Love Ain't
Chapter One
"Malfoy? Can I borrow you for a consult?" Hermione Granger asks, poking her head into the office of her somewhat-department-adjacent colleague and smiling a pleading half-smile at the aforementioned blonde wizard.
Draco looks up from his own patient file and nods, granting Hermione entrance into his office. Hermione steps into the small room and closes the door behind her, holding out her current patient's file for him to take.
Hermione leans up against Draco's desk as he studies the file and crosses her legs at the ankle, waiting patiently for him to speak.
"Did the patient come in contact with a cursed artifact?" Draco asks, setting the file down on his lap and looking up at Hermione.
Hermione nods, exhaling heavily in frustration.
"His cousin dared him to sneak into the Department of Mysteries and dick around with some of the accursed objects being decommissioned by the Ministry."
Draco's eyes widen.
"He snuck into the Department of Mysteries?" Draco wonders aloud, looking at his colleague in surprise.
Hermione shrugs her shoulders.
"I did it in fifth year," she states as if that isn't a massive accomplishment for a bunch of teenagers. "At least this patient is a grown man– although, I'm not sure if that's better or worse."
Draco smirks, leaning back in his desk chair lazily.
"Sometimes I forget how impressive you are, Granger– but then you show up to remind me. The 'forgetting' never lasts long."
Hermione rolls her eyes and kicks lightly against Draco's left leg. She doesn't want to actually hurt him, she just wants him to know what an utter prat she still thinks he is.
"Draco. The patient," Hermione presses, attempting to bring Draco's attention back to her original purpose of this visit.
Draco huffs and eyes Hermione as if she has just told him that Santa Clause isn't real– as if asking about her patient is of the utmost betrayal.
"He'll be fine, Hermione. You've reversed the curse on him. Keep him overnight for observation and discharge him tomorrow," Draco states, reaching forward and dropping the file onto his desk beside Hermione, then crossing his arms over his chest. "But you knew that. You're the neurological Healer."
Hermione sighs, pointedly avoiding eye contact with the wizard in front of her.
"Yes, but your specialty is trauma. Interaction with a cursed object is considered a trauma. It made sense to loop you in on his treatment."
Draco has the audacity to wink at Hermione before he speaks again.
"It's alright, Granger. You can just admit that you wanted to see me– you didn't have to come up with an excuse."
Hermione rolls her eyes and just barely refrains from sending a stinging hex to somewhere on Draco's person. She snatches her file up from beside her on his desk and stands upright.
"You're the worst and I hate you."
Draco's smile broadens.
"Awwe, I love you too, Granger."
Hermione stomps off toward the door to Draco's office, intending to head back to her patient when Draco opens his big mouth again.
"I'll swing by and check in on your patient tonight– I'm on overnights again this week. Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours, Granger."
Hermione turns back to her fellow Healer.
"Thank you."
Draco tips his head in acknowledgement of Hermione's thanks, but doesn't speak again.
"You'll call me if anything happens, right?" she asks, her voice quiet and unsure.
Draco stands from his desk chair and steps forward so he is standing directly in front of Hermione.
"Of course. Now, go home and get some sleep," Draco almost orders, though his voice is soft– concerned, even. "Shall I ask Milly to bring you supper? She'll be happy to, you know– she misses you."
Hermione breathes a laugh, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Only if she agrees to join me for the meal," Hermione compromises, knowing in her heart of hearts that she will not have the energy to prepare herself a meal after the fourteen-plus hours that she's been at Mungo's– and that she, too, is rather fond of Draco's house-elf, Milly, so in that case, it would be quite nice to see her, as well. "I miss her too."
Draco nods a quick, decisive nod.
"Consider it done."
"Milly is so glad to be having supper with Miss Hermione this evening– it is such a treat," Milly, Draco's (free) house-elf, gushes, sitting across from Hermione and watching with wide eyes as Hermione enjoys the meal which Milly has brought for her. "Master Draco was rather insistent that Miss Hermione be fed."
Hermione shakes her head. She would be massively embarrassed by Milly's statement if she wasn't so exhausted– or if this had been the first time that Draco has done this for her, but as it happens, it isn't. It's far from it, actually.
