Draco did not usually arrive at the Ministry before Hermione, but given his restless night's sleep, he figured he may as well stew at work instead of allowing his erratic thoughts to continue plaguing him at home.
After he'd dropped Hermione by her flat- in what was a painfully awkward series of are you sure you're oks followed by a myriad of of course I'm fines, he returned to the Manor in utter bewilderment of how his life had managed to go completely tits up in the span of only a couple of hours. What started out as an admittedly flimsy plan to circumvent his parents' pitiful marriage contract, turned into a cataclysm of epic proportions that ended with him practically devouring his coworker on the dance floor of his parents' chateau.
He had replayed the unholy mess over and over and over again in his head while he struggled and failed to fall asleep only to conclude that while it seemed Hermione was more than capable of forgetting it all, he assuredly was not. In fact, he decided that were he to die and be reborn a thousand times over, he'd still lack the capability to unfeel the way her lips moved so effortlessly against his own- to unhear the breathless whimper his tongue elicited from her mouth- or to untaste the bittersweet remnants of champagne as he inhaled her ragged breath.
He'd wondered that morning, not for the first time, if he was adept enough at magic to manage a memory charm on his own mind as it seemed to be the only reasonable way he could successfully move forward with his life in any recognizable capacity. In the end, he'd concluded that he was royally fucked. And for once, he'd no strategic plan in place to set his life back to rights.
So, instead, he'd packed up his scant work belongings and arrived at the Ministry carrying a caddy with two stasis-charmed coffee mugs and a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet under his arm. His mind was so muddled with flashbacks from the previous evening, he wasn't even sure he could hold a proper conversation with anyone should someone happen to cross his path. Fortunately, the Ministry hallways were desolate at this sinfully-early hour so he needn't interact with a solitary soul.
He muttered the wandless unlocking spell that opened the door to their shared office, casting a Lumos as he ambled through the walkway and toward his desk. Just as he set his belongings down, he heard an audible click from behind him, the familiar sound of the office door closing.
"Gods I love a good walk of shame," Theo crooned, much too loud for the early hour.
Draco dropped his head. "For fuck's sake," he muttered under his breath, turning to face him. "What is it, Nott? What brings you to my office this early on a Tuesday- when you know-"
"It's Wednesday," Theo cut in with a wry smirk. Seeing Draco's annoyance, he flapped his hand, adding, "Neither here nor there. Go on."
Draco's face contorted into a scowl. "Again, why are you lurking around the hallways of the Ministry at what basically amounts to be the middle of the night- wait, are you following me?"
Theo muffled a chuckle behind his fist. "Ahhhh, Romeo. I have to admit, I'd expected to find you in a far better mood than this after the rather arousing night you've had."
Draco fought to control his breathing. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Theo laughed again, this time more heartily. He sashayed through the room, taunting him with his presence in a way only Theo knew how. "Don't play coy with me, loverboy."
Without missing a beat, Draco stalked over, glaring down at him with unrestrained agitation. "Quit with the games, Nott. As you can see, I'm hardly in the mood. Now tell me what the hell you're on about."
Recognizing that his friend was dangling perilously close to the edge of utter madness, he gave up on his antagonistic prologue and opted for the truth. He casually reached into the front pocket of his robes, pulling out his copy of the Daily Prophet and handing it to him.
A dull, aching pit formed at the base of Draco's stomach as he examined Theo's blank expression before looking down at the cover of the newspaper.
The distance between Theo's face and the print seemed agonizingly far, his eyes moving as if they were in slow-motion.
In the span of mere fractions of a second, Draco hoped beyond hope that this had nothing to do with what he feared it did.
He could feel his heart pounding a staccato in his neck as he caught sight of the picture looking back at him- he and Hermione feasting on each other's lips accompanied by the jarring headline, Disgraced Death Eater Finds Salvation in the Arms of Hermione Granger.
His head sank low in misery. "Fuck. Gods, no. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fu-."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it- you're fucked. But what's done is done. What we need to do is stop moaning and start talking about how you're going to get yourself out of this mess."
"She can't see this," he said with a hoarse whisper, dropping into a seat. "Granger. It will destroy her. It will destroy her career. It will ruin her life. Fuck all. You don't understand. This is the worst possible thing that ever could have happened- in this world or in any other."
He raked a tense, almost shaking hand through his hair, head plunging into his palm.
