Chapter Text
Since her Fourth Year, Hermione had lost any and all respect for the Wizarding press. Even though Rita Skeeter was fired from the Prophet following the Battle of Hogwarts, sensational articles were still frequently published.
Hermione couldn’t so much as go out with a friend, let alone on a date, without it being splayed all over the society pages with speculation. She was engaged, she was pregnant, she and Ron were having (another) affair. Harry and Ginny liked to joke about all the times they were accused of having affairs, and with whom they were supposedly having them.
Hermione preferred to ignore them.
After being interviewed about her new House-Elf bill, however, she had to see how the Prophet was spinning it and how it came across to get an idea of what damage control might be necessary. It was already April, and her goal was to present to the Wizengamot in June, or July at the very latest. There was so much work left to do, made all the more difficult by work piling up for the department, but she was determined to make the most of her spring to tighten everything up and have a perfect document ready to pass into legislation.
Drumming up public support and enthusiasm for the bill was an important step, one that started with Draco at Maddox’s party back in October and continued with the Prophet article.
Hopefully.
The article began on the front page, which was good news although not entirely unexpected since her name on a headline typically increased sales. It outlined all of her main talking points, the benefits of the bill, and the inspiration behind it. Equal parts heartfelt and factual, she was strangely touched by what she read.
As she flipped towards the back of the paper to finish the second half of the article, she paused as a familiar face caught her attention.
Spring Blooms Love for Malfoy Heir!
Half a dozen pictures stared back at her of Draco with Astoria Greengrass. It had to be more sensationalized nonsense—
But almost every picture was of them in different formal outfits. Candlelit dinners. Nights at the theater. Escorting her down Diagon Alley, holding her purchases for her.
Was Draco courting Astoria? He’d never mentioned any sort of relationship with anyone. Neither had Pansy, Theo, or Blaise. Astoria hadn’t been to any of the Snake Nights Hermione had attended.
But she had arrived with Narcissa when Draco was in St. Mungo’s. Had enough familiarity with the family to escort the solicitors to the Floo.
Draco was obviously seeing Astoria in some sort of context. Hermione couldn’t shake the sense of betrayal that he’d never mentioned her. Was it just pressure from his parents? Or was it something serious? She and Draco talked about so much…why hadn’t this come up?
Slamming the paper shut—as much as was possible, anyway—she got up with a huff and Floo’d to her office early.
The giant stack of busywork awaiting her only worsened her mood.
Draco showed up half an hour later, bearing two cups of takeaway tea and a pastry bag. “Masala chai and blueberry scone.”
She frowned. “What’s this for?”
The hopeful look on his face fizzled out. “To celebrate the article? Is that okay?”
Great. Now they were celebrating an article about something he’d never bothered to tell her.
“I thought it was excellently written.”
She hadn’t actually read it, just looked at the pictures of him with Astoria. No one could deny they weren’t a stunning couple. Every inch the pureblooded Sacred Twenty-Eight union.
“It included all your main arguments and why the new law will benefit everyone.”
Right. Shit. The article about the House-Elf Bill. Which she had never finished reading because she’d been so distracted about the article about Draco and Astoria.
“Oh, yes, no, that one was great,” she said.
He frowned. “Did you see the opinion piece by Tiberius McClaggen?”
Her head flew up. How had he found out her interview was being published? Or already read enough of it to respond? “About the House-Elf Bill?”
“Not directly, but it was there if you read between the lines,” he said. “I was going to try to cheer you up by telling you that anyone clever enough to understand what he was saying is also clever enough to do their own research.”
“Yes, I try to ignore most of what comes out of that old windbag’s mouth.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a small smirk before his expression grew concerned again. “Was there something else that was bothering you?”
“Oh, uhm, no.” If he wasn’t going to tell her about Astoria, she wasn’t going to pry. It wasn’t any of her business who he saw outside of the work day. Not unless it was affecting his work, which was as excellent as ever. “Just frustrated about all the busy work.”
He sat down at his desk and took a sip from his takeaway drink. She watched his lips close around the drink and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “Want me to arrange for an accident for whoever’s doing it?”
She snorted. “That would mean finding out who is behind this.”
“Have you asked Potter for help?” he asked. “Or Grimblehawk?”
