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There were many things Hermione Granger had expected to have to deal with once she started her career in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Werewolves, House-elves, Centaurs, Kelpies, honestly the list was never-ending. However whiny, rich heirs were certainly not within her jurisdiction.
“–approve the goddamn dragons Granger, I don’t give a single shite if they aren’t on Kingsley’s prepared list.”
Hermione sighed, bringing her focus back to the conversation and straight into the petulantly glaring face of one Draco Malfoy.
“I’m sorry Malfoy, there’s literally nothing I can do. The whole point of having a national creature exhibition is for the creature to represent your nation . I’m sure you’re aware that there isn’t a single dragon breed native to England.”
Malfoy narrowed his eyes, leaning back into Hermione’s office chair and kicking his feet up onto her desk.
She huffed. Getting his feet off her desk was a lost cause, he simply was too large . She settled for flicking a quick Scourgify at his boots instead.
Her eyes travelled subtly back up to his face. Somehow, in the years after Hogwarts, the war, and his community probation, he had filled into his angular and lanky build. Her many encounters with him in the past few years had cemented this fact.
Hermione would’ve been impressed (read: attracted) if she wasn’t so busy being annoyed at this particular game of ‘Explain it like I’m five’.
“That can’t be true, there’s the Hebridean Blac–”
“Scotland.”
“Ok fine, the Antipodean Opal–”
“New Zealand.”
“...the Common Welsh Green…?”
“Hmmm, let me think, you might be on to somet–oh wait, it’s fucking Welsh.”
It was Hermione’s turn to glare.
Malfoy’s gaze turned pleading and he lifted his boots off her desk in order to lean towards her. Hermione was very much not looking at his very broad shoulders and forearms. No sir.
“Granger, please. I’m an inch away from begging you and you know that I don’t beg. But it takes us 24 fucking years for us to finally make it back into semis, at a time where I’m actually responsible for England’s participation and reputation in this Tournament, and you can’t even provide me with some bloody dragons?! You can’t seriously let us be represented by something as lame our dear native boggarts. Or even worse, those blasted redcaps. You’ll give the kiddies nightmares for years.”
She shrugged, peeling her eyes off of those sinful, sinful forearms. “Sounds like you have a problem with Mother Nature herself. I'm simply a lowly paper pusher doomed to work with you on this little project of international dick measuring.” Because that was exactly what the Quidditch World Cup was.
“Granger, you’re literally the Head of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The youngest Head of any department in aeons.”
“-yes, and?”
“Please, I’ll owe you one. What do you want? I have unlimited resources at my disposal.”
“I could report you for attempted bribery of a Ministry official.”
“I’ll send you to Maldives on a fully paid for vacation. Or even better, I’ll fund a research expedition for you to go gallivanting across the globe saving poor creatures who don’t need to be saved.” He paused, then a wicked glint appeared in his eyes.
“I’ll stop bothering you during work hours for the next 2 months.”
Malfoy seemed to be attempting some semblance of a puppy dog face. Unfortunately for Hermione, it was working. Damn those beautiful grey eyes.
Sighing, she picked up a blank sheaf of parchment and started outlining ideas.
“If I had known taking this role would’ve meant directly working with you I would’ve resigned from the Ministry in a heartbeat.”
“It’s been years since we’ve started working together and yet here you still sit.”
“Against my better judgement for sure.”
He smirked, relaxing back into his chair. “So is that a yes?”
Hermione was sure that a migraine was starting to carve a tortuous path through her head, slowly laughing at her pain. “I’ll see what I can do. And Merlin knows, you better hope we don’t have an international incident over this.”
Malfoy grinned, a boyishly wide smile that showed all of his teeth. “Have I told you just how much I love you?”
She sighed once more, “Have I told you just how much I hate the paperwork you cause me? Now get out of my office before I change my mind, you lazy cretin.”
2 weeks and many sleepless nights later, Hermione was rewarded with the ridiculous sight of a horde of pearlescent creatures dipping and zooming over the heads of the fortunate spectators who had gotten tickets to the historic World Cup semifinals. Luckily for her, most of those present did not seem to find it as ridiculous as she did.
The roars of the English crowd dulled against the sound of her pounding headache, a dull throb that had persisted ever since Draco Malfoy had stepped into her office.
“I can’t believe we’ve had English dragons all along!” Harry, seated next to her, yelled out in glee.
To his left, Ginny snorted, “If you can call these little lizards dragons.” Harry maturely stuck his tongue out at his girlfriend in response.
Silently, Hermione agreed with her. The so-called dragons looked much more like an iridescent Komodo dragon than their actual namesake. You could barely see their translucent, spiny wings, which looked like they were definitely not meant to hold up weight of any kind.
Ginny sipped at her beer, before snapping her gaze curiously towards Hermione. “So how’d you do it?”
“Do what?”, she said innocently, “We simply got lucky and these beautiful beasts were registered under Magical species law just in time to get approval to be displayed as our exhibition program. In fact, it was actually thanks to Proposition 2.56a, which if you remember I got approved in early February, that the process was able to pass so quickly.”
Rolling her eyes, Ginny let it go, clearly enjoying her time too much to give in to her naturally nosy nature. Besides, the redhead had never been one to get into the intricacies of Ministry paperwork.
Hermione smiled at Ginny’s response, silently making a note to send a huge thank you gift to the United States soon. She owed Luna and her husband big-time. Who could’ve known that the larger distant cousin of the Crumple-horned Snorkack could look like the Antipodean Opaleye if one squinted hard enough? (Trick question: Luna Lovegood knew.)
It had only taken her countless nights and many zany, embarrassing rituals to track down this particular pack (which had technically been located closer to Scotland than England’s half of the border, but Hermione was in charge and therefore no one needed to know).
To her right, Draco stared up at the little white dragons (little by dragon standards, they were still very much the size of small cars). Her face softened as she looked upon his childlike glee and joy. Maybe it had all been worth it.
The announcer's loud voice rang through the stands, “Give it up for England’s newly discovered national creature, the Draconian Snorkack!”