Work Text:
The wood door slammed shut as a man entered Flourish and Blotts, his presence announced by the ringing bell on the door. He brushed a thin layer of snow off his coat and hair and stomped the white off his boots as the door clicked shut. The only other noise came from pages of a magazine being flipped and the shuffling of other customers.
The faint sound of howling wind outside disappeared as his muscle memory drove him deeper into the store, toward the darkest corner. He took in the familiar smell of old books that saturated the place; Draco preferred smaller shops because they brought him a sense of safety and comfort.
Grey eyes sifted the shelves, hoping to find a particular book: Voyages with Vampires. This was NEWT’s latest novel, published a mere week ago.
Draco let out a defeated sigh as he scanned the shelves for the third time. Nothing.
Wait.
He rescinded his sigh as his thin, pale fingers slid down the spine of yet another novel by NEWT. Confronting the Faceless was the second book in a series of semi-related novels, Defense Against the Dark Arts. Mind you, he read the paperback version until the spine was broken and the cover ruined. He just wanted the hardcover to add to his bookshelf.
He liked collecting hard covers. Sue him.
“I don’t get why it’s such a big deal,” Pansy sighed, plucking the book from his hands. “It’s not like the content is any different.”
He was being scolded— yet again— by his technologically advanced girlfriend who did not understand the purpose of buying a physical book.
“It’s—”
“Yeah, I know, I know,” she interrupted, flimsily waving his precious hardcover around. “What I’m saying is that you should use the tablet I bought you.”
“I do use it,” Draco huffed. The iPad was one of his most prized possessions merely because of the amount of time he wasted playing Candy Crush.
“I meant for books.” Pansy tossed the book back to him and indicated for him to continue his shopping. “It would be much cheaper. And easier.”
“It’s all part of the experience, love.”
“What’s wrong with the paperback again?” She asked, trailing behind him as he strolled down the aisle.
“It’s fragile and flimsy. I hate it when things break.”
“Pardon me.” Draco almost stumbled back as a voice broke the silence and brought him back to the present.
His eyes landed on the owner of the voice, a fair-skinned woman with creamy brown eyes and matching dark caramel hair. She had a small pointed nose and light freckles neatly splattered across her face.
In her arms was a stack of books threatening to spill from her grasp but her attention was on something else, something by Draco’s side.
He stepped back to make space for her as she tiptoed to grab a leather-bound novel. A triumphant smile appeared on her pink-tinted lips as she successfully added the book to her stack. And with a quick nod to him, she was on her way out of the dark corner.
There was only a short moment of silence before it was broken again by a small yelp followed by a series of light thumps. Draco’s heart ached for the fallen books; the corners were definitely dented now.
It took him only three strides to reach the first victim, a biography about Nicholas Flamel. Another stride to reach the second, some werewolf novel by Remus Lupin.
A flustered face slowly looked up after noticing his feet. She quickly gathered her books and stood, arms tightly wrapped around her stack of books.
“Thanks,” she stuttered. “I can take it from here.”
“Why? So you can drop them all again in two meters?” Draco grinned as she turned a brighter shade of red. He grabbed the top books from the stack as he passed to help lighten her load (and prevent potential future crimes).
“Oh, thanks… again,” she muttered, trailing behind him. “I may have gone a bit overboard.”
“Have you now?” He glanced back before setting her books on the register. “Is this all for you?”
“It’s for the month,” was her sharp reply. She looked like she was ready to justify her spending, as if she was the defendant threatened with a lifetime sentence and he was the judge.
As if. He almost scoffed but refrained from doing so; it would’ve been rude and he didn't suffer through all those years of etiquette training to be rude to a stranger. Secondly, if he was in a position like that with anyone— especially his ex-girlfriend— he would’ve sounded the same.
“So I won’t be tempted,” she clarified after a moment. “If I buy all this now, I won’t have an excuse to come back anytime soon. I usually buy a book or two every week so it adds up.”
“If you buy a book or two a week, then you have enough for two months,” he said, watching as the shop owner finally put down his magazine.