“No,” she said. “They’re busy.”
“So are you,” he said. “Usually our friends are more willing to help than we believe.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
Draco smiled.
He’d been sharing them more and more freely in the past few weeks. For a while, she’d believed it was because they were opening up to each other and their friendship was growing. Or because he trusted her and was genuinely happy spending time with her.
But maybe he was just in a good mood now that he was courting Astoria.
“Well, pass it on over, Granger,” he said. “Let’s knock it out as quickly as we can before they realize how competent we are.”
She split the stack in half and passed it to him without another word. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he reached for his quill. His long fingers wrapped around it, dipping into the ink pot and scribbling across the page. He somehow had the most perfect handwriting she’d ever seen. Doubtless it had as much to do with being trained with a quill from his first letters as the calligraphy lessons he took but it still didn’t seem fair.
She wondered if Astoria got letters from him in his perfect handwriting. What he said to her. If she kept them.
Godric, she was getting too distracted. What Draco did or didn’t do with Astoria was none of her business and she needed to focus on her work.
Despite the fact that masala chai and blueberry scones were her favorite, both tasted like ash as she began making her way through the giant pile of time-wasters on her desk.
“Hermione Granger, you tricked me,” Pansy snapped.
She smirked at her as she slipped her arm through Pansy’s so she couldn’t escape the crowded pub. “Me? Trick you? A cunning Slytherin? Impossible.”
“Gloating doesn’t suit you.”
She snorted. That was rich coming from Pansy. “I told you I had plans.”
“So you dragged me to this?”
“You can go to Theo’s.”
“I thought we were boycotting after he put up those monstrosities.”
Hermione burst into laughter at the mention of Theo’s latest hobby.
After listening to Pansy complain for months—if not years—about the lack of art in his home, Theo decided to take up painting. The one he made of the five of them together standing on a grassy field with blue sky, cartoon clouds, and a sun with bright rays looked like something a ten year old would paint, but his self portrait was what absolutely sent her into hysterics the moment she saw it.
Dressed in formal wizard robes, Theo had a rose in his mouth by the stem. Somehow it managed to be both terrible and yet humorous enough that it felt intentional. Theo’s immense pride at displaying it only added to its charm.
When Hermione said she’d be unable to make it to card night the following week—because the DA were all getting together—Pansy had announced she, too, was boycotting card nights until Theo’s paintings were taken down. It was, of course, only going to make Theo more stubborn about his “art” but Hermione was looking forward to seeing it each week.
“I told you I wasn’t cancelling my plans,” Hermione said. “You insisted we hang out so I picked the place.”
Pansy continued to pout as they made their way over to the table shoved against a booth to expand it. It wasn’t quite full, but by the time the rest of the DA members arrived, it would be packed tight.
“Plus, Draco said your favorite wine is here,” she said.
“Was that before or after he ended up in St. Mungo’s?” she drawled.
“Don’t make jokes about me bathing in mud and you’ll be fine,” she said.
“What about jokes about giving up Potter to the Dark Lord?”
Considering Harry, Ron, and Ginny’s reactions to Hermione being friends with Pansy, she couldn’t imagine it going well. “I’d avoid those too,” she said. “Even if we know you didn’t mean it.”
“I did mean it,” she said.
Hermione rolled her eyes. Pansy was always so insistent on people not liking her or giving her a chance. She refused to be one of them. “I don’t believe you,” she said. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Is that what you told Draco right before he ended up at St. Mungo’s?”
Ignoring Pansy’s dry comment, she marched right up to the booth. Most of the conversation died out as soon as she and Pansy sat down. “Hey, everyone,” she said with a smile. “You all remember Pansy?”
Looks of disbelief shot her way.
Dennis Creevey, of all people, gave her a friendly smile. “Hey, Pansy,” he said. “How have you been?”
She stared at him for a few heartbeats, as if taken back by the fact that he dared to speak to her. “Lovely, and you?”
“Great,” he said. “Started my own business and it’s going well.”
“He does building reconstruction and renovations,” Hermione said.
“Fascinating, I’m sure,” Pansy drawled.
Down the table, Ginny rolled her eyes with a look of annoyance.
