Chapter Text
It had all begun rather innocuously, as these things often did, with celebratory drinks. At least, that’s how Theo Nott had framed it when he practically dragged Draco into the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Fresh from securing the final Wizengamot seat among the Noble Houses, Draco was still absorbing the significance of the accomplishment. It was a historic milestone for the Malfoy family, one that Lucius had meticulously orchestrated. His relentless efforts had ensured that their name—tarnished though it was—regained some semblance of influence.
The feat was remarkable, considering that only two years prior, Draco had been on trial for his actions as a Death Eater (and not to mention the whole attempted murder debacle). He had narrowly avoided Azkaban, thanks to the testimony of two-thirds of the Golden Trio. The youngest Weasley boy had, predictably, abstained. He and Draco had never exactly been the ‘bury the hatchet over a drink’ type.
Now, he found himself in the newly refurbished Leaky Cauldron, halfway through his fifth drink, distinctly buzzed but increasingly exasperated. Theo, Blaise, and Pansy had spent the last hour amusing themselves with progressively absurd discussions, fueled by an unrelenting supply of Firewhisky.
“Why don’t you just marry me, Nott?” Pansy lamented, dramatically tossing back a shot. Theo, unbothered, opened another bottle, while Blaise casually downed two more shots as if engaged in a silent competition.
“Your mother loathes you,” Theo pointed out, pouring himself a drink.
“She does,” Blaise confirmed solemnly.
Pansy waved a dismissive hand. “Irrelevant. I’m already betrothed to Pucey, darling. But imagine the chaos if I convinced Mother that you were the better option. You did mention some Dark Arts artifacts, didn’t you? She’d be positively delighted.”
Draco snorted into his glass, a tactical mistake, as it immediately made him the target of Pansy’s sharp-eyed scrutiny.
“Something amusing, Malfoy?” she inquired, arching a brow. “Tell me, has Narcissa begun parading eligible debutantes before you yet? I hear Daphne Greengrass is already spoken for.”
Draco grimaced. “Mother and I have an arrangement. If I secured my Wizengamot seat, I’d be free to marry for love.”
“Utter nonsense,” Blaise interjected, scandalized. “And what does dear old Daddy Lucius think?”
“He’d prefer a match within the Sacred 28, but he ultimately conceded that political acumen takes precedence.”
Pansy scoffed. “Please. You wouldn’t know what to do with a strong woman if she landed in your lap.”
Draco raised a brow. “Is that so?”
“A strong woman wouldn’t tolerate your insufferable, pretentious arrogance,” Pansy smirked, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Realistically speaking, most of the wizarding world still despises you for your ‘blood supremacy’ phase. A strong woman? She’d despise you twice as much.”
“Tell that to the absurd number of marriage proposals I receive daily.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t even read them. I instructed Boppy to incinerate them on sight.”
Pansy leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. “But they’re not from the kind of woman you actually want, are they?” She swirled the Firewhisky in her glass. “I know your type, Draco. Ambitious. Clever. Razor-sharp. Someone who can match you move for move.”
Theo grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Sounds like you have someone in mind.”
“Oh, I do.” Pansy’s smirk was downright devious.
Blaise raised a brow. “Alright, enlighten us. I thought Draco preferred them busty and blonde.”
“That’s just for show. The women he actually fancies?” Pansy waggled her brows. “Entirely different breed.”
“And still busty,” Theo added helpfully.
Draco groaned. “Can we change the subject? Something different to moan about?”
“Not happening, darling,” Pansy said sweetly. “Last I checked, she’s single. No idea if she’s interested.”
Theo’s glass thudded against the table. “Oh, she’s been busy climbing the Ministry ranks. Promoted to Head of Legislative Liaison, wasn’t she?”
Blaise turned to Draco, realization dawning. “ Wait . Your type is someone like Hermione Granger?”
Theo’s grin widened. “His type is Hermione Granger.”
“I thought he hated her?” Blaise asked, looking between them. “In sixth year, he always seemed two seconds away from cursing me whenever I mentioned her. I was the one crushing on her and her red-headed friend.”
Pansy gasped theatrically. “Oh, so that’s why he wanted to hex you. Also, she got into the Slug Club and he didn’t.”
“Those are entirely baseless and utterly false claims,” Draco muttered, but no one was listening.
“Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement’s Legislative Affairs Division, you say?” Blaise said, an amused smile plastered on his face. “That’s honestly impressive. Only two years in and she’s already climbing the ladder.”
Pansy licks her lips for the remainder of the alcohol. “Bloody brilliant, I say. We do get drinks every once in a while. Especially when I have new clothes for her.”
Draco frowned. “Clothes? You dress her up?”
Pansy laughed. “Oh darling, I keep forgetting you live under a rock.” She poured herself another shot of Firewhisky and ignored Draco’s glare. “Yes, Draco. I dress her up with the clothes I sell. Sales have skyrocketed ever since we signed a contract. I reckon she’s got twice as many marriage proposals as you have now. Witch Weekly reports her notable outfits regularly.”
“What happened with her and Weasley?”
“Draco, that was ages ago!” Pansy said with a mix between a groan and an exasperated sigh. “Merlin, don’t you at least read the Daily Prophet? ”
“I cancelled my subscription.”
Theo, Pansy, and Blaise all rolled their eyes.
“They broke up 6 months after they publicised their relationship,” Blaise explained. “No one knows why, but they’re still friends, and Weasley is dating Katie Bell. He follows her around while she’s on the Quidditch tour.”
“And her?”
“She’s been busy climbing up the Ministry ladder, mate,” Theo replied with a tone that says, “remember?” .
“Which proves my point that even with your silly, terrible crush on her, you won’t be able
to woo her,” Pansy said with a sigh. “You’re better off marrying the younger Greengrass.”
“She’s daft,” he said, his tone almost a whine. “She’s brilliant, but she’s not brilliant enough. I’d like a little challenge, you know?”
“Hang on,” Blaise raised a hand and turned to Pansy, “are you protecting Granger from Draco?”
Pansy leaned on Theo’s shoulder and pushed her full shot glass towards him. “Yes, I am.”
“Why?”
“Like I said, Draco wouldn’t know how to handle a strong woman like Hermione,” she replied. “And she needs someone who can let her shine like the brilliant diamond she is. Draco does not like to be outshined.”
“I don’t not like to be outshined!”
“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, mate, but you do,” Theo said. “And yes, Granger should shine. Did you know there are studies now that prove that without her, Voldemort wouldn’t be defeated by Potter? Honestly, the Boy Who Lived Twice does not deserve the spotlight.”
Pansy’s smirk deepened. “Bottom line is, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Draco’s jaw clenched. “What if I could?”
“You couldn’t.”
“Give me three months.”
“A month,” Theo challenged. “If your legendary charm is so effective, you can do it in a month.”
Blaise’s eyes gleamed. “Are we betting?”
Pansy scowled. “Absolutely not. Draco, you are not playing games with Hermione. Go seduce Astoria instead.”
“Who is that?”
“The younger Greengrass, you idiot!”
“Ah, I thought her name was Delilah.”
“This is why you can’t make Hermione fall in love with you.”
Draco crossed his arms. “Are you wagering or not?”
Theo beamed. “Oh, we’re definitely wagering.” He turned to Pansy. “We could finally make a dent in this git’s vault, honey!”
Pansy sighed in exasperation. “Fine. If you make Hermione fall for you in a month, I’ll propose to Theo and call off my engagement to Pucey.”
Theo gasped. “You’d do that for me?”
Pansy rolled her eyes but kissed him anyway. “I would.”
“Bloody hell, my marriage depends on Granger’s feelings,” Theo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He pointed a finger at Draco. “You better get her to fall in love with you, mate.”
“Why can’t you just tell Mrs. Parkinson you’re in love with each other?” Blaise asked, arching an eyebrow as he swirled the Firewhisky in his glass.
Theo sighed. “If we could, we would have already. Lady Parkinson Senior is too greedy and too lazy to rework the contract she made with Pucey Senior. As far as she’s concerned, the deal is done.”
“They can’t do anything if you just run off and elope,” Blaise pointed out, leaning back in his chair.
Pansy gasped, swatting his arm. “Don’t put ideas in his head! I want a grand, lavish wedding. Hundreds of guests, a spectacle for the ages. You can’t take that away from me, Blaise!”
Theo chuckled beside her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “No one’s taking that away from you, love. Even if you do end up marrying that Pucey git, I’ll make sure you get your dream wedding.”
“And we’ll have an affair.”
Theo nodded. “And we’ll have an affair.”
Blaise and Draco grimaced.
“You’re both insufferable,” Draco muttered, shaking his head.
Pansy rolled her eyes and tossed a Firewhisky cap at him. “You have one month to make my dearest friend and number one asset, Hermione Granger, fall for you.” She jabbed a perfectly manicured finger at Draco. “But don’t you dare break her heart, or I’ll make Theo break your face.”
A short while later, while they exchanged useless banters, the double oak doors of Leaky Cauldron 2.0 swung open, drawing the group’s attention. A familiar trio (well, now a quartet) strode in, and Pansy squealed, hopping off Theo’s lap to throw her arms around the most famous witch in the Wizarding World.
Draco, mid-sip of his butterbeer, choked on the drink the moment his eyes landed on Hermione Granger.
He hadn’t seen her in weeks. It was his fault, though, really. He rarely left Malfoy Manor unless business required it, and the changes in her appearance were striking. Hermione had filled out, her figure toned and poised. And, thanks to Pansy Parkinson’s extravagant taste, she was dressed to kill. A crisp white button-down tucked into a tight ( was that snakeskin leather? ) skirt, paired with high-heeled dragonhide ankle boots. Her hair was still as wild as ever, though it looked softer, the curls bouncing with each step she took.
Behind her were Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley.
“I’m so glad you made it!” Pansy chirped, hugging Ginny next. “You both look incredible!”
“Do I?” Hermione asked, frowning. “I came straight from work. Ginny had to Floo call me to remind me about tonight. Sorry, we’re late.”
Pansy waved a hand. “No matter! We started celebrating Draco about an hour ago.”
“Bloody hell, Pans!” Ginny exclaimed, eyeing the table. “It’s only been an hour, and you lot have already finished three bottles of Firewhisky?”
“Don’t forget the butterbeers,” Theo added with a smirk.
The Gryffindors greeted the Slytherins with quick hugs and waves. When Hermione reached Draco, she wrapped him in a one-armed hug, and he nearly melted at the scent of pears, peaches, and vanilla. He never even got to stand up.
“Congratulations are in order, Malfoy,” she said, pulling back.
“My sincerest thanks.”
What the actual bloody fuck? Draco ignored Theo’s amused look and flashed Hermione a grin. She returned it before heading to the bar with Pansy, most likely to grab more drinks.
“Long time no see, Ferret!” Ginny greeted him, clapping his shoulder. “So, Wizengamot, huh? Seems like the Weasleys should start conceding to the Malfoys.”
“He wishes,” Ron scoffed. “Congrats, Malfoy. Try not to ruin it.”
Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he gestured for them to sit. Harry, however, clasped his hand briefly before taking a seat.
“Congrats, Malfoy,” Harry said. “I can see now why you turned down that Ministry position.”
Draco nodded in acknowledgment, but his thoughts drifted when the scent of pears, peaches, and vanilla filled his nose again. Hermione and Pansy had returned, and the only available seat was across from him, between Theo and Ron. Pansy winked before settling beside Theo.
“Did you know they were coming?” Blaise muttered to him with a low voice.
“I didn’t even know we were going out for drinks,” Draco muttered back.
A navy blue velvet box suddenly slid toward him across the table. He glanced up to find Hermione watching him expectantly. He hesitated before picking it up.
“It’s from all of us,” she explained, motioning to her friends. “Pansy only told us this morning, so we didn’t have much time to find something.”
Pansy gasped dramatically. “Are you blaming me, Hermione Jean Granger?”
Hermione rolled her eyes but laughed. “Never. Just don’t expect too much, though, Malfoy. It’s not exactly a grand gift.”
Draco glanced at Theo, who widened his eyes as if silently urging him to say something, anything other than ‘my sincerest thanks.’
“Thank you,” he said instead, voice sincere. “I appreciate it.”
And he truly did. Inside the box was a quill and an inkpot. But not just any quill. The sleek black feathers gleamed like acromantula silk. Just before the tip, where the ink would spill, his initials were embossed in silver.
Somehow, he just thought this wasn’t a gift from all of them. And when he met Hermione’s eyes and saw the glint of excitement there, he knew that the gift was just entirely hers.
And just like that, his mind was set. He was going to make Hermione Granger fall in love with him in thirty days.