Office Hours

Hermione was back to ignoring Draco again. She still couldn’t process that feeling in her stomach from yesterday’s interaction. She really hadn’t expected to feel anything, but for some reason Malfoy being so close to her had affected her in a way like it never had before. Hermione had a difficult time dealing with confusion, and this was not an issue easily solved by a night in the library. Therefore, she decided that avoiding him was the best option. She opted to make a small breakfast in her quarters and then hurry along to her classroom so she would not be spotted by Malfoy.

Hermione barely made it three steps into her classroom before she was ambushed. A group of her sixth-year students stood near the front, all wearing matching, knowing grins that immediately set off alarm bells in her head.

She hesitated, her eyes narrowing. “Do I even want to know?”

A Ravenclaw girl stepped forward, practically vibrating with excitement. “Professor Granger, we just wanted to say… you and Professor Malfoy would make an amazing couple.”

Hermione froze mid-step.

“Excuse me?” she said slowly, blinking at them as if they’d just suggested she should grow a Thunderbird tail.

A Hufflepuff boy grinned. “We just think you two have really good chemistry.”

The class erupted into murmurs of agreement, and Hermione, completely thrown off, set her books down with a much harder thud than necessary.

“I—this is highly inappropriate classroom discussion,” she stammered, her face burning. “What even brought about these ridiculous ideas anyways?”

The Ravenclaw girl giggled, “Well, I was talking to my friend Daphne at breakfast this morning and she told us some very interesting things about her detention.” She raised her eyebrows in a suggestive way.

Hermione’s face was on fire. She needed to diffuse this situation before it got too out of hand. But what the hell was she supposed to say to get them away from this topic? Perhaps the safest bet would be to just state the facts. “Professor Malfoy and I are colleagues and nothing more.” 

“Oh, come on, professor.” A slytherin student interjected, not believing a word of it. “We know you’re not just colleagues.”

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. “That is absolutelynot up for discussion.” These kids were relentless! 

A Gryffindor girl leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “We didn't mean to offend you, Professor Granger, we just think it’s cute how you two always banter in the corridors. And, you know, the way he looks at you.”

Hermione nearly dropped the stack of parchment in her hands. She quickly placed the essays down onto her desk and turned back to the group of students crowded around her. “What?”

Another student chimed in. “And the way you look at him.” 

At this point, Hermione was convinced that she had to have been dosed with some potion with hallucinogenic properties because there was no way this was how her day was starting out. “Enough,” she finally said, raising both of her hands. “I don’t know what kind of ridiculous theories you’ve all concocted, but professor Malfoy and I are colleagues and at the very most friends. Nothing more.”

That was the wrong thing to say, because their grins grew even wider. The way they smiled at her looked like she had just proclaimed her love for Malfoy from the top of the Astronomy tower. Since when did being friends—barely friends, really—with someone mean you ‘like’ liked them? These children were ridiculous.

The Slytherin student, feeling particularly bold, leaned in. “Alright, sure. But just so you know—if you did fancy him, we’d totally support it.” 

Hermione let out a long-suffering sigh. “How reassuring.”

Then from the back of the room, she heard a student say, “Professor Malfoy is going to love this.”

Hermione let out an exasperated breath and took a seat at her desk. This was far from over. 

—

Hermione had just settled into her usual seat in the staff room, trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace away from the constant staring and whispers from the students. Professor Sprout and Professor Sinistra exchanged a look and then turned directly toward her. She immediately tensed. Oh no.

“So, Hermione,” Sprout began, far too pleasantly, stirring her tea. “Is there anything you’d like to share with us?”

Hermione lowered her book slowly, eyeing them with suspicion. “Such as?”

Sinistra smirked. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe about a certain colleague of yours? Tall, blond, brooding?”

Not them too. Would she ever get to have a normal conversation again? Hermione stared, debating whether it would be rude to simply get up and leave.

Sprout’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “The students seem to think you and Professor Malfoy are quite close.”

Hermione groaned, rubbing her temples. “For the last time, Malfoy and I are not—” She huffed, searching for the right words. “We are barely even friends. We work together. That’s it.”

