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“Quick. Kiss me so he’ll see.”
Draco scowled at the witch sitting beside him, though she was looking in another direction. Her starry-eyed gaze was focused toward the corner of the pub where Charlie Weasley was holding court, a gaggle of simpering witches hanging on his every word.
“Oh, never mind, he’s not looking.” Hermione’s face fell slightly, and it was with obvious effort that she returned her attention to him. “What were you saying?”
The battle to prevent his eyes from rolling was fierce, but he managed to keep them locked on the wall in front of him. “We were about to discuss the report we worked on together, remember? The one which you deemed, and I quote, ‘vastly substandard.’ End quote.”
“Of course.” Her cheeks pinked slightly and she straightened in her seat, spreading her hands over the documents as though pressing them as flat as possible would make the upcoming conversation easier.
Draco waited, halfway between amused and annoyed because he knew that his part of the report was flawless. He was insatiably curious to find out why she’d demanded that they get together to discuss it—after hours, and at a pub, at that. He certainly didn’t mind spending extra time with Hermione. If he’d known all it took to gain her attention was a shoddy report, he’d have started mucking up his work ages ago.
Just his luck though: Charlie Weasley, the man he’d heard about far more than he cared to recently, was in the pub as well. Hermione had been infatuated with the dragon master for three weeks and four days—not that Draco was keeping track or anything—ever since he’d taken a sabbatical from his work on the Reserve and returned to England for an extended stay.
Draco, in his position as Hermione’s partner in the Department of Mysteries, had watched her date through a string of losers over the years. Since discovering his own burgeoning feelings seven months prior, he hadn’t been worried about any of the blokes she’d talked about. He knew for a fact that nobody was good enough for Hermione Granger, himself included. He was the prime example of a man not good enough for her. But he couldn’t very well help his feelings, so he did his best to ignore, suppress, and otherwise crush the fact that he fancied her.
Fine. If he was being his most honest self, he was finding it very hard not to be in love with her.
But this was a most inconvenient truth because she had absolutely no interest in him whatsoever. He’d quickly been relegated to ‘friend’ status when they’d first started working together. He knew this because he was frequently gifted with such knowledge as: what she ate for breakfast and how it differed from yesterday’s; how Calvin in Accounting looked in his new trousers; the state of her skin care regiment by way of the discussion of a new pimple; just how well those trousers fit Calvin; an exhaustive rundown of the latest best-seller, including an analysis and commentary. If he wanted to read any book for himself, he had to buy it the minute it came out and do nothing but read so that she wouldn’t spoil it—and also so he’d have something intelligent to say.
While he had been relatively happy being her friend, it was becoming increasingly difficult to be content. The more they worked together, the more conversations they had, the more time they spent together, only served to make him adore her more. And she was completely oblivious. If he ever doubted that, he need only recall the dozens of offhand comments about Charlie Weasley over the last few weeks—to say nothing of the hundreds that preceded them about other wizards in her life.
“It’s not as bad as I first thought, upon rereading.” Hermione lightly flipped through the pages. “What do you think about… Oh!”
He glanced at her to again find her attention directed toward the corner.
“I’m just going to… I’ll be right back, Draco.” Hermione practically launched off the bench seat and made her way to where Charlie was.
Draco swallowed the rest of his drink, then motioned for the bartender to bring him another. He didn’t really want to watch Hermione approach her current crush, but it was like a train wreck: he couldn’t look away. She approached timidly, as though she hadn’t known the man for most of her life. Her body language was hesitant and so endearing he wanted to scream. When Charlie noticed her, his whole face lit up, and he pulled his arms from where they’d been tucked around two random witches and threw them around Hermione. Draco felt his blood begin to boil at how long he held her close before releasing her. He nearly thought about going over there and demanding he let the woman breathe. Instead he merely scowled into his newly filled glass and angrily emptied it in one go.
