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Sneak and Seek
Saturday June 5, 1999; Hogwarts…
Hermione woke feeling as if her head was a ticking time bomb that was about to explode. It throbbed. She squeezed her eyes together and rubbed her temple. Clearly, she had crossed the line at the seventh and eighth year—unauthorized and very inappropriate—drinking party last night in the Slytherin Common Room. She honestly wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten back to her room, but assumed that it involved Ginny talking someone into carrying or levitating her there.
She reached blindly beneath the covers for the nightstand. There was always a bottle of pepper-up kept in the top drawer, for the days when she’d spent too long studying and had trouble getting up. It would maybe give her enough energy to get over to Ginny’s room to steal a sobering potion.
Her hand only hit air. She stretched a little further. Still nothing. She pulled the blankets back and that’s when she realized that there was no nightstand because she was not in her eighth-year dorm room. This room had the same dull white walls, but there was no furniture on the side of the room she faced aside from a rather large dark oak wardrobe and a potted plant sitting aside it in a black glass pot with silver accents.
The curtains were a dark, emerald green and skimmed the floor. Their color matched the covers over her and the accents in the mostly black rug, where most of her clothes were lying, along with gray trousers, a Slytherin tie, and one shoe that was decidedly not hers.
She sat up, looking down at herself, and realized that she was wearing an Oxford that was too large to be hers, but kept it on, since she could feel that it was the only actual thing she was wearing. Then she looked over to the other side of the bed and was not surprised by who she found…and yet she kind of was.
Draco Malfoy.
The bits and pieces that she remembered of the night before, she knew that they had been drinking. And they weren’t drinking normal drinks because—magic and graduating—and because Theo Nott was a demon who liked to mess with people. But it wasn’t her intention to sleep with Malfoy. They had maybe just been skirting the line of flirting a little while also antagonizing each other throughout the year.
But they weren’t involved and they’d never intended to be. He was moving to Falmouth. She was going to take a job at the Ministry. They weren’t even part of the same social class or world. It was unlikely that their paths would cross again.
“Fuck,” she silently mouthed, slipping out of the bed as quietly as possible and digging through the clothes for her knickers, pulling them on. She then found one sock, balanced on one foot to pull it on, and then reached for her skirt.
When she heard the mattress creak, she froze and looked over her shoulder. He had turned away from her. Taking a deep breath, she zippered and buttoned her skirt. Then she picked up the wrong pullover and nearly had it over her head before she realized her mistake, tossed it onto the bed, and grabbed the other. She pulled it on, inside out, and pushed her arms through. Then she found her second sock, under the bed, and bent down to retrieve it. She leaned against the bed, pulling on the second sock. With both on, she slipped on her shoes and then gathered up her wand, bra, and blouse.
But where was her tie?
Hermione stood near the foot of the bed and scanned the room. She bent down and double checked the floor under the bed. Nothing. Ridiculously clean, in fact. He must have house elves that come by to clean for him.
When she stood back up, she looked over at him again, and finally found it. Her Gryffindor tie was wrapped around his wrist. The end of it hanging off the side of the bed.
“What the hell?” she silently muttered.
The covers were down around his waist and she looked him over. His body was incredible. The memories of sleeping with him were going to haunt her. She never meant to torture herself like that.
Well, she would take the tie as her loss. She was stealing his shirt. He could keep that. It wasn’t worth waking him just to get it back. She could potentially avoid him until she left Hogwarts and spare any feelings getting in the way.
Hermione shoved her wand up her sleeve. Then she silently snuck to the door and slipped out, shutting the door behind her. She headed down the hallways to the Gryffindor Common Room.
“Lion’s mane,” she said to the portrait.
The door opened and she rushed in, heading up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory. Hermione was pleased to find Ginny alone, her two roommates either having found bedpartners for the night or they were still passed out on the floor of the Slytherin Common Room.
“Gin,” Hermione called out, dumping her clothes on the bed beside her and walking over to the window to pull the curtains open. “Wake up.”
Ginny covered her face with the patchwork quilt that Molly had made her. “What time is it?”