Dennis didn’t appear the least bit fazed by Pansy’s tone. “It is, actually,” he said. “I’ve combined a number of magical and muggle techniques to find the right balance of quality and longevity.”
Slowly, the other conversations started to pick up again around them and everyone started to settle in and enjoy themselves.
It was like a constant game of musical chairs anytime they got together, but, unlike Draco, Pansy stuck to Hermione’s side like glue, moving each time she did.
In a lot of ways, Pansy reminded her of a cat. Stubborn, sassy, particular. Deeply loyal to a limited few while pretending to hate everyone else, despite being a complete softie on the inside.
“Sorry I’m late.”
Hermione looked up and beamed as Neville walked up to the booth.
“Third Year double Herbology with Gryffindors and Slytherins will be the death of me, I swear.”
She jumped up from her seat and gave him a tight hug. “We’re just glad you’re here now.”
“Firewhiskey, Nev?” Seamus called, standing up.
“Thanks, mate.” Neville smiled at Hermione and then did a double take when he saw Pansy sitting next to her.
Hermione grinned. “Nev, you remember Pansy, right?”
He gave her an easy smile. “Good to see you, Parkinson.”
Pansy gave him a once over and lifted an eyebrow with an unimpressed look. “Longbottom,” she drawled. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”
“Since school?” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I grew about three inches.”
“Congratulations,” she said, completely deadpanned. She turned her back completely to him and back to face Hermione. “As I was saying…”
Hermione traded a smirk with him over Pansy’s head before she listened to the continuation of her story.
“So, Nev, where’s the new girl?” Dean asked. “Weren’t you going to bring her by tonight?”
“Ah, yeah, I was going to.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “We, ah, broke up. Tonight, actually.”
There was a chorus of halfhearted “sorry mate” and “oh no’s” from the group.
Pansy scoffed. “So he’s been dating someone for months that none of you have met and when it’s time for her to show up, they’ve suddenly broken up?” Even if her words were directed at Hermione, they were loud enough for the whole table to hear them.
Across the table, Ginny shot Pansy a sharp glare. Neville, however, looked like he was trying not to smirk.
Hermione didn’t know if Pansy had intentionally let her voice carry that far or not. “He’s been dating Hannah Abbott off and on since Sixth Year,” she said, quietly enough only Pansy could hear. “We all know they’re going to end up together, they just need time.”
“Maybe Abbott’s the first Hufflepuff with sense,” Pansy drawled, eyeing Neville again with another dismissive look.
Hermione elbowed her.
Pansy gasped, scandalized, and rubbed her side like Hermione had actually hurt her.
“Neville’s great,” she said.
She sipped her wine. “Only a truly desperate witch would consider him.”
Rolling her eyes at her friend’s antics, she turned back to the conversation, trying to pick up what had happened with Neville. He was always vague about his relationships, but it came out of respect. He’d never been one for gossip, despite sometimes being the subject of it.
On one of the shuffles around the table, she found herself next to Dennis Creevey. Pansy was deep in conversation with Parvati about the latest spring styles so she leaned closer towards him.
“Thanks for being nice to Pansy,” she said in a low voice.
He smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “Most of them had a hard go of it. Different ways, of course, but she’s not who she used to be and shouldn’t be responsible for how she behaved then anyway.”
Even after all he’d lost, Dennis was still so kind and understanding. He’d never lost his joy in the magical world, even after seeing the darkest parts of it.
“I saw your article in the Prophet,” he said. “Must be nice to have something good written in it for once.”
Every time someone mentioned it to her, all she could think about were those stupid pictures of Draco and Astoria Greengrass. “Yes, it was a wonderful news day,” she said sullenly.
Dennis glanced at her, studying her. “How’s it been, having an intern this year? Malfoy still working out well?”
Of course he would bring him up. “Yep,” she said. “He’s been very helpful.” Luckily his busy social calendar didn’t impact his work.
“That’s good,” he said. “The freelance designer I mentioned to you at Halloween? Astoria Greengrass. Always has nice things to say about Draco.”
Godric. He was really driving the point home. She took a big gulp of the wine Pansy had insisted she order. “Yeah, apparently they’re both quite close.”
He smirked. “Oh, yeah, I saw that spread too,” he said. “Granted, you never know what’s true in the Prophet or not.”