Before he could ask for another, someone sat down across from him. He was about to bark at the intruder, but his words caught in his mouth when he saw who it was. A blindingly beautiful witch with long, straight blonde hair and bright, clear blue eyes was looking at him like she’d won a prize. Her top was barely covering… anything… and, since Draco had noticed her upon his arrival, he knew that the skirt she wore was of a similar fashion.
“Drinking alone?” She batted her eyelashes at him in the most ridiculous way imaginable.
Inwardly he groaned. Women with very long blonde hair completely turned him off, but since Hermione was off flirting with the Weasley Wonder, he wasn’t too inclined to send this one on her way just yet.
“Not for long, it would seem.” He forced a smile and motioned for another for himself and a drink for her. In a moment, they both had their orders, and he tossed back half of his.
The woman giggled and sipped daintily on her fruity cocktail. “So what are you working on?” She eyed the report still spread open on the table.
Draco quickly shut it. “Oh, sorry. I can’t tell you. It’s highly classified.”
Her eyes went wide and she looked at him with something akin to awe. “Oh my. You must work for the Ministry.”
Through a clenched jaw, he replied. “I do. I’m an Unspeakable.”
“You must be really smart. I barely got through Hogwarts.” She giggled again. “I was having too much fun to think about studying.”
She was either a Hufflepuff or a Gryffindor; his Galleons were on Hufflepuff, though she had been brave enough to approach him, a total stranger, in a pub, after seeing the woman he’d arrived with leave his table. She probably thought, as he well knew, that he and Hermione weren’t together, despite being at the pub together. Still, it was a nod in the Gryffindor direction.
Draco’s smile was tight. He was nearing the end of his patience and the extent of his ability to pretend he was interested.
Thank Merlin, Hermione returned before he made an arse of himself and scooted back into the booth beside him, sitting close enough that her knee brushed his, which was… interesting. She hadn’t done that before. If he didn’t like it so much, he might have felt slightly encroached upon.
“Who’s this, Draco?” Her voice sounded like honey-coated Fiendfyre and he was instantly terrified. He’d heard this tone of hers applied in very specific instances when someone—or someones—received the most thorough and deserved tongue lashings of their lives, and he had a sinking feeling that for whatever reason, she was about to turn it on him.
“I’m Olivia.” Either the witch sitting opposite them was incredibly stupid or blatantly ignorant. “And you are?”
Hermione’s smile matched her tone. “I’m ready for you to leave now so we can get back to work.”
Olivia’s eyes flitted between them for a moment, obviously hoping that Draco would ask her to stay or perhaps even leave with her. When he busied himself deliberately reopening the file Hermione had brought, staring as though it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen, she got the hint and stood. “If you change your mind, my friends and I are over there.” She pointed to a table across the pub and he was almost certain that if she raised her arm, they’d see her knickers. He could feel Hermione fairly vibrating beside him, though he couldn’t fathom why.
Nobody spoke in the one minute and forty-seven seconds that followed Olivia’s departure. Then Hermione wordlessly slid the open folder toward her and stared at the first page for a long while. “You know, I think this is fine.”
She started to shut it, but he stopped her, irritation lacing through him. “No, wait. You wanted to meet and discuss this. So let’s discuss. What didn’t you like?” He pulled the folder back to himself and found the third page, the only spot in his portion that he thought he might have been less careful with. “I suspect you might have disagreed with the way I handled the description of our technique, but if you look at it carefully, I think you’ll see why I worded it the way I did.”
Hermione didn’t move the report much closer to her, displacing it by a only few inches while scooting herself closer to him. She gazed at the page, gnawing on her lip and frowning, for at least a full two minutes. Then she glanced back toward Charlie, and Draco thought he might lose his entire shit if she said one word about him. Instead, she repeated herself from earlier and leaned closer.
“Quick. Kiss me so he’ll see.”
