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Hermione sat at her office desk, scribbling hastily at the parchment in front of her. She put her quill down and examined her argument for the fifth time that evening, finally deeming it acceptable. She picked up her inkwell to screw it shut when the door opened.
"Hello, Hermione," greeted a dreamy voice and she startled, dropping the inkwell and causing black liquid to spill all over her parchment. She quickly scourgified her desk and looked up to see Luna Lovegood standing in the doorway of her office.
"Come in," she said with a strained smile. Luna coming to the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures usually meant long conversations about non-existent creatures, which Hermione simply did not have time for right now.
She had to present her 'Employment for Werewolves' case tomorrow, for Merlin's sake! Granted, she had already memorized her argument but, in her opinion, one could never be too prepared. So far, every single one of her legislation proposals had been rejected by the Wizengamot, and her argument needed to be perfect if she wanted to win this case.
Luna took a seat and glanced about for a few moments before turning to her. "Did you know about the Wrackspurt infestation at Malfoy Manor? I felt a few zooming around in there yesterday and found a nest in their courtyard. I've never seen anything like it before," she mused. And so it begins, Hermione sighed to herself.
"No, I haven't heard about that yet, but I only work for the Creature Rights Department. Perhaps you should take this up with the Pest Advisory Board, this is their area of expertise," she suggested, hoping that her friend would take the hint.
"I did, actually. They sent a team there but they all came back with headaches," Luna explained. "That's quite common, did you know? Wrackspurts can float in through your ears and make your brain go all fuzzy," she stated matter-of-factly.
"That's... interesting." Hermione had learned that it was better to agree with the bizarre girl rather than argue with her. "How about I talk to the Head of the Department and see if there's anything I can do?"
"Oh, Miss Prickle told me to come to you. She said that you might know a spell that could get rid of them but, you see, Wrackspurts are immune to wizard magic so I don't think any spells will work on them. You could carry some Pimplydink eggs, though. They detest the smell of—"
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, knowing that she would regret what she said next. "I'll look into it today."
And regret it she did. She hadn't been to Malfoy Manor since the War, and that particular visit hadn't exactly been in the most fortunate of circumstances. The memories of her torture there no longer plagued her sleep as it did before, but that didn't mean she ever wanted to set foot in the place again.
Luna gave her a hazy smile and she grinned back weakly. This was going to be a disaster. "Wrackspurts are invisible so you'll need Spectrespecs to be able to see them. I have an extra pair that I can lend you," Luna offered, pulling out large, multicolored spectacles from her pocket.
Hermione took them, biting her tongue to prevent herself from asking how a pair of plastic costume glasses could possibly make an invisible creature visible. She loved Luna, she really did, but she could only handle the eccentric girl in small doses. "Yes, Luna, thank you. I'll go there in an hour."
"Don't forget the Pimplydink eggs. They'll keep the Wrackspurts away so they don't make your brain go all fuzzy," Luna reminded her.
"Of course," Hermione said, smiling tightly. She had no idea where she would find Pimplydink eggs — or whether they existed at all — but she didn't have the heart to refuse her friend. She let out a sigh once Luna left the office and glanced back at her argument which, now that she thought about it, could use a lot more editing.
According to the clerk at Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary, there was no such thing as Pimplydink eggs, so Hermione turned up at the wrought-iron gates of Malfoy Manor empty-handed. The Manor was almost unrecognizable, was her first thought when she Apparated there.
It wasn't the looming, eerie hellhole she was dragged to a little more than three years ago. Instead, warm light shone from the windows of the vast household, giving it a more welcoming appearance. The gardens were obviously well-tended to, as evidenced by the colorful flowers in full bloom. She was admiring a batch of purple orchids when someone coughed behind her and she turned around to face Draco Malfoy.
If the Daily Prophet could be trusted, — and it rarely could be — he was a changed man; no longer the blood purist of his youth. She recalled that he had donated quite a hefty sum to her House-elf Relocation project the month before and had even spoken passionately against creature abuse at the Gala, so she supposed that the papers were correct.
He didn't look all that different from his schooldays, she noted. His face was still pointier than what would be considered normal and he was wearing that perpetual smirk on his face that irritated her to no end. But the sickly pallor and gauntness of his wartime frame were gone and, drinking in his fitted Muggle suit, she grudgingly admitted to herself that Malfoy had grown into an attractive man.