"Yes, well, Master Draco should mind his own business," Hermione states, spearing a forkful of green beans and shoveling them into her mouth.
Milly makes a face, her big eyes narrowing at the witch across the table from her momentarily before she speaks again.
"Where is Mr. Ronald this evening, Miss Hermione?" Milly wonders– and her question is clear evidence of her freedom. Unfortunately for Hermione, Milly takes after her former master in both sense of humor and perception.
"He's… He'll be home soon, I'm sure," Hermione glances back over her shoulder at the clock on the stove in her kitchen. "The shop is still open for another hour, so maybe he's having a late night again."
Milly sniffs, attempting to hide her clear disappointment at Hermione's statement.
"It is Miss Hermione and Mr. Ronald's anniversary soon, yes?" Milly asks, though her question seems to have some ulterior motive that Hermione can't quite place.
Hermione nods, though her heart rate picks up speed and her hands begin to sweat uncomfortably.
"Next week," Hermione confirms, though there's none of the excitement in her voice which should probably be present with such a statement. "Five years."
Milly reaches across the table and pats Hermione's hand which isn't currently holding her cutlery.
"Is Miss Hermione enjoying her supper?"
Hermione nods and smiles a somewhat sad smile.
"I am, Milly. Thank you."
Hermione arrives back at St. Mungo's early the next morning, willing herself to not think about the fact that her boyfriend hadn't come home last night. She'd received his owl that he wasn't planning to– that he was staying in the flat above the joke shop with George because closing had taken longer than he'd expected– but that doesn't negate her worry and confusion that apparating home would've probably taken less time than climbing the stairs to the flat did.
"Good morning, Healer Granger," a mediwitch called Lila smiles as Hermione steps out of the elevator onto the Neurological Maladies floor in St. Mungo's
Hermione smiles, saying a quick greeting to the witch as she heads off to begin her rounds on her patients.
Hermione checks in on five of her current patients before she rounds on the room of Mr. Eric Jones– the genius who snuck into the Department of Mysteries the day previous.
"Good morning, Mr. Jones. How are you feeling this morning?" Hermione asks, standing at the foot of Mr. Jones' bed with her patient file in her hands, checking over the notes from the mediwitches overnight, as well as from Draco.
"Much better, lass. That other Healer who came in the middle of the night– the blonde lad– said that I'm doing much better. He spoke very highly of you– said you're the best there is, that I was a lucky man to have you as my Healer."
Hermione resists the urge to roll her eyes. Her patient might've taken Draco's words to heart, but she isn't entirely sure that she believes them.
"I certainly feel like a lucky man to have you as my Healer– such a beautiful, young lass, you are."
Hermione cringes and sighs.
"You're very kind, Mr. Jones. You're also free to go. I'm discharging you now," Hermione explains, attempting to keep her voice level in the face of the patient currently leering at her. "Do not do this again. No more dares, understood?"
Mr. Jones, at least, has the decency to look embarrassed, nodding his head in agreement.
"Yes, ma'am. Though it would seem a shame to go back to a life without your lovely face in the morning," Mr. Jones drawls, a dimple on his right cheek showing proudly. "Any chance I could convince you to have dinner with me?"
Hermione crosses one arm over her torso, the hand of which still holding onto Mr. Jones' file.
"I don't date patients," she responds.
Hermione decidedly does not dwell on the fact that her response likely should've been, 'I have a boyfriend.' and she most certainly does not think about the fact that she was clearly hesitant to admit such a thing.
"You're the worst and I hate you."
Hermione drops herself unceremoniously into the chair opposite the one Draco is currently occupying at his desk.
"I'm starting to think that those words don't mean what you think they mean," Draco smirks, leaning back in his chair and resting his elbows on the arms of his desk chair.
"Mr. Jones asked me out this morning. After you sung my praises last night during your visit," Hermione states, eyeing her colleague pointedly.
In his defense, it looks almost as if Draco is attempting to fight his smile before he loses the battle.
"Well, he's an alright-looking bloke. I say go for it," Draco laughs for a moment before he seems to remember something, reaching behind him to where his lime-green Healer robe is hanging behind him on his chair and fishing into the pocket for something.
