later, Malfoy." He gave Draco a tense smile and they wandered closer to the dance floor.
Now that the only two people willing to speak to him had left, Draco felt it was the perfect time to pull up a chair. "So, Weasley, have you followed in Granger's footsteps and headed to Oxford? Getting a mastery in . . . hmm, not sure what your best subject was at Hogwarts—"
"You know very well I'm working with George, you pretentious prick." Weasley spat out. Granger put her hand on his arm in a gentle warning.
"Language, Weasel. As a matter of fact it had completely missed my attention that you're working for your brother. I'm sure he appreciates that very much."
"With. I'm working with my brother. I'm a partner and–" His face was turning crimson red. Classic. "Fuck it, I have no idea why I'm bothering."
All of a sudden, Draco heard a powerful pop of a champagne bottle, a scream from the dance floor and loud crash. The band stopped playing and everyone was looking at the dance floor. Potter was lying on top of Ginny waving his wand around like he was in the middle of battle looking for the next target.
"Goodness, I always knew Potter was a terrible dancer, but he's taking it to the next level." Draco quipped.
"Be quiet, Malfoy." Granger said sharply. It was the first thing she had said since he had sat down, and he was so caught off guard, he shut his mouth.
At that moment, Harry ran out of the room rushing past their table without a glance. "You better go after him, Ron. Something's not right." Weasley quickly followed Potter out of the ballroom, soon followed by Ginny. The band started playing again, and the chatter slowly started back up.
Draco and Granger turned back to each other, grey eyes meeting brown, many things left unsaid lying between them. Draco could feel the tension building in his chest and he noticed she was starting to breathe faster. Finally, Draco had broken the silence, "Well, I would be remiss if I didn't take this opportunity to ask you for a dance. I'm certain the Weasel would not permit it."
Granger laughed with a look of disbelief, "I don't need Ronald's permission to dance, Malfoy. However, if I recall correctly, last time I saw you, you literally ran away to avoid being touched by a Muggle-born, so forgive me if I find your offer less than genuine."
Shit. He knew exactly what she was talking about. That day in the library, celebrating end of N.E.W.T.s, he had been filled with immense shame about someone so pure and good forgiving so easily, giving comfort to a fucking Death Eater. And reaching her hand to his Dark Mark, no less. He had been so uncertain she would even speak to him, let alone study with him, let alone have some sort of ... something ... between them. He felt like such a sack of shit at that moment, he ran away like a coward.
Instead of apologising or explaining himself, Draco said with a low voice, "If I gave you the impression that I was not interested in touching you, then we've clearly had a miscommunication."
A flush of red began to creep up her chest and neck. Her eyelashes fluttered as she broke eye contact trying to regain her composure, utterly flustered. It was fucking gorgeous. "Well, but you-–I–I don't know how you can change your tune so completely, or think I can just forget how you treated me, but I-–"
Draco had walked around to her chair while she stumbled over her words. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up and pressed her close to him before she could protest. He wrapped his hands around her waist to the small of her back. Her hands laid against his chest. She stood there, wide-eyed, barely breathing, but he felt her heart pounding. Or was that his?
He was just about to pull her towards the dance floor, when the redheaded moron came back into the room. The moment his eyes fell on the two of them, his face turned beet red and he rushed over.
"Get your fucking hands off my girlfriend," he growled as he approached.
"Ronald!" Granger immediately pushed away from Draco, turning to calm down her gorilla of a boyfriend. "Relax, he was just asking for an innocent dance!"
While "innocent" was not exactly the word Draco was going for, he couldn't help but smirk that Granger's first instinct was to come to his defence. The look on Weasley's face showed his confusion and disgust, and Draco immediately felt in the mood for taking him down a peg or two.
But Granger cut off any further skirmish between them by asking after Potter. Weasley, whispered in her ear, then pulled her away to the exit, and Draco didn't see her again for the rest of the night.
"Settle down, settle down!" Hannah's voice interrupted Draco's trip down memory lane. She was trying to quiet the crowd; most were quite drunk at this point, one member of the Improper Use of Magic Office already had his head on the table and was snoring loudly.
"Results after the timed final round are as follows: Improper Use of Magic in last, Magical Transportation in fourth, third, Magical Games and Sports" a loud Quidditch chorus started up from Dean and Charlie with their arms around each other's shoulders.
While Hannah paused to cast a quick silencing charm at the pair, Draco stole a glance at Granger. He was surprised to find she was looking right at him, with a knowing smile. Then he heard Hannah say "and tied for first, IMC and the DMLE!" Potter and Tonks jumped out of their seats holding on to each other and screaming.
"You haven't won yet, you gits!" Draco yelled, trying to avoid Granger's eyes again, though he could feel her self-satisfied smile pointed in his direction.
"Draco's right, it ain't over yet. Pick your teammate for the lightning round." Without consulting their teammates, Draco and Granger immediately stood up and walked to the front of the bar right in front of Hannah.
In a very unwelcome thought, Draco briefly felt like they were standing at the altar waiting for Hannah to marry them. He quickly shook his head and looked Granger in the eyes. Her pupils were dilated, her eyes looked almost entirely black, a dangerous gleam emitted from them in the low light of the pub. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, feeling something other than a desire to destroy her at trivia. A different sort of all-consuming need began to fill his mind-–his eyes quickly flitted down to her lips.
Focus, Draco, FOCUS! Don't let this doe-eyed maniac distract you! His eyes returned to hers, this time with his Occlumens shields more firmly in place.
Hannah summarised the rules placing two buzzers down on the counter in front of them. "Alright, the name of the game is speed. Whoever buzzes first gets to answer first. If you get an answer wrong the other team gets a chance to answer. If they get it right, they automatically win. Otherwise, the first team to get five correct answers wins."
"Ready, Granger?" He said softly, in his lowest, most predatory voice. He thought he saw a shiver pass over her, but her response was calm and measured.
"Oh, I am more than ready, Malfoy." He blew out a short breath. FOCUS, you idiot!
His hand hovered over the buzzer, as was Granger's, her other hand gripping the table with white knuckles.
I'm going to fucking destroy you.