“It doesn’t matter. I need your help,” she told her.
“What?” she groggily asked.
“I need a sober-up potion…and a morning after potion, if you have any,” she informed her, leaning back against the wall.
Ginny threw the quilt off and looked over at Hermione. “You need a morning after potion? As in…the contraceptive?”
“Yes, Gin…what other morning after potion is there?” Hermione said, sighing heavily.
Ginny flew out of bed and headed to the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet, looking through the bottles on the shelf. Hermione followed her in. She kept glancing over at Hermione periodically.
“It’s going to make you nauseated all day,” she said, finding it and handing it over.
Hermione downed it, flinching at the taste.
She then handed over two more bottles. “The other one will help with your stomach, enough not to vomit when you eat.”
Hermione took them both and then Ginny filled a glass of water for her that was sitting on the sink top. The glass looked a little questionable, as if it had been used a couple times already, but her mouth was dry and she was thirsty. She drank the entire glass and handed it back.
Ginny leaned her hip against the sink and watched Hermione a moment. Then she began slowly. “You don’t need to answer this…but you’re wearing a guy’s shirt under your pullover and it’s really long on you…so I assume that it’s his—”
“Yes, I slept with Malfoy.”
“Merlin’s beard!” Ginny nearly shouted. She ran her hands through her hair. “He didn’t force you or…or take advantage of you, did he?”
Hermione closed her eyes and leaned back against the tiled wall. “I don’t know if you were still there, but Theo passed out some shots that ended up having some amortentia in them. Neither of us could keep our hands off each other.”
There was a long pause. Hermione still didn’t look at her. “Are you in love with the Ferret?”
“No,” Hermione said, shaking her head. She looked over at Ginny, who gave her a quizzical look. “No…I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t work anyway. He’s a purebood.”
“So?” Ginny asked.
“And he’s moving to Falmouth,” she reminded her.
“I’m moving to Holyhead, but I’m not leaving Harry,” Ginny reminded her.
Hermione ran her hand through her mess of curls. “Gin, you know that Malfoy and I are from completely different worlds. It would never work out.”
“I completely believed that in the beginning of the school year, but I was beginning to warm up to the idea of you two, since you’re always talking about him and he’s always coming around to see you,” she confessed.
Hermione shook her head. “He only comes around to harass me.”
“Maybe to tease you,” Ginny suggested. “Those aren’t the same thing. I think he likes to have your attention.”
Hermione ran her hands through her messy curls.
Ginny took a sober-up potion for herself and then refilled the waterglass, drinking from it. “Is he good?”
Hermione gave her a curious look.
“In bed,” Ginny prompted.
“I don’t remember much,” she admitted, looking down at her feet.
“Liar.”
Hermione took a breath. “Yes, he was good…very good…and well endowed…and he looks absolutely incredible naked.”
Ginny shook her head. “It’s too bad that you have to walk away from a sex god like that. They’re kind of rare. I mean, you happen to know a few, but that’s a freak accident. You know me! And Victor Krum. And then Harry’s kind of up there, but you think of him like a brother, so…”
Hermione laughed. “I’ll never see him again in a couple weeks, but it’s comforting to know that I’ll still have you.”
Ginny walked over to her and hugged her and then walked back into the bedroom. Hermione walked over to the mirror and looked herself over, noticing a mark on her lower neck. She slipped her wand out from her sleeve and began to straighten out her appearance, vanishing any signs of her dalliance from the night before.
As if it never happened. It was just one night.
Sunday, April 8, 2001; Falmouth, England…
Ginny held her hand across the table so that Hermione could see her engagement ring. “Although I don’t know why you need to see it again. I have it under good authority that you helped Harry pick it out.”
“It looks even more beautiful when on your hand,” Hermione said, smiling and finally releasing her friend’s hand. Then she took a sip of her mimosa. “Are you going to tell me why you suggested that I come to Falmouth to see your game instead of going to watch one of your home games in Holyhead?”
Ginny gave her a quizzical look. “I just know that it can be harder to get a last minute portkey to Wales instead of somewhere in Britain. And you know that I was excited to see you after getting engaged and wanted to talk about the wedding.”