They’d looked a little too cozy for her to believe anything different. Plus there was the whole Astoria showing up at his bedside when he’d been in St. Mungo’s.
Godric, she hoped no one hexed Pansy tonight. She would probably murder them if they tried. Hopefully they all learned their lesson after last time.
“How often do you get out into Muggle London?” Dennis asked.
“Mostly just with my mum,” Hermione said. “But that’s rare.” They usually just spent their time at her parents’ home.
“Yeah,” he said. “Sometimes I miss it. The magical world is incredible, obviously, but I miss the simplicity of Muggle London sometimes. Kind of like how no one can make something as good as a dish you remember from childhood.”
She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. Straddling two worlds was difficult sometimes when it felt like you didn’t belong completely in either place. “Harry and I try to go to the cinema together every few weeks.” Watching the latest movies while eating popcorn and drinking tango ice blasts was so simple but felt like holding fast to a part of her past. “If you ever want to go do something, let me know.”
He smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “Maybe I’ll owl you about lunch sometime.”
That actually sounded wonderful. “I’d love to. Really.”
“Can’t wait.”
Hermione beamed the moment she saw Dennis waiting outside the restaurant. It had rained all morning, but the sun had finally peeked out of the gray clouds for a little bit so she didn’t blame him for soaking up the tiny bit of sunshine while he could.
Even without the rain, it had been an awful morning. Both she and Draco were sick of all the busy work and he seemed particularly touchy about something. She was half-tempted to ask him if he was going to pull his wand out of his arse anytime soon but that would be unprofessional and, as his supervisor, she needed to take the high road.
“Hey, Hermione,” Dennis said. “Thanks for joining me.”
“Thanks for the invite,” she said. “I haven’t heard of this place before.”
“One of my favorites,” he said, leading her into the small Greek restaurant. It was quaint and charming. The bottom half of the walls were tiled and painted a soft yellow above it. Each of the tables had blue and white checkered tablecloth and white chairs with detailed backs.
Dennis nodded to the hostess and led Hermione towards the back of the restaurant. Hermione stopped in her tracks when she saw the woman with long blonde hair wearing denims and a muggle jumper sitting at a table set for three.
Astoria Greengrass looked up with a smile as Dennis walked over and bent down to press a soft but lingering kiss to her lips. She beamed up at him like he hung the stars and moon before she glanced over at Hermione.
Dennis straightened and grinned. “Hermione,” he said. “I believe you’ve met my fiancée, Astoria?”
She frowned at both of them. “Fiancée?” What the hell was she doing letting Draco court her if she was engaged to Dennis? Were they playing him? She didn’t know Astoria at all but that seemed completely out of character for Dennis.
Astoria swept her hands towards one of the place settings. “Please, Ms. Granger, we’d love to have you join us so we can explain.”
Dennis snorted as he took the seat directly next to Astoria. “Ms. Granger?”
Hermione took the seat across from her, determined to figure out what she was playing at.
“I am not going to presume a first name basis with someone I’ve only met once before,” Astoria told him with a playful smile.
“But you would presume to lead someone on while already engaged to someone else?” Hermione demanded. One of those sounded like a far worse sin than the other.
Astoria traded a smirk with Dennis before she turned to face Hermione fully. “And what makes you believe Draco is not an equal participant in our charade?”
At her words, Hermione froze. Oh, god. She’d just assumed the worst of everyone. Without asking Draco or Dennis or giving Astoria a chance to explain.
Shame rolled through her. Merlin. When was she going to learn to stop jumping to conclusions? “I’m so sorry.”
Astoria smiled. “I’m glad you believed the ruse,” she said. “The only people who are aware that Draco is courting me only in show are Dennis and my sister.”
They were interrupted as the waitress came over to take their orders. Hermione glanced down at the menu in a panic.
“My favorite is the vegetarian platter if you want to try a little of everything,” Astoria said, leaning over. “The dolmades and spanakopita are divine but moussaka and halloumi are delicious as well.”
Hermione looked up and nodded at the waitress. “I’ll do that, thank you.” Sweet Circe. What was it with Slytherins always trying to feed her?
As soon as the waitress left, she turned to Astoria and Dennis. “So,” she said. “Why are you faking that you’re courting Draco when you’re actually engaged to Dennis?”
