My Gentle Hermione
Hermione loved her job. She got to work with her best friends every day, doing something she was passionate about and becoming a pillar of the community in the process. The apothecary had been something they’d joked about in their last year at Hogwarts, but once they graduated, they quickly came to the realisation that not only was it a good idea but there was nothing stopping them from opening it. Officially Hermione was in charge, as the Ministry had refused to grant the relevant licences with Malfoy, Blaise and Theo’s names also on the paperwork, but in reality, they operated on a strict code of equality. The boys had been content to work for her but Hermione hadn’t been interested in that. They were doing things together as equals, or not at all.
Blaise had offered use of his office for the calendar shoots. Narcissa had, of course, insisted they use one of the many rooms in the Manor, but Malfoy complained loudly about the prospect, insisting that having his friends and peers pose sexily in his childhood home, likely in the presence of his mother, would be deeply psychologically damaging. They’d dumped Blaise’s possessions into Theo’s small office, and set up the camera and a few lights, knowing the background would change for each person.
Time had felt like it passed quickly since the business with Anthony, and Hermione had been surprised to realise she was feeling genuinely alright about the whole thing. There were no lingering questions, no what-ifs keeping her up at night.
He’d taken it as well as she could have hoped for, and didn’t even make a comment about the Malfoy crest that adorned the bag she sent her dress back to him in. She’d braced for an argument, expected some bitter remark about Malfoy, but it never came. Oddly enough, she almost felt cheated. He’d packed up his belongings very quickly and was out of her house before she’d even been able to properly have it out with him. After all that time together, shouldn’t he have fought for her? Shouldn’t she have wanted him to?
But she hadn’t. Not once. That, and Pansy had been royally pissed off when she realised Hermione had robbed her of dress shopping and wedding planning, so Hermione decided her decision had been for the best on several fronts, all things considered.
“Have you filled the other nine months yet?” Theo asked, wandering out from the section of office they’d screened off to act as a changing room.
“I have, but at great personal cost to myself. You owe me, Pansy Parkinson.” Hermione said, pointing at Pansy, who was fiddling with the camera.
Theo gasped dramatically. “Oh, you didn’t? Draco’s gonna flip his shit.”
“When doesn’t Draco flip his shit? Particularly when it comes to our dearest Granger here.” Pansy smirked, and Hermione scowled.
“You know Malfoy’s hatred for McLaggen has nothing to do with me. And it was you, Theo Nott, that said we couldn’t possibly make a decent calendar without one Anthony Goldstein ‘whatever your sordid history with the bloke, Granger’.” She shot back, mocking Theo’s voice and words from only a week earlier.
“You’re hardly cut up about the man, Mi. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I thought you’d get upset. You can, however, be the one to tell your darling boyfriend that you went and called on not one, not two, but three of your exes and asked them to pose sexily for you.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend, Theo, as you are well aware.”
“Does he know that? I’m only asking because he let slip yesterday that you are allowed into his study at the Manor, a room that has been strictly off limits to everyone, even his own mother and the elves, for as long as anyone can remember.”
“That’s for work! It’s just practical, it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Look, we’ve got Finnegan and Longbottom coming in after you, I’m on a tight schedule. As much as I would love to discuss the denial in which Granger lives, as well as the stifling sexual tension that disturbs this workplace on a daily basis, I simply don’t have the time.” Pansy said, marching Theo onto the set that would serve as the backdrop for his photo.
“We’ll circle back to it another day then. Perhaps give Granger some time to ponder her very platonic feelings for the man that will make coffee for just her in the morning, despite working in a company that has two other employees, both of whom also drink coffee and have known him since birth.” Theo smiled at Hermione, who folded her arms and flopped onto the sofa behind her, not rising to his taunts.
Theo was dressed as a professor, but shirtless and wearing glasses that Hermione knew to be Harry’s spare pair. She wondered if he was aware they’d been borrowed for such an application. She and Pansy had set up a library background for January of the calendar, and Theo took great delight in leaning against the shelves and smouldering down the camera as if his life depended on it. Hermione had to laugh, but she was actually grateful for Theo being so enthusiastic. They’d struggled to find twelve willing volunteers, and the calendar was important, as silly as it seemed.