“I— you don’t have to say it like that ,” the woman frowned.
“How would you like me to say it then?” He asked, leaning against the counter.
She shrugged before turning back to the shopkeeper. “Can I have a bag? I was in a rush today.”
“Of course.”
Draco took his opportunity to further observe the pretty woman standing just barely past arms reach. (He was a man, after all.)
She wore a thick black coat and a simple red and gold scarf over what seemingly was her work clothes. Peeking out from under the scarf was a small white badge held in place by a colorful lanyard. Draco tried to make out the words from his position. Some of the words blurred together (maybe his mother was right— maybe he should get glasses) but he was able to mostly make it out.
In large, swirly letters was THE QUIBBLER— he assumed that was the company name. Under, in a smaller font was Hermione J. Granger and Managing Editor . A fitting name and occupation. What else was he expecting?
“I’m Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger.” She lifted the badge he was eyeing.
“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”
“Why do you introduce yourself like you’re James Bond?”
“Because I’m on par with Bond, James Bond. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” Hermione laughed. “It was nice meeting you Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. Maybe we’ll run into each other again.”
“Maybe. Happy reading.”
He waited for the door to shut and the bell to stop ringing before heading back to his dark corner. It was only then did he realize that he no longer possessed Confronting the Faceless . Sighing, he realized the situation and headed to a different section of the store. There were no other NEWT books here that he didn’t already own.
~ ~ ~
The two minute walk from Flourish and Blotts to her car was the most she struggled in a while; she almost dropped her bags twice on the trip and once more when she was reaching to find her keys.
Hermione was breathing heavily on the couch fifteen minutes later. Technically, she was home within ten minutes but there was even more struggling between the parking garage and her shared apartment. Sometimes she hated living on the third floor, and this was one of those times.
The door clicked open not too long later; it was her roommate with her boyfriend. The redhead kicked off her boots, stripped off her coat and scarf, and threw them on the table by the door before heading over to the couch. Her boyfriend trailed behind, grabbing her belongings to neatly hang on the rack.
“I see you went wild again,” Ginny commented, peering into one of the bags. “Did you get the mermaid book I’ve been telling you about?”
“Of course I did,” Hermione said, sitting up. “It’s in there somewhere.”
“What about The Tales of the Three Brothers?” Harry’s head suddenly appeared over Ginny’s shoulders.
“It’s there somewhere too. But since when were you interested in those types of books?”
“My dad says it’s a classic,” Harry shrugged.
“It is, and I’m glad you finally decided to give it a chance. I’d have to thank him.”
“Why’d you buy this one, ‘Min?” Ginny held up a hardcover of Confronting the Faceless . “I thought you already had it?”
“Huh?” Hermione reached out to grab and flip through the novel. Did she read the title wrong? Did she mistake it for another book? Was she buying it for someone? Did it somehow randomly fall into her pile?
Oh.
It was from the guy in Flourish and Blotts— Draco. It had to be.
He was holding a book when she first saw him; it must’ve gotten lost in her pile when he was helping her. She frowned as she thought about how satisfied he looked when she first noticed him in the corner, with his large hands gently gliding along the spine.
Hermione told the couple about her visit to Flourish and Blotts— about running around the shop trying to find said books, about the (cute) blond guy who helped her, and about her short conversation with him. She didn’t know where she went wrong because by the end of it, Ginny was flailing and asking just about every possible question about the man. Hermione finally stopped her when she began devising a plan to ‘accidentally’ run into him again.
…
The snowfall was lighter than it had been all of last week. Hermione leaned against the tall glass window of the conference room and stared at the passing cars and pedestrians as her boss babbled on. If she squinted, she could make out the general area of Flourish and Blotts. She often thought of the bookstore, no doubt, but her thoughts have been wandering more than usual. It was perhaps (definitely) because of the man she had the shortest of short conversations with almost two full weeks ago. She was going back today. She had to.
And shit, she was in deep for this man. A man she only knew two things about: his name and that he was (probably) a bookworm. Wait, scratch that, three things— this was inside her head after all, so admitting that he was hot as hell wouldn’t result in any consequences (like Ginny finding out and pushing that horrible plan she was definitely secretly brewing)… right?