A shadow fell over Astoria’s expression. “Because I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying,” Dennis snapped.
Astoria shot him a look and then turned back to Hermione. “I have a fatal blood malediction.”
Her stomach dropped out from under her. They were rare, but incredibly serious. “Is there anything that can be done?”
“Yes, there is a cure, and we have it,” she said. “The issue is that many of the ingredients are very rare and very expensive. It will take a great deal of time and funds to track the majority of them down. At least another year, if not two.”
“Can I help?” There had to be something she could do, someone she could help track down. Slughorn, surely, would do just about anything if she asked and was willing to trade a favor. He had contacts all over the world.
“Thank you,” Astoria said. “We’re working on it and don’t want anyone implicated for some of the ingredients on the fringes of legality.”
“Well, Harry will help.” Having the Chosen One work for the DMLE opened all sorts of doors for them to circumvent the law.
Astoria blinked and glanced at Dennis.
He smirked as he sipped his water. “Told you.”
“You’re a bloodthirsty lot, aren’t you?” she murmured.
“If you need help, we’ll make it happen,” Hermione said.
Astoria smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “Truly. But what we need the most right now is time. With my malediction, my mother is incredibly anxious to have me married off before it becomes public.”
She frowned. “Isn’t she helping with the cure?”
“The main ingredient of the cure requires the blood of a muggle woman, descendant from two lines of wizards who has given birth to at least one magical child.”
Hermione glanced at Dennis.
He nodded. “We did genealogy work after the war and found out my mum is actually descended from three lines of squibs,” he said. “It’s probably why both Colin and I got magic.”
All of the muggleborns she knew who had siblings were the only ones in their families to be magical, aside from Dennis and Colin. They must have both gotten magic from different lines of magical ancestors.
“Daphne and I are unaware if our mother is knowledgeable of the cure, but our father certainly was,” Astoria said. “He would rather see me waste away and die than taint myself in such a way. We are not informing our mother that we are working towards the cure in case she feels the same.” Her tone was flat, matter-of-fact.
She stared at her in horror. “That’s…despicable,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
She nodded. “I have been very fortunate in many ways, including getting to know Dennis’s mother and to be loved as a daughter should.”
Dennis gave her a soft smile that Astoria returned.
“Draco is uninterested in a pureblood match as well,” Astoria said, turning back to Hermione.
It took her a moment to remember what their conversation had been about.
“He and I both agreed to publicly court and draw it out as long as possible in the hopes that our mothers would believe we are working towards a union when in fact we will never get betrothed,” she said. “We are friends, nothing more. Everything you saw in the papers was for show.”
For a moment, it was difficult to determine the emotions coursing through her. Shame that she’d believed the Prophet, ridiculous for how she hadn’t liked Astoria without any reason, and a hint of giddy relief that made no sense whatsoever.
Something to unpack later, when Dennis and Astoria weren’t staring at her with knowing smirks. She cleared her throat. “Why tell me?” she asked. “If no one but the two of you and Daphne and Draco know?”
Dennis glanced at Astoria.
“You work so closely with Draco,” she said. “It would be suspicious if you shed any doubts on the relationship.”
Then they should have just let her go on believing the ruse.
“Draco doesn’t know about my malediction, or Dennis,” Astoria said. “I am certain he is suspicious something is wrong with me, but I would like to tell him both things on my own terms.”
“Of course,” she said. “I would never betray your confidence.”
“Thank you,” Astoria said. “He has been forced into many difficult situations in his life, but he is a good man. And I sincerely wish he will find every happiness, as I have.”
Dennis reached over and squeezed Astoria’s hand where it rested on the tabletop. The gesture was so sweet, so soft, so full of comfort.
Despite being around so many happy couples, especially her closest friends, Hermione had never felt like she was missing out on anything. Maybe because she’d never been made to feel like a fifth wheel around them. But seeing Dennis and Astoria together, she realized how much she longed for what they had. A partner. Even though the two of them came from wildly different worlds, they were completely devoted to one another.
The conversation moved to happier topics, how Dennis and Astoria reconnected after the war, their work, their hopes and plans for the future.
It was easy to see why Dennis loved Astoria. She was kind and sweet, but clever and witty. To be willing to give up her entire world for him, she had to be devoted as well. The exact sort of partner Hermione would want for her friend.