Hermione smiled. “I was a little worried that you were trying to set me up with Malfoy or something.”
Ginny laughed. “It’s been what?” Ginny asked. “Almost two years now?”
Hermione nodded, cutting into her strawberry crepe. “Right. I’ve dated several other wizards since.”
“Right,” Ginny agreed. “None of them have actually gotten past a third date, but there have been plenty of them.”
Hermione frowned but said nothing. She didn’t want to ruin Ginny’s happy day.
Ginny poured a generous amount of syrup on her waffle before cutting into it. The witch could eat a crazy number of calories on a game day and never gained weight. Then again, Hermione was really only starting to maintain a healthy weight again herself after the months that she and Harry had spent on the run.
“I will say, though, I see Malfoy at a lot of quidditch events and I’ve rather grown to enjoy his company. I would never tell him that to his face, but he does make an effort to speak to me whenever he sees me.”
“It’s nice to see the two of you getting along,” Hermione said, grinning.
Ginny took a bite of waffle. “He asked about you recently.”
“Gin!”
“What?” Ginny asked, shrugging her shoulders. “I just told him that you were working at the Ministry…that you were doing well…that you were still single.”
Hermione loudly set down her utensils. “That’s not what he was asking.”
“That’s exactly what he was asking,” Gin said, taking a sip of her juice.
Hermione took a sip of her drink, glaring at Ginny the whole while. Then she set her glass down and picked her fork and knife back up. “Well…what did he say?”
Ginny smiled wide. “He asked if you ever came to any of my games.”
“Merlin…what have you done?”
The second time she woke up in his bedroom, she caught on much faster, since her head was resting on his shoulder. His arm was loosely wrapped around her. Her leg was hooked over his and—she could tell very well from the way she was angled over him—that he was completely naked and had morning wood.
Very delicately and slowly, she lifted her leg up and moved it over him. When it was clear, she carefully scooted down the bed and out from under his arm to escape.
She slipped out of the bed, trying not to jostle the covers, and looked down at what she was wearing, shaking her head. It was one of his Falmouth Falcon jerseys. She didn’t bother taking it off and just looked around for her knickers, but after several minutes, she couldn’t find them and knew she was wasting time.
She pulled on her leggings and socks. Then she leaned against the bed to yank on her dragonhide boots—one of her only expensive indulgences because they felt incredible—and then picked up her bra, her Weasley Holyhead Harpies jersey, and the black long-sleeved shirt she’d worn under it. She crouched down and took one last look under the bed for her knickers.
“If you’re looking for that black slip of lace you called knickers last night, I told you then that I was going to keep it,” he reminded her in his rough morning voice and watching her through half-lidded eyes.
She stood back up. “Fine. I’m keeping your jersey anyway,” she informed him.
“Did you start a collection I don’t know about? Should I send you a piece of clothing each month or would you rather come over to collect one yourself?” he asked, grinning. He ran his hand through his mess of platinum hair, which looked even more ridiculously sexy, since she knew that it was her own fault that it looked so gloriously tousled and kept falling into his face that morning.
Hermione had to look away. He was disarmingly handsome and if she let him use his charm on her, he might talk her into staying, just like he’d talked her into coming back to his flat in the first place.
She was going to kill Ginny later. What was the infernal woman thinking? Taunting him in the air in the middle of a game as she flew past him on her broom? Teasing him. Telling him that Hermione was there but that she only came to Cornwall to see Ginny play and was cheering for the Harpies.
But the Holyhead Harpies had a game on Monday. Their coaches ordered them to take a portkey back immediately after the game, so Ginny couldn’t stay to see her afterwards. Hermione wasn’t flooing back to London until the morning.
Malfoy caught her before she left the stadium and asked her to celebrate with his team. The other Falcons razed her a little for being a Harpies fan, but since they’d won the game, they were very forgiving. And she also thought they might be a little accommodating because she was Hermione Granger and because she had been classmates with their teammate, who was clearly taken with her.
