Chapter 4
“Hi,” Hermione smiled as she hiked her heavy reusable bags onto her shoulder again as she walked up the front steps.
“I’ll take those,” Draco replied, carefully grabbing the colorful bags off her arm. “You making me food for a week, sweetheart?”
Her heart fluttered at the term of endearment.
“Not tonight, no, but I made dessert,” she smiled.
“You spoil me,” Draco murmured, bringing everything into his kitchen. “How can I help?”
“You can show me where your pans are?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he replied seriously before smiling. “I’m joking, but I’m not sure they’ve ever been used.”
The man opened the two cabinets directly under the stove, revealing a ridiculous amount of Le Creuset.
“Really? You haven’t touched these?” she asked, unable to help the way she moved over to get down on her knees and peruse the oyster gray and caribbean blue pieces.
“Never,” he replied. “Will they work?”
Hermione let out a loud laugh, “Draco… this is my dream cookware. They’ll more than work.”
He looked pleased as she stood up. “Good. Let me know if you need anything and we can pick it up. They sell these pots and pans around here, right?”
Hermione nodded, “There’s a Le Creuset outlet at National Harbor.”
“We’ll go soon.”
“Have you ever been to an outlet mall?” Hermione asked with a playful giggle, randomly opening up drawers and cabinets until she found a cutting board and knife.
“I can’t say I have,” Draco replied. “Am I missing out?”
“Well, if you haven’t been to an outlet mall, I’m assuming you’re not scouring for the best deals possible. So no, I wouldn’t say you’re missing out on anything other than last season’s unpopular Bath and Body Works candles at dirt cheap prices.”
“I’ll pretend I know what that means,” Draco said, a smile evident in his voice.
Hermione shook her head, finally finding a cutting board… wooden, which showed just how little he cooked.
“Add a cutting board to your list,” Hermione called to the man as she started chopping up vegetables.
“What’s wrong with that one?” he asked, pulling out a notepad from a drawer and endearing himself to Hermione even more.
“Wooden cutting boards are hard to clean; they look nice, but that’s about it.”
“Noted. What are you making?”
“A chili-garlic glazed salmon with veggies and rice… someone gave me enough money to buy vegetables, thought I’d go all out,” Hermione smiled.
“That sounds amazing, sweetheart. The way you said that makes you think you normally don’t eat vegetables.”
She shrugged, slicing the yellow pepper into long pieces.
“Depends on the week, honestly, but I normally just make do with frozen medleys. This is much better.”
“That’s no good,” Draco replied, his voice concerned enough for Hermione to look up from her work.
She smiled at him reassuringly, “It’s par for the course for most young people’s salaries. I make do, this is just a nice, indulgent surprise. What do you normally eat if you don’t cook?”
“I’m a fan of routine when it comes to food, which my staff likes to make fun of. Fruit and coffee for breakfast, a salad for lunch, and dinner unfortunately means eating whatever is in front of me at events.”
“What about when you’re in North Carolina?”
“I miss out on far more meals that I’d like to admit when I’m home. There’s just… too much to do and too little time, but my staffers all prod me to eat.”
“That’s no good,” she frowned. “Could you… hire a chef to cook for you?”
Draco smiled. “I’m sure I could, it just has never seemed important. From the moment I touch down until I leave Charlotte, I’m focused on being out with the people I represent. I’d rather eat an energy bar and pack in an extra elementary school visit than sit down for lunch.”
“That’s sweet,” Hermione smiled, a fondness in her at the mention of something children-adjacent. Her brain was screaming about what a danger zone that was. Draco and kids. Not their kids, just… Draco and kids was a nice thought.
“Part of the job,” Draco shrugged. “Oh, would you like some wine?”
“Yes please,” Hermione smiled.
“My mother would have my head, knowing I hadn’t offered yet.”
Hermione giggled, taking the proffered glass of rosé.
“Mmm, my favorite,” she smiled after taking a sip. It tasted far more expensive than the $4.99 bottle she always purchased at Trader Joe’s, much to Pansy’s horror.
“That so? A lucky guess, then.”
“What is your family like?” she asked tentatively, curious but unsure of whether or not it was safe to broach the topic.
“You don’t have to be nervous, sugar,” Draco replied gently, clearly amused at her obvious nervousness. “I won’t say I’m an open book, not even close, but I want to share my life with you.”
“It’s weird, right? Getting to know people is always weird as an adult, but this is especially odd.”