"Need I remind you of Ronald Weasley?" Hermione questions, just barely catching the orange-wrapped candy which Draco tosses to her after procuring it from his robe.
Draco visibly shivers.
"Ugh, please don't. I'd love to scrub the image of him from my mind forever."
Hermione tears open the candy packet and bites into one of the chocolate peanut butter cups which Draco had evidently, at some point, acquired for her.
"He is my boyfriend, Draco," Hermione states, though there's hardly any inflection in her voice– hardly any emotion.
Draco rolls his eyes and nods.
"Yes, for reasons which I still cannot understand."
Hermione decidedly does not respond– instead, she finishes off her peanut butter cup, chewing very slowly as if to stall the inevitability of the rest of this conversation.
Draco's face turns serious after a moment as he leans forward, toward Hermione slightly.
"Are you happy, Hermione?" he asks, and though it seems like a silly question, Draco's voice betrays his sincerity.
Hermione swallows the candy, averting her eyes from the cool gray ones boring into her face.
"At the moment? Yes. It's not possible to be unhappy while eating chocolate," Hermione deflects, knowing full-well that that is not what Draco meant by his question.
Draco sighs, standing from his chair and shrugging himself into his Healer robe.
"Just– don't sell yourself short. Everything in your life should be as fulfilling and enjoyable as that strange Muggle candy that you love."
Hermione feels offended on behalf of the entire Muggle population who enjoy peanut butter cups.
"This, coming from the man who eats green apple flavored taffies and nothing else," Hermione scoffs. "I know that they're gifts from your mother, but dear Godric, Malfoy– have some taste."
Draco shakes his head, though his laugh echoes in the room around Hermione.
"You love my taffies. You're just jealous that I haven't shared the most recent batch with you yet."
Herrmione crosses her arms over her chest, but distinctly does not answer. Draco's statement may or may not be true, though she will never confirm or deny this fact for as long as she lives.
With a wandless flourish, Draco opens the top, left drawer in his desk, revealing a glass bowl full of light green taffies individually wrapped in wax paper.
"Go ahead," Draco says, a somewhat teasing lilt in his voice as he gestures to the bowl of candies.
Hermione smiles in gratitude before snatching up a small handful of the taffies, tucking them securely into her pocket alongside the half-eaten package of peanut butter cups.
"Thank you, Draco," Hermione smiles, brushing past him on her way to the door of his office. "You always take such good care of me. You're a good friend."
Fortunately for Draco, Hermione's back is to him and she is nearly half-way down the corridor when his face falls, his mouth curling into a frown at her use of the word 'friend' in reference to him.
Hi, friends! Happy Friday! (:
Welcome to Love Ain't. Some housekeeping here. This fic is inspired by the song "Love Ain't" by Eli Young Band. Listen to it if you've never heard it. It'll make the story make more sense. (:
Next, if you've come over here from my other WIP Dramione, Snippets, thank you! (: I asked in this week's chapter of Snippets if y'all wanted to see this fic now or later and every last review said "now". So. Hi. Now is now. (:
Love Ain't is complete at five chapters total (so, much shorter than Snippets) and new chapters will be uploaded on Fridays.
Once again, because I've learned that I have to explicitly state this because people don't read tags. This fic is a Dramione, a.k.a Draco/Hermione. It's a romance. If you don't like that, don't read this.
Finally, this fic is dedicated to every girl who has ever dated this guy. The guy who thinks you'll never leave. The guy who makes everything else on the planet a higher priority than he makes his girlfriend. The guy who is charming and nice to everyone, unless you're his girlfriend. The guy who always means it when he apologizes... for about two weeks until he reverts back to the behavior he was apologizing for in the first place. The guy who acts like he was blindsided by her leaving him when literally anyone else could've seen that happening a mile away. The guy who causes people to congratulate the girl when she finally leaves him. This fic is dedicated to her. I am her, she is me, and I know that she is a lot of you out there, too.
All of that said, thank you all so much for spending a bit of your time here with me this week. And thank you again if you've decided to follow me over here from any one of my previous fics. Your support means more to me than you could ever imagine. Thank you so much.
Please, if you feel so inclined, review! Let me know what you think of this fic so far and what your hopes are for it. I love reading your thoughts! (: