Chapter 9
Draco knew the one thing he could control in this life was himself. His reactions, his accomplishments, his work ethic, they were all perfectly under his control. So as he stalked through the halls of the Ministry searching for Potter, he kept his expression neutral. He didn’t sneer at McLaggen in the lift. He didn’t sigh in exasperation when Potter couldn’t be found in his office or the cafeteria. His steps didn’t falter when he heard a whispered Death Eater in the Atrium. He simply waited in the queue for the Floo and calmly spoke “St. Mungo’s” when it was his turn.
When the spinning came to a stop, he carefully brushed any errant ashes from his suit and approached the information desk where Parvati Patil was seated. Draco didn’t react at all when she scooted her chair further back from him.
“Good afternoon. I’m looking for Harry Potter, and I’ve been told he was here checking on an Auror injured in a raid last night. Could you please point me in the right direction?” His words were spoken with correct diction, his tone was controlled, his volume was low to respect the others in the waiting room, and his stance was non-threatening but authoritative.
Parvati glanced around nervously anyway. It seemed that ten years of hard work, dedicating himself to the safety of society, proving himself to be an upstanding citizen of the wizarding world still weren’t enough to change the minds of those who witnessed his sordid history first-hand. Draco didn’t let his expression show how much this continued to affect him, he just waited silently for the witch to answer him.
“I believe he was headed to the fourth floor, the Spell Damage ward.” She finally answered him shakily. Draco thanked her and headed towards the stairs. He needed a moment to collect himself again before dealing with more people, so he was avoiding the lift.
Draco often felt that he’d worked ten times as hard for his position than the other Aurors. He had to prove himself over and over again to a world that was determined to paint him forever as a Death Eater. He never wanted to serve the Dark Lord, but he needed to protect his mother and the only way to do that was to take his father’s place. Lucius had demanded respect using fear as motivation from everyone both professionally and personally. Draco’s mother was the embodiment of a wealthy pureblood wife, the perfect hostess, a picture of grace. She had always been Draco’s biggest champion, believing the best in him even when his failures were catastrophic. Fate didn’t differentiate between the sinners and the saints though, and his mother had suffered more than her fair share in this life. His asshole abusive father had made their lives a living hell even before the return of Voldemort.
Using the climb up the stairs to burn off some of the negative energy coursing through him, Draco relished the burn in his thighs. The discomfort grounded him in the moment and pulled him from the dark direction his thoughts had gone in. He paused at the landing to the fourth floor and rebuilt his Occlumency walls before entering the ward.
Draco smoothed his hand down his waistcoat as he confidently approached a second welcome desk. He didn’t know the wizard seated here, but perhaps that was better.
“Hello, would Harry Potter happen to be here visiting a patient?” Draco asked politely.
The man looked up from some paperwork he’d been shuffling and answered him, “Hello! Welcome, welcome! Are you buying tickets to the show?”
Confusion filled Draco. “I’m sorry, the show?”
“Of course, the show! Come on, it’s THE show! The show of the century!” The wizard flourished his arms over his head like he was pointing at a marquee.
“Apologies, I seem to be missing something. Is this not the Spell Damage ward?” Draco looked around and saw Astoria Flint, formerly Greengrass, rushing over to the desk wearing green healer robes.
“Martin! There you are, you naughty thing. What are you doing at the welcome desk?” She was breathless as she took the arm of the man at the desk.
“This fellow here needed a ticket to the show!” Martin, as Draco presumed his name to be, pointed towards him. “Good timing too, as we’re nearly sold out and it begins in two minutes.”
Astoria looked at Draco with an apology all over her face. “I’m so sorry, Draco. Martin here is a patient who got away from me while I did rounds. Let me get him back to where he needs to be, and I’ll be right with you.”
“Take your time, Tori.” He hadn’t seen Astoria in quite a while. Her wedding to Marcus Flint nearly five years ago had been a lavish affair, with all the pomp and circumstance expected of two Sacred Twenty-Eight families. He knew their marriage was a contracted one but neither bride nor groom had seemed to be too put out with their family’s choice.
When she returned, Astoria greeted Draco with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “How are you, Drake? What brings you up here to my ward?”
“I’m well, Tori. I’m looking for Potter, but have a few minutes to spare if you do. I feel as if we haven’t seen each other in months.”
She smiled. “Well that’s because it has been months. The DMLE must be keeping you busy.”
Draco nodded. “They are. Just as I’m sure being a Healer keeps you busy. How’s Marcus?” Draco wasn’t very close with the man, considering how loose his morals were.
“He’s worried about me, but his work at Nostrums is keeping him busy.” Her eyes dimmed as she spoke.
