Office Hours

Hermione couldn’t decide if should seek out Draco herself or wait for them to cross paths. On one hand, she really was not looking forward to confronting him, but on the other hand, she couldn’t stand how everyone was now staring at her. It reminded her of how students acted towards her when she was in school. She, Harry, and Ron were intimately familiar with strange looks and whispers in the corridors, but this felt different. She was an authority figure now and as much as she hated to admit it, she did care about her students’ and colleagues’ perception of her. And that was what ultimately led her to forgo hunting Malfoy down. She couldn’t make a scene in front of the school. She would have to wait until they were alone before tearing his head off.

So, that led to her glaring at him during mealtimes and when she saw him around the castle. Several times that day she could have sworn he was trying to come and talk to her, but she would run away before he could catch up. She made a point of sitting far away from him during the staff meeting that evening, even though that meant she was unfortunately stuck next to Binns this time. Part of her missed the small jokes she normally would share with Draco, but a larger part of her was so livid she had unconsciously been clenching her hands in fists the entire meeting. 

She was determined to race out of the meeting and get back to her quarters so she could wait and ambush Malfoy, but of course the universe had other plans. After the meeting adjourned, Hagrid caught Hermione’s eye. He waved a large hand towards himself, beckoning her over to him. 

“So, Hermione…” he began, a somewhat putout look on his face like he was nervous to tell her what was on his mind. “When were yeh plannin’ on tellin’ me?”

Hermione frowned, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “Telling you what?”

Hagrid gave her a knowing grin, wiping his hands on his massive coat. “’Bout you ‘n Malfoy, o’ course.”

Hermione stiffened. “Oh, Hagrid. Not you too. There is no me and Malfoy.”

Hagrid chuckled, completely unconvinced. “Ah, yeh don’ have to be shy ‘bout it. Hogwarts’ got its fair share o’ odd couples over the years. Even Dumbledore always said love works in funny ways.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Hagrid—oh, for Merlin’s sake—I am not in love with Malfoy!”

Hagrid just nodded sagely. “Righ’, righ’. Not in love. Just enjoy spendin’ time together, eh?”

Hermione groaned, pressing a frustrated hand to her forehead. “We work together. That’s it.”

Hagrid chuckled goodnaturedly. “Yeh sure 'bout that? Seems like yeh two’ve been hangin’ ‘round each other a fair bit outside o’ staff duties.”

Hermione felt the blush creeping up her neck. “Okay, maybe we are friends, but nothing more than that.”

“Alright, if yeh say so. I won’t be takin’ up any more o’ yer time. Yeh have a good evenin’.” 

“Good night.” Hermione told him in the politest tone she could muster. She couldn’t believe that even Hagrid, her friend of many years, believed the rumors so quickly. She was going to Crucio Draco. She practically sprinted out of the staff room.

As Hermione left, she thought she heard Hagrid mumble, “In denial, that one is.” and then she heard what sounded like a chorus of agreement ‘mmhms’ from the remaining staff members. She was never going to live this down.

Ignoring the building embarrassment in her chest, she quickly navigated the path back to her quarters. She probably wouldn’t make it back there before Draco, but perhaps she could catch him in the corridor. By the time she arrived, she was distinctly out of breath and her face was flushed from the exertion. To her disappointment, Malfoy was not lingering in the corridor. She wondered if he had finally gotten the hint that she had been trying to avoid him this week.

Before she could think it through, she slammed her fist into Malfoy’s door. “Malfoy!” she shouted, the sharp knock echoing down the corridor. “Open up, Professor Dipshit! I’m not leaving until we talk.”

There was no sound on the other side of the door. Hermione continued her attack on the wooden door like it had personally only given her nine out of ten marks. “I know you’re in there! Don’t make me summon your precious hair potions!”

Finally, she heard something on the other side of the door. “Merlin, Granger, give me a second to get dressed.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in embarrassment. At this precise moment she was very glad the door still remained closed between them. Why was Malfoy not dressed? Hadn’t they literally just gotten out of a meeting? She would not allow herself to dwell on this thought. She didn’t need to be thinking about that.

The lock clicked, and the door swung open just enough to reveal Draco leaning against the doorframe, wearing a set of emerald green silk pajamas. The top three buttons on his top were undone, exposing his broad chest. Hermione’s eyes lingered a little too long before snapping back to Draco’s smirking face.

“Were you trying to break down my door, Hermione?” he asked, his smirk growing.

Hermione huffed. “Well, you weren’t answering the door. I had to—” he cut her off.

“Professor Dipshit? Really?”

“You have been acting like a dipshit! What did you want me to call you? ‘Professor Pompous Prat?’”

“I’d prefer Draco, actually. Though I do enjoy the alliteration of ‘Professor Pompous Prat.’ I would hope that you’d be a bit more creative, though.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. How could he be this arrogant? She was so done with him. “Shut up.” 

Draco laughed. “To what do I owe the pleasure of you showing up at my doorstep after hours all alone?”

“What exactly have you been telling your students about us?” she asked, desperate to get to the bottom of this mystery that had been eating away at her.

Draco did not seem surprised at this question, like he had been expecting it. He opened the door wider, motioning for her to come in. She hesitated, not sure if this was a good idea. 

Draco noticed her trepidation. “For Salazar’s sake, just come inside. I don’t particularly care to have this conversation out in the corridor.”

