Office Hours

Hermione hadn’t wanted a big event for her birthday. Not a grand spectacle with half of the Wizarding World crammed into some ballroom asking her for her opinion on different issues and hoping to use her fame for clout. She had made that very clear to Ginny when she begrudgingly allowed her to throw a party in the first place.

So, thankfully, Ginny kept it intimate. Just a handful of close friends, some good food, and a few well-chosen bottles of wine. Ginny’s small flat glowed warmly, enchanted fairy lights twinkling along the bookshelves while soft music hummed in the background.

It was perfect. Absolutely everything Hermione had been hoping for. 

Until Draco Malfoy walked through the door. 

Hermione was perched on the sofa, a glass of wine in her hand. She nearly spilled it all over herself when she saw him in the doorway. Her heart was racing. Why was she feeling this way?

Malfoy caught her reaction instantly, his lips curving into that infuriatingly smug smirk. “Ah, the birthday girl,” he drawled, stepping further inside. He held up a small wrapped package and an expensive-looking bottle of Firewhisky. “Happy birthday, Hermione.”

Ginny beamed from across the room, looking utterly pleased with herself. 

Hermione’s fingers tightened around her glass, threatening to snap the delicate stem. “You actually came,” she said through gritted teeth.

Malfoy’s brow arched as he handed Ginny the whisky. “What, did you think I was bluffing?” 

Ginny snorted with laughter. “She absolutely did.”

Hermione shot Ginny a pointed glare, which her traitorous best friend ignored in favor of pouring Draco a drink. 

“Why?” Hermione asked bluntly. 

He took the glass offered to him, completely unfazed. “Because I was invited. And as I recall, you never told me to stay home.” 

Hermione exhaled sharply as he strolled past her, immediately inserting himself into a conversation with Neville and Luna like he freaking belonged there. She couldn’t help but knock back the rest of her glass of wine, knowing full well that it was not a very wise decision. She had to do something to combat this feeling.

And then, as if she wasn’t on edge enough already, Harry and Ron walked in from the kitchen, completely oblivious to the sudden tension thickening the air.

“Oi, Malfoy,” Ron greeted, grabbing a handful of chips from one of the bowls on the table. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Ginny invited me,” Malfoy said smoothly, taking a sip of his drink.

“Ah,” said Harry, eying his wife with a confused sort of look. Ginny fixed him with an ‘I-know-what-I’m-doing’ look and that seemed to be enough for him. He had learned by now that it was easier to go along with whatever Ginny wanted rather than risk her potential wrath. “Good party, right?”

Malfoy glanced sideways at Hermione, his smirk still firmly in place. “Oh, I’d say it’s been very entertaining so far.” 

Hermione gritted her teeth, fully prepared to set something—preferably Malfoy’s platinum hair—on fire. 

Ron had already turned his attention back to the food. “Yeah, Gin always throws good ones. Have you tried the sausage rolls? They’re brilliant.”

“I’ll get to them,” Draco murmured, still watching Hermione.

Ron nodded, completely missing the fact that Malfoy was clearly having the time of his life making Hermione squirm.

Harry for his part, just clapped Malfoy on the shoulder like they’d been mates for years before turning to Ginny. “Where’s the good Firewhisky?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Malfoy literally just brought a bottle of it, Harry.”

“Oh, nice. Thanks, mate,” Harry said, already pouring himself a glass, still missing the sheer levels of tension radiating from Hermione, who was one sarcastic comment away from snapping.

Malfoy, absolutely reveling in her frustration, leaned in slightly, voice low and amused. “Relax, Hermione. We’re all friends here, remember?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Well, in that case,” she muttered, grabbing Malfoy’s glass from his hand and downing the rest of his Firewhisky, “Thanks for the drink, friend.” 

Malfoy would have looked almost offended if it weren’t for the small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Oh shit, she had used the word ‘friend’ to his face. 

—

A couple of hours in, the gathering had settled into a comfortable buzz. Someone had suggested a casual drinking game. Nothing too wild, just a round of “Never Have I Ever,” which quickly evolved into “Let’s See How Many Secrets We Can Pry Out Of Each Other.”

Hermione was sitting cross-legged on the floor with her third glass of wine, fluctuating between being highly entertained and mildly horrified. 

“Alright,” Ginny announced, grinning wickedly. “Hermione, since it’s your birthday, you get the next question.”

Hermione was feeling bold—due no doubt to the three glasses of wine and half glass of Firewhisky she had consumed. Her eyes landed on Draco. She smirked. “Fine. Malfoy, why are you so determined for us to be friends?” 

Malfoy, who had been lazily twirling his glass in one hand, paused mid-motion. The room went quiet, intrigued. A slow, mischievous smile crept onto his lips. “Why? Are you finally considering it?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Answer the question.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he considered her. “Alright. I suppose I find you… interesting.”

Hermione blinked. “Interesting?” What the hell is that supposed to mean? 