Draco laughed, “You’re not wrong. It’s a weird dance, switching off from my public persona to myself.”
“Oh?” Hermione’d finished chopping up the vegetables, a colorful mixture of peppers, broccoli, green onions and asparagus, and stepped to her right to turn on a burner under a gorgeous gray cast iron skillet. She only had a slight fear she’d burn Draco’s kitchenware, but had a faint feeling that he would just buy new pieces without even blinking if she did.
“Absolutely.”
“That makes sense, if I’m being honest,” Hermione replied, speaking easily now that she was turned away from Draco’s intense, watchful gaze. “I remember meeting Rep. Potter at events growing up and thinking he was just… so engaged and caring about everything that people brought up to him. But when I started my internship, I could see the facade that it was.”
“Do tell.”
Hermione couldn’t help but giggle. “It was sort of funny, actually, because I think I’m the only one who really understood that it was all a show. He’d always come into the office and shout to staff in the back office before realizing us interns were there. Then he’d say something about wanting to get time on the books to spend with us, but we literally didn’t sit down with him until our end-of-internship pizza party. Now, I can just tell he’s half listening to everything people come in to share with him. But I don’t blame him… I can’t imagine just being talked at day in and day out, it has to be mind numbing.”
Draco laughed, “That sounds about right, as much as I hate to say it. People care less about you and more about the fact that they have an audience with someone they deem important.”
“You’re still a person, though.”
“That’s crazy talk, sugar. I believe I’m actually a ‘demon in a sexy skinsuit sent to brainwash well-meaning millennials into voting against their own interests.’
Hermione laughed loudly, throwing back her head. “What? Is that a thing?”
“Definitely a thing,” Draco replied, emphasizing the word ‘thing’ like it was a phrase he hadn’t used before. He probably hadn’t, honestly. Hermione liked to think she was turning him onto the phraseology of her generation. “Twitter liberals have a lot to say about me, I don’t look, but Gemma, my communications director felt it prudent to share that one.”
“It’s kind of funny if you remove all emotion and meaning from it,” Hermione replied, satisfied with the pan’s ability to saute the vegetables. Now was the hard part, figuring out the right time to put the asparagus and marinated salmon in so that they wouldn’t overcook or undercook. She felt pressure for the meal to be perfect.
“Too right. The only way you stay sane in this field is removing all emotion and meaning from the words of people who you’ve never met. Which brings me back to your original question… my family. I grew up in Charlotte, my father was in the state house by the time I was 2 and the youngest member in Congress by the time I was a boy. My sister, Columba, is four years younger than me and married with a son. She’s back in Charlotte and lives next door to our mother’s parents.”
“I love that, it sounds like your family is close,” Hermione smiled. “It’s sweet.”
“As sweet as rich southern elites can be,” Draco snorted. “They’re good people, and I’m grateful that family was always prioritized, despite my father and grandfather’s jobs.”
“Does your mother work?” Hermione asked, genuinely curious.
“She doesn’t have a 9-5, no, but she’s always been plenty busy with philanthropic endeavors and keeping my father in line.”
“Oh?”
“It’s a poorly kept secret, but Malfoy women are the secret sauce when it comes to our success. Mother’s enjoyed the chance to micromanage both father and I, but thankfully she backed off when I didn’t crash and burn after my first term. She’s a good woman.”
“She sounds like it,” Hermione replied, leaving most of her questions left unasked. It was too soon to ask for a complete rundown of the Malfoy family. “Does she stay in North Carolina when your father’s in Washington?”
“No, she’ll travel with him 9 times out of 10. 42 years into marriage and they still act like loved-up teenagers.” Hermione saw the fondness and wistfulness in his expression and tucked the memory of it away for later.
“Oh wow, they must’ve gotten married young.”
“Mother was 16, father was 17… they had me a year later, epitomizing every stereotype of southern Christians, I know.”
“I think it’s sweet,” she said honestly, flipping the salmon and feeling pleased at the gorgeous sear on the fish. Almost time to eat. “A loving marriage after all of these years is something to be celebrated, in my opinion.”
“Right you are, sweet girl. Right you are. What about your family?”
She shifted her weight, trying to think through the level of honesty she should share.
Pansy had a lot of advice when it came to dating, and this was what the rich girl had called a choose-your-own-adventure conversation.
Hermione could be vague and patch over her familial drama, only to stay with Draco long-term and have him realize she’d lied to him whenever he thought back on this conversation.
