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The seed was planted several months ago when she’d made the mistake of explaining to Theo the time-honoured teenage muggle tradition of “TP-ing” a house. Theo unsurprisingly latched onto this concept with great enthusiasm, but until this evening had been unsuccessful in convincing Hermione to execute it with him. That was, until earlier today when their boss Hestia had unceremoniously asked Hermione and Theo to step out so she could talk to Draco bloody Malfoy about his very clever proposal to kick off Hestia’s Wizarding Early Education scheme (W.E.E.) and thus sent Hermione into a complete tailspin. Several bottles of wine later and armed with enough toilet roll to stock a hotel, courtesy of Hermione’s illegally extended bag, they found themselves at Malfoy Manor.
She had just rounded the corner to continue her handiwork when suddenly, looming out of the darkness, stood Draco Malfoy. He’d caught her just as she was about to launch a new roll, and the most infuriating part of it all was he didn’t even seem angry. He was just annoyed, and mostly confused as to why she was holding toilet roll. In her pickled state she was unable to rationalise that this was due to his unfamiliarity with muggle customs. He had also yet to notice the dozen or so rolls artfully draped across the north-facing side of the manor. Ghostly white streams cascaded from the heads of gargoyles, giving them a rather lovely head of hair. And before Draco came storming out, she’d even managed to spiral some around a turreted roof. It gave the manor a bit of a circus tent effect—an improvement if you ask her.
“Granger, what are you doing here and why are you holding a thing of loo roll?” he demanded.
“I figured an arsehole of your size and calibre is probably in constant need of it. Really Malfoy, I’m doing you a favour bringing so much of it to you.” She attempted to gesture around, and stumbled instead as she was interrupted by a full-bodied hiccup that shook her off balance.
“When have you ever done me a favour?” he said with a quizzical look.
“When have you ever done me a favour?” She mimicked back at him.
Barking out a laugh, he said “You are absolutely binned. This is incredible. I think I might be witnessing a once in a lifetime event.”
“I’m not binned!” She protested. “I’m just a little squiffy is all.” She held up her index finger and thumb, squinting at him through them as she swayed a little. “Besides, you should see Theo, if I’m binned he’s positively ratarsed.”
Draco craned his head to peer around Hermione and scanned the grounds before quickly muttering hominum revelio under his breath. Satisfied no one else was present, he shrugged and returned his attention to her.
“It looks like Theo’s abandoned you. If he was even here in the first place. Seems awfully convenient.” He looked her up and down. “You better come inside and sober up before you floo home. You certainly can’t apparate home in your current state. You’ll end up with your spleen in the middle of your sternum, but on a positive note, it would finally make you look like the harpy that you truly are.”
She stared at him blinking.
“Because it would look like a third breast? Like a harpy’s? Nevermind, it was an excellent joke and you are just too inebriated to appreciate it.” He waved a hand and turned to usher her inside.
“Please, my threshold for being sick is very low right now, do not talk about my breasts.”
He led her into his study and poured himself several fingers worth of whisky while she arranged herself in an oversized armchair.
“I’d offer you some, but any more and I fear you might not sober up until next month,” he said as he situated himself in the chair across from her, stretching his legs out.
“Har har.”
Her gaze followed his long elegant fingers as they carried the glass to his lips, tracing the column of his throat as he swallowed. She scrunched her eyes shut and scrubbed her hands across her face. When she opened them a glass of water had materialised on the table beside her. She gratefully drained it before refilling it with a wordless aguamenti.
“I feel like I should memorialise this somehow,” he mused. “You really are incredibly drunk.”
“So, why did I catch you traipsing about my grounds with toilet roll in the middle of the night? You weren’t going to—”
“No! I’m not a troll! I was,” she fumbled around, searching for the right words, “simply helping you redecorate.”
“Redecorate?”
“It’s not important. The important thing is that you are a lowly little weasel, that goes behind people’s backs and steals their jobs right from under their nose.”
“Grow up. She simply liked my approach better than yours.”
“You knew when I was due to speak with her about it and you snuck in first! She wouldn’t even hear me out!” Splotches of pink crept up her neck to her cheeks.
“Tough luck, that’s politics for you darling. It’s simply the nature of the game. Don’t tell me you haven’t done the exact same thing to some poor unsuspecting fool or other. You act so sanctimonious, but you love rolling around in the mud like the rest of us.” He bit back.