“I think we have enough for January now.” Hermione suggested after a while, and Theo pouted at her, clearly enjoying himself.
Pansy nodded. “I have plenty, Theo. Don’t worry, I’ll send you everything. I imagine you’ll be using them as wallpaper in your bedroom or something equally as tacky.”
“What an inspired idea! Yes, do send them as soon as you can, and I’ll get decorating.” He winked, and sidled over to Hermione, doing the buttons up on his shirt. “You need to tell Draco about Goldstein and McLaggen before he finds out from someone else. I like the set up we’ve got going on here, I don’t want him being dragged off to Azkaban for double homicide.”
“Of course I’ll tell him. It wasn’t some big secret. Not like, oh I don’t know, wherever you happened upon that pair of glasses.” She raised an eyebrow, and his eyes went wide.
“What, or who, I do in my spare time is not appropriate for discussion between work colleagues, I’ll have you know.” He couldn’t help the smirk that was growing on his face, and she shook her head.
“Mmhmm. Tell him I said hi.”
“Alright.” He mumbled, before trudging out of the office. Hermione smiled at his back, before turning to Pansy.
“What time does Seamus arrive?” She asked as the other witch dismantled the library set with a few lazy motions of her wand.
“Fifteen minutes. You want to owl your blonde beau, don’t you?” She hated how well Pansy had gotten to know her. Well, she didn’t hate it all the time, it was nice having a female best friend, but Pansy was just as observant as Hermione, perhaps more so. It often caught her off guard.
“He isn’t- Whatever. Yes, that is what I’m going to go and do. I’ll be back before Seamus turns up, don’t panic.”
“When have you ever known me to panic about anything, Granger?”
“You know what I mean, Pans.” She shouted behind her as she marched down the hall to her own office, the space she shared with Malfoy.
Knowing the man as well as she did, she was aware that Malfoy was currently visiting his mother at the Manor. He hadn’t lived there permanently in years, and whilst Narcissa wasn’t overly keen on the place anymore, she had decided on extensive renovations rather than abandoning it altogether. She’d gutted the place to the bare bones, and often asked her son for his input, feeling it important that both surviving Malfoys had some kind of influence on the ancestral home. The ballroom had been the first room they’d finished, allowing Pansy to continue to throw events whenever she had the urge. Malfoy had pointed out that it was unlikely he’d have anyone to pass the place on to, but his mother was never overly keen on acknowledging that. Oddly enough, Hermione had once had a dream about blonde curly haired babies crawling across their shared desks and had drunkenly shared it with a few of her friends. Luna had been convinced it was some sort of premonition. For Hermione’s part, she’d all but forgotten about it. Her views on divination were long-held and well documented.
Grimacing, she jotted down a relatively short missive, explaining that she’d managed to fill the last spots on the calendar with Anthony, McLaggen, and Roger Malone from the Ministry archives office. She sandwiched this information between sending her regards to his mother, and informing him that Harry and Theo were finally shagging, hoping to disarm him slightly, and gave it to their owl before she could talk herself out of it. Knowing Malfoy, he’d already be fuming before he even finished reading the letter. Hermione could practically picture it - his sharp inhale, the slow incredulous blink, the inevitable ‘What the actual fuck, Granger?’.
The owl seemed hesitant, ruffling his feathers as if contemplating whether delivering this message was a life-threatening mistake. She sent it anyway.
Aquila Granger-Malfoy was a broad eagle owl, hence the name, with soft brown plumage. He was a proud bird, standing tall on his perch by the window. Typical Malfoy family pomp, Hermione often called it. According to Malfoy himself, the bird’s unkempt feathers around his chest came from her, and so they were even. She couldn’t actually remember ever discussing sharing an owl, it sort of just happened, but they didn’t have the need to warrant one each, and she quite liked sharing Aquila. The surname was an ongoing joke, started by Theo, that had just stuck.
Aquila returned quickly, and she opened the reply with bated breath. Malfoy had always hated McLaggen, old rivalries from school never quite fading, and he liked Anthony even less.