Or, she could be honest and have him thinking she overshared for this stage of their relationship. It was a bit of a lose-lose, if she was honest, so she followed her gut instinct.
“Where to start,” Hermione laughed nervously. “I grew up in Seattle with my mom and dad, but they both were born and raised in California, actually.”
“What do they do?”
She swallowed. This never got easier.
“They met in dental school.”
“Ah, dentists? An important profession. You didn’t want to follow in their footsteps?”
Hermione faltered, deciding now wasn’t the time to burden Draco with the woe-filled tale of the Grangers.
“No,” she shook her head, glad he couldn’t see her as she finished fluffing the rice. She wasn’t technically lying, just omitting. “I’d always just wanted to be a part of societal change… I was the girl running a real campaign for sixth grade class president, buttons and all.”
“Oh? What was your platform?”
Hermione blushed, “Equal distribution of pizza and cookies throughout each grade’s lunch period; eighth graders ate first and sixth graders last, so there were never any cookies left by the time we made it to the caf. Starting fundraising for the eighth grade trip to Washington early so that all students could afford to go… the normal campaign promises.”
“A woman of the people, were you? Did you win?”
“I did,” Hermione replied. “Now that I’m in Washington, though, I think anyone who runs for office has to be a bit crazy, no offense. But I like being behind the scenes.”
“No offense taken,” Draco laughed. “I think the same thing all of the time… it’s one of those jobs that has its good days and bad days.”
“I feel the same about mine, and most of my interactions are only on the phones. I can’t imagine going back to a district.”
“Thankfully most of my constituents have southern hospitality, even when they disagree with me. They’re also familiar with my family, which makes things a bit easier.”
“Not to talk shop, but your seat was held by dems until your grandfather, right?”
“I never mind answering your questions, sweetheart. You’re correct; grandfather flipped the seat in 1968, right after he’d turned 25 and was eligible to run for the House. He was actually 24 when he won the primary… doesn’t much happen like that anymore.
“He was appointed to the Senate by North Carolina’s governor after the sitting senior senator, Amando Dippet, died in 1989… It happened almost right after he was sworn in. The man’s term wasn’t up until 1994, which meant grandfather would serve almost the entirety of his term. That was enough time for him to realize he wasn’t a huge fan of the institution.
“Between us, he wishes he would’ve stayed in the House, but couldn’t turn down the governor. So father ran in the special election for the House seat, won handily, and then ran for the senate seat in 2000 after my grandfather announced he wasn’t running and won…. A bit of a whirlwind of family history, honestly.”
“Then 16 years later, you came along?”
“Exactly,” Hermione could tell Draco was smiling even without looking at him. “Then there was a third Malfoy.”
“Quite the dynasty… I’m always surprised at how many there are in modern American politics.”
“Don’t underestimate the power of a familiar last name and comfortability.”
“Or beautiful blond hair,” Hermione added.
Draco’s laugh was warmer than she’d ever heard it.
“Where are your dinner plates?” Hermione asked, smiling at Draco when he brought two over.
“This looks amazing, Hermione.”
“Thank you,” she smiled, plating up a piece of salmon and a heaping pile of veggies and rice for each of them. Draco, southern gentleman that he was proving to be, insisted on carrying the plates in, winking at Hermione as he informed her she could grab the silverware.
With only a fond eye roll, she did just that.
xxx
“What does a normal Saturday in DC look like for you?” Hermione asked over dessert, pleased that they’d migrated to the couch for a more comfortable conversation. She’d made chocolate chip cookies for dessert and brought over ice cream, and Draco was surprisingly pleased with the minimal effort she’d put in. The man wouldn’t hear it, saying that even if it was a recipe she’d made countless times, baking cookies from scratch was special.
He’d let out a happy noise after trying the cookie that had her grinning. The back of bag Nestle Tollhouse recipe was forever impressing people who didn’t understand just how easy it was to follow.
“Depends on why I stayed. I’ll only stay if we have votes Friday and Monday or an event I can’t miss. Such as dinner with my sweet girl.”
Hermione wouldn’t admit that she choked on her bite of gooey cookie, but she did.
“You… did you cancel anything important back home?”
“Nothing that matters,” he replied, long legs stretched out on the sectional portion of the couch. He was just as well-dressed as he’d been the night before, pants clinging to his legs in a way that bordered on indecent. He was far too handsome for the likes of her.
“I feel bad.”
