Chapter Text
Draco Malfoy had no plans or interest in returning to London. But here he was, back at the Ministry, waiting for some curse breaker to talk to him about a collection of Black property that were taken as part of his and his mother’s plea deal to be exonerated.
And between the choice of subjecting his mother to returning to London or him tolerating the judgment from the wizarding masses, it was the latter. The sooner he can be done with this farce, the better. He can go back to France and be left alone.
The door creaked open, followed by the clack of heels echoing in the room. He stood, his attention immediately taken over by the person who entered—one he least expected.
Underneath the open black cloak was a sheer button-down over a camisole tucked in a grey pair of trousers. And when he looked up, the mess of hair he expected was in an updo, curls falling over her forehead. And when his eyes found hers, she finally spoke.
“Hello, Mr. Malfoy. I’m the curse breaker assigned to property 6R78F. I need your blood.”
Well, fuck.
Granger.
He followed the witch through a hallway in Level 2, where Draco noted that the witch was leading him to the area for Improper Use of Magic. “Is this where the blood letting will commence?”
The witch only gave him a quick glance, but it was enough for him to see the quick upturn of her lips before she looked away. “If you’re so inclined to give away a lot, then perhaps I can summon for pails. There are quite a number of Black books your blood can be useful for.”
They entered a room, which vibrated with the power of a protego. The stack of books on one table caught his attention, his magic attracted to it.
Brushing errant curls out of her face, she grabbed one parchment from a messy pile and handed it to him. “Familiar with this? Every time I open a book, this same parchment appears.”
Draco looked down, confused at the gibberish scribbled on the paper.
iyay equireray ethay oodsblay ofyay ayay ugglemay andyay ayay ackblay otay openyay .
“I am fluent in French, and this… is a madman’s writing.”
Granger pursed her lips, a very distracting act that Draco found himself unable to look away from until she spoke. “It’s Pig Latin.”
The abject confusion on his face seemed to finally break whatever attempt at decorum Granger was trying to uphold because she burst into laughter—a very cheery and adorable sound. “It’s a made up muggle language. One of your relatives was using it to hide some kind of dark magic in these books. The magic is seeping out after being in storage for ten years. Hence why I have been contracted for this work.”
Ten years. Had it been that long since the end of the war?
Draco stared back at the parchment as Granger told him how to read it.
“So… you and I?”
She nodded, handing him a small knife. “I’ll be able to know what curse the book has and you can be on your merry way.”
He agreed, but was also curious as to why she was amenable to working with him without a smear of judgment. Draco decided to keep the thought to himself.
Two cut palms later, with their bloods dripping and mixing on top of an unnamed book, the room lit up and a title appeared.
Cendrillon.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Draco eyed the clock that appeared on the face of the book as the second hand began ticking away. Their hands were still hovering over it, blood absorbing into the leather-bound cover.
“Granger. Why is this book counting down?“
“Hmm?” Her tone was untroubled as she fiddled her other hand into her cloak pocket.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The witch popped the topper off a potion and tossed it to him. “It requires a minute of blood draining. You did consent to blood letting, didn’t you?”
Her casualness with the whole thing, on top of the blood being drained out of them, was annoying him. After chugging the blood replenisher down, he placed the empty flask on the table. “Why are you working as a curse breaker, of all careers? Weren’t you supposed to be a ministry official by now? Maybe the minister in two years?” Seeing her bleed was making him palpitate. Hadn’t this witch bled enough? And she now was easily providing blood for a curse breaking contract—to rid a Black curse of all things!
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Brown eyes flashed immediately to him. “I’m not an idol to be placed on a pedestal,” she said, tone cold. “I am also not broken from the scars of war.”
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Draco could only watch more of her blood drain out as she added, “I do this because I can and I want to.”
Before he could utter an apology—Salazar, what an idiot he was—she already drank her blood replenisher potion. “Portal books are rare and expensive, but it’s not a surprise your family has them. Have you been in one?”
“The idea of being trapped in a book is at the bottom of my wishlist, Granger,” he drawled. The high possibility of being stuck, unable to leave from a make-believe world was one reason portal books were no longer in circulation.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
She hummed, a satisfying sound to listen to, until her next words made him choke. “I guess you get to cross it off your wishlist today.”
“Granger,” he warned, but she just rolled her eyes.
“You’re a requirement, so I’m guessing you’re my plus one to this story. Look, all we do is watch the story happen from beginning to end. I’m certain the cause of the curse will show up.”
He scowled. Draco had not planned to die in a book today. “This is unsafe. What is it with you Griffyndors and your lack of self-preservation?”
“For someone who was all smirk and confidence back in the day, you sure as hell do not sound like the Draco Malfoy I know,” she bit back.
He took a step towards her, her gaze never backing down from him. “Unlike you, I am broken from the war.”
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
His aggression immediately melted when he felt her cradle his cut palm, her wand casting a quick healing spell. The pad of her thumb caressed the skin where the open wound once was.