Begrudgingly, she stepped into his quarters. He had been right, his accommodations were definitely smaller than hers, but they were still quite nice. Most of the space seemed to be quite similar in layout to hers, just flipped the opposite way. She could see several personal touches that Draco had added. His bookcase was filled with a mix of Potions Manuals and fiction novels. The presence of Muggle books threw her off, and she found herself oddly curious about his tastes, despite how annoyed she was at him. 

Her gaze fell on the furniture—rich, dark wood, and the unmistakable old-money feel of it. It reminded her of his upbringing, and a small, begrudging part of her wondered if it was comforting for him, or just another part of his carefully constructed persona.

“Would you like some tea?” Draco asked, snapping her attention away from her inspection. 

She turned to face him, arms crossed in frustration. “What I would like is for you to answer my question.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her tone. “So, no tea?”

She sighed, not wanting to entertain his usual attempts to deflect. "Well, yes, I would like some tea," she snapped. "But I need to know what you’ve been telling the kids."

Draco's eyes flicked up to hers, his expression unreadable. “I’m not sure what you are referring to. I tell the kids a lot of things throughout the week.” 

He summoned a tea tray for them. The tea poured itself from the pot, automatically adding milk and sugar just the way Hermione liked. She couldn’t help but be impressed by the magic and the fact that Draco seemed to know exactly how she preferred her tea. Her first sip was incredible. How did he learn to make the perfect cup of tea? She pushed her intrigue aside. She was supposed to be mad at him.

“You told the second-years ‘not yet’ when they asked you if we were dating? Are you insane?” she said as forcefully as she could without shouting.

Draco shrugged, taking a slow sip of his tea. “Seemed like the most entertaining answer.” 

“Entertaining?” Hermione echoed, her voice rising slightly. “These kids are just looking for something to gossip about, and you’re fueling the fire! What were you thinking? You really are a dipshit, aren’t you?”

Draco’s smirk didn't waver. He set his tea down slowly, his gaze lingering on her, and for the first time in the conversation, he seemed to take her seriously. “Look, Granger,” he said, his tone a little less playful, “I wasn’t trying to make your life harder. I just didn’t think saying ‘no’ was the right response. They wouldn’t have believed it anyway.”

Hermione clenched her jaw, pacing across his quarters before turning back to face him. “That’s the point! We need to stop these rumors before they spread any further. And instead of just telling them the truth, you went along with it. You could have put an end to it immediately, but you chose to be cryptic.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand. It was just a comment. The second-years sometimes just ask so many questions that I tell them the first answer that pops into my head that will stop the questions for a bit.” 

Hermione’s frustration bubbled to the surface again, and she exhaled sharply. "Well, it's not just the second-years, is it?" she said, her voice rising a little. “I can’t even walk into the staff room without the entire faculty staring at me like I’ve done something wrong. Even McGonagall gave me one of those looks today, like she knows something I don’t. And don’t get me started on Hagrid—he cornered me after the staff meeting asking about us like we were some kind of open secret!” 

Draco raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a teasing smile. “Hagrid?”

“Not funny, Malfoy,” Hermione snapped, a hint of annoyance seeping through despite her best efforts to stay calm. "It’s uncomfortable. People are talking. Staff members—staff members who I actually respect—are starting to ask questions. And it’s all because you decided that a cryptic ‘not yet’ was more fun than just saying no. It’s not harmless, Draco."

He opened his mouth as if to argue, but paused, letting her words sink in. For a moment, the usual lightness in his eyes flickered, replaced with something more contemplative.

“I didn’t think it would get so out of hand,” Draco said quietly, his voice softer now. “But I see your point. You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

Hermione’s gaze softened just a fraction. She wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or even more irritated. “Exactly,” she said, the edge in her voice waning a little. “And I don’t want to be stuck explaining this to every person who asks me about it.”

Draco leaned back in his chair, his expression growing more serious, though his usual sarcasm was still lurking in the background. "Alright, alright. I’ll handle it. I’ll clear things up with the kids—and anyone else who’s asking."

Hermione nodded, her shoulders dropping slightly as she finally allowed herself a moment to relax. “Thank you,” she said, then immediately regretted it. She didn’t want to sound too appreciative, but at least he seemed to understand.

Draco took another sip of his tea, his gaze flicking to her. "You know, Hermione," he said, his voice laced with a teasing tone, "maybe you should get used to it. I mean, if they’re all assuming we’re together, there could be worse things to be rumored about."

She shot him a glare, but a small, involuntary chuckle escaped her lips. “Yeah, right. There could be nothing worse than a rumor that we are ‘in love.’ You know, one of them even asked if we were married because Sprout told them we bicker like a married couple. Can you believe that?” she asked, her tone a mix of disbelief, amusement, and frustration.

Draco’s lips twitched, though he seemed to fight the urge to smile. "Sprout said that, did she?" His voice was almost too casual, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, as if he found the situation amusing in a way he didn’t want to admit.

“It's not funny, Draco,” Hermione snapped, though the edge in her voice was softening just a little. “Okay, it is a little funny, but I’m not going to spend the next month answering questions about our relationship status.”

“I can’t help it if we bicker like a married couple, can I?” 

Hermione glared at him, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Well, you sure are doing a brilliant job of making it seem like we are.”

Hermione was glad to have cleared the air with Draco, but as she left his quarters, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something hadn’t been fully resolved. A strange flutter in her stomach lingered, and she couldn’t quite place why. Was it the conversation? Or was it something else entirely?