“Sweetheart,” Draco replied, turning and lifting her chin with one finger. “Trust that I wouldn’t make a decision without understanding its consequences, okay?”
Hermione looked down, feeling both chastised and reassured.
“My parents are here for the weekend, so it worked out well. We’ll go to church tomorrow, then have brunch and spend the afternoon in Georgetown.”
Hermione giggled, “Brunch is a concept that I’ll never understand. It’s so pretentious.”
“Oh? You think eating eggs, steak and foie gras with a pitcher of mimosa every weekend is pretentious?”
He leaned over to tickle her, shocking a squeak and full-throated laugh out of Hermione.
“Yes!” she squealed. “It is!”
“Not a brunch girl?”
Hermione weighed out to reply. “I’ve only been once, it was far too expensive for the ridiculously tiny portions that they considered shared plates. I’ve staged a protest organization against brunch, I have pins and everything.”
“How’s that working out for you?” Draco asked, a growing smile on his face.
“Let’s put it this way… would you like to be my first member?”
Draco laughed, a beautiful, mauscline sound tinkling in the air before he kissed Hermione’s cheek.
“It’d be my greatest honor. What do the pins say?”
“Well, I came up with the name when I was a bit tipsy following the awful brunch I went to, but it stuck. S.P.P.E.W. or Society of People who Prefer Eating Well.”
“I like it. I’ll see if I can rustle up some additional members for you, but I think we might be a two man band for a while.”
Hermione groaned, “Brunch isn’t even a thing outside of big cities! The idea that we are going to spend our weekend morning sitting around a table with people we barely like eating food that was prepared and cooked hours ago, which is a safety hazard most likely, getting drunk and making awkward conversation is blasphemous.”
“Let me take you to a nicer brunch and see if I can change your mind, hm?”
“You can try,” Hermione replied, dropping her head onto Draco’s shoulder. The man immediately placed a kiss to her hair.
“These curls…” he murmured.
Hermione tried not to stiffen as she waited for his reply. She’d heard every joke or insult in the book, but at the end of the day… she loved her hair. The insecure little girl inside of her hoped he did too.
“So pretty, I can always tell it's you from a mile away.”
“You’ve seen me in the hallway?”
“How could I miss you? Pretty little thing like you stands out in a sea of lumpy old men.”
Hermione giggled, turning to look up at Draco.
“What… what should I do if I see you this week?”
“I won’t seek you out and I ask you do the same, but there’s no harm in saying hello if we see each other. I’m not going to pretend I don’t know you, Hermione; I’m just not going to waltz into your office and ask you to grab lunch. I don’t know if that’d look well on either of us.”
“I think my chief would be both surprised and delighted if I had the chance to take an actual lunch break,” Hermione smiled, confused at the look of distaste on Draco’s face.
“What does that mean, if you took a lunch break?”
“There’s too much to do… It’s nice that they tell us to take an hour, but when I’m sitting at the front desk while members are in town and we have no interns, it’s completely unrealistic.”
“You can’t take it at your desk?”
“We can’t eat at the front desk, office policy,” Hermione replied. “Lee, our LC, said someone complained to the boss in a meeting after watching him eat at the front desk.”
“So what do they expect? You to go without eating for 12 hours?”
Hermione shrugged, she’d already gone through the anger and incredulity of the office policy.
“I’m not sure, I think that it doesn’t matter to them as long as I do my job.”
“Aren’t liberals the party of unions?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “One, we aren’t unionized in Congress… Two, I’ve come to terms with the fact that my office only cares as much as work is getting done and constituents and lobbyists are happy. I’ll eat lunch once I’m promoted.”
“That’s completely unacceptable.”
Hermione shrugged.
“That’s not… you can’t shrug off your personal health, Hermione. If you bring it up to your chief in an email, he’ll have no choice but to let you eat lunch or tell you face to face or via email that you can’t eat lunch.”
“I don’t like problems, Draco… I’m much more happy doing my work and going home with my senior staff thinking of me as the person who gets their job done without complaining.”
“That’s…” Draco took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair. “You’re not stirring up trouble by advocating for your ability to eat lunch.”
“Can we agree to disagree?” she asked quietly.
The man sighed, pulling Hermione onto his lap.
“For now. I can’t say this isn’t going to be difficult for me, hearing you go through the awful things that people do in their first jobs. Just let me help you where I can, okay?”
“This is a bit weird, isn’t it? How different our lives are.”