I know this is important for Pans, but Salazar, Granger. Goldstein AND McLaggen? With them and Weasley involved, it’s like a trip down memory lane for you. Any reason you didn’t add Krum and really round out the greatest hits of Granger’s Love Life? Are you actually alright with that? Don’t lie, you know I can always tell.
I’m almost done here. Mother loved your suggestion for the rose garden in place of the drawing room, by the way. I warn you in advance, she wants your opinion on the breeds and varieties she plants. It’s entirely your own fault for being so enthusiastic.
We can get lunch later if you want. I need to know about Theo’s exploits with the Boy Who Lived and if it’s going to affect my life in any way. Am I going to have to attend a Potter-Nott wedding at some point? That’s the sort of thing I need time to come to terms with, you understand.
See you soon,
DM x
She smiled, relieved that he hadn’t been too annoyed about the calendar, and confirmed lunch before returning to Pansy’s office. The dark haired witch glanced up at her, and smiled teasingly.
“Lover boy wasn’t annoyed, then?”
“My good friend and colleague was not annoyed, Pansy, no.” She said pointedly, and her friend sighed loudly, but didn’t say anything more.
“Hellooo? Hermione! Your bloke on reception is right creepy, you know that?” Seamus said, knocking on the door frame.
With their bespoke potions becoming more popular, it had become necessary to install a receptionist who could book appointments. Feeling uneasy about messing with their tight knit group, Hermione had charmed a mannequin to greet clients and offer them use of the coffee machine whilst they waited. It worked well, saved them money, and had proved quite impressive to those that didn’t understand how simple the magic involved actually was if you got into it. Much to her chagrin, Blaise had declared how much the thing reminded him of their old Potions professor, and so ‘Sluggy’ had found his nickname. Hermione ensured that Sluggy updated the relevant calendars automatically, and so it had turned out to be a huge time saver. It had royally pissed Malfoy off that he hadn’t thought of it first, making the accomplishment that bit sweeter.
“I’ll be sure to let him know, Seamus. Your clothes are behind the screen, we’re just finishing the set.” Hermione replied.
“Was there a particular reason you wanted to do Valentine’s so badly, Finnegan?” Pansy asked, hanging a final heart to the background. It was an explosion of pink and red that made Hermione's eyes hurt a little, but it was what they needed for February.
“I wanted one of the big months, one with an occasion, you know? Wasn’t about to settle for something dull like May or September.” He scoffed from behind the screen.
He came back out wearing a pink suit, shirt scandalously unbuttoned as per Pansy’s instructions, and despite his initial reluctance to take part, he turned out to be almost as natural in front of the camera as Theo had been. He even managed to leave the office without setting a single thing on fire, which must have been some sort of record for the wizard.
Pansy packed up quickly, setting up the March background in record time. Hermione side eyed her friend, who had suddenly become slightly more tense than she had been earlier.
“It’ll be nice to see Neville, huh?” She said nonchalantly, and Pansy jumped out of her thoughts.
“What? Oh, yeah, Longbottom, right. I suppose.”
Hermione had held suspicions since eighth year about Pansy’s feelings for Neville, despite the fact that her friend thought she was hiding it well. It was all rather amusing to Hermione, watching the two dance around each other. Neville had bitten her arm off to do the calendar once he’d found out it was for Pansy, and the witch had reserved March for him so they could do some sort of plant-based garden theme. It was adorably ridiculous to see.
The wizard in question was precisely on time and politely knocked on the door before coming inside the office. He’d visited before, unlike Seamus, and so had no comment about Sluggy downstairs.
“Hey Pans! Mione!” He beamed at the two of them.
“Thank you for doing this, Longbottom. I put your, er, outfit behind there.” Pansy stuttered. Pansy never stuttered. Hermione hid her smile behind her hand, as Neville nodded and disappeared behind the screen. She watched as Pansy took a deep breath and fiddled with the camera.
Neville stepped out in a pair of dungarees a moment later, half undone as to show off his frankly ridiculous abs.
