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“You surely can't,” Theo insisted.
Harry notices Hermione’s body language. She’s oblivious. Standing on the footrest of her high top chair, her hair straggles from the once tidy French braid. All her focus is on Theo, who she’s had a long raging battle of wits with for the past 4 years.
An unlikely friendship, Theo somehow ended up being the Publicity Manager for the Harpies. That had brought the Slytherin and Gryffindor clans together. It has taken almost two years, but here they are. Almost 6 years after the battle of Hogwarts, childhood and war rivalries had been set aside to give way to new ones.
Some of them, like Theo, Ginny and Hermione, thrived in these rivalries. Others merely sat back and groaned at these, which is what keeps Ron busy in this moment.
“I surely can,” Hermione responds. Her face breaks out in a wide grin as she slaps her hands over the table, droplets of perspiration from long empty glasses splashing her friends.
A low laugh brings Harry’s attention to the old rival sitting beside Hermione. She never notices, but Harry never fails to.
Draco Malfoy always sits beside her; his legs always angle towards her. It’s obvious in his lips, which are almost permanently set into a frown, titled only the slightest bit upward when Hermione behaves like this.
For the brightest witch of her age, she surely is oblivious.
“It’s impossible that you can make up haikus on the spot, Granger,” Theo huffs for the third time since Hermione’s confession of her obscenely obscure talent.
She laughs, a high wicked laugh and angles herself forward over the table.
“Highly improbable, but not impossible.”
Theo’s eyes narrow at Hermione. He always was second best to her in grades. That had been the pinnacle of their rivalry. Ever since, they’d bicker endlessly over pointless issues.
“Prove it,” the dark haired Slytherin challenges.
This is exactly what Hermione wants. Her face lights up and she falls back gracefully on her chair. The smile on her face proves she’s won.
She clears her throat.
“My throat is too dry.
“Go buy me a butterbeer,
“Nott, you are a dear,” she sings.
Everyone at the table roars with laughter at the dumbstruck look on Theo’s face. Begrudgingly, the man stands to fetch Hermione a drink and Harry’s eyes trail back to Draco.
He is studying Hermione with unmatched reverence.
Harry thinks of saying something, but he can’t—not when they are so openly in the line of fire.
Firstly, Hermione sits right there, along with Ginny who would be unrelenting. Harry doesn’t worry about Ron, he is too busy worshiping Theo to notice the hidden glance Draco has to spare.
As if reading his mind, Theo waves them over; he needs help with the drinks. Harry and Draco quickly stand to help him. After meaningless small talk with the bartender, Theo trots back to the table.
Harry holds Draco back and fixes him with a knowing smile. Draco is quick to roll his eyes.
“What is it?”
“What are you waiting for?”
Draco takes a deep breath, presumably to calm himself.
“Care to elaborate?”
Harry is quiet for a moment. He knows his friend won’t ask again, but he still likes creating tension.
“When are you asking Hermione out?”
Draco doesn’t pretend to be surprised and Harry appreciates it, but he does set a frown.
“I won’t waste my time. She isn’t interested.”
Harry is the one to roll his eyes now. “Oblivious and uninterested are two different things.”
Draco tenses and moves to go back to the table, but Harry holds him.
“You can’t lose anything by trying,” Harry insists.
“I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”
“Mate, it’s time you stop thinking with your brain, and start thinking with your balls.”
Draco raises an eyebrow at him and immediately Harry notices how mistaken he is in his choice of words.
“I—I mean as in courage, not—” he stammers.
“Never pegged you to speak so crudely about your best friend.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
Draco pushes himself out of Harry’s grasp and walks over to the table.
Harry grunts in annoyance at his friend, but follows him promptly. He finds Hermione asking her friends to deliver haikus, an attempt to prove her talent is impressive.
“Theo Nott Jr,
“Has proven he’s always wrong,
“He’s not very smart?” Ginny tries a jab at her friend.
Hermione doesn’t seem pleased with the ease with which Ginny comes up with her poem.
“Nice one, Gin!” Harry praises his girlfriend with a kiss on the cheek that makes her glow.
Ron swiftly announces it is his turn, he stands proudly and clears his throat.
“My Theodore Nott,
“What a very handsome man,
“Let’s get out of here,” Ron delivers the last line with a grin, garnering groans from their friends. It works and the couple takes their leave.
Ginny excuses herself to the loo, and Harry, knowing an opportunity when he sees one, is not one to let it pass.
“I want to try,” he says.
Hermione raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You think you can make up a haiku on the spot?”
Harry shrugs. “I’ve been thinking of it for a while now, so no, not on the spot. Five, seven, five?”
Hermione nods. Harry doesn’t give Draco the chance to react.
“Cowardly Draco
“Will not have the guts to say,
“He wants to date you.”
Narrowed grey eyes stare daggers into Harry’s, but the brown saucers that stare up at Draco prove to him that he has done the right thing. A glimmer of excitement shines in Hermione’s eyes, and he knows that she has been pining for the man sitting beside her for months now.
Both have been ridiculously oblivious.
“Is it true?” Hermione asks tentatively.
Draco looks bashful. “Potter’s just—”
He stops when Hermione’s face falls, but Harry knows he will backpedal immediately. It is obvious now that these two are on the same page, and Harry feels proud for having brought them together in this moment.
“Yes, Granger, it is true,” he corrects, but it is too late. Hermione already looks doubtful.
Harry must intervene now, before it all falls to pieces.
“How about Malfoy proves how much he wants to go out with you, by asking you in a haiku?”
“I can do that,” the man agrees.
Hermione is still unsure, but she nods once again.
Draco takes a deep breath but ploughs on.
“Stupid shit I say,
“For I have more balls than brains,
“Please, take me on a date?”
Hermione looks at him for a moment, her face blank, but then it breaks into a smile.
“That last line was six syllables.”
“They don’t teach poetry at Hogwarts,” Draco quickly retorts. His face remains almost neutral, but for a slight upturn to his lips.
“That they do not,” Hermione agrees, still smiling.
“So, what do you say?” He presses.
“A charming request,
“To prove yourself committed.
“You may take me out.”