“You’re right, and that’s not going to go away. I’m old enough to be set in some of my ways, Hermione, I’m not going to sugarcoat that. I’m a possessive man, and I can’t imagine things between us are going to go well if you’re bucking against a core part of me.”
Hermione was quiet for a moment, mulling over her reply as she took Draco’s hand into her own like it could anchor her during this conversation that felt like it was coming far too soon into their relationship.
“I don’t… I can’t make any promises to you, Draco. In the same way I know that you can’t make any to me. But I’m very much interested in getting to know you better, and that means learning about all of you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Which is what I’m pretty sure what dating is, only the stakes feel pretty high.”
Draco brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it.
“There are no stakes, sweetheart. Right now, we’re just two people enjoying a second date. I’m no fool to think that we can continue in our own bubble forever, but for now, while we get to know each other? I’m content to do just that.”
“I like the sound of that,” Hermione smiled.
Draco’s smile was a dangerous thing, pearly white teeth and dimples. It was like God sat, caressing His chin, wondering just how he could piece together the perfect human when Draco was being formed. And, Hermione thought with a bit of hilarity, that God now sat smirking as he watched people fawn over Draco. His gray eyes with long lashes, a jawline that could cut glass and features that were just the right side of pointy. Taller than most men with lithe muscles that were substantial enough to still have women confident that he could carry them in his arms. Blond hair… the prettiest hair that boasted no dye, despite most people growing out of light blond hair by the time they were his age. He was beautiful.
Their lips met, a slow sort of kiss that required an intimate understanding of one another that two people who were still relatively strangers shouldn’t possess. But they did.
With every press of their lips and flick of his tongue, Hermione felt another nail hammered into the coffin that was her self control. Draco said he was possessive, and she believed it; his hand caressed her cheek, holding her mouth to his as though she’d pull away. As though she would want to be anywhere but his lap in an embrace that felt safer than anything she’d ever known.
When she thought back on it later that night, she’d feel ashamed about allowing herself to feel at home in a man’s arms, but now? Now she accepted it and melted into him.
“So good for me,” Draco whispered, gripping her face with both of his hands and pressing rapid kisses onto her lips that made her smile. “You’re so beautiful, Hermione… such a beautiful woman.”
“Thank you,” Hermione replied, eyes darting down than up. “I… think you’re handsome.”
Draco’s face turned from lust and fondness to amusement. “Do you?”
Draco seemed uncannily talented at making Hermione blush.
“Yeah… I’m sure you’ve heard that, though. I’ll get in line.” Joking deflection was easier than the honesty that women like Pansy seemed so good at.
“I’ll join the Hermione fan club queue then as well.
Hermione laughed at the thought. “You’re first in line.”
“That is a lie if I’ve ever heard one. You are gorgeous, smart, compassionate and thoughtful. The line is at least two miles long.”
“I’m glad you think so highly of me,” she replied, not knowing what else to say. The yawn she let out was a saving grace.
Draco checked the watch on his wrist. What kind of man wore a nice watch around his house? Really rich, really hot ones, Hermione thought to herself.
“It’s almost eleven… I’ll walk you home.”
“Thank you,” she replied, not arguing this time.
Her acquiescence earned her a kiss on her temple.
“Can’t have you out alone in the dark, sweet girl.”
Draco insisted on slinging the reusable Trader Joe’s bags over his shoulder on their walk back, despite the fact that they were mostly empty.
“Do you grocery shop?” she asked with a giggle, liking the way he knocked his hip gently into her at the ribbing.
“I’ve been known to visit Whole Foods’ prepared food section.”
“Is it nice?” Hermione asked.
“Extremely,” he nodded. “The options change daily, and the food is always fresh.”
“I’ll have to check it out,” Hermione smiled, knowing there was no way she’d pay Whole Foods prices for anything. Or give Owl, who owned the grocery store chain, her money. Nott and the other higher ups at the corporation epitomized the worst of capitalism, and she’d stage her own one person protest against it.
“Maybe we can meet at the Navy Yard store for lunch one day this week, I’ll text you when my schedule is more clear. Which might be difficult, you know with me firing my scheduler this week.”
Hermione was caught between vindictive glee and sympathy.
“I can’t imagine that’ll be easy, love. I’m sorry,” she replied, blushing into the darkness as the term of endearment slipped off her tongue.
Draco simply took her hand into his own, the first public display of affection he’d shown her. Even in the dark of the night, walking the quiet of the suburban sidewalks of Capitol Hill, it was special. Whatever they had felt special and fragile enough to be cherished.
