Chapter 1
The Department of Mysteries was aptly named in Draco Malfoy’s opinion. He had worked in the department for the last five years, and still managed to get lost on the way to Granger’s office every single day. Perhaps the halls moved similarly to the stairs in Hogwarts, to throw off non-employees. And also employees.
He huffed, passing the Death room for the sixth time, a cold shiver crawling up his spine.
Draco closed his eyes, imagining his mother, the chocolates she sends him on his birthday, the day he received his pardon after the war, the coffee left on his desk every morning, a woman with the largest hair you could imagine smiling at him, “Expecto Patronum!”
A silver wisp of light flew from his wand, configuring into a small ferret (yes, a ferret, much to his chagrin). “Granger, I’m lost again.”
The ferret seemed to somehow smirk at him, before running in a circle above his head and flying down the hallway. Draco began to follow it, struggling to keep up when it darted away from him. He broke into a jog, which then turned into a sprint as the animal grew further and further away. Draco stopped, bent over and breathing hard, sweat beginning to build on his brow. He turned his head, to get some sort of idea where he was, and nearly began to cry. The dark and blistered door labelled ‘Death’ stared back at him.
“How the fuck-”
“Draco”’ an annoyingly amused voice called from a few feet ahead.
Granger stood, hand on her hip, eyebrows raised, and fighting a smile at the end of the hall.
He straightened, storming through her door in five large steps. “Granger, that is the seventh time I’ve been outside that door looking for your office. What is wrong with this place?” Draco threw himself into the chair opposite her desk, sighing dramatically.
He heard her chuckle behind him and his shoulders loosened ever so slightly. “Honestly Draco, how long have you worked here?” she asked rhetorically. “You have to think about the door you want to find, everyone knows that.”
“Well, if that’s true, why the hell did I keep ending up at the Death door? I have zero interest in ever stepping foot into that room.” He pushed a hand through his hair, pushing it back into its perfectly rugged (in his opinion) shape .
Granger only sighed in response, taking her own seat at the desk. “Why were you trying to find me anyway?”
Draco shrugged, “Bored.”
She sighed again.
Their friendship was odd, most would say. Draco didn’t like and/or care about most people. Draco had begun working in the ministry at a low level admin position in the Department of Mysteries archives. He quickly moved up through the ranks, eventually taking a position of a researcher for the Time department. It was his second day in this new position when he was informed that he would be working closely with none other than Hermione Granger as per instruction from the Minister of Magic; Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Draco had immediately requested a meeting with the minister, prepared to beg on his knees for a different research partner. He had been halfway down to his knees when a smoking howler had flown into Shacklebolt’s office, Granger’s shrill voice demanding that he assign her a different partner, that she would not work with ‘a slimy, pointy, pompous, entitled arsehole like Malfoy’. He thanked the minister for his time and made his way to Granger’s office, grinning like a madman the whole time.
He could still picture the look on her face when she opened the door to Draco. It was almost as if she was about to be sick, mixed with a look of fury which eerily reminded him of his days cohabitating with the Dark Lord. He had felt at home already.
The first few weeks had been constant screaming matches. True, he started most fights just to rile her up, but it was Draco’s favourite sight in the world when she became so rage filled that her face would burn and her knuckles turned white with how hard she was gripping her quills. She must’ve gone through twenty quills in the first week of them working together.
Granger hated Draco.
Draco loved annoying Granger.
It was about two months into their partnership when they actually began to work well together. They would still spat, of course however, she lacked the same venom in her insults. They had just had a breakthrough on a new version of a Time-Turner they were working on when she hugged him. She immediately accused him of tricking her and she didn’t speak to him again for three days. He had noticed how nice she smelled.
Their arguing soon turned to light banter, the occasional dig at his pointy face, or her ridiculous hair, his arrogance, her Gryffindor idocracy, his stupid hair. He didn’t speak to her for two days (his hair was truly fantastic).
After the Ministry’s Christmas party, and a few too many firewhiskeys, Draco Cornered Granger. He broke down.
Draco reckoned he could count the amount of times had used the word ‘sorry’ in his life on one hand. After that party, he would need to borrow a few people’s hands.
He apologised for how he had bullied her in school. He apologised for every time he called her a Mud- that word. He apologised for what Bellatrix had done to her in his house. He apologised for not helping them escape. He apologised for not helping them at the Battle of Hogwarts. He apologised that she had to work with him and that first thing when they were back in the office after the New Year, he would meet with Shacklebolt and ask to be transferred.
She hugged him again and told him to shut up.
Draco arrived at his office on the 3rd of January to see a cappuccino on his desk. After a quick check for poisonous ingredients (not everyone in the Ministry of Magic was too happy about him working there), he took a sip, wincing at the taste of soy milk. Granger.
From then on, they had become friends of sorts. They would alternate buying coffees each morning, and every single day she got his wrong. (Seriously, how hard is it to order an americano?)
Five years later, and they had still never spoken about how he cried to her at the Christmas party.
“What are you doing for lunch?” he asked, picking at his nails.
Granger looked up from the stack of papers in front of her, quirking an eyebrow. “Draco, it’s ten thirty in the morning. I don’t know.”
He sighed.
“Have you ever considered a career as an actor?” she questioned, looking back at her papers. “You have a certain flair for the dramatics that is utterly wasted here.”
“I’m too smart to be an actor, it would just confuse everyone. Although,” he ran a hand through his hair. “I certainly have the looks for it.”
“Ah yes, so pretty.”
He grinned a very pretty grin.
“While you’re here,” she handed him a file marked in bold red lettering ‘PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL - HERMIONE GRANGER & CO.’
Draco scowled. “I’m the only person you have worked with in the last five years, they really couldn’t have put my name on this?”
Granger didn’t look up from her desk, only shook her head. She was deep into her work, as always. Draco had only come to her office to annoy her, and here she was, basically ignoring him. He huffed. “You got my coffee wrong again.”
“Mhm.”
“I drink americano’s.”
“Mhm.”
“Black coffee.”
“Mhm.”
“Not sugar and cream with ice.”
A small smile crept onto her face. “It’s called a frappuccino.”
“It’s an insult to coffee.” he drawled. Finally accepting that she would not be joining in on his sciving off this morning - or any morning for that matter - he stood, file in hand. “I suppose I'll go then.”
“Okay.”
He took a deep breath, preparing his most dramatic of sighs.
“Draco?”
“Yes?”
Granger finally looked up from the notes she had been scribbling, “I’ve booked the lab for two pm today, bring that file with you.”
He sighed.