Draco abstractly realized he was now pressed into the wall beside him, nearly her entire right side flush with his left. It was a dizzying proximity, but thankfully his anger helped keep his head clear. “If you think you can treat me like I’m some prop for you to use to snare your latest infatuation, then may I suggest, as kindly as possible, that you bugger off?”
Hermione huffed at him and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Then just kiss me.”
Of all the infuriating things this woman had ever said to him, this took the cake and he practically screeched his response. “What?”
“Bloody hell.” She kissed him.
Hard.
He was so taken aback that he couldn’t respond right away as his brain insisted, momentarily, to attempt to work out just what had happened. The rest of his body, however, banded together to shut his brain down, allowing only the reality that was Hermione Granger trying to stick her tongue in his mouth to sink in.
He quickly got with the program, gripping her neck with the only hand he could manage to move in the cramped quarters. He turned his body slightly toward her, and Merlin help him, but she was well and thoroughly snogging him in a pub in Diagon Alley.
The sound of someone setting something down on their table interrupted their—whatever was happening. Hermione pulled back, her cheeks flush, her hair wild, and it was all he could do not to reach for her again. She bit her lip, looking quite surprised but also pleased with herself. The sound that had broken their activity was a fresh pair of drinks, one for each of them. The waitress nodded toward Charlie’s corner.
Draco couldn’t stop himself from looking that way as well, and he saw Charlie raise his glass and grin. Draco wanted to melt into the booth; how long had they been kissing if Weasley had had time to notice and order them drinks? Then there was the fact that he’d been kissing Hermione. She’d kissed him. After flirting relentlessly with Charlie.
He was extremely confused, but when he looked at the woman he grudgingly admitted he loved only in the confines of his own mind, she was watching him apprehensively. As though she wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. He said the best thing his foggy brain could manage.
“Erm.” So much for the vaunted elegance of the Malfoy line.
Just then, Charlie came round the corner of their booth, one witch on each arm. He winked at Hermione and nodded at Draco.
“Thanks, Charlie!” Hermione called after he’d passed.
“Anytime, love!” He waved over his shoulder and disappeared.
Draco frowned. “Why did you thank him?”
Hermione hummed a moment. “He agreed to help me out a little tonight. That’s all.”
“Help you? With what?” Draco did not enjoy being as confused as he was right then, not to mention completely turned on, his brain a thick, sludgy fog.
“I call it my ‘oblivious partner’ problem. I finally decided that the only way to get you to notice me was to see me trying to get with someone else. With Charlie newly home, I just knew he’d be the perfect choice. Surely you’ve noticed that I’ve been talking about him lately.”
Draco scowled. “I’ve noticed.” He shook his head, still dazed. “Now wait. You think I am oblivious?”
“Um, yes? Because I’ve been trying to get your attention for months now.” She was fidgeting, which he knew meant that, despite the bravado in her tone, she was actually very nervous.
“By talking about every random bloke you meet? Telling me the details of your snog sessions?” Even though he was fairly certain he had a good shot at going home with her tonight, in all the best ways, there was no way he was going to let this slide.
Hermione’s lips went tight. “I was hoping to provoke some kind of reaction from you. But no. All you ever did was patiently listen and mutter boring platitudes at regular intervals.”
“You might have tried, I don’t know, talking to me about it? Rather than hoping I’d absorb whatever bizarre brainwaves you were trying to send by talking about snogging other men.” His whole body was thrumming with the anticipation of their next kiss. This ‘argument,’ the fire in her eyes, the lack of any discernible space between their bodies was driving him wild. “I might have been oblivious as to your intentions, but I can hardly be blamed. I keep a running tally on a scrap of parchment in my desk of how many times you talk about Calvin.”