“Hm, is Pansy gone?” Draco asked as they reached the front door of her and Pansy’s rowhome, the interior lights clearly off.
Hermione nodded, “She went out with some friends, she’ll be home later.”
“Are you okay to stay alone?” he asked, no humor in his tone at the ask.
Call her crazy, but it felt good knowing someone cared enough to ask. And even more so to know without a doubt that he’d stay with her if she said no.
“Mr. Parkinson installed an intense security system when we moved in. See? Doorbell camera,” Hermione smiled, pointing to her left where there was indeed a small lens.
“Good man,” Draco replied, face softening as he cupped Hermione’s face in his hands in a move that’d already become familiar. “Have a good Sunday… I’ll see you soon.”
“Thank you for dinner… for everything.”
“Of course, sweetheart. Thank you for cooking for us.”
“Any time, now that I know you don’t cook… need to make sure you’re eating,” she laughed.
“Speaking of meals… buy yourself some good groceries this week, okay? Or order lunch to the office, whatever gets lunch in your tummy.”
She swallowed a laugh at the sound of Draco Malfoy saying tummy.
The man pulled out a wad of stacked bills from his wallet, like he’d been planning on this moment. Knowing what she knew about his generosity, she expected he did.
“I…” Hermione hesitated, thinking back to what he’d said earlier. Could she accept Draco’s kindness as love and service instead of charity or a knock on her ability to take care of herself? “Thank you, Draco…”
She’d try.
“Anything for you, sweetheart. I’d like if you texted me when you eat lunch this week, if you remember.”
Hermione nodded, “I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask. I want to know if you’re able to eat,” Draco replied, running a hand through Hermione’s curls before kissing her lips, one, two, three more times.
“Goodnight,” she smiled, sounding far too much like a woman in love for one who’d just been on a second date.
“Lock your doors, please!” Draco called as he walked away, turning to smile at Hermione.
“Yessir!” Hermione called back, shutting the door.
She checked Pansy’s location on Find My Friends, running to change into her pajamas and wash her face when she saw the girl was moving back towards the house. They needed to talk.
xxx
Pansy: Ummmm, I just got an email from Blaise Zabini asking if I could come in for an interview tomorrow
Hermione: Who’s Blaise saving?
Hermione: Saving* sorry autocorrect
Hermione: Zany UGH
Pansy: STOP. Draco’s chief.
Hermione: I tried! Oh, wow. So that means he fired Marietta…
Pansy: First thing on a Monday. Solid start to the week for that bitch.
Hermione: Are you going to go?
Pansy: Obviously I’m going to go! Eat lunch yet, Cinderella?
Hermione: I’m happy for you and will see you tonight! Xoxo
Pansy: Daddy Draco is going to be mad at you… get yourself something to eat, sis. Not worth whatever fit he’s going to throw.
Hermione rolled her eyes, closing her phone and leaving the bathroom she’d been pacing in. She was glad Pansy was always on her phone, otherwise they’d never have a complete conversation; she only checked her phone when she took quick walk breaks to the bathroom, never knowing who was going to walk into the front office and have her texting as the first thing they saw.
xxxxxxxxx
“Hermione!” Lee called from the back office, voice frantic.
The girl smiled apologetically at the group of three health care lobbyists waiting for a meeting with the congressman before going to the back office. Figured that there would be a catastrophe on a Wednesday, the week had been far too calm thus far.
They looked like they could care less, clearly DC people instead of folks from the district coming specifically to meet with the congressman during a conference or some other event.
“What is it?” she asked, voice much lower than Lee’s.
“I fucked up,” he replied, looking far more nervous than she’d ever seen him. “I didn’t send out the June birthday cards.”
“The birthday cards for members?” she asked, wanting to clarify. He only nodded. “How can I help?”
“I need you to print the cards and the envelopes, I have to run to a transportation briefing for Dorcas. I’ll… find a way to get him to sign them tonight, but shit! Remus is going to kill me, it’s almost July.”
“It’ll be fine, we’ll get it done,” Hermione replied, smiling reassuringly at the man who was tugging on one of his braided locks of hair. Working under pressure was something she excelled at. “Just send me your files and I’ll make it happen.”
“You have to mail merge!” Lee yelped. “You know how?”
Hermione nodded, trying not to roll her eyes. Of course she knew how to mail merge.