“The potions shop in Knockturn, right?” Draco had heard a little about it, usually because suspects in his cases were often found in Knockturn Alley. When Astoria nodded, he continued. “Why is he worried for you?”
“My blood curse. He’s been working to find a potion to cure it, but so far nothing is working.”
“Has it progressed that much already?” Astoria’s family had a blood curse attached to it that affected every third generation or so, and she’d been the unlucky one to have it manifest.
Her smile turned sad. “I don’t think it’s anything to be worried about yet, but Marcus wants to try everything before it becomes unmanageable. You know our marriage wasn’t a love match, but we’ve become very close. He tells me it’s his job to cherish me as his wife.”
Draco nodded, “As any wise man should. We are nothing without our women.”
Astoria laughed, “Oh, is there a woman I should know about Draco?”
He refused to acknowledge the image of Granger in his office as it flitted through his mind. Aloud he answered, “Unfortunately not at the moment. Maybe one day.”
The blond witch threw her arms around Draco. “One day soon I hope. No one deserves happiness as much as you do, Drake.”
Draco released her and smiled. “Theo, Blaise, Pansy; they deserve happiness.” He remembered what had brought him to St Mungo’s originally. “Anyway, I do need to find Potter. Have you seen him up here?”
“He’s been back with the Auror from last night, Finnegan, for about an hour now. You can wait here for him, or head back to the last room on the right.” Astoria hugged him again. “It was so good to see you, Draco. Owl us so we can get together soon, yeah?”
“I will. Thanks, Tori.” Draco made his way down the hallway but before he reached the room Finnegan was in, Potter stepped out. “Ah, just the Chosen One I was looking for. Mind approving this request for me?”
Hermione stepped out of the Floo at Grimmauld Place and called out to announce her presence. She’d learned the hard way that her married friends had no reservations about having sex all over their house, so it was better for all involved if she stayed in front of the Floo until they deemed it clear for her to fully enter the home.
Ginny quickly came down the stairs and greeted, “Hey Hermione! You look hot! What’s the occasion?”
Hermione looked down at her outfit again. “No occasion, just a new wardrobe from Pansy’s company. I was skeptical about the whole process, but I’ve heard nothing but compliments today so I guess my worries were unfounded.”
“If I swung your way, I’d be all over you right now. Seriously, smoking hot. But if there’s no occasion tonight, what brings you over here?” Ginny sat on the sofa with her legs curled up under her.
“I need ten minutes of word vomit.” Hermione and Ginny had been there for each other through so many things, they had come up with this code as a way to let the other know that the subject might be uncomfortable but the other witch would not be judgemental about whatever was said.
“Kreacher!” He appeared in front of Ginny with a pop!
“Mistress?” His croaky old voice and bent frame had only worsened in the last ten years.
“Would you get Hermione and I some wine? And don’t let anyone through the Floo for the next ten minutes.”
“Yes, Mistress. Kreacher will get the wine for the Mu—.....Ms Granger and Mistress.” He bowed low enough for his ears to brush the floor and snapped his fingers to disappear again.
Hermione couldn’t sit while she waited for the wine. She paced in front of a set of armchairs across from Ginny. The cushioning charms were starting to wear off from her shoes, so she took a moment to refresh them. This had the unfortunate effect of reminding her why she was so worked up, and thus her pacing began again in earnest.
Kreacher popped back into the room and levitated a full wine glass to each witch before leaving again. Hermione took a large drink before setting down her glass and beginning her confession.
“I think I flirted with Malfoy today.”
Ginny choked. “I’m sorry, what?” She finally gasped out.
Glaring at her friend, Hermione reminded her, “No judgement time. I went to his office earlier to discuss the Centaur case, and it seemed like he liked my outfit as well and maybe perhaps he said something about telling stories over drinks and I might have suggested that he and I go out once the case is solved and when I was leaving he said he couldn’t wait to see how impressive I was for himself and now I’m panicking because we’re supposed to travel to the crime scenes together which means more time alone with him and what if he was flirting back but, oh Godric, what if he wasn’t flirting and I’ve done something completely embarrassing and—”
“Woah, woah, breathe Hermione! Look at me. I need you to breathe and give me more details. He said he liked your outfit?” Ginny set down her own wine and leaned forward in her seat.
“Well, not in so many words, but he did this sort of up-and-down look and then seemed to stumble over his words.” Hermione picked up the wine again. “And he kept glancing back at the ground, but I thought he was just concentrating on something. Then Harry mentioned that Malfoy has a thing for heels and I–”
“Back up. Ok, the up-and-down look.” Ginny spoke calmly, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Maybe he was just surprised by the new look?”