Unable to meet his eyes, she turned her focus to her cuticles, which were suddenly very interesting. She took several steadying breaths, stretching the silence several moments before she spoke. “I did read your proposal, you know. I can see why she went with it.” She conceded.
“You really must be drunk if you’re giving me compliments. Accio camera,” he said as he snatched the camera hurtling towards him. “I should really make you hold up a little sign."
She rolled her eyes at him as he looked through the viewfinder; with her legs tucked underneath herself and the soft light of the fire limning her curls, books surrounding her, she looked like she’d always been there. His breath hitched for a moment before he set the camera down, the shutter unpressed.
“It wasn’t a compliment, it was merely an observation.” She sipped her water. “Don’t you have some poor victim you picked up god knows where to get back to, there’s only so much of the evening left before you have to unceremoniously kick the poor dear out lest she get the wrong idea.”
“Unfortunately undermining you at work is taking a toll on my social life. I haven’t had a lot of free time lately to meet people.”
“Does it feel strange to not have the women of magical London cursing your name?”
“Please, no one is cursing me. And I rarely take women back here precisely because I don’t want them to get the wrong idea. I just go to their’s.”
“And you, a regular choice for Witch Weekly’s most eligible bachelor,” she remarked.
“Well I wouldn’t be a bachelor for long if I let them get the wrong ideas in their heads,” he winked and lifted his drink in a salute to her before draining it.
“You’re not half as charming as you think you are,” she scoffed and turned to stare at the fireplace.
“You know I’ve never seen the manor’s library,” she said after a moment.
“I think you might be too pissed to remember it if I show it to you now,” he replied.
“I’ll remember. I could never forget a good library,” she promised.
He stood and extended his hand to help her out of her chair. His skin was warm and dry under her palm. He held her gaze as he pulled her to her feet. Their hands still clasped, she stumbled a step forward, bracing herself with her free hand on his chest. He inhaled and rested a hand over hers.
A loud crash rang out from the foyer, followed by the sound of someone coughing and cursing under their breath.
“HELLOOOOOO? Hermione? Draco! I’ve come to collect the rogue vandal and return her home.” Theo called from the other room.
Hermione pulled her gaze away and took a step back, only to fall back into the deep armchair she’d just been pulled out of.
“We’re in here Theo—” “—In the study,” they both called.
“Ah there you are. So sorry Draco, I do hope she hasn’t been too much trouble. I got up to refill my wine glass and she was gone by the time I got back.”
“I know you were here Theo.” Draco ground out.
“Oh well in that case, sorry Hermione for abandoning you. I panicked.” Theo grinned. “We should really be getting out of your hair.”
Draco led Theo and Hermione to the foyer. Whatever warmth that had been there earlier between them had disappeared.
“See you both at the office Monday.” He said to Theo.
As Theo was saying goodbye, Hermione stepped into the floo and called out her flat.
“I better follow her and make sure she doesn’t get into any more trouble on the way to bed.”
“You do that.”
Theo stepped into the floo and called out, “Hermione’s flat.”
He found Hermione lying face down on her couch.
“How could you just leave me there! That was mortifying. I’m surprised he didn’t curse me on the spot.”
“Sorry darling, I really just panicked. I wasn’t thinking straight. And then when you didn’t turn up behind me I knew I was going to have to go back and get you. Was it awful?”
“He was his usual smug self. No, I’m being ungenerous. It was fine, he was fine. Honestly his proposal was better than mine, I’m just mad that I didn’t get the chance to present it.” She propped herself up on her elbows. “I really should never have told you about muggle teenage pranks in the first place, this is all my fault really. I didn’t even get to throw that many rolls!”
“Oh don’t worry, before I came to collect you I popped round the back and finished the job. Only this time I used a particularly devious sticking charm that doubles anything you try to remove.”
She rolled over on the couch to look at him and grinned. “You’re an absolute genius, Theo.”
“Naturally.” He gave her a dramatic flourishing bow and disappeared into her kitchen to rummage for crisps.
Hermione let herself sink back into the cushions. Her hand drifted unconsciously to her chest, remembering the warm press of Draco’s palm against hers. She picked up a throw pillow, buried her face in it, and let out a scream.