“We are more than the scars we got from the war.”
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
He could only nod, but he knew what she truly meant. Her words felt like a balm to his aching soul. She pulled her hand away to heal her own palm as she instructed, “Once we portal in, I’ll find you. We’ll essentially be flies on the wall and watch the story unfold.”
Those brown eyes stared back into his eyes again. “I will not let you get stuck in the book, Malfoy. Too many poor wizards and witches would suffer a heartbreak.”
He blinked as the book lit up the room. “Granger, did you just give me a compliment?” The witch thinking he was good-looking was now up in his wishlist.
Just before she got drowned by the bright light emanating from the book, he did see a small smile.
And, just like how one feels when they were about to apparate, Draco’s gut was filled with a tugging sensation and both of them were gone.
The book they left behind turned to the first page.
Once upon a time, there was a young woman with wild curls and brown doe eyes, always surrounded by cinder and dust. And across the kingdom, within the palace walls, a prince with platinum hair and eyes that shone silver woke up with disdain, detesting the coming days where the king and queen will continue to implore him to wed.
*****
It was the loud chirping of song birds and heavy footsteps in the room that roused Draco from his sleep, disrupting a dream about being pulled into a book together with Granger.
“Rise and shine, your highness!”
Draco groaned from under the silk covers. It was too early for Theo to barge into his room. “Out, Nott.”
“No can do. Get your princely arse out of bed before the king and queen march in here.”
King and queen? What—?
Draco immediately sat up just as Theo pulled the large window curtains to the side, letting the sunlight in. Wasn’t Theo on some sort of international trip? Fuck. That’s right; he and Granger did get pulled into a book. “Have you seen Granger?”
Theo finally turned to him with a confused look. “Who?”
So, was this just a version of Theo created to take a character’s place in the story? “I—I need to find Granger.” He swung his legs over the bed, only belatedly realizing he was stark naked under the sheets.
Theo cocked an eyebrow, eyeing his sheets. “Is the Granger you’re looking for under the covers?”
“What? No, shut up, Theo.” Damn it. He was now somewhere in this make-believe world, in an unfamiliar bedroom, some royalty’s house—palace?—and his only way to get out was somewhere else.
Ignoring Theo’s pestering questions about who Granger was, Draco found a closet and threw the doors open, only to groan in annoyance. The only apparent clothing options for him are formal regal attire.
Wait.
“I’m not the prince, am I?” His question made Theo’s boyish features wrinkle in confusion.
“Is this a trick question?” Theo asked, raising his hands up in defense as Draco scowled, getting riled up by the absurdity of the situation. “Yes. Yes. You’re the prince. I don’t know why we’re going through such dramatics this morning. But get dressed or so help me, I will bring you to your parents in your current state.”
Draco sighed in resignation and started putting clothes on. “The only thing absurd is this outfit,” he muttered, earning a look from Theo.
“I would counter and say you’re the absurd one.”
Draco finished getting dressed, not bothering to look at himself in a mirror. “Theo, I’ll be out. I need to look for—”
Theo placed his hands on Draco’s shoulders, turning him around and pushing him out of the bedroom. “I know. Find Granger. But that will have to wait, or my head will be on a spike if I take any longer in bringing you to your parents,” he hissed. “They’re planning to throw a ball so you can finally choose a bride.”
Draco choked. Was this real life bleeding into the fucking story? Why is this the subject that he would need to talk to his fake parents in this realm about?
“Save the reasoning,” Theo said, “I’ve heard it all. I agree. But my thoughts don’t matter. Only the king’s and queen’s matter. They’re already preparing the letters to send out to all the eligible maidens—”
“Then why talk to me when they’ve already decided—hold on. They’re inviting all eligible maidens?”
Theo’s blue eyes scanned his face for a moment and then said, “Do you prefer eligible young men?”
Draco ran his hands over his face, exasperated. “No. Granger is an eligible woman. She can just be invited here. I don’t have to go around looking for her.”
Theo continued to push him forward. “Then tell King Lucius and Queen Narcissa you will be delighted to invite eligible maidens. Then your father can stop hounding me, telling you to woo maidens and make royal babies.”
*****
Lucius and Narcissa sat poised, dressed impeccably in their royal attire—sans crowns—as they were served tea. It was Narcissa who greeted him first.
“Draco, darling. You normally do not sleep in this late. Is something the matter?”
Seeing his parents dressed in splendor, surrounded by muggle servants was jarring. But Draco reminded himself this scenario was not real.
“I was told you were planning a ball?”
“Son, you need to find a wife—” Draco scoffed at Lucius’ words, and it earned him a reprimand from his mother. Oh how similar this conversation was with his own house-exiled father, imploring him to provide the Malfoy lineage an heir.
Ignoring his reaction, Lucius continued. “And the time is nigh. If you have not found one from all the trips you have done outside this kingdom, then surely there’s a maiden within ours who would suffice your… preferences.”