"What in the bloody hell happened anyway? Last time I saw you two, you were arguing over- wait. You didn't do what I think you did, did you?"
"What do you think I did?" Draco groaned from between his fingers.
"You didn't take Granger to France to pick up daddy's little pamphlet or whatever- to try to get out of that marriage contract, did you?"
Draco dropped his hand momentarily and looked up at him with rapidly escalating annoyance. "Yes. And if I remember correctly, that was actually your recommendation."
Theo covered his mouth to stifle his laughter, his head shaking back and forth in disbelief. "Shite, mate. You couldn't have thought I was serious." His whole body began to convulse. "I was just messing with you. I thought you knew. Fuck." His raucous laughter morphed into more of a reckless howling. "Shite- taking Granger to meet your parents would be a terrible idea!"
Draco practically growled as his erstwhile friend's barking laughter echoed through the room. "Nott. I am warning you," he said in a deadly serious voice. "Nothing about this is funny." He waved Theo's copy of the paper. "This will destroy her. There's got to be something I can do to keep her from seeing this."
Theo's laughter abruptly halted as he fixed Draco with a befuddled stare. "Mate, even if you can keep her from seeing it, do you know how many thousands of copies are floating around right now?"
Theo's words seemed to sink in as Draco considered it.
"Besides, if I were you, I'd be more worried about what Potter and Weasley are going to do to you when they find out."
Draco squeezed his eyes shut. "Potter and Weasley I can handle. But what about Kingsley? When he finds out I'm fraternizing with a coworker, I'll be off the case. Hell, the Wizengamot is probably hosting a sacking meeting as we speak."
Theo shrugged. "You never know. Either way, this job is the least of your worries. We need to figure out how to pad this room for when Granger finds out. Do you know any good cushioning spells?"
Draco looked up, rolling his eyes. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"
"I'm ridiculous? It's not my tongue on the front page of the Prophet playing tonsil Quidditch with Granger's. Which by the way, I'm dying to know- is she a good kisser? Because once in sixth year I had a dream that Granger and I-"
"Nott." Draco fixed him with a lethal glare.
"Right, sorry. I forgot- she's your witch."
Draco shook his head in exasperation, staring down at the tile floor.
"What? What did I miss?"
"Granger's not my 'witch,'" he said in some sort of a constrained monotone.
"But I just saw you on the front page of the newspaper snogging her like you're a drought and she's the oasis." When Draco didn't look up to acknowledge his extremely valid point, he added, "Oh, gods -please don't tell me this is another one of those gossip rag's exaggerated misrepresentations, cuz damnit- I bought into this. I was there for it- I shipped it, mate."
"It's complicated," Draco muttered under his breath. "Well, it wasn't. But it is now."
Theo's eyes widened in recognition. "Oh, shite. I've seen that look before." He shook his head back and forth, moving to pace the floor as he processed this alarming new tidbit of information. "You fancy her. You snogged her and now you can't stop thinking about her."
The deafening silence was all the confirmation he needed.
"Shite, mate. You're fucked." He looked down at him shaking his head in pity.
"Yes, I've already drawn that conclusion."
"So you're admitting it, then? You fancy Granger?" He stopped his pacing to survey his friend.
"It's complicated," he answered again.
"That's fine. You don't have to tell me what I already know. Besides, right now we need to focus our attention on containing the tsunami. I can start by going door to door and Obliviating everyone who subscribes to the Prophet," he offered up. "Or- I can march over to their headquarters and demand they print a retraction or face the wrath of Theo Nott. Or- yeah, that's all I got."
Draco shook his head in an absent fugue. "I have to go see her. I have to get to her flat before she sees it." He stood up resolutely, suddenly morphing into a man on a mission.
"Wait, you're leaving?" Theo asked, darting over to block his path. "But we've yet to discuss the part about how you're ever going to show your face again in public. Or how the press is going to hunt you like an African Erumpet. And what about what Granger's going to say when you get up the nerve to tell her you fancy her?"
Draco's forehead furrowed as he moved to duck and weave the obtrusive sod but Theo was unyielding in his crusade.
"You are going to tell her, aren't you?" he pressed.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Ahhhh, so that's the game we're playing."
Draco finally managed to step around him, scrambling to the door before pausing to look back. "If I'm not back in an hour, come looking for me," he said, his mouth set in a hard line.
Finally relenting, Theo nodded in solidarity as Draco rounded the corner toward the lifts.