Sinistra raised a skeptical brow. “Interesting. Because I had a rather chatty fourth-year tell me that Professor Malfoy looks at you like you’re his ‘favorite challenge.’”

Hermione nearly spilled her tea. “He—what?”

Sprout grinned. “And apparently, you’ve been seen smiling at him quite a bit.”

Hermione almost screamed. She probably would have if she weren’t talking to two grown adults whom she respected very much. “That is called being civil.”

Sinistra chuckled, unconvinced. “Civil? You two have been ‘civil’ since the war ended, but now suddenly half the castle thinks you’re secretly dating.” She took a leisurely sip of her tea. “Something must have changed.”

Hermione sputtered. “Nothing has changed!”

Sprout gave her a knowing look. “Then why are you blushing?”

Hermione dropped her face into her hands. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake.”

Was this some sort of huge conspiracy to try and force her and Draco to be together? She didn’t want any of this! She had just started to tolerate him. There was no world in which she actually liked him like that. 

—

After the incident with her sixth-year students and the questions from Sprout and Sinistra, Hermione was determined to nip any talk of her association with Malfoy in the bud. She had been mentally preparing on how to evade the topic entirely by engaging her classes the entire period. What she hadn’t prepared for was a group of second-year students to interrogate her like they were investigative journalists looking for a scandal. 

She was halfway through her lesson on correct wand movement for simple transfiguration when a hand shot up from the middle row. 

“Professor Granger?”

Hermione paused, looking at the young, blonde-haired girl. “Yes, Miss Foster?”

The girl looked far too eager, shifting in her seat. “Are you and Professor Malfoy married?”

Hermione blinked, not sure how to respond to that question. A silence fell over the classroom, every single second-year leaning in with wide eyes, waiting for her answer. “...What?”

A small Slytherin boy nodded seriously. “It’s just… Well, we heard you spend a lot of time together and Professor Sprout said that you bicker like married people.” 

Hermione let out a slow, measured breath. “Professor Malfoy and I are colleagues. We work together. That is all.”

A Hufflepuff girl with a sunflower in her hair perked up. “But do you like him?”

Hermione closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to summon any ounce of patience she could muster. “I like him in the same way I like all my coworkers.”

“So you do like him,” another student whispered conspiratorially.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not in the way you’re suggesting.” 

But that answer did not satisfy their curiosity. The questions kept flowing.

“Do you want kids?” one of them blurted out.

Hermione choked on air. “That is wildly inappropriate—”

“Would you ever marry him?”

“What are you going to name your first child?”

“Are you sure you're not dating Professor Malfoy?”

Hermione threw her hands up. “Enough! This is not a topic for discussion. We are here to learn about the correct wand movement for basic transfiguration, not about the fantasy life you all have conjured up for me!”

The students exchanged knowing glances, as if her flustered reaction had only confirmed their suspicions. 

“That is not what Professor Malfoy told us.”

Hermione froze. Slowly, she turned to the student who had just spoken. He was a tawny haired boy from Slytherin, clearly thrilled to be the center of attention. Hermione raised her eyebrows. “I’m sorry, could you please repeat that?”

He grinned. “That’s not what Professor Malfoy told us in our last lesson when we asked him.”

A ripple of snickers and whispered giggles spread through the classroom. Hermione’s stomach dropped. Oh, for Merlin’s sake.

She crossed her arms, transfiguring her expression into stern disapproval. “And what, exactly, did Professor Malfoy tell you?”

The student perked up, delighted. “Well, we asked him if you were together, and he said—”

The entire class leaned in once again. Hermione braced herself.

“—‘Not yet.’”

Hermione’s brain short-circuited. A beat of stunned silence passed before the room erupted into chatter.

“See! We knew it!”

“It’s just a matter of time!”

“Are you two waiting until the right moment? Is it forbidden love?”

Hermione was about to have a full-blown existential crisis. Her cheeks burned, her pulse skyrocketed, and for the first time in her life, she was genuinely speechless.

She was going to strangle Draco Malfoy the next time she saw him.