"Granger. Figures that you'd end up working for the Creatures Department, bleeding heart saint that you are," he said by way of greeting. Of course, attractiveness on the outside didn't make up for lack of it on the inside, and whatever little desire Hermione might have felt for him quickly vanished.
"Figures you'd end up not working at all, entitled, aristocratic git that you are," she returned swiftly, albeit childishly. The jab didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. In fact, she could tell that he was actually enjoying this by the amused upward curl of his lip.
"So, you've decided to spend the rest of your life playing savior to house-elves and other charity cases? Spew wasn't enough for you?" he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.
"S.P.E.W., Malfoy," she bristled. Merlin, it was as if Wizards just didn't know what acronyms were sometimes. "But it's not as if I should have expected you to remember what it even was, much less what it stands for—"
"Society for Promotion of Elfish Welfare," he stated and she raised her eyebrows in surprise. Funny how Malfoy could remember something like that when even Ron, her best friend for over a decade, couldn't. "Spew. Of all the things you could name your ridiculous campaign after, you choose vomit. How utterly charming," he drawled.
Hermione scoffed. "You're certainly one to talk, aren't you? I remember just how charming you were the last time I was here. Your dear Aunt Bella was particularly charming as well. It must run in the family," she said sweetly. Sure, she was being unfair bringing up the past like that, but she figured that they would have to confront the topic eventually.
She saw something that looked suspiciously like remorse flash across his face, but it was immediately replaced by a scowl. When he spoke next, his previous teasing tone had disappeared entirely. "And I suppose that moral superiority and insufferable self-righteousness runs in your family."
"What should I know?" she asked with a low chuckle, "My family's dead." Even after all the steps she took to keep her parents safe — erasing their memories, changing their names, and shipping them off to Australia — the Death Eaters had still managed to get to them. Although she had mostly come to terms with the fact, she couldn't help the telltale prickling behind her eyelids.
She swiped angrily at the corner of her eye and Malfoy's scowl faltered. "Fuck, Granger..." he started as she began to stride briskly towards the Manor, "I didn't mean to bring up—"
"Forget I said anything," she said, quickening her pace. Hermione didn't want sympathy; she had gotten enough of that from Harry and the Weasleys. In a way, her verbal spar with Malfoy was liberating. It gave her some sense of normalcy in her life. "So, where are these Wrackspurts?" she asked and cleared her throat when her voice came out hoarse.
Malfoy caught up with her and led her down a winding pathway. "They've made their nest in the East Courtyard. It's just through here." He pushed the curtains of a weeping cherry blossom aside for her and they entered a small clearing.
She looked around in wonder, gaping at the pink flowers scattered across the tall grass and the elegant, white birds preening in the shade. "Are those— are those peacocks? Merlin, Malfoy, your gardens are magnificent—"
"I'm sorry about your parents, Granger." Her jaw promptly snapped shut. "For what it's worth. I wish I could have done something, but I didn't and I'm sorry," he said, running a hand through his hair.
Judging by the insane amount of pride he had at Hogwarts, Hermione could tell that he had to swallow quite the mouthful of it to apologize to her. His sentiment was undoubtedly sincere and she could appreciate that.
"Let bygones be bygones and all that, right?" she said, extending a hand towards him. He stared at it for Morgana knew how long before he finally took it. At least this is a start, she told herself.
Hermione sniggered as Malfoy swatted at something in the air, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "The ever-elite Draco Malfoy probably never had to deal with something as plebeian as mosquitos, did he?" she asked.
"Of course not," he sniffed, tilting his chin up in typical Malfoy-esque fashion. "Mosquito bites are something only peasants trouble themselves with. These Rackspats, on the other hand..." It was good to know his haughtiness still hadn't disappeared entirely. She could get used to him being cordial, but she didn't think that she could ever handle a humble, modest Malfoy.
"So, you believe in Wrackspurts too?" she asked and then groaned at his answering shrug. This search would go far smoother if he didn't delude himself into thinking that the creatures actually existed.
"If this bloody buzzing is anything to go by, then I suppose Lovegood's Spackrut idea has some merit," he said and tilted his head, shaking it in a decidedly undignified manner. "I think one of them flew into my ear," he grimaced.
"In that case," she sighed, pulling out the Spectrespecs from the pockets of her robes and donning them.
Malfoy raised his eyebrows at her, and she could practically feel revulsion rolling off of him in waves. "Salazar, Granger, I knew you had a poor sense of fashion but really?"