Seeing them together made her happy, if not a little bit oddly bereft.
Draco’s quill snapped and he practically threw it across the room. This was absolutely fucking ridiculous. Every time he and Hermione started to catch up, they were hit with more work. Weasel’s idea was allowing Hermione to get her bill completed, but it wasn’t doing anything about her day to day job or quality of life.
Not that he wanted her going on more fucking dates.
And it was lunch. That kind of outing was for socialites or old ladies. No self-respecting man would take a woman he was interested in out to lunch and yet after somehow getting Hermione Granger to accept a date, Dennis Creevey brought her to lunch.
The one meal Draco had been providing for her every day of his internship since he was done with the filing room.
He rested his forehead on the desk and started to thump it repeatedly against the wood.
Merlin. He needed to get a fucking grip.
Another urgent memo flew into the room and he almost incinerated it.
The other thing he needed to do was find out who was behind this and make them pay.
Since only one of those things seemed like a possibility at the moment, he snatched up the memo and marched to the lifts and headed for the DMLE.
Potter, Weasel, and Grimblehawk were in his office, standing along one of the walls, attempting to shoot a mini quaffle into the gold hoops Potter had hung on the opposite wall.
“Is this seriously what you three do all day?” Draco demanded.
“We’ve closed eight cases this week,” Weasel said.
“Maybe if you didn’t spend your time pissing the whole day away, you’d have closed eleven,” he said.
“Like you’d be doing anything worthwhile with your time if you weren’t forced to be here as part of your probation,” Weasel said.
“As a matter of fact, I have a mastery in potions with an emphasis on curse-breaking and healing potions so, yes, I would be contributing to society instead of screwing around on the Ministry’s sickle.”
“We just took down a wizard and his entire organization that was breeding manticores for pit fights,” Potter said.
Draco nearly shuddered. “Well, glad your reckless desire for danger is serving you well in your current career.”
He smirked. “How’s the patronus practice going?”
“Piss off,” he snapped.
While Hermione hadn’t said a word about it, Draco had to report for wand diagnostics each week. Potter or Weasel were always the ones to do it and unfortunately the two of them had put it together rather too quickly for his liking.
“If you ever want some help,” Potter began, “I’ve taught several dozen people how to do it, including Hermione.”
“Bully for you,” he said. “If you want to help someone, you should start with your friend first.”
Potter and Weasel immediately frowned. Grimblehawk continued practicing shooting the quaffle, ignoring them.
“What’s wrong with ‘Mione?” Weasel demanded.
Salazar, he hated that moniker. It made his skin crawl every time he heard Weasel say it. He slapped the memo down on Potter’s desk. “Someone is trying to sabotage her,” he said. “As if she wasn’t already doing the work of four people, now she’s getting bombarded with time wasting tasks that take away from all the other work she could be doing.”
Weasel sighed. “First rule of working with Hermione,” he said. “Do not enable her conspiracy theories.”
“Sounds more like the first rule of working with Potter,” he said.
“It is,” Weasel and Grimblehawk said at the same time.
Potter glared at them both and snatched the quaffle from Grimblehawk.
“Malfoy’s right,” Grimblehawk said.
Potter’s shot went wide and he gaped at her in horror.
“Prickle and I have noticed it too,” she said, summoning the quaffle and taking a shot. “She’s facing the same pressure. It’s gotta be a division or department head to create this much chaos. Bills supported by the conservative factions of the Wizengamot are being heard at twice the rate the liberal bills are. They’re not just trying to slow down Hermione, it’s the whole damn system. Most of the liberal bills come from people who work at the Ministry, not the independently wealthy.”
Potter intercepted the quaffle as Grimblehawk tried to summon it again. “So we’re looking for a department or division head who would align with the conservative factions?”
“Considering half those positions are bought, that doesn’t narrow it down much,” Weasel muttered.
“They used to be,” Potter insisted.
Draco snorted at the exact same time Weasel did. He looked almost as horrified by the identical reaction as Draco felt.
“Proving it is going to be the tricky part, even if we can narrow it down,” Potter continued. “Can you start keeping track of where all of Hermione’s superfluous requests—”
Draco held out the scroll before Potter even finished speaking.