“Oh, this all looks great. This is such a fun idea, you know.” He smiled, placing a gentle hand on Pansy’s shoulder before taking his place in the centre of the mock-greenhouse she’d set up. Pansy looked like she was seconds from melting into a puddle on the floor, so Hermione answered for her.
“Yeah, Pansy came up with all of the themes. I gave her the calendar idea in the first place but she really ran with it.”
“Well, I certainly appreciate getting to be Mr March.” He smiled. Hermione glanced at Pansy just as the witch took another steadying breath.
With a small amount of interference from Hermione, eventually Pansy relaxed, presumably once she’d gotten over the sight of Neville without a shirt, and they got some good photos. If said photos were to be found later in Pansy’s personal possession, Hermione would not be the least bit surprised. They weren’t quite as outrageously sexy as the other two had been, but Neville had his own charmingly rugged thing going on that didn’t need to be messed with.
Once Malfoy arrived to take Hermione to lunch, he found the curly haired witch dismantling the greenhouse whilst Pansy was staring at the discarded dungarees as though they were a gift from the gods.
“Longbottom’s been in then?” He said, flopping onto the sofa Hermione had transfigured from Blaise’s desk chair, classic smirk in place. Pansy threw the dungarees behind her and scowled.
“Yes. We made good progress today. With the calendar, I mean.” Hermione met Malfoy’s eye, sharing an amused look over their decidedly flustered friend. “Shut the fuck up, both of you. Why are you here anyway?” Pansy asked him.
“I’m getting lunch with Granger. She’s got very important rose varieties to choose between. Mother said it was time sensitive, Salazar knows why.”
Pansy recovered almost immediately. “Granger has a hand in the Manor renovations? You know what, I don’t even know why I’m remotely surprised, of course she does.” She muttered, tidying the last of the clothes away. “Go on then, piss off to lunch. I’ll get started on sorting the photos.”
“Starting with March, perhaps?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow and she threw a cushion at him.
Hermione swatted him lightly on the arm and pulled him up from the sofa. “Come on, if I know Narcissa Malfoy, and I do, then there will be a stupid number of options and I actually want to be able to eat whilst we do this.”
“Have fun, lovebirds.” Pansy cooed as they left, and Hermione rolled her eyes heavily.
“You never told me why Potter refused to do this.” Malfoy asked, pointing at her with his fork. They were at their favourite muggle place, where they could sit outside and not be bothered by anyone who knew them, press or otherwise.
She picked out a tomato from her salad, looking between two of the rose options Narcissa had sent over, and shrugged. “He just said no, I wasn’t going to force him. To be honest, I didn’t think it would be his sort of thing anyway, he’s had enough of being the centre of attention.”
“I guess that’s fair. You would’ve sold a hell of a lot of the things if people had gotten a glimpse of the chosen one, though.”
“Probably. You know, he is sort of in it anyway. Theo stole his glasses for January. Thought I wouldn’t recognise them.” She smirked.
“Optimistic of him. That’s classic Theo though, marking his territory. Gods, they’re going to be insufferable.” He wrinkled his nose.
“Hermione roses? She’s not serious?” She scoffed, looking up at him. Malfoy snorted.
“I told her you’d say no to that. Felt tacky to me, but I promised I’d give you every option. Apparently I’m not allowed an opinion.”
“Hard no on the namesake roses. Can you imagine if the Prophet got wind of something like that? We’d never know peace again.” She grimaced, and he laughed softly, shaking his head.
“As if I’d ever be that saccharine.”
“Merlin forbid.” She smirked, before a thought occurred to her. “Seamus said today that he wanted February because it has a big event in it and he didn’t want to waste his time on a boring month like September. Why did you ask for that one specifically?”
Draco shrugged too casually. “It’s my favourite. There isn’t a more complicated reason than that.”
Liar. The answer came too fast, too smooth, and Hermione felt it - that little thread of truth buried beneath his words.
He was hiding something.
She hummed in response, and went back to looking over the many rose options Narcissa had sent her, ignoring the feeling that Malfoy wasn’t telling her the whole truth. He’d tell her eventually. He always told her the truth, after all.