“I’m sorry—my preferences?” Draco repeated, tone incredulous as Lucius held his tea.
“Why, yes. Theo has been quite helpful with sharing what certain… attributes you are attracted to.”
He looked behind him and found Theo, intentionally avoiding his gaze. What did story-version Theo know about his preferences? “How helpful of him,” Draco gritted.
Well, might as well play the part to get Granger here as soon as possible. Clearly, her assumption of just watching from the sidelines was not how this book was created to be.
“When is this gala scheduled?”
His mother set her cup down and nodded her head, satisfied that he was not putting up a fight.
“I’d say at the end of the month. It would be—”
Merlin, he was not going to stay stuck in this book for that long. “No!” His sudden outburst caused both Narcissa and Lucius to blink at him in confusion. Shite.
Draco cleared his throat. “My apologies. I had thought—with how pressing the matter of getting me wed is—the gala needs to happen as soon as possible.”
He heard Theo choke from where he was standing.
“Soon?” Lucius’ tone was optimistic. The same feeling was reflected from the smile that graced Narcissa’s face.
Draco eyed his parents, who looked at each other in silent conversation.
“Darling—well, how wonderful! How about this weekend? We still need to get the tailor out here, prepare all the decorations.”
Lucius leaned back on his chair, exhaling with an air of satisfaction. “It seems Theo’s conversations with you finally got you to understand the importance of having the next generation. Well, I’m very glad. Bring the parchments.”
Before Draco could even ask what the parchments were for, the aides came in with stacks of them as tea was cleared and Lucius brought out a… a monocle?
“Come sit, Draco. It is prudent we take a quick gander of the maidens to know them just a tad prior to meeting them,” Narcissa urged.
“Cissa, look at the Greengrass sisters. Lovely, wouldn’t you agree?”
Gods, this is a horror story. Who in their right mind would want to read about potential partners? He was tempted, so tempted, to turn around and leave. Fuck pretending to be whatever prince he was supposed to be.
“Your Highness, might I ask if there’s an eligible maiden in the name of Granger?” It was Theo who piped up from where he was standing.
Draco scowled at him menacingly and mouthed, “Why are you even in this story?”
Theo shook his head, eyeing him like he grew tentacles out of his arse. “What are you even talking about,” he hissed back.
“Oh? A Miss Granger? Draco, darling, how many times must your mother ask?” Narcissa patted at the empty chair beside her. Draco, begrudgingly, obliged and sat, eyeing the written information on each parchment.
“Tell us about this Granger. I do not see that name. What house does she belong to?” Lucius asked, looking through different parchments, brows furrowed when none of the ones he was holding had information about Granger.
“She’s…” What was he supposed to say? She’s a bloody talented witch that our family has belittled, unfairly treated, tortured. That would go well.
“She is…” Draco repeated, ignoring that look that Lucius and Narciss were exchanging. “Her name is Hermione. She is smart. Her own person. Would not let anyone bring her down. Has this wild hair. Perceptive brown eyes.”
Red blood, like ours—he wanted to add.
“Our boy is smitten, Cissa,” Lucius whispered.
*****
The evening of the ball came, and Draco was exhausted. Sure, his Malfoy upbringing helped with his pretend princely duties. But he was done with this make-believe world.
Worst of all, there apparently seemed to be no way to track Granger. She was not recorded as an eligible maiden. Nobody knew of any Granger household. And when he tried to describe her, they just gave him a confused look.
“Her hair is like a bird’s nest—usually. She might have it up in a bun. You’ll know it’s her because her eyes are golden brown.”
So he resigned to the idea that he would have to hope she would come to the ball, fix the curse, and leave this story. Maybe the curse was the story itself.
Guests trickled in. His parents mingled with other aristocrats, while he was relegated to being introduced to the invited maidens. Much like how Theo and his parents were in this world, others like Astoria and Daphne were there. Actually, a lot of his schoolmates from Hogwarts were there.
In this world though, he wasn’t met with the disdain and pitiful looks. In fact, he felt like his younger self. He was greeted with enthusiasm. Parents implored him to look at their daughters, or get his support in regards to a plight or request they submitted to the king and queen.
He had thought he would like it; relish in it, even.
Yet all it did was make him uncomfortable. He wanted the ire, the glares, the shouts, the vehemence. That was what he deserved.
And so he attempted to get away from the crowd that was closing in on him, and Theo was immediately there by his side.
“You look like you would rather clean up horse dung than be here.”
“Always perceptive, Theo. Have you checked again if Granger came?”
Theo shook his head, sighing. “I’ve been checking. All the maidens are accounted for. At the very least, show your parents you’re interested in one of them.”
Draco loosened the tight collar of his dress shirt. Fuck, did he avoid arranged marriages in real life just so he can be forced into one here?
The music started playing, and the floor opened up. All eyes were on him. Draco found Lucius and Narcissa, watching him—waiting to see who he would dance with.