"Yes, well, Luna lent them to me and she isn't exactly known for having the best taste in accessories," she replied, remembering the Dirigible Plum earrings and Butterbeer cork necklaces the girl used to wear, and probably still did.
Hermione looked up at the tree and nearly tripped over a fallen branch when she saw hundreds of tiny, translucent winged creatures flitting about through the colorful lenses. "I think Luna's actually right about these Wrackspurts," she whispered.
"Yes, I'm aware. In fact, I can feel the Raspurks floating around in my head right now. I think we should leave," he said, swatting at the air again.
"Hold on, I want to take a closer look at these." She leaned ahead to peer at one but an unruly strand of hair blocked her view. "Stupid hair," she muttered irritably, brushing it away from her eyes.
She felt him move behind her and lift one of her curls. "I've always liked your hair, you know?" His voice came out thick and distant as he twirled the curl around his finger. "It's a bushy, tangled, glorious fucking monstrosity."
"If that's your idea of a compliment, I feel bad for the poor witch who will one day be your wife," she snorted, observing the creature which, up until now, she thought to be imaginary. It was fascinating, really. It was mostly a pearly white, except for the slight orange tinge to its intricately-patterned wings. Fascinating.
But apparently, Malfoy didn't think so. "It's hard to compliment you when you look like some sort of demented, multicolored owl," he said, snatching the plastic spectacles from her face and pocketing them. She turned to see him giving her a triumphant smile. "See? Now I can see your muddy eyes."
"Muddy eyes?" she echoed, not sure whether to be affronted or amused.
"Yes, your eyes are brown. Like mud," he explained simply. "Not dirty mud... clean mud. Your eyes aren't dirty. They're pretty."
"I take back what I said. I don't feel bad for your future wife because I doubt anyone would marry you if you say things like that."
"It's not my fault. It's because of these Crackbursts in my head." He tapped at his skull as if to prove a point and Hermione realized that he might have more than just a few of the creatures in his head.
"Crackbursts? That doesn't even remotely sound like Wrackspurts this time," she pointed out and pulled a face at the buzzing in her ears.
"Forgive me for not being... being creative when I have Ratspucks in my head. But you... Even with Spucktrats, you have a smart mouth. You don't know half the things I wish I could do to your mouth," he said, bringing a clumsy hand to her cheek.
She leaned back against the cherry blossom tree, her head suddenly far too heavy and her mouth far too dry. "What— what do you want to do to my mouth?"
He watched through heavy-lidded eyes as she licked her lips. "I want... I want my mouth. On your mouth. My mouth on your smart mouth," he mumbled and her eyes widened when he closed the distance between them to do exactly that.
Pressed against a cherry tree with little, invisible creatures dancing in her head, only one thing in Hermione's mind was clear: Every moment she had spent glaring at Draco Malfoy instead of kissing him had been a dreadful waste of time. He twisted his long fingers in the curls at the nape of her neck and tugged, tilting her head upwards.
His tongue traced and prodded at the seams of her lips and she parted them, melting against him. He kissed her deeply, languidly, and she could say without hesitation that she preferred this sort of lazy indulgence to those frenzied snogging sessions she used to have with Ron before they split up.
One of Malfoy's arms wrapped around her waist while the other curled under her knee, hitching her leg around his hips. He nipped at her bottom lip, then immediately sucked it, and Hermione arched into him.
Merlin, he was a skilled kisser, even in his current delirious state. And it didn't hurt that he tasted positively divine as well. She dragged desperate hands through his impossibly soft tresses and he shifted even closer to her, the coarse bark of the tree scraping against her neck.
He dipped his head and his lips traveled down the column of her throat, suckling at a spot just above her collarbone that made her shudder. His fingers clenched the blue fabric of her Ministry robes tightly as he thrust his hips into hers and she groaned when she felt his hard awareness of her. He let out a shaky exhale into her neck and she felt an unmistakable clench of desire in her core. "Dr— Draco," she breathed, digging her nails into his scalp.
As if broken from a trance, he released his vice-like grip on her waist. He ran a hand through his hair, only disheveling it further as he caught his breath. After a few moments, he cleared his throat and finally spoke. "Spurkruts. We have to get rid of the... the Raksparts," he panted, his cheeks flushed.
Hermione nodded, disentangling herself from him, and straightened her robes. "Right. Eggs. I'll go get the eggs," she breathed, her head feeling heavier than lead.
Confused, glazed grey eyes met her own. "Eggs?"