Just one quick trip today, which would be in vain (most likely) because why wouldn’t that gorgeous man wouldn’t have a girlfriend? Or boyfriend, since you shouldn’t assume. (But for the love of Merlin, please like women.) And the chances of running into him today would be… none. Even if he did stop by today, she wouldn't be there long so the chances of them running into each other was even slimmer.
So what was the point of it all then?
To prove to herself that the incident was not one of those fateful meetings like in romance movies. To prove to herself that this pointless pining should just end because there was no such thing as fate. They met by accident once, and that was all. They were never going to meet again, so her brain just needs to shut up.
And if the only way of achieving that was to make a quick stop to Flourish and Blotts, then so be it.
Luna had disappeared by the time Hermione managed to tune back to reality. At first, she listened every time her boss talked— she took in every word, even if they didn’t make any sense (she would make them make sense). However, the quality and coherency of Luna’s rambling eventually declined to the point where Hermione was rendered helpless. She would spend hours trying to decipher Luna’s words but make absolutely no progress.
Hermione felt bad at first but eventually she learned that this was just Luna’s way of relieving stress. Eventually, Luna began dismissing herself mid-conversation. Hermione didn’t question it.
Instead of sitting back down when her feet carried her to her desk, Hermione swiped some important folders and her bag and phone before heading out the door. Originally, she was going to stay back to get a head start on preparations for next week, but the handsome Flourish and Blotts man prodding in her mind would’ve distracted her anyway.
One quick stop to Flourish and Blotts before heading out to get groceries. (It’s her turn this week.)
The brunette stopped abruptly by her car as she reconsidered. Not about going to Flourish and Blotts, but about driving there. It was a mere two blocks from the office: a short walk. The snow was light and it’d be good exercise too.
She quickly exchanged her documents for a scarf and tote bag— the one she forgot last time— and slung it over her shoulder. To Flourish and Blotts (just to prove myself wrong).
(Or not, she added, feeling the small hard rectangle that laid at the bottom of her bag. Confronting the Faceless . Just in case, of course.)
The walk was uneventful to say the least, but what was Hermione expecting? Did she think she’d run into him on the way there? (Yes; she is a romantic, after all.)
But just when she thought she could confirm the irrationality of her pining, she was back to square one. The universe worked in mysterious ways, and perhaps it was just messing with her, but at this moment all she could focus on was the grey eyes of the man looming over her as she pulled open the door to Flourish and Blotts.
~ ~ ~
Three. Three consecutive days of stopping by Flourish and Blotts after work. Three days and counting. Three days since meeting Hermione J. Granger. Three days since losing the hardcover of Confronting the Faceless he finally managed to get his hands on. If that was the price the universe settled on, then so be it. And if it was just a coincidence and losing his book was just the universe messing with him, then well… then that sucks.
“Back again?” Was the first thing Draco heard on the fourth day. No ‘hello’ or ‘welcome’; just straight to the point. “You know, she won’t be back for a while,” the shopkeeper continued before he could answer. “And if she does come, she stops by after work, around 5:15 to 5:20 at earliest.”
“Oh,” Draco managed. “T-Thanks.”
He noticed. (Of course he noticed— he’s the owner for Merlin’s sake. Did Draco really think he could go unnoticed?)
Well, this meant Draco had to buy something now. Not like he wasn’t going to, of course. But the sense of obligation was much, much stronger than it had been the previous days.
He let his mind wander as he browsed for his daily book. So when they met, she had been shopping for a while. That made sense since she did have a full stack of books. And here he was, arriving with high hopes before the clock even hits five. The most obvious things escaped him when it came to her; he’s generally very observant. He really was. But now with this new information, he’d have to cut back on his Flourish and Blotts trips. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the money (because he had money alright), but this was for his dignity (something he didn’t have much left). This meant every other day instead.
