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"Please welcome our final lot for tonight, Draco Malfoy!"
Hermione stands in the corner of the crowded venue, checking the mostly-complete list clipped to the board she's been clutching all evening. She is pleased as her event draws to a close. With just one bachelor left, the rest of the night should be a breeze.
But when he walks on-stage, he's lacking his usual cock-sure attitude. The man is nervous.
She feels a flash of something. Pity?
They'd all had a plan for the night, and it'd mostly worked.
Ginny had won Blaise easily, so she wouldn't have to share her boyfriend. Theo had dramatically over-bid on Harry, happy to publicly embarrass his husband for a good cause. Plus, they both knew the large sum would be good publicity. And then Pansy, who'd agreed to protect Draco from misguided witches with delusions of betrothal contracts, had gotten...distracted.
Viktor Krum agreeing to participate as a celebrity bachelor had seemed a great idea, a boon for the entire endeavor, until a glassy-eyed Pansy found herself bidding all the galleons meant for Malfoy.
Now the poor man stands defenseless and vulnerable before a crowd of hungry witches with no back-up plan.
Hermione offers him a small smile, and he grimaces in return.
It'll be fine. Right? It has to be. Her event can't be what forces him back into marriage dates after years of successful avoidance. She'd feel terrible.
Hermione breathes a sigh of relief when Padma, a mutual friend known for her preference of witches, bids generously. But h er relief is short-lived. A determined looking Astoria Greengrass appears out of seemingly nowhere to raise a paddle in response.
Malfoy's panicked eyes find hers.
Please he mouths, desperate.
He's a good friend, and has been since 8th year. He's also a great backup date for functions, far more attentive than any of her exes. He knows exactly when to freshen her drink and when to remind her to eat. He anticipates her needs intuitively. And he's an absolute master at getting her out of awkward conversations.
For all he's done for her, he's never asked for anything in return.
Until now.
She sighs.
Ron, who'd volunteered to MC when Lav had refused to let him participate, calls for final bids.
It's not smart, she knows. Instead of the charity, this will be the story in tomorrow's Prophet. But he's begging her with those sad, puppy-dog eyes.
Resigned, she raises her paddle.
Someone in the crowd actually gasps. Which is, she thinks, absolutely ridiculous. Their years-long friendship has been well documented. They've even been rumored to...
Well. Fuck the rumors. What do they know, anyways.
Astoria keeps bidding, and so does Hermione. In minutes they've promised more than the event has earned tonight twice over.
Hermione is going to murder Pansy.
Eventually, once they hit a landmark sum, Astoria backs off. Hermione is pronounced the winner to a tittering crowd.
She walks on stage, giving Malfoy a perfunctory embrace. "You're paying me back," she whispers.
He returns it, gripping tightly. "Every knut," he agrees.
"We don't have to go on a date. I know the organizer, she'll let it slide," she jokes.
"Granger." It sounds like a warning, but won't let her pull back. "I'm taking you on the best date of your life."
He kisses her, swallowing her confusion and silencing any protest she might have made.
It's even better than she remembers.
Before they were friends there'd been that one kiss that one night that neither of them talked about after. The one she thinks of sometimes after a bad day or a bad date or a long dry spell. The one that kept her from settling for milquetoast men who aroused in her, at best, milquetoast passion again and again and again.
Blood pounds in her ears as the crowd responds enthusiastically to this new development.
From off-stage, Pansy gives her the kind of encouraging glare that only she is capable of.
It's then that Hermione realizes that all of their friends are watching expectantly, smug grins all around.
He's still holding her, his eyes searching her face for something.
"I don't...understand."
He leans in close enough to hear him over the noise. "Parks's been hot for Krum for ages," he rasps, breath hot in her ear. "It seemed a good time to try something I've wanted for ages, too."
Her heart thrills at the admission. Except...
"And you just left it up to chance?" she asks, unconvinced. If she's honest, it lacks the markings of his usual scheming.
"Of course not," he scoffs, leading her out as though she'd already agreed to the date. "Who do you think talked Astoria into bidding?"
A Malfoy always gets what he wants.