“I don’t know, Ginny, that’s the problem!” Grabbing a handful of curls on the top of her head, Hermione finally threw herself down into an armchair.
“But he was the one to suggest drinks, right?” Ginny wiggled her eyebrows at her friend.
“Sort of. I mean, he said we needed drinks in order to go through all the stories of what happened to us in school. And then I said we should go out for drinks. So was it him, or was it me?” Hermione squeezed her eyes shut.
“What was his response?”
“He did the up-and-down thing again and said maybe we should.” Opening her eyes just long enough to take another drink, Hermione shut them tightly again. “Oh my god, I asked him out didn’t I?”
“It seems it was a suggestion of an ask-out, not a full commitment. Keep going,” Ginny said. “What happened when you were leaving?”
“Well, he placed his hand on the small of my back while walking me to the door. I joked that I was very impressive and he told me he couldn’t wait to see for himself. What does that mean, Gin?”
Ginny was quiet for a minute before she asked, “He put his hand on the small of your back while walking you to the door?”
“Yes, that’s what I just told you.”
After another minute of silence, Hermione couldn’t stand it anymore. She opened her eyes to see a look of utter shock on Ginny’s face. “What? What’s that look for?”
Ginny finished her wine before she answered. “I’m not sure how much you know about pureblood courting customs,” she began, “but typically if a man places his hand there outside of a dance, he’s openly claiming a relationship with the witch.”
“But that can’t be right,” Hermione blinked at her friend, “because he did the same thing at lunch after the Quidditch match.”
Ginny sat back hard on the sofa. “He did?” She asked softly.
“Yes?”
“Well, that’s one question answered. Malfoy is interested. But the real question is: are you interested in him?”
Hermione’s mouth opened and shut like a fish gasping for air. She honestly didn’t have an answer. Sure, she’d noticed how good Malfoy looked now as an adult. She liked how confidently he carried himself. He was obviously intelligent, as evidenced by how many cases he solved for the DMLE. Harry trusted him with Hermione’s safety. And she liked debating him with different theories for motive. And he was able to make her blush with just a few innocent words.
“I–I think, maybe? I don’t know Ginny. It’s Malfoy we’re talking about. He was my biggest bully in school. He was the first one to ever call me a Mudblood. And I won’t even touch on what happened at his home during the war. Would either of us ever be able to move past those things in order for a relationship to work? Or should I just accept that he’s a handsome man that I can hold a decent conversation with?”
“I can’t answer any of that for you, Hermione. But I can tell you that I will love you no matter what decision you make. If the past is too much to get over and you don’t want to take a chance, that's fine. If you want to admire him and flirt with him, that’s fine too. If you want to see where a relationship with him would go, then go for it. Fuck anyone else’s opinions. Take some time to think over what it is that you want. You have been single for too long, and you deserve someone who can keep up with you. To be honest, I can see that person being Malfoy.”
Kreacher popped back into the room before Hermione could finish the deep breath she took. “Mistress, Master Harry is trying to get through the Floo. Shall I open it for him?”
“Yes, of course Kreacher. Thank you.” Ginny stood and hugged Hermione. “I won’t tell Harry, promise.”
“Thank you.” Hermione whispered before ending the hug as Harry stepped out of the fireplace.
“Hey love, hey Mione. Everything ok?” Harry asked as he brushed errant ashes off his robes.
“Everything’s fine. Hermione just wanted to show me her new outfit.” Ginny winked at her best friend. “I told her if you ever leave me, I’m going to marry her instead.”
“Well, it’s always good to have a backup plan I guess.” Harry shrugged. “I told her earlier if she wasn’t like my sister she’d be hot.”
“So we’re all on the same page then. Hermione looks like a goddess.” Ginny kissed her husband’s cheek and wrapped her arms around his waist. “How was work?”
“Finnegan will be out for at least a week recovering, and Malfoy will be out for a few days with Hermione, so I’ll be short handed for a while but it should be fine. I think Smith comes back from holiday Wednesday and that should help some. Speaking of, Mione, I signed the request for a follow up on the crime scene, so you and Malfoy are good.” Harry told her.
“Right, yeah, ok.” Hermione stammered. “Well, I guess I’d better get home and pack. See you two soon.” She hugged them both then called out her address into the Floo. She barely caught Ginny’s “Have fun!” as she spun towards her home.
Days alone with Malfoy in remote forests while all these confusing thoughts ran through her mind did not sound like fun to her. Hermione had a lot of thinking to do before this excursion with the object of all her confusion.