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The Ministry is staffed exclusively by dickheads.
Hermione storms through the corridors, her chest and cheeks burning as she barrels past terrified bystanders. Her wand seems to be humming in her arm holster, sending a small static shock down to her fingers as it reacts to her rage.
Not yet. Almost there.
She turns down an empty hallway and heads directly for the broom closet she knows will be unlocked. Once inside, she slams the door, mutters a silencing charm, and collapses against the wood.
“Occupied!”
She spins, fighting back the tears she was about to release. Curled up against the opposite wall is one Draco Malfoy. “This is my crying cupboard, Malfoy. Go get your own.”
“Bullshit,” he hisses. “I found this place months ago, Granger. It’s mine.”
“I’ve been here over a year, and I found this spot on my first day!”
“Squatters rights.”
“That’s not a thing, Malfoy.”
He sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands. “I just need another minute, alright?”
Hermione frowns, leaning closer as her eyes adjust to the darkness. Malfoy sniffles, face still planted in his hands. Her own rage temporarily pushed aside, she makes an effort to soften her tone. “You okay?”
He scoffs. “Oh yeah, I’m just swell, Granger.” He glares at her through his fingers. “You can leave now.”
She crouches down, arms crossed on top of her knees and chin resting on her arms. “Or I could stay.”
He groans. “Granger-“
“You did it for me once.”
He inhales sharply. “If that’s why, you don’t owe me-“
“Its not because I owe you, Malfoy.”
He exhales as he rolls back, his head thudding against the wall. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
She scoots next to him, her side pressed to the wall. “How could I forget? It was the nicest thing you’d ever done for me.”
“I’m sure Potter and Weasley got a real kick out of that story.”
“I never told them.” He snaps his head to face her, brows furrowed. She shrugs. “I never needed to. Besides, it was Ron who’d made me cry in the first place.”
He turns away again. “Is he the reason you’re here today, too?”
Hermione frowns. “No deflecting. I’m here for you right now.” She shifts her weight, tucking her legs to the side and opening her arms. “Come on. We both don’t have all day.”
He’s motionless for so long Hermione almost drops her arms, but at the last moment he caves, his body collapsing against her. Her arms encircle his shoulders, cheek pressed against his hair. She inhales the scent of his hair products, something clean and luxurious.
“Do I need to fight somebody?”
He snorts. “Not even you could defeat this.”
She hums, slowly running her hand up and down his back. “Are you sure? I am a rather talented witch.”
“Not unless you know how to restore my mother’s mind.”
“Oh, Draco.”
He chokes out a sob, body shaking as he’s overcome by a torrent of tears. His hands blindly grip the edges of her robes, face pressed against her chest as he tries to curl himself into her. She holds him tighter, rocking softly, her hand still tracing the line of his spine.
Time ceases to exist in their dark corner of the world. Hermione begins to feel a dull ache in her back as Draco’s sobs start to subside. He sniffles, then releases her robes, returning to his original position against the wall. He runs his hand through his hair before wiping his nose with a monogrammed handkerchief. Just like that, he’s put himself back together.
“How do you do that?” Draco turns, arching a brow. “That. The whole, calm and collected right after a breakdown. Your face isn’t even red.”
“Years of impeccable breeding, of course.” His tone is both light and bitter. “You don’t survive in my world if you carry your weakness where everyone can see it.”
“Crying is not a weakness,” she mutters hotly.
“Try explaining that to my father.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
He grins, his eyes going bright, faint creases appearing around them. “I’d sell tickets to that fight. Make myself a small fortune.” He shifts so his pose mirrors hers. “But, now that I’ve had my cry time, it’s your turn.”
“Oh,” she scoffs, waving at the air. “It’s nothing. The moment has passed.”
“Are you sure? I am a powerful wizard, with a terrifying reputation. I could go glare menacingly at whomever it was.”
“You glaring at my boss will not make him any less of an ass.”
He hums. “I’m also filthy rich. I could just pay him off. You shouldn’t be working for anyone, anyway.”
Her head falls back as she’s overcome by a deep, loud laugh. “Who knew me crying in a corridor would one day lead to a Malfoy offering to extort a government official for me.” His face is still, his expression serious. “Draco Malfoy, you will not bribe my boss to quit just because sometimes his head is stuck so far up his own ass that it makes me want to turn him into a tomato.”
“Wet blanket,” he mutters.