He found Astoria and Daphne in a corner, their smiles inviting. Perhaps one of them. With a steady breath, he took a step towards them, until he saw something move in the shadows.
From behind the crowd, through the gaps of people standing, he saw a flurry of a ball gown.
And then those familiar eyes—
“Granger.”
He pivoted and made his way to her as the music continued. When he finally made it to her, his breath was caught in his throat.
Granger was there, in a periwinkle ball gown reminiscent of the color of the dress she wore for the Yule Ball at Hogwarts. The dip of the neckline revealed the freckles that dotted her chest. Her hair was tied up, little ringlets framing her face. And when she looked up at him, he felt like drowning in the warmth of her gaze.
“I tried to get your attention but…” They stood, frozen, their eyes watching the other, waiting. Granger cleared her throat and continued, “I think they’re waiting for us to do something.”
He took a quick look behind him and saw the curious crowd watching in wonder, gossiping.
“Follow my lead,” he whispered, bowing in front of her and extending his hand. “May I have this dance?”
A blush settled on her cheeks. “We should plan how to find the curse and get out,” she said, placing her hand in his.
“We can dance and talk.” The lights dimmed as he led Granger to the middle of the ball room, and placed his other hand on her waist. “Just like the Yule Ball.”
He got a small laugh out of her as they started to waltz, and he could hear her muttering under her breath.
“Granger.”
“Mm?”
“Are you counting steps while we’re dancing?”
She scoffed. “Leave me be. This is how I waltz.”
With his grip on her waist, he pulled her close, leaning towards her ear to whisper, “Let me lead, you silly witch.”
And she let him. As the music crested, Draco moved across the dance floor, remembering all the ridiculous dance lessons he had to take back in the manor. Granger was perfect in his hold. She glided, moved with ease, trusted his lead.
He extended his hand that held hers, releasing his hold of her waist as she moved away. With a gentle pull, she twirled back into his arms.
Draco failed to notice that other couples have joined in, including his parents. The movements around them were a blur to him and he was stuck in the moment, entranced with the woman in his arms.
“I think this is a good chance for us to sneak away,” she whispered, pulling him to a darkened hall that led to a garden.
Draco wasn’t sure what happened next. Perhaps he had lost control over his body. Or being stuck with people he knew were pretending to be someone else in this fictional tale made him crave something from the real world. But he crowded Granger towards a willow tree, his arms placed on either side of her.
He wanted a kiss.
Granger, on the other hand, was thinking of something else. “Coast is clear. Have you found anything out of the ordinary with the story?”
He blinked at her. “In what context?”
Granger sighed in exasperation, realization dawning on her. Her freckled nose scrunched in thought. “You don’t know the story because it’s a muggle fairy tale. Right. C’mon.” She batted his arm away and headed straight to the gazebo, the skirt of her gown bouncing with each step.
So much for a kiss-worthy moment.
Draco followed her, watching her turn in her spot to lean back against the railing. “What do you think this story is about?” she asked.
He stood across from her, arms folded across his chest. “Some prince not having a choice about his future and being forced to marry.”
Granger snorted, quite unladylike and unacceptable in the story they were trapped in, and a stark difference from all the types of ladies he had interacted with in the ball (and dare he include real life?). The genuine reaction also elicited a small laugh from him. “Well, Granger, regale me what this story is about, then.”
“Only you Malfoy would think that the story revolved around you.”
“Oi, you can’t blame me for that. I only have had my side of the story lived.”
And so she told him the story of an orphaned girl who has a cruel stepmother and stepsisters for family. A ball was set up to invite maidens to the castle so the prince can find a wife. A fairy godmother gifted this orphaned girl the chance to join the ball.
Draco frowned when she stopped abruptly. “And then? What is the ending?”
“The prince and Cinderella fall in love and marry.”
Merlin, I don’t think I’ll survive a pretend wedding with Granger.
He grumbled under his breath. “Clearly we’re not flies on the wall here. If we’re the characters, we can dictate how it should end—”
The indignation on Granger’s face was only made worse by her straightened shoulders, nostrils flared. He had called her out on her mistaken assumption that they would just be watching the story happen in front of their eyes. “All legal portal books are meant for the reader to just watch the story unfold—”
“Like your muggle telly,” he interrupted. There was a little lift on the corner of her lips, but she chose to ignore his smart comment and continued.
“Clearly, your relative messed with this portal book or commissioned this illegally. Regardless, the story will insist on the plot to happen, and for the ending to come true.”
Draco threw his hands up in the air. “Then let’s do the ending now.”
“No, you impatient prat! We have to find the cursed item first. This is why I prefer to work contracts alone.” He was about to point out the irony in her statement when she shushed him. “I obviously took the option that would work best for this contract.”
“And by me being the best option means… what?” He was genuinely curious.
“I heard your mother is… unwell. And I do not want Andromeda or Teddy to be anywhere close to these cursed books.”
