Chapter Text
7th October, 2001
The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures
Ministry of Magic
16.20 hrs
“Well. This is insanity,” Draco's declaration entered the office before he did.
Hermione looked up from the report on the census of Centaurs in her hand. She cocked an eyebrow at the blond. “What is?”
“They've teamed me up with Ronald Weasley. Weasley, Hermione!” He threw his hands up before slumping into a chair across her desk, looking like he wanted to throw up.
Knowing Draco, Hermione believed he probably did.
Ron and Draco teaming up… Merlin, she couldn't wait to see Ron's reaction to this! Or, better put, Ron's outraged tantrum that was sure to come. Oh, dear God. She couldn't contain her amusement.
Draco, meanwhile, sported a permanent scowl, and she eventually had to drop her devious grin. He huffed out a breath, blowing his white blonde fringes off from their position over his forehead. Hermione laughed aloud.
Good God, he was being a child.
“Shut it, Hermione, I'm dying here!” Draco scowled again.
Hermione straightened, clearing her throat. “I'm sorry, I was just imagining Ron's enraged, reddened face, and got carried away. Right. So… details?”
Draco sighed. “We're to be in Honolulu, Hawaii for a week, beginning three days from now. Some idiot has been using the Imperius curse with abandon, every next day, and has something to do with a snake.”
Hermione frowned. Snake?
“Shacklebolt,” Draco continued, “wants a Parselmouth on the team. Now. The entire world knows how Potter's been in a permanent temperamental fit these days. He was immediately warded off the case. But that bloody idiot of a third limb of your Golden Trio was more than willing to grab the opportunity to visit Hawaiian beaches.” He grimaced, clicking his tongue. “And Shacklebolt somehow remembered about my snake Animagus.”
Hermione nodded, frowning as she thought it over.
Despite all the hilarity she found in Ron and Draco teaming up, Hermione knew this wasn't going to work out for the two wizards, at all. And then there were Harry’s “temperamental fits,” as Draco put them, which were an outcome of his wedding to Ginny being less than a month away. Hermione could perfectly understand the stress and pressure that the early processes of becoming a part of the Weasley family entailed. She’d been there, living it herself for over a year, after all.
Coming back into the present when Draco released a grunt of frustration, Hermione channeled her thoughts to the problem at hand.
She was practical enough to know that great friend or not, Draco was still a git. And then there was Ron who had never really gotten over his immature impulsiveness. There was no way the two were getting through this seemingly risky assignment without killing each other.
“Do you want me to do something?” she asked the distressed wizard, tentatively.
Draco looked up, eyes shining bright. “Can you do something, Hermione?”
With a chuckle, Hermione nodded. “I think so. I can, maybe, talk to Percy and he might be able to take care of this.” At his confused expressions, she smiled. “I can ask him to request Shacklebolt to either change your partner, or take you off the case. Whatever you prefer.”
His hands reached across the desk, clutching both of hers, dramatically. She laughed, surprised at his uncharacteristic desperation.
“Please, Hermione, do take me off this case,” he pleaded, looking like he'd beg on his knees if she asked him to.
She rolled her eyes, wrapping her free hand over their joint hands. “Of course, Draco. Give me a day.”
9th October, 2001
Hermione's Apartment
22.05 hrs
Hermione hummed to herself, concentrating on the meticulous task of drying her frizzy hair with a controller Hot Air charm. Well aware of how frizzy her hair could get, she stopped before they'd dried completely and proceeded to wrap herself in a fluffy bathrobe.
She padded out of the bathroom, happily, still basking in the wonders the long, warm lavender bath had done to her.
No sooner had she kept her feet in her room, than she was squeezed in a bone crushing hug. She squealed in alarm, but immediately relaxed when she recognized the mixture of the woody fragrance of a French cologne and sandalwood body wash enveloping her. She'd only ever smelled the combination on one person, these past four years.