Her eyes remain on his face, brow furrowing. “What were you doing there, the day you found me?”
He grimaces. “I was hiding. Or, trying to. That damned cabinet wouldn’t work, no matter what I did, and my parents were becoming increasingly disappointed and terrified.” He looks at the crack of light under the door. “I’ve never forgotten how you looked that day,” he mumbles.
Hermione rolls her eyes. “A right mess, I’m sure.”
He looks up quickly. “You looked like- like something out of a fairy tale. Something I’d dreamed up. Golden and glowing.”
Her brain comes to a screeching halt. Golden and glowing . Only her heart is still functioning, thundering in her ears after halting for a beat. Golden and glowing . Her body reminds her she needs air, so she hauls in a shallow breath. Golden and glowing .
“I meant what I said that day,” Draco continues, filling the silence she’s left open for too long. “I’d’ve gladly hexed Weasley into oblivion for making you cry like that.”
She mentally kicks herself back into being a functioning person, urging her heartbeat to return to normal. “And if I could heal your mother for you, I would.”
Draco sighs. “What good is magic if we still end up miserable?”
Hermione shrugs. “Life is cruel to everyone, it seems.” She offers him a soft smile. “This was nice. I feel much better now.”
Draco scoffs. “Good to know my emotional breakdown puts you in a better mood, Granger.”
She lightly hits his arm. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. It’s nice to talk to somebody when you’re upset. It’s nice to talk to you.” She looks down at the fingers fiddling in her lap. Calls upon some of her Gryffindor courage. “I’ve wanted to, ever since that time in the hallway.”
Draco takes a sharp inhale. “Me too,” he admits. “I was certain you’d never want to, and I understood. But-“
She covers his mouth with her hand. “Hush. No more of that. We’re grown, and we’ve moved passed that.” She lowers her hand, but leans in to place a soft kiss on his cheek. Her heart is racing again, but she lingers to speak into his ear. “When you’re up to it, you could take me out to dinner. To make up for lost time.”
Draco nods slowly as she draws back, and she can see a faint pink dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Yes. Dinner. Of course. Name the time and place, and I’ll take you. Anything. Anywhere. Right now?”
Oh dear, I broke him . “It’s not even time for lunch, Malfoy.”
“Late breakfast then?”
She shakes her head, fighting a smile. “We have to go back to work.”
“Sod it. Let that asshole try to manage without you for a day. Come to lunch with me.”
He’s leaned in closer as he spoke, his breath now tickling her cheeks. His eyes are earnest as they dance over hers. She bites her lip to keep her smile in check. “Okay, Draco. Take me to lunch.”
He smiles, and she cannot hold her own back anymore. “Where would you like to go?” he asks as he rises, holding his hand out to help her up.
Anywhere , he’d said. She considers calling him on his bluff and demanding to visit Japan or Egypt. Her fingers slide into his palm, and she’s pulled upright. “Let’s do your favorite. I’ll save mine for dinner.”
His smile widens. “Alright. We need to a make a quick stop first.” He holds the door for her, and they emerge into the dimly lit hallway, the hum of the Ministry returning as they leave the safety of Hermione’s charm.
“Shall we meet back here in 20 minutes?” Hermione would rather avoid seeing her boss for the rest of the day, and she can easily summon her coat and bag, but she’s not ready to follow Draco up to his office before absconding with him for the rest of the day.
He smirks then leans down. “I’m not letting you out of my sight for the rest of the day, Granger.” Her stomach drops before going weightless. “Summon your things,” he says as his coat appears on his arm.
She complies, and takes his offered arm as they cross the hall to the lifts. “International?” she questions after he pushes the button.
He grins down at her. “My favorite spot for lunch is in Italy.”
Her mouth works silently, her brain once again refusing to function. “Italy? For lunch?”
He waggles his eyebrows as the lift stops. “Filthy rich, remember?”
“Disgusting,” she replies, almost laughing, as he leads the way. And she hates the war, hates everything dark and horrible that’s ever happened to her or her friends and everyone involved, hates that none of them ever had an easy, normal childhood, filled with silly drama and lightheartedness. But this is what they’d been fighting for. For a world where she could be whisked away to lunch by Draco Malfoy, and only feel the normal jumble of feelings that come from a first date, the chance to start something new.
Draco looks at her and smiles, and she revels in the feeling that rushes through her.
Something golden and glowing.