She pointedly wouldn’t look at him for a moment, then stuck out her chin. “I may not have gone about it in the best way possible, I can see that now. But I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone before. Like how I wanted to be a doctor before I found out I was a witch. And that I still have nightmares starring your aunt.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper and he wanted to envelop her in a bubble that would forever keep her from being hurt ever again. “I thought you’d realize. And it’s not so simple, just trying to work up the nerve to talk to you. I walked away for two minutes, and some buxom, leggy blonde is basically disrobing before you, and I’m supposed to have the balls to talk to you?” A hint, just the barest hint, of self-doubt leaked into the corners of her eyes, and suddenly he was done.
In one fluid movement, he tipped her chin and covered her lips with his. Where the first kiss was raw and surprising and desperate, as though both of them couldn’t believe it was really happening and they might wake up at any moment, the second was slow, deliberate, and searing. He needed her to know that it hadn’t been a fluke, that he wanted to kiss her, then and now and tomorrow and until the end of time. Everything around them disappeared, and he truly lost all sense of time and space.
Eventually, Hermione sighed and pulled away, once again looking prettily snogged. It was most certainly something he could get used to seeing.
As much as Draco wanted to savor this moment, however, the last thing she said was bothering him now that he wasn’t otherwise distracted. “To be fair, you’d just gone off to flirt with someone else.”
She swatted him playfully as she put a little distance between them. “Ew, Charlie? Come on, he’s like a big brother!”
Draco gaped at her. “You’ve been talking about him for weeks! How was I supposed to know that was code for ‘Despite the words coming out of my mouth, I really want to jump you, Draco.’”
He absolutely could get used to making her blush like that. “I was trying to get you to notice me.”
“You know what I mean.”
Actually, his snog-addled brain was still struggling to process this new turn of events. Hermione, the woman he’d been pining over--there, he said it, he was a piner--for months was suggesting that she was perhaps just as interested in him as he was in her.
“So this. Tonight.” He shook his head to clear the fog and patted the still open folder on the table. “I’d like to hear you say that my part of the report was flawless.”
She let a small smile slip. “It was flawless. I wanted to see what would happen if we kissed. I thought if I could get you to kiss me in an attempt to make Charlie jealous, you’d… I don’t know, wake up and see me.”
Draco chuckled. “Merlin, Hermione. That’s… convoluted.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“No! I didn’t kiss you! And I had no intention of kissing you just to make Charlie jealous; you couldn’t pay me enough. Not when I wanted to kiss you so very much already!”
For a moment, it looked like she was going to say something, but then she burst out laughing. She put her hand on his upper arm and just laughed, and after a moment, he chuckled himself. The tension of the evening, the sour feeling at watching what he’d thought was her flirting with Charlie, the bitterness at thinking he was being used to further her own purposes; all of it melted away.
When her laughing fit subsided, she settled into a sweet smile that plucked at his heart like nothing he could describe. “So… does this mean what I think it means?”
“What do you think it means?” He was itching to take her hand in his, to lace his fingers with hers, to feel the softness of her skin and just be. With her.
“You want to kiss me again?” She was hesitant, despite the fact that he had kissed her again.
Draco grinned. “I do.”
“Do you… want to do… other stuff?” As soon as the question was out of her mouth, he laughed out loud and she turned bright red. “I didn’t mean…” She paused and took a deep breath. “What I meant was—”
“I know what you meant, Hermione.” He decided he couldn’t resist any longer and took her hold of her hand. “I want to do all of it with you. And I do mean all the other stuff.” She blushed again and tried to hide her face, but he stopped her. “Other stuff like hold your hand. Take you to dinner. Meet your friends.” He made a face and she laughed. “But, also, yeah. The other stuff too.”
Hermione nodded, a smile in her eyes. “Yes. I want all of that, too. All of that.”
He squeezed her hand and pulled her in for a brief kiss. “So we’re doing this, then?”
“Yes. You and me.”
Something like light burst in Draco's chest and he kissed her one more time, this one full of hope and excitement about the future. Maybe he wasn’t going back to her place tonight--or maybe he was--but it didn't matter because he had the promise of much, much more, and that was enough.
She was enough.