Now it was Wednesday, her third day without lunch. She’d tried to make progress yesterday afternoon, starting an awkward conversation with Lee asking how he’d eaten lunch when he was staff assistant many moons ago, before the now-departed Divya had taken the role.
He’d kindly told Hermioned he would sit up at the front while she ate, but now… that didn’t seem like it’d happen. Not today, at least.
“Excuse me? Do you know when James will be here?” the oldest man in the group asked, his white hair wispy.
Hermione tipped her head towards the television where C-SPAN was playing.
“It looks like they’re finishing up the second to last vote,” she smiled, knowing that the group clearly knew that votes were going on as the bells continued to blare every now and then. “He’ll be back as soon as he can.”
Nothing was more annoying than people calling the congressman by his first name, like they were his friend. She knew better than that, at this point.
The same man sighed, “We’re supposed to meet with Congressman Malfoy directly after this, do you know where his office is?”
“I have the sheet,” the woman mumbled, fumbling with her leather padfolio.
“Oh, he’s right upstairs.” Hermione smiled.
“Hm, we might be able to make it…” the same man said to his two companions.
Hermione turned back to the email from Lee with an excel sheet in it. How did so many members have June birthdays?
Rep. Potter sent personal cards with a cheesy written message to each senator and member of congress for their birthday, which was great, but only if Lee remembered to print the cards out.
The problem was that Rep. Potter liked to sign each card himself and add a personal note, which meant it normally took two days for them to get them back from him instead of just having Frank quickly forge his signature. And now, on the 27th day of the month, for Lee to realize June cards hadn’t gone out… she knew their boss, who fancied himself friendly with all members, would be frustrated if not angry. She’d never seen Rep. Potter angry, and hoped she wouldn’t be there to witness it.
So she focused on mail merging the two spreadsheets, knowing that Rep. Potter had to run out at 4pm for a panel he was speaking on at American University and wouldn’t be back that night. Traffic was always awful at that hour, and he needed to be there by 5pm.
The door opened, and by the way the group stood, she knew it was Rep. Potter coming back.
“Hello! So sorry I’m late. Looks like we have another vote series in a bit, so we decided we’d meet together.”
“Oh, great!” the woman said, sounding far kinder than she did when speaking to just Hermione. Figures.
Hermione looked up, eyes wide at the sight of Draco in her office, smiling politely as he shook hands with the three lobbyists. What…
Frank popped up from the back office. “Nice to see you all again, we can head into the congressman’s office.”
“I hate to delay us any longer, but I haven’t had lunch yet. Would anyone want something from the cafeteria before it closes?” Draco asked now that the three lobbyists were being ushered into James’ office, looking anything but casual to Hermione’s eyes. Was she that familiar with him already?
“Oh, good thinking,” Rep. Potter smiled. “I haven’t eaten yet. Hermione, I hate to ask… would you mind zipping to the caf and grabbing food?”
She shook her head, “Of course not.”
“Nice to see you again. Have you eaten, Miss Granger?” Draco asked, his expression somewhere between smug and knowing. Hermione hadn’t lied to him, and kept their conversation about anything but eating lunch when they texted over the past two days. Draco hadn’t brought it up, which honestly shocked her. He didn’t seem like a man to forget his requests.
“Not yet, sir.”
“Grab yourself something. You don’t mind your front desk staff eating at their desk, no, James?”
James looked at him strangely. “Of course not, why would I care where my staff ate?”
Draco shrugged, smiling lightly. “Just wondering. I’ll take a chicken caesar salad, please, ma’am.”
“Sounds good for me as well if we have to eat and talk,” James replied, moving to walk into his office. “Just bring the food in when you have it!”
“Here you are, Miss Granger,” Draco said, handing over his credit card. An AmEx black card. “Please put your food on mine, it’s the least I could do.”
She blushed, forever charmed by him and his attention. It left her curious about whether or not her boss would’ve had her pay for their meals without thinking to reimburse her. He was a bit scatterbrained on the best of days.
“That’s far too kind, sir.”
“I insist, I’ll be checking the receipt to make sure you don’t pay,” Draco replied, eyes narrowing.
“Oh, of course! Good man, Draco. I’ll pay you back,” James leaned back to say. “Thanks, Hermione.”
She rushed out of the office, now fully overwhelmed by the tasks she’d been given. They had to drop everything when the boss asked for something, but she knew in this instance that Lee would lose his mind if he found out she’d left when the clock was ticking.