“Thanks a lot, Hermione,” Draco mumbled into her hair. “They sent off Pucey on the case.”
Finally being released, Hermione smiled at him. “You're welco…” She trailed off, eyes widening as she processed his words again. “Did you say Pucey? As in Adrian Pucey?”
Draco's face twisted in disdain at the name. This idiot was scornful at every other Slytherin, these days, it seemed. He nodded, though.
Hermione groaned aloud, throwing her hands up. “He's going to kill me!” she cried out.
Adrian Pucey was the guy Hermione had been collecting her guts about bedding, since past three months. They were friends of sorts, and had begun hanging out in loose groups, ever since one of his distant relatives was brought in to arrange things at Harry and Ginny's engagement function.
“And why on earth would he do that?” Draco asked, his voice laden with confusion.
Hermione looked up to find him scowling. She held back a laugh, deciding that Draco's pouty scowls actually made him look cute. She wouldn't dare tell him that, of course. “We're friends, Draco. Why else?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I thought he might have been the number…seven, is it? On that infamous "to-sleep-with” list of yours.”
Hermione could feel her cheeks flaming. “Can you not call me out on that? You were the one who suggested that idea to me!”
Draco looked incredulous. “Hermione! I had suggested you to sleep with more than one person, wench, not make a conquest out of it! And―no, don't give me that look! I'd done that when you pleaded me to show you a way of proving to Ronald Weasley that you could attract attention!”
Hermione bristled. Why was he right?
“Alright. I admit that was what you said. But, but! That happened when you rejected my proposal of fake dating!”
He froze, looking flustered for a lingering moment.
Hermione frowned. What? Draco Malfoy was flustered? No, she was definitely hallucinating.
Draco looked away, then, and raked a hand through his hair.
Hermione's brows shot up. This was a very obvious nervous tick of his. Why was he being nervous?
She got the answer after he huffed out a breath.
“I apologize, okay? I didn't want us to ruin… this… this camaraderie between us.”
She smiled brightly. Neither did she.
But the she stopped smiling, and narrowed her eyes. What noun had he just used?
“Camaraderie? Really, Draco?” Hermione burst out laughing when he gave her another one of his scowls. “We've been best friends for years, now! Not accepting wouldn't make you hate me again. Oh God. It's been almost four years, Draco! Get over yourself and call me a friend, will you?” She wiped off a tear of laughter, slowly coming down from her high.
He flashed her a crooked smile. “It’s hard, munchkin. What with all of our history.”
She winced. “Don't you ever address me with such a cheeky nickname again, Draco Malfoy.”
He smirked. “As you say, cupcake.”
That ferret! How old was he? Twelve? He sure behaved like it.
Well. She could behave like she was, too!
Hermione launched herself at him, just as he darted off across the room and then out of it. She raced after him, all the way up to her dining room. They stood at the opposite ends of the dining table, eventually, panting heavily. He still had a mischievous smile on his face, and she wanted to punch it off, for real.
“Apologize!” she demanded, hands braced against the table while she heaved.
He laughed aloud. “Yeah… I'm deeply sorry… for chasing you around…” he breathed out between heavy panting, the sly glint in his eyes hinting that he knew something she didn't, “when your bathrobe was threatening to slip off your breasts!” And he burst out laughing, again.
She gasped loudly, grasping both the lapels of her bathrobe and clutching them tighter. However, she realised that her dignity was more than properly covered, already, and that the arse had merely been making a fool of her.
“Not that I'd mind, though.” Draco winked at her, making her growl in fury.
“I'm going back and getting sensibly dressed!” she announced through clenched teeth, before turning on her heels and rushing off.
His laughter followed. “But… Conquest number seven, Mister Pucey, missed a bloody show!” His voice kept rising in accordance as she distanced, “He did! Not that you won't―”
She shut the door to her bedroom with a scrunched up nose in his direction. Though, after the door was shut, she smiled. At least one person seemed to support her about Adrian.