They stood there in silence, the music from the ballroom wafting to the garden, a welcome sound against the uncomfortable quiet between them. He hadn’t realized Granger had been close to his other surviving Black family members.
“I didn’t encounter anything out of the ordinary,” Draco finally said. “Nobody acted like they were under the Imperius curse and there weren’t any obvious cursed objects in the palace—in rooms I’ve visited, at least.”
“Speaking of ‘out of the ordinary’,” Hermione pursed her lips before blurting, “Umbridge is my stepmother; Pansy and Lavender are my stepsisters; and McGonagall is my fairy godmother.”
They stared at each other, letting Granger’s words digest, until they both gave in, letting their hysterical laughs fill the gazebo. “Fuck, Granger. Having Umbridge as your stepmother is terrible luck.”
“She’s all sorts of terrible. The stepsisters should be too, but both Pansy and Lavender tolerated me; neither were hateful. They even gave me their old ball gowns, and then Umbridge just tossed all those into the fire.”
Draco eyed the periwinkle ball gown again. Noticing his attention, Granger shuffled in it, making the layers of tulle sway. “Well, McGonagall has very good taste.“ Despite the low light in the garden and how Granger turned her head away, he registered the faint blush on her cheeks.
Lovely. Being stuck in this story was making him feel… incredibly curious and interested in Granger.
“Should we look for the cursed item now while everyone is busy?” Draco suggested, only for the clock tower to answer him.
Granger’s head spun to look at the clock tower looming in the distance. “I have to go.”
“What? Why?”
The clock chimed again.
She hurried past him, throwing an answer over her shoulder. “At the stroke of midnight, the magic cast on Cinderella will be broken. You will have to find me tomorrow.”
Draco huffed and followed immediately after her. “I am inclined to just keep you in this damn castle so we can find the curse.”
The clock chimed, seemingly louder this time.
“Is everything all right?”
Draco turned to see Theo approach, his voice cutting through the air. “Where is she going? Lady Granger?”
Draco looked back and watched Granger flee, her ball gown swaying as she sprinted away. “Ah fucking Salazar—” He forgot to ask where she lived.
The clock chimed.
Draco took off to run after her, ignoring Theo’s reprimands. “Granger!”
The clock chimed over and over until the twelfth chime rang.
Midnight.
The witch pivoted in her spot, a worried and confused look spread on her face as she opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The iridescent periwinkle ball gown she had on was disintegrating into the air; her person slowly disappearing into the dim light of the garden, fading into a translucent figure.
Draco slowed, too late to grab hold of her hand.
She was gone.
And on the ground was a single glass slipper.
*****
Everyone’s eyes were on him. Or, to be more specific, to the glass slipper he was holding in his hands.
“Son,” Lucius started, “are you certain you can’t remember? You were dancing with her in such close proximity. How can you not remember?”
Draco looked at him, exasperated. “How many times am I going to say it? I couldn’t remember. I just can’t.”
Something happened, but he can’t pinpoint what. It felt like a wave of cold water was poured on him, and his memories from last night were just of a woman named Granger who he danced with and left behind a glass slipper for him to find.
He couldn’t recall anything about her physical attributes. Her presence in his memories was covered with a fog. But he could remember what he felt during the moment: he admired her in his arms; he longed for a kiss; he enjoyed the shared laugh; he wanted her to stay.
That was it. None of those remembered feelings would help find this mysterious Lady Granger.
He looked at Theo, who rolled his eyes at him. “You kept the lady to yourself, Prince Draco. You kept her hidden with you in the gazebo. And by the time I approached, she was running away from you, in the dimly lit garden. So no, I do not remember what she looks like.”
Draco kept his mouth shut, annoyed that this Theo knew him all too well, just like the real Theo would.
Narcissa was standing by the window, quiet as she listened to the whole discussion about him not remembering anything. She cleared her throat, making Lucius and Theo stop with their chastising.
“It’s not a lost cause. You have the slipper. Find the other half. I haven’t known anyone who has a glass slipper. Even I don’t.” She gazed back at Draco, eyebrow hitched. “Do you want her enough to look for her?”
Lost memories aside, if he were to base it off of the intense feelings filling his chest right now—
“Yes. I want her. I’ll bring her back and marry her.”
Fuck. Where did that declaration come from? Had he been so besotted with a lady—one he couldn’t even remember—that he was confidently declaring his intent with her?
He ignored Lucius and Theo gaping at him, and instead looked at the queen, whose smile told him of her approval.
“Then find her, Draco.”
He nodded, immediately leaving the room to make preparations. But in the back of his mind, he felt like he was forgetting something else that he should be looking for.
*****
Four days. Four bloody days of visiting door-to-door, asking about a maiden who owned a pair of glass slippers. Draco had heard so many iterations of excuses and lies of how the other glass slipper was either missing or that it broke on accident. The parents insisted on having their unmarried daughters try on the glass slipper, which Theo had been carrying around.