The cafeteria, though only down the hall, was extremely busy since Congress was in session and countless groups were in town for meetings. She picked up three chicken caesar salads from the fridge, a Sprite for Rep. Potter and a S.Pelligrino for Draco since she’d seen two packs in his fridge. They hadn’t asked for drinks, but she knew enough about the minds of men to know they’d want something to sip on.
The line moved quickly, thank God, and she couldn’t even feel bad about spending Draco’s money when they’d forced her to suffer through a long line filled with antsy middle schoolers.
She’d made the decision not to knock on Rep. Potter’s door and just open it up, feeling like the world’s worst waitress as she tried to be invisible and place down drinks, salads, plastic silverware and napkins in front of the men. Oh, and Draco’s credit card, which he took from her hand in a way that had her certain everyone could see the intimacy between them.
She went back to her desk and ate her salad at a fast clip, the feeling of Draco’s fingers esconscing her own still there as she stabbed crouton and romaine onto the fork. Lunch had never tasted so good.
She had finished formatting both the letters and the envelopes by the time the meeting had finished, ready to go to printing as Frank opened the door and waved the trio out.
He shut James’ office door and made his way back to the bullpen, leaving Hermione wondering if Draco had left through the private door in James’ office without saying goodbye. She wouldn’t blame him, but… she would like if he said goodbye, however casually.
Enough time had passed for her to think he’d already left that she made her way to the bullpen where the ridiculously large xerox machine was located, pretty confident she wouldn’t miss his exit.
God definitely had His hand on their office at the moment, as the $20k printer worked without error as she stuffed the small cards into the custom print slot. Learning how to maneuver the printer was truthfully the worst part of her job, but today there were no issues. Her shoulders relaxed minutely.
“Hermione?” Remus called, his light voice jolting her from her intense movements removing finished cards from the printer and adding more blank cards when the supply was low. If the printer ran out of cards, it’d provide an error message and require her to re-enter all of the settings. She treated it like a game, keeping the printer going.
“Yes?” she asked, smoothing her dress and moving back to the office, wishing she didn’t have to leave the printer when she was so close to being finished.
“Thank you, Remus,” Draco smiled as she stepped into the office. “I just wanted to give you my appreciation once more for lunch, Miss Granger. I’m aware that picking up food is far below your talent level, but I’m grateful for it.”
“Of course, sir. Always happy to help, even if that involves retrieving a subpar salad,” Hermione replied, fully aware that her chief of staff was watching the interaction carefully. She couldn’t figure out if he was wary of Draco or thought she’d say something stupid to the member. Both possibilities were insulting, quite frankly.
Draco laughed. It was a balm to Hermione’s frazzled nerves.
“Sometimes that’s the best we can get on days like today,” Draco replied, sharing a sympathetic look with Remus who was clearly still there. Still watching. “I have to be honest, I’m glad you let your staff assistants eat at their desks, Remus. One of my team members was telling me that a friend of theirs went without lunch most days because they can’t eat at the front desk. Such a shame.”
Remus hid his thoughts well at the weird turn of conversation, which impressed Hermione. Then again… Members of Congress were weird and quirky; this was hardly the most random conversation he’d had with one.
“That is a shame, congressman. You’d think folks would care about the health of their staff; all we ask is that Hermione shares her baked goods when she brings them in… she’s a heck of a talent.”
“That right? Hopefully I’ll be lucky enough to try one next time I’m here,” Draco said.
Hermione smiled again.
“Anyways, thank you for the hospitality. I hope your salad had more croutons than mine, Hermione. Enjoy your day,” Draco nodded, walking out of the office.
Remus looked over at Hermione for a second, consideringly. “Have you eaten lunch?”
Her stomach was in knots. “Yes, sir. I’m… sorry, the congressmen asked if I’d bring them lunch and told me to grab food.”
His look was apologetic. “Don’t apologize for eating; now that I hear it from someone else... to hell with what visitors think. Just try and check James’ schedule and coordinate your lunch when large groups aren’t up front, okay?”
“Of course,” she nodded. “Thank you.”
Remus smiled before heading back to his office.
She couldn’t be angry when Draco had so swiftly and subtly recalibrated her office’s most debilitating policy. How’d he do that with just a few carefully chosen words? The man was good… and he was using his goodness for her sake. It was a heady feeling.
Hermione went back to the printer, looking around before pulling out her phone and sending a text.
Thank you.