Potter tossed the quaffle to Weasel and unrolled it. “Merlin, no wonder you and Mi have been getting along,” he said. “This looks like something she’d do.”
Salazar. If there was anything worse than hearing the two of them refer to her as “‘Mione,” it was hearing them call her, “Mi.” It sounded far too close to “Mine,” and even if they were both supposedly happily married, it rankled him like few things could. Not even Potter referencing that he and Hermione had been getting along made him feel better. “Thank you.”
“We’ll work on it,” he said. “Let the two of you know as soon as we’ve discovered anything.”
He nodded once. “I’ll bring an updated list of requests to my appointments each Friday.” As he turned to leave, Potter stopped him.
“Malfoy?” he called. “Don’t sweat the patronus. You’re more than capable. It’s not just about happiness, but hope and the desire to survive. Sometimes those power mine more than just trying to think happy thoughts.”
It took him a moment to determine if Potter was trying to assist or mock him, but it appeared to be the former. He nodded once. “Thanks, Potter.”
He grinned. “Just can’t wait until I get the first glowing ferret message from you.”
Rolling his eyes, he marched from the room to take care of the latest extraneous request whoever was out to get Granger had made up for her.
His brief sense of accomplishment at finally getting Potter and Weasel to take her seriously disappeared as soon as Granger showed back up to the office after her lunch with Creevey. She’d been grumpy all morning, but as soon as she returned, she met him with a bright, beaming smile.
Fucking hell. This was why he never should have worked with her. It was too hard seeing her being this bloody happy about spending time with another man.
“Hey, Draco,” she said. “How were things here?”
“Fine.”
He could feel her eyes on him but he ignored it until she went to hang up her purse and sit down at her desk.
“Your date must have gone well,” he couldn’t resist saying.
“Oh, uhm, it wasn’t a date,” she said. “Dennis and I just like to catch up and go muggle places together sometimes, like Harry and I go to the cinema.”
It felt like he’d just swallowed a bucket of liquid luck. A bright, warm ball of light blossomed in his chest, radiating out into his body.
Not a date. Not a date. Not a date.
Still, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be at some point, but for today, it meant nothing.
He cleared his throat. “Sounds like fun.”
“It was,” she said. “He’s got some pretty exciting things happening in his life, so that was fun to hear about.”
Maybe one of those was someone else he was seeing. “Good for Creevey.” Good for Draco.
“Yeah,” she said. “What about you? I’ve never asked if you’re dating anyone.”
He glanced up, wondering why she was suddenly curious. She rested her elbow on her desk with her chin propped up, watching him with a bright, open look. Not a hint of jealousy there.
Not that there ever would be.
“No,” he said. “Not dating.”
“Or what’s the proper pureblood term?” she asked with a hint of mirth. “Courting?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, not that either.” Not in truth, anyway.
For a moment, a tiny fissure of guilt went through him. Should he have mentioned Astoria? It wasn’t as if their fake courting was public knowledge. As far as he knew, it had stayed out of the papers and wasn’t known outside of a limited circle that had no crossover with Granger or any of her friends.
Plus, he and Astoria had agreed to keep it to themselves. No use in borrowing trouble.
“Must be driving your mother crazy,” she said.
The corner of his mouth rose in a small smirk. “You have no idea,” he said. “Do your parents get on you to settle down?”
“Not really,” she said. “They actually both encouraged me to finish my education and get my career established first before I even think about marriage or especially children.”
A bolt of jealousy, hot and sharp, shot through him at the mention of children. Merlin, the idea of her pregnant, raising another wizard’s child—
He cleared his throat and tried to empty his mind of those images before he did something foolish. “That sounds nice.” A lifetime focused and built on her own achievements, not just continuing the family legacy.
Although any family legacy she left was worth far more of continuing than his own.
“Bloody hell, it never stops, does it?” Hermione muttered as four more memos flew in.
“Two came while you were gone,” he said.
She drew in a deep breath. “I’m going to find a very creative solution for whenever we find who is up to this,” she muttered to herself.
Considering what she’d done to the likes of Rita Skeeter, Marietta Edgecombe, and Dolores Umbridge, he hated to think of what she had planned for whoever was next. He was just grateful he was on her side.