Draco swore the slipper would either get smaller or larger, no matter the lady. They would be given back the glass slipper, begrudgingly, with the parents continuing to share how their daughters would be a better wife for the prince of the kingdom.
Like they were selling any other piece of commodity. Draco rolled his eyes at the thought.
Well, not like his parents weren’t treating him the same, with only wanting him to find a wife to sire an heir.
The carriage they were in rattled on the cobbled road, and Draco sighed, resting his elbow on a ledge, his chin on his hand.
“Stop brooding.”
He frowned, looking at Theo. “It’s looking more and more like she might be a visiting maiden from another kingdom.”
Theo lifted the fragile glass slipper, twirling it around his finger. “Is that going to stop you?”
Draco lunged forward and grabbed the slipper, clutching it delicately between his hands. “Damn it, Theo. If this breaks—I’ll break you. And no, it wouldn’t.”
Theo grinned lazily at him. “Stop your moping. We’re approaching the last and farthest house in your kingdom. Weird location for a house since it’s so far from the town center to get all the necessities,” he noted, and Draco looked out the window.
In between the spaces of the lush trees, he saw an old and small chateau in the distance. Perhaps this Granger was here all along.
Their carriage slowed to a stop as they arrived at the front door, where the matron and two daughters were waiting.
As Theo climbed out and Draco followed, he couldn’t help but wonder. These ladies looked… familiar. Almost like he knew them from a dream.
The lady of the house curtsied, her wide smile greeting them. “Your Highness. Your Grace. Welcome to our humble abode. May I present my daughters?”
The two younger ladies flanking her curtsied as well, both sporting forced smiles. “Pansy and Lavender are their names, Your Highness.”
Draco bowed, then got straight to the point. “We won’t be troubling you for too long. We are looking for a maiden who owns a pair of glass slippers.”
“Oh, why of course! Both my daughters had a pair of glass slippers. Multiples of them. But of course we’ve been having trouble with thieves lately and they seem to take those slippers with them.”
Draco resisted rolling his eyes. That was the most creative excuse he had heard of yet. But he had to be fair and let the daughters try on the slipper.
As Theo brought out a chair for the ladies to sit on, Draco then asked out of curiosity, “Have you by chance heard of a Lady Granger? Or know of a lady using it as a false name?”
Draco swore he saw a panic flash in the mother’s eyes, face flushed almost as pink as her gaudy dress. “A Lady… Granger, you say? No, not at all, Your Highness.”
He cast a look at Theo, who nodded then approached the matron. “Madam, might you have some refreshments? I am absolutely parched, so is the Prince. And he really only drinks spring water.” When Theo had the matron’s full attention, Draco slowly stepped away, rounding the corner until he was gone from view.
The woman was hiding something.
Draco tested each window and door on the ground floor, each failing to budge. Perhaps on the higher floors then.
He stepped back, finding a way to access the second and third floors. There was a trellis he could climb up, and he could attempt to open the highest window that the trellis was connected to.
He hadn’t even taken a step when his target window smashed open, and a figure climbed up the ledge.
Draco’s eyes widened. Standing at the top of the ledge was a woman; waves of curls framing her face, the length of her dress shortened to her knees. And when she looked down—her gaze landing on him—his breath stilled.
Then she jumped.
Out of sheer panic, he ran, ready to catch her but she was hanging underneath the window, hand holding onto tied-up blankets.
Draco watched, stunned, as the woman safely got herself down, landing with a soft thump on the earth.
And when she straightened, flinging her mess of curls back, her lips had formed into a smile—his heart was enraptured.
“Took you long enough. I was ready to hike to the castle,” she huffed, playfully hitting his chest.
“Are you… Lady Granger?” he croaked, and the lady gave him a puzzled look.
“Lady Granger? Malfoy, are you—” she pursed her lips, eyes darting over his features. “Fuck. What’s the last thing you remember?”
Gods, she sounded really hot saying that.
“Er… I was dancing with a woman. But I couldn’t remember anything else about her, except her glass slipper, and that she was Lady Granger.”
Draco watched, mesmerized, as she muttered under her breath, a finger tapping her chin. How could he have forgotten an adorable woman that was Lady Granger?
“Okay, Malf—er, my prince. You may start remembering after I put on the slipper.”
Draco grinned, possibly a little too much, for Lady Granger eyed him with curiosity.
But before he could summon Theo, his friend was already shouting profanities. “How could you break the slipper, you mad woman?!”
Both Draco and Lady Granger ran to the front of the house and saw Theo reprimanding the three ladies, with the madam hovering a hand over her face. Draco didn’t miss the slight curve of her lips, betraying a smile.
Fuck.
Draco was livid. How dare that woman break his lady’s shoe? No matter, he’ll find someone who could make a thousand glass slippers.
He was ready to bring down judgment, ignoring how the matron’s eyes grew large in horror at the sight of Lady Granger behind him.
“Draco, it’s alright.”