When the celebrations at the bar began to break apart, Malfoy asked her back to his flat and she couldn’t even pretend that she was under the influence of alcohol or amortentia as she had been at their graduation party. She wasn’t. She’d just been looking at him too long in his fucking quidditch breeches that night and her willpower was low.
She waved her hand at him, walking over to his door. “Well, I don’t need any more jerseys from you. I certainly won’t wear this one again. I never cheer for the Falcons. I only ever cheer for the Harpies and, on occasion, the Cannons because Ron drags me to some of their games.”
“Mm,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “He still a factor? I thought the papers said you two were finished.”
She tilted her head as she reached the door. “Not that it’s your business, but we’re not dating. We’re friends and were friends for years before our brief stint dating. That was over before eighth year, although the papers still like to speculate any time we hang out together. And, like most of my friends, he loves quidditch, so we sometimes catch a game together.”
“You seem to be friends with a lot of quidditch players,” he agreed.
She pointed her finger back and forth between the two of them. “You and I are not friends.”
“No, not anymore,” he said, winking.
“Congrats on your win,” she said, opening the door.
“See you later, Hermione,” he said as she walked out the door and closed it behind her. And she had absolutely no intention of seeing him again…even if he had gotten her off three times the night before and she couldn’t get it out of her mind.
Thursday, May 31, 2001; Ministry of Magic…
Ron walked into her office and slapped the Daily Prophet onto the top of the files she was looking through. It was the front page of the sports section, where Draco Malfoy was smiling and then turning around to show off his Chutney Cannons jersey.
Hermione looked up at Ron, confused.
“He only signed with the Falcons for two years because they weren’t sure about him at first. Right. Their mistake, because the Cannons offered him more and picked him up…but they’re my favorite team!” Ron said, sounding conflicted. “Bloody hell! I don’t want to cheer for Malfoy!”
Hermione laughed. “You could cheer for the Falcons instead?” she suggested.
“No!” Ron hollered, smacking the paper. “Blimey! Why him?”
Hermione tried to keep from smiling. “I hear that he isn’t a bad seeker.”
“He’s a great seeker! But I don’t want to cheer for him! It’s Malfoy!”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Should we go to lunch?”
Ron nodded.
“Do you want to see if Harry will join us?” she suggested.
Ron trudged out of the office and headed to the auror department. She was surprised that Ginny hadn’t messaged her to tell her about it already. She knew how her friend liked to tease her about Malfoy.
Her assistant walked in, as if on cue, with a box. “A package just arrived for you, Ms. Granger.”
Hermione used her wand to cut the ropes holding the box shut and then opened it. Inside, was a bright orange Chudley Cannons jersey with Malfoy 19 on the back. She picked up the piece of paper that came with it.
Granger—
As promised, your next article of clothing. You did say that you liked the Cannons better and that you’d only wear a Harpies or a Cannons jersey (and since I can’t join the Harpies for obvious reasons), I thought I’d oblige. Since you’re always stealing my clothes, I gave you the jersey from the press conference yesterday.
My usual favorite number—07—was already taken so I picked your birthday instead. You seem to have some incredible luck and I hope to have you rub off on me, one way or the other.
—DM
Hermione could feel her cheeks burning as she read through the letter a second time. Yes, he really had picked her birthday as his number, just to mess with her. And yes, he did tell her he wants her to rub off on him. Godric!
She picked up the jersey and smelled it. His woodsy cologne still lingered on it along with a hint of firewhiskey and the distinct scent of him, which she had gotten accustomed to and, admittedly, missed.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, staring at the jersey, but suddenly she heard running coming towards her door and quickly shoved the letter back into the box and shut the lid before Ron returned.
From that point onward, Malfoy sent her an article of clothing every month, but they were all her own size and usually from places that he’d gone, like his chateau in France for June, Chudley in July as they began prepping for their season, and where he had games after that. They ranged from a pair of shoes, to a dress, to a coat, to other shirts.
Perhaps it was a surprise to some, perhaps not to others. They had added Malfoy on as their new main seeker and also recruited a new rookie beater that was dynamite and a fantastic seasoned goalie from the Wimbourne Wasps that ended up stepping in for a long stretch after a serious injury, where their main goalie fell off his broom and nearly died.