But why was his brain so adamant on her of all people. There was Astoria from his office; she was pretty and seemed to be interested in him. He knew her quite well too. There wasn’t anything inherently wrong with her. In fact, he even considered it because you never know unless you try, right?
And Astoria wasn’t even one of those rich and powerful women his parents desperately wanted him to date. Not that there was anything wrong with the women that were lined up for him; Draco’s sure they’re wonderful and kind, but his refusal was purely out of spite. If he met them on his own accord, that would be a different story. Maybe one of them was his soulmate, if those even existed. But he would rather die alone than succumb to an arranged relationship with anyone. By all accounts, he should’ve asked her out months ago.
Today, he decided on that one trending dystopian young adult novel: The Triwizard Tournament .
It wasn’t until the twelfth day after their first meeting did his attempts finally pay off. Almost two weeks. Two weeks and too many unwanted books.
He was running a bit later than usual that fateful twelfth day but decided to stop by anyway. Maybe she would be late too. (He was still in denial.)
It was just past 5:45 when he began browsing in his dark corner. The other day, the owner informed him that he would be restocking his NEWT collection, so Draco obviously had to come back. He was almost shaking in anticipation as he scanned through the shelves, hoping to find either Voyages with Vampires or Confronting the Faceless .
Yes, he still hasn’t gotten his hands on Voyages with Vampires even though he had practically been living in the bookstore (that’s an exaggeration obviously, but you get the point). Draco even almost caved and bought the eBook version.
Almost.
And aha! it was there on the shelf. Both books, actually. In hardcover. Happy bloody birthday to me. The only thing that could make this day better was if he ran into the woman who had been occupying his mind.
It didn’t take long for Draco’s wish to be fulfilled.
His feet abruptly stopped before the entrance, frozen with absolutely no intention of moving. Because… was this just his mind playing tricks on him? Was he that desperate to see her that he began to hallucinate? Or was it actually her who he was looming over?
“Miss Granger!” A familiar voice from inside called out. “Welcome back!”
So it was her. He should say hi and ask her how she's been and about her progress with the books and maybe get her numb— wait . He had been so caught up in his pining that he failed to consider the most important thing: did she even remember him? They only had that one conversation; they interacted for a total of 5 minutes, or even less than that.
“Oh, hello. It’s been a while.” She sounded calm and collected but Draco couldn’t very short help but wonder if she had been thinking about him too.
…
The day surely had been full of surprises, not that he was complaining.
After their second fateful meeting, the pair browsed through the bookstore (for Hermione) before heading out to Honeydukes Sweetshop and Café just next door. It was awkward at first as they sat across from each other, sipping on their drinks and poking at their desserts. However, after a quick icebreaker (Hermione's overly harsh criticism of a novel she just picked up), all tension broke and they talked for what felt like hours. The drive to The Quibbler’s parking garage was short, a mere three minutes, so they remained in his car as they talked about who had a superior music taste.
And now he was finally back in his penthouse, two books laying discarded in the bag by his side as he stared at the one in his hands. Confronting the Faceless. Not the one he bought today, but the one that he lost that fateful day.
Hermione handed it to him before exiting his car, profusely apologizing for ‘stealing’ his book and trying to clear the air by joking about how he now has one for his room and one for work. It only worked because he was interested in her. And yes, they exchanged numbers. Draco was surprised he actually managed to work up the courage to ask for it.
A small, folded piece of paper fell out as he opened the front cover. Huh.
It was short and to the point yet somehow still screamed Hermione:
Hi,
I honestly can’t stop thinking about you even though we only talked for a few minutes before I (unknowingly) stole your book (I’m sorry!!!).
If you’re taken or not interested, please discard this and never speak of it (or to me) again. If on the other hand… how do you feel about mint chocolate ice cream and pineapple on pizza? Those are extremely important questions. +44 xxxxx xxxxxx
Granger, Hermione Granger
Grinning, he pulled out his phone and tapped on his most recent contact:
i'm not particularly picky about pineapple on pizza
but mint chocolate ice cream??
if you don’t like it then that’s a major red flag and you need to re-evaluate your entire life