The name slipping past her lips was like water to a thirsty man. He turned, ready to offer her all he had, and his heart beat at an alarmingly fast rate as she pulled, out of her pocket, the other glass slipper.
“Ready to get your forgotten memories back?”
Her whisper sent a shiver down his spine and he nodded like an idiot. When she handed her the glass slipper, all noise from the background faded and he instinctively dropped to a knee, lifting her dainty foot up and removing the tattered slipper she had on.
Her bare foot was in his hand and he stared at the curve of her leg that peeked from her shortened dress, her narrow ankle, her toes.
Fuck. Do I have a foot fetish?
Draco ignored the warmth creeping up on his cheeks that then traveled down his neck. Gently, he placed the slipper on her.
And immediately, his memories trickled back, like cold water being poured over him. He was back; back with Hermione. This was bad.
Draco stood up, panicked, realizing all the decisions he had made up until that point.
“What’s wrong?”
Draco turned so the others wouldn't hear him. “I apparently made decisions when I was in my altered state.” When Hermione just lifted an eyebrow at him, he breathed out in annoyance.
“Now that I found you, we’re getting married tomorrow.”
*****
Ever since Granger got to the palace, everybody was everywhere. They were lingering in hallways, hushed in corners, even on the balconies when he and Granger walked around in the gardens.
Everybody was curious about the lady that made the prince fall in love.
He was enjoying having the witch in his arms, despite them pretending to be smitten with each other, with their marriage scheduled for tomorrow loomed.
Draco looked down at her sleeved arm, bent around his as they went back inside, ignoring the eyes that watched them.
“It has to be somewhere inside one of the royal rooms,” Granger muttered, a habit he realized she does—Granger loved to think out loud.
He only hummed in response, hoping they could continue walking around like this, with him showing-off his soon-to-be-wife.
You know, even if it was pretend.
As evening came, and after a cordial dinner with his parents, Draco had excused themselves to enjoy the evening together before their impending vows tomorrow.
“Draco, temper your urges for the evening,” his mother had whispered to him.
With his request to Theo to limit the people where he would take Granger, they now found themselves free to roam the palace without curious eyes watching them.
“Should we go to your bedroom?”
Draco froze in his step and choked on air. “W-what?”
She turned in her place, looking lovely in her sunshine-colored dinner dress and her curls set in a low bun. “We should look for the cursed item in your room,” she said, throwing a questioning look at him.
“Right,” Draco cleared his throat. Of course that was what she meant. Not whatever his imagination was saying otherwise, or what his mother had teasingly warned him earlier.
“Why would you think it would be in my room?” He asked as they headed to his wing.
Her hands had pulled her skirt up so she could walk faster. “Think about it. Your ancestor had this book made. They used to go to this story, too. They would have kept a treasured item close to where they would easily have access to.
“And there are two characters they can play as. The item was not in Cinderella’s home. It has to be there.”
Draco followed the witch’s hurried steps until he pointed her down to a hallway where his suite was. Granger burst open the double doors, and strode in like she owned the place.
And gods, he liked that thought a lot.
“Where should we start looking?” she murmured, more so to herself as she started opening drawers. Draco held a closed fist in his mouth, because—damn it—he wanted to say ‘the bed’.
“I’ll look in the walk-in closet,” he muttered instead and sulked towards it.
Draco started taking down boxes down from shelves in the storage, only unearthing old toys, baby clothes, children’s books. He didn’t know how much time had passed even as they worked in amiable silence, noting to the other that they have not found anything out of place.
“I’m beat, Granger. We might have to say we cancel the wedding. Reschedule it. Decide that marriage wasn’t for us and we just want to love each other without the rigidity of formalities,” he called out in annoyance, as he started to painstakingly put back all the stuff he had taken out of the last box he went through. “What time is it, by the way?”
He heard her closing drawers, then hollering, “We’ll hear the clock chime when it’s top of the hour.”
Draco huffed, finallly walking out of the closet. “I didn’t hear any chime. Isn’t there a clock nearby?”
“No, that’s why there’s a big clock tower at the center of the town… and…”
Draco finally approached the witch, who was still where she stood. “Granger?” She had that curious look on her face again where her gears were turning.
“We didn’t hear any chime,” she shared, and Draco slowly nodded.
Granger waved her hands in front of him, as if waiting for him to come to the realization that she just did. “We didn’t hear the clock tower’s chime! The clock tower is loud for everyone around town to hear.”
Her widened eyes and brightened smile was incredibly distracting, but he focused on what she said. “There’s magic blocking the chime from being heard here.”
They both rummaged around, looking for a clock. It was on a corner desk beside decorative vases. It was a small square clock. Its hands were still. Draco picked it up as Hermione approached him.
“It doesn’t look cursed to me,” he said, eyeing the piece meticulously.
Granger took it from his hands. “We wouldn’t know until we take it back to the real world.”
That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “You’re telling me if we make a mistake and this wasn’t the item, we go back in the story and relive it again?”