They ended up making it to the final four in for the League Cup, which they had not done since 1972.
Saturday, May 4, 2002; London…
Hermione cheered, waving her orange banner as Ellen Wright scored again against the Kenmare Kestrels. Harry and George Weasley were also jumping around in the box. Ron was the only one that looked a little uneasy about it.
“How did you say you got these box seats again?” he questioned.
Hermione didn’t answer him and took a bite of her chocolate frog.
“I don’t even care,” Harry admitted, taking another bite of the buffalo wings that were part of the food spread that came with the box. “I don’t even get this good of seats when I go to Wales to watch Gin play.”
“I’ll drink to that,” George said, lifting his ale up and taking a drink.
Ron took a long drink from his butterbeer. Then he looked over Hermione’s outfit. “And I’m surprised that you went out and got a Cannon’s jersey just for the one game. And with Malfoy’s name on it, too.”
“Someone I know gave it to me to wear,” she simply told him. Technically, it wasn’t a lie.
He nodded. “Explains why it’s long on you.”
Just then, Malfoy and the seeker of the other team both began to race fast around the pitch, going impossibly fast and racing around the poles. Then they went into a nosedive towards the ground.
All four of them held hands, shouting his name.
She ditched the guys and headed to the Cannon’s locker room, but was stopped at the door by the guards. “I’m here to see Draco Malfoy,” she told them. “We’re friends. We went to school together,” she told them.
They shook their heads at her. “We hear that all the time,” the shorter of the two told her, looking apologetic. “Unless they specifically give us your name, we can’t let you in.”
Although she hated to resort to it, she still did it. “I’m Hermione Granger,” she told them.
The tall, thin man with the long scraggly hair laughed at her. “We know who you are, Ms. Granger. But we still can’t let you in. This is the men’s locker room!”
She stood there a moment, disappointed. And just when she was about to give up, one of the Cannons’ players that had been lagging behind to sign autographs, headed towards the gates.
“Hermione Granger!” he called out.
“Benton?” she asked, surprised. And she had every right to be surprised. Benton Davies had been on the Falmouth Falcons with Malfoy last year. She had no idea that they had also traded one of their beaters. He hadn’t played in the game, so clearly he was a reserve. He ran over and hugged her, lifting her up in the air and spinning her around.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked.
“I came to watch the game, but the guards won’t let me in to see Malfoy,” she told him.
He looked over at them. “This is Malfoy’s girlfriend,” he informed them, wrapping his arm around her and escorting her in. As they neared the doorway, he hollered. “Lady in the house,” and then after a moment, they walked in together.
Hermione spotted Malfoy’s platinum hair in the back of the locker room right away, sitting down to remove his shin guards. From the doorway as they walked in, Davies yelled at him.
“Malfoy, your girlfriend’s here to see you!”
Although her cheeks were burning, she didn’t contradict him and just walked past all the other players and coaches as some of them greeted her and a few wolf called.
Malfoy’s head snapped over to the door the moment Davies called out to him, but he smiled and his gaze softened the moment he saw Hermione. He stood up as she approached.
“Hi,” he told her, acting brazen and kissing her briefly.
“Thank you for the seats,” she told him.
He smirked. “What makes you think that I gave you seats?”
“Who else would care if I saw the Cannons play in the Final Four and spend that much money on it?” she asked.
He sat back down to finish removing his guards. “What are my chances of talking you into dinner after this?”
“Pretty high,” she admitted. “As long as you plan on showering first and changing into something else.”
“I’m offended that you even feel like you need to make the request,” he told her, yanking off his shoes and tossing them into the bag. Then he pulled off his socks and shoved them inside as well. He used his wand to scourify them, all the same, just to control the sweat and odor in the bag. He stood up and, grabbing the back collar of his shirt, pulled it over his head. Again, he rubbed it over his chest to remove the access sweat. She was staring so hard, she almost missed what he said next.
“It’s too bad that you had to watch us lose. Maybe you should come to a game or two next year,” he said. “We had a pretty good season. Odds are, you’ll see us win if you catch a home game.”