“Yes.” He took a deliberate sip of his drink. “Infuriating, of course. Stubborn as hell, sure. A bit of a know-it-all—”

Hermione scowled. “Wow, what a glowing review—”

“ —But,” he continued smoothly, “also sharp, passionate, and occasionally very entertaining when you’re riled up.” 

Hermione stared at him, heat creeping up her neck. 

Ginny, meanwhile, looked between them with an expression that was downright gleeful. “That,” she said, “was definitely not a bad answer.”

Neville coughed awkwardly into his drink. 

Luna smiled dreamily. “I think it’s sweet.”

Ron, however, just frowned in confusion. “Wait,” he said slowly, looking between Hermione and Draco. “Is this… Are you two…?” 

Hermione immediately sat up straighter. “No.”

Malfoy smirked into his glass. 

Harry, blissfully unaware of the absolute crisis happening in Hermione’s brain, just nodded approvingly. “Well, good for you two, I guess. Friendship and all that.” 

Ron still looked mildly suspicious, but then Ginny handed him another sausage roll, and just like that, all thoughts were erased.

Hermione exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. 

Malfoy chuckled under his breath. 

Hermione hated everything.

— 

As the evening was winding down, Hermione found herself in the kitchen, picking at the remnants of the charcuterie board Ron had left untouched. The buzz of the alcohol she had consumed was wearing off and she could feel the exhaustion setting in. 

Draco seemed to materialize beside her. “Enjoying your party, birthday girl?”

Hermione sighed dramatically. “Shockingly, yes. Despite your presence.”

He chuckled, setting down his empty glass. “Well, I suppose I’ll leave you to bask in the glory of becoming another year older.”

Hermione folded her arms, smirking. “What? No snide comment about me aging into obscurity?”

Malfoy tilted his head, his expression softer than usual. “No. You’re doing just fine in that department.”

Her smirk faltered just slightly. He was so close. Before she could respond, Harry and Ron wandered past, mid conversation about some disastrous training exercise at the Ministry. Ron suddenly narrowed his eyes at the two of them. 

“Wait a second.”

Draco arched an eyebrow. “What?”

Ron’s gaze flickered between Malfoy and Hermione, his face twisting in that ‘Ron Weasley Processing Something Deeply Unpleasant’ way. 

Harry, who had been pouring himself another glass of Firewhisky, paused mid-motion and frowned. “Hold on.” His eyes snapped to Hermione. “Wait, is something going on between you two?”

Ginny immediately looked far too pleased with herself. She mouthed ‘told you they would be able to spot it’ from across the room.

Hermione groaned. “Nothing is going on!”

Ron pointed accusingly at Malfoy. “You! You’ve been hanging around her way too much lately!” 

Malfoy, completely unbothered, simply ran his hand through his perfectly quaffed hair. “It’s almost like we work together, Weasley.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t explain the… closeness.” Ron turned to Hermione. “Why didn’t you say something?!”

Hermione, exasperated beyond belief, rubbed her temples. “Say what, exactly?”

Harry, finally catching up, leaned forward looking dangerously close to his breaking point. “Has he been bothering you?”

Malfoy huffed a quiet laugh. “Oh, please. If anything, she’s the one that’s been bothering me.”

Ron looked one second away from launching himself across the room at Malfoy’s neck. “Alright, that’s it—”

Before Ron could so much as stand, Hermione stepped between him and Draco, planting her hands on her hips. “Oh for Merlin’s sake! You two are not about to start some ridiculous testosterone-fueled duel in the middle of Ginny’s kitchen!” 

Ron, still glaring at Draco, gestured wildly. “It’s Malfoy!”

Hermione let out a sharp sigh. “Yes, I know! I’ve noticed! I see him every day, Ron!”

Harry looked between them suspiciously. “And you’re fine with that?”

Hermione threw her hands up. “Yes, Harry, I am fine with it! I am fine working with a brillant potioneer that cares about the education of our students and keeps me from being bored out of my mind when Binns talks at our staff meetings. Shocking, I know! I would love for you both to move on and stop acting like Draco’s mere existence around me is some sort of personal offense.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Draco?” Ron repeated, looking deeply horrified. 

Malfoy, looking entirely too smug, crossed his arms. “Yes, Weasley. She calls me by my first name. Terrifying, isn’t it?”

Ron whipped his attention around to his sister. “Did you know about this?” he asked pointedly.

Ginny shrugged casually, sipping her drink. “Of course. It’s been obvious for ages.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, is that why you invited him tonight?”

Ginny grinned. “Of course.”

Ron, his face almost the same color as his hair, looked seconds away from passing out.  

Harry, still looking skeptical, turned back to Hermione. “So, you actually trust him now?”

Hermione glanced at Draco, who was watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher. She sighed and looked back at Harry. “Yeah,” she admitted, voice steady. “I do.”

Harry’s brows furrowed, clearly trying to process this information. 

Ron groaned loudly and collapsed onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter. “This is the worst birthday party ever.”

Draco, smirking—because why wouldn’t he be—lifted his glass. “Oh, I strongly disagree.”

Ginny lifted her glass. “Cheers to that.”