Granger gave him a mocking look. “Oh yes, you will be relieved of aiding me—provided you give me more blood and you’ll be rid of me forever.”
Draco frowned at the thought. He disliked the thought of having to go through the whole ordeal of the story again, but it didn’t mean this would be the last of spending time with her.
Whatever that looked like. He didn’t have to give her the blood. What if she needed a fresh one for the other books?
“Our magic doesn’t really work in this world, so I can’t do anything to verify whether it’s the item or not.” Granger turned to him, blowing a long curl that fell down her nose. “How did it feel to not use magic?”
He didn’t even think about it. Draco just lived the life, not thinking about his magic at all. “Surprisingly normal and anti-climactic,” he drawled, eliciting a small laugh from the witch.
“Alright, I suppose we can end the story now and get back out.”
Draco cleared his throat, trying to sound not too disappointed. “So it seems. Do we just hold the wedding now?”
“No, that would be silly,” she answered, and Draco let out a breath. Great. Perhaps one more day of pretending to have Granger as his—
“We’ll just song now and get it over with.”
Draco started coughing violently and Granger had to rub and pat his back. “Does the thought disgust you that much?” she muttered, continuing to rub his back until his coughing fit was done.
Disgust? Why the fuck would he feel that? The immediate thought in his damn mind was excitement. It would be him, his mouth, on Golden Girl. Oh, Salazar.
“Are you sure we can’t wait for the wedding?” He managed to say instead and Granger just cocked an eyebrow up.
“We’ll end up kissing in a pretend wedding in front of other people. If that’s not enough of an incentive, then I don’t know what. I’d rather not extend our stay here another day.”
How could this witch say these things so casually? With him?
“You’re okay… with kissing me?” He finally blurted out, and she shrugged her shoulders.
“It’s just a song, Malfoy. Doesn’t mean anything.”
Somehow, he found those words unacceptable. “Right,” he muttered instead. He was soon distracted by Granger’s arm snaking over his shoulder, her hand cradling his jaw. Draco immediately backed up. The sudden coziness and intimacy made his heart hammer loudly against his chest.
Her lips had turned into a frown. “You’re making this extremely difficult.”
“You surprised me,” he pointed out, running both his hands up his hair. This was fine. This was not a big deal. If Granger can do it so callously, he could do the same fucking thing.
With a deep breath, he took a step, letting his hands reach out to cup her face. One more step closer and he watched as her eyes widened, her gaze fixed on his. Her lips were slightly parted; breath slowed, shallowed, waiting, anticipating.
It would be quick. It would be nothing. It would be a kiss without meaning. A kiss that was purely objective. A kiss without feelings, without affection, without expectation.
He said those words over and over as he leaned in, his thumb lightly brushing over her plump lower lip. And when their lips finally touched, chaste and sweet, all of his previous thoughts had gone, dissipated and his eyes closed in relief. His plan to make it a quick light kiss had been forgotten, and Draco found himself leaning in more, his hand sliding to her nape, tugging at the bun. And when her curls fell, free from its binding, she sighed into him.
And fuck did that do things to him.
He buried his fingers into the roots of her hair, angling her face up so their kiss could deepen. Gods, he didn’t want this to end.
A flash of light filled the room, encapsulating them in the familiar thrum of magic. Make this last, he asked whatever gods were listening.
As the light dimmed, Granger had pulled back first, eyes finally opening, lips parting again, rosy from their kiss, looking absolutely delicious.
“We’re back,” she whispered, taking a step away.
Damn it. Damn it.
Draco straightened and stepped back as well, looking around to avoid seeing her confused face. “Right you are,” he said, stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets.
They managed the next couple of minutes in casual and cooperative talks, like nothing sensual or romantic happened. Because it was neither of those things, despite what Draco’s heart was saying.
He had given her a flask full of his blood, and she gave him another blood replenisher. Then silence.
Their agreement was done. Over and done.
“Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Malfoy. You will be updated regarding these contents, should the Ministry decide to return any or all properties.”
He nodded. Before he could do anything crazy like ask her out for dinner, Draco turned and left without a thank you or goodbye.
And now he was in a London hotel—who the fuck knows which hotel—and he was tossing and turning over the bed, relieving what he went through.
He wasn’t developing… feelings for Granger, right? It was all because of the moment, the necessity to leave the story through a kiss—a kiss, of all things! And those emotions were not real, they were all due to the story, making him feel in love with the heroine of the story.
It was all an act. Nothing else.
Draco had never felt more frustrated in his entire life. How could it end so soon, too soon? He wanted answers. He wanted to know why the fuck he was suddenly feeling like this, after seeing her after all these years? If these feelings were because of the damn story, it should have receded by now.
With a sigh, he rolled on to his side and buried his head under a pillow. Sleep was what he needed so he could forget everything and head back to France early tomorrow morning with his portkey.
As his breathing finally evened, and his eyes closed, Draco thought he heard the ticking of the clock.