“Hmm?” she asked, forcing herself to look back up at him. “Oh, yes! I should!”
He tossed his shirt on the bench and began to unbutton and unzip his breeches. “Should I get you season tickets?” There was a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.
She laughed. “That’s a lot of games, isn’t it?” she asked, trying damn hard to keep her eyes locked on his.
There was the faintest trace of sky blue mixed in with the silver of his irises, if one looked hard enough and if there was enough light to see it. His hair fell into his eyes as they stared at each other and he brought his hand up to push back the strands.
“Perhaps I want to see you more than once a year.” He hooked his thumbs into his breeches and pants, siding them down his legs and removing them.
Hermione’s eyes betrayed her when Malfoy stepped out of his breeches and tossed the remainder of his clothes onto the bench.
“Malfoy!” his coach yelled. “Lady in the house!”
He grabbed a towel from the top of his locker and glanced over at her. “She’s seen me naked before.” Then he unfolded the towel and wrapped it around his waist.
Hermione released a breath she had no idea she’d been holding since he’d removed his clothes. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.
“I’ll meet you outside in a few minutes,” he said, brushing his lips against hers.
She watched as he walked to the showers, the towel doing very little to hide what was underneath. Then she said good-bye to Benton and left so the other players could finish changing.
Sunday, May 5, 2002; London…
Hermione screamed, accidentally smacking Malfoy in the face as she struggled with the covers over her and sat up, breathing hard and fast.
“Ow,” he said, rubbing his face. Then he sat up and carefully touched Hermione’s back. When she didn’t react negatively, he ran his hand up and down over her spine. “You’re safe. You had a nightmare.”
“Sorry,” she said, turning towards him and resting her forehead on his shoulder.
“You don’t need to apologize. I get them, too,” he told her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his lap. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head and then rested it against his chest.
“Well, I guess you’ll have a harder time sneaking out this time now,” he said, running his hand over her hair.
“We’re in my flat,” she pointed out.
“I still wouldn’t put it past you to sneak out and not come back until you’re sure I’ve left. You’ll send Potter or the Weasel over to check,” he teased.
“Then I’d have to tell them that I slept with you.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Who do they think gave you the box seats?”
“Harry and George didn’t ask too many questions. Ron’s suspicious that something weird is going on,” she told him.
He curled strands of her hair around his fingers. “What is going on?”
She shook her head. “We’ve…had a few one-night stands.”
He laughed. “One-night stands are supposed to happen once. Twice is maybe due to some confusion or needing to rethink it a little, but three times is starting to be a pattern.”
“Well, you did lose the game yesterday. I felt bad,” she confessed.
“If that’s what it takes, my record is going to tank next season, especially with you having season tickets.”
She shook her head. “Malfoy.”
“Granger. You came to the locker room to see me after the game. Davies told everyone you were my girlfriend and you didn’t correct him.”
“They wouldn’t have let me see you otherwise!”
He gently yanked her hair. “Why did you want to see me?”
Her brows furrowed. “Didn’t you want to see me? Why would you give me seats if you didn’t?”
“For crying out loud, Hermione! I wanted to see you. I’ve been wanting to see you again for months now. I’ve wanted to be with you since eighth year!”
He leaned her back and kissed her. She moaned against his lips but pressed her hand against his chest. He pulled back enough to look into her eyes.
“Does that mean I don’t get to steal anything from you anymore?”
“Can I give you something instead?” he asked. “I found something when I was in London shopping and bought it for you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “It isn’t something scandalous, is it? Like lingerie? You keep buying me clothes.”
“No, but I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” he said, releasing her and walking over to his duffel bag, which held all his game gear. He dug into a side pocket.
She knew that he probably had even more luggage at his hotel but thought it interesting that he’d brought his gift for her to the stadium with him. She wondered if he thought he would only get the chance to see her there or if he already suspected she would take him back home with her.
He took out a box and brought it over to her. Setting it down in her hands, she gave him a puzzled look. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
She flipped open the cover and it was a little golden snitch pendant on a chain. She laughed when she saw it.
