Must have been the strawberry scent
Sleep proved elusive, even after pulling another one of many all-nighters with Malfoy. Her bed, if it could speak, wouldn’t even muster the energy to utter a single word, drained from her endless tossing and turning. Draco Malfoy. How was she supposed to measure a man like him? For the first time in years, Hermione Granger was at an impasse.
If only evading Malfoy were as simple as evading sleep. But the day ahead was busy, and any moment now, her alarm would ring. She’d have to