"Pimple dick. No, Pimplydink eggs," she said, blinking slowly. "Luna. I need to go find Luna. For Pimplydink eggs," she explained dazedly, wincing at the pounding in her ears.
Malfoy nodded pensively and took a step away from her. "Alright. You can... can Apparate. Find the eggs."
"Okay. Bye, Draco." Hermione scrunched her brows in concentration, imagining the Ministry's Atrium and disappeared in a swirl of Apparition.
"Did you know that there's an entire swarm of Wrackspurts living in your head?" Luna asked the next day, sitting down across her in the Ministry cafeteria. "You should get rid of them soon otherwise they'll make your brain go all fuzzy."
"I know," Hermione sighed, prodding at her potatoes with a fork, "I'm afraid I couldn't find any Pimplydink eggs."
"Yes, Draco told me about that when I went to the Manor for tea yesterday," Luna replied, pulling out a tiffin box from her patchwork bag.
She lifted an eyebrow at the blonde. "You went to the Manor for tea?"
"Oh, yes. Draco and I are wonderful friends now. Narcissa invites me every Sunday. I think you should come too. Their garden is quite lovely," Luna said, nibbling on a carrot thoughtfully.
Hermione nodded, swallowing the last of her lunch. "I should be getting back to work now," she said apologetically and got up from her seat. "I'll ask the Pest Advisory Board to head over to the Manor later today. I don't think I'm the best person for this job."
She wasn't only talking about the Wrackspurts, she realized as she walked through the halls. She had been working at the Creature Rights Department for over three years now and still hadn't made any major changes. What was worse was that her boss and colleagues were more interested in the Galleons they were making than the creatures they were bringing justice to.
She'd been thinking of quitting the Ministry for a while now, positive that she would be far more productive in a less political environment. Lost in her musings, she didn't realize someone was walking towards her until she bumped into them. Pale arms steadied her and she looked up to see slate grey eyes.
Her cheeks flamed when she remembered those same eyes trailing down her body just yesterday. "Malfoy," she choked out, tearing her gaze away from him. "What are you doing here?" she asked, wiping her suddenly sweaty palms on her standard Ministry robes.
"I came to return these," he answered, holding the flimsy pair of Spectrespecs out to her, "I forgot to give them back to you."
Hermione stared at the colorful swirly lenses for a few moments before realizing she was supposed to take them. "Oh! Er, thank you," she said, pocketing them quickly.
He nodded at her and continued to stand there, looking around at the offices with a wistful look in his eye. "Why don't you work?" she asked before she could stop herself. He turned his attention to her and she forced herself to swallow. "I mean, you're quite intelligent, from what I remember. You scored second highest in all our N.E.W.T.s," she explained, looking anywhere but at him.
He was silent for a minute. "N.E.W.T scores hardly matter when you have a Dark Mark on your arm," he said quietly.
"Not to me!" she blurted out and Malfoy gave her an odd look. "The Dark Mark. What it symbolizes. None of it matters to me. You've already proven that you've changed," she admitted, wringing her hands nervously.
He gave her a sad smile. "Everyone doesn't have that Gryffindor nobility you do, Granger. Just because you've forgiven me doesn't mean the rest of the world has," he sighed.
"That's not what I mean. I just— I was thinking—" she closed her eyes and spoke again, "I was planning on starting my own firm, you see. A law firm. I'm not exactly happy about the work I'm doing here, or lack thereof. I've spoken to quite a lot of people who also want to branch out of the Ministry," she began, eyes trained on the hallway behind him.
"Blaise Zabini, for example," she continued when he didn't say anything. "I think he's a friend of yours? Well, Blaise thinks it's a good idea and is willing to help fund it. Hannah Abbott, Fleur Delacour, and the Patil twins are interested too. So what I'm trying to say is..." Her eyes finally met his. "Would you want to work with me?"
His lips quirked up into a sly grin. "Aw, Granger, I thought you'd never ask," he drawled.
She smacked his arm. "The offer only stands if you stop being a prat," she warned and he smiled genuinely this time.
"I'd be honored, Hermione," he said and, after a second's hesitation, tipped his head to press his lips to hers. She widened her eyes, caught off guard, but leaned into him. She was just about to deepen the kiss when a dreamy voice sounded from behind them.
"You both have a lot of Wrackspurts in your head. Did you know that they could make your brain go all fuzzy?" Luna inquired. Draco's eyes found Hermione's and they both tried — and failed — to hide their smiles.