Malfoy also laughed. “For someone who claims to dislike quidditch as much as you do, you spend a lot of time at games. I thought that maybe you could have something a little classier to wear when you’re at the games. But you still need to wear either my or the Weaselette’s jersey.”
She took it out and he helped her on with it. “All right,” she agreed.
Then he kissed her again, ravishing her mouth until she finally pushed him back into the mattress and straddled him.
Saturday, July 20, 2002, the World Cup…
They were all wearing the red and white jerseys of the English National Quidditch Team, but they had lost a couple rounds prior. This was the final game between Egypt and Bulgaria and they were all cheering for Viktor Krum and his team. Even Draco.
Draco didn’t feel the least bit intimidated by Viktor Krum. Hermione had not kept in very good contact with him since they’d graduated from Hogwarts. And aside from that, the entirety of Britian thought Draco was courting her.
It hadn’t dawned on her, when taking the golden snitch necklace from Draco that she was technically accepting jewelry from him, but when that tidbit got out to the public along with the fact that they were seen snogging after the tournament, the papers all picked up the story.
Neither of them had confirmed or denied anything about their relationship to the public.
“Krum! Krum! Krum! Krum!” the stadium cheered as the Bulgarians flew into the stadium.
“Still think he’s the best seeker of all time?” George asked, nudging his brother playfully.
Ron frowned, still bitter after meeting his once favorite player. “I never liked him that much.”
“Personally, I think that Joshua Sankara might actually be better than he is. They just need to give him a few better teammates to work with,” Ginny muttered, already hallway through a bucket of popcorn and the game hadn’t even started.
“Who the hell is Sankara?” Ron asked.
“Burkinabe National Team,” Draco replied. “I’m inclined to agree with you on something for once, Red. Amazing!”
“Well, we both are very fond of Hermione, so it might be twice now,” she reminded him.
“Wonders never cease,” he agreed.
“Don’t think that means I’m going easy on you once the season starts, though,” she warned him.
“Likewise.”
Ever since Draco’s season had finished, he had been staying with Hermione in London. Was it maybe a little too much, too soon? She wasn’t sure. But he would begin training soon and they would have far less time together. If they were going to try out being in a relationship, she wanted to give it a fair shot before he was away more.
Hermione smiled and shook her head. “I’m a little disappointed that with two professional players—one with an obscene amount of money—these were the best seats we could get.”
Draco gave her a look. They were in front row seats in the center of the stadium, overlooking the pitch, eye level with the goals. They were, however, not box seats. You would have to be a member of the press, royalty, or a political figure to secure that kind of seating.
“I’m joking, you know. But you should have seen your face,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
George took a sip of his butterbeer. “Do I want to know what my seat costs?”
“No. You don’t even want to know what your drink costs,” Draco admitted.
“Probably more than your shop,” Ginny informed him, knowing far more about the sport she was in.
“Blimey!” exclaimed Ron, sitting on the other side of Harry. “He might actually love you after all.”
“Welcome to the four hundred and twenty fourth quidditch world cup!” the announcer began. The cheering around them got louder.
Hermione slipped her hand into his. “You didn’t have to take us all here, you know.”
“I know, but it’s a good way to bond with your friends. They’re still getting used to me,” he said. “And they all love quidditch.”
Hermione wrapped her arm around his and kissed his cheek.
He pointed around. “You might want to be careful. There’s a lot of press around here. They might see you do that.”
She shrugged.
“Unless you don’t mind people finding out after all.”
“Finding out what?” she asked, fingering the golden snitch around her neck.
“That we’re courting.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again. “I don’t mind,” she mumbled against his lips. They were so preoccupied that they never noticed when the game started and the snitch was released. They also didn’t notice when the photographers spotted them snogging in the stands and started taking pictures.
Viktor Krum lost miserably that day and was so angry at his loss to Egypt, he retired. Again. Four years later, at the next world cup, Joshua Sankara indeed led his team to a victory at the World Cup. But they did not go to watch it. Draco and Hermione were home with their newborn son, trying to get a little sleep between midnight feedings. And then, woke up far too early in each other’s arms, just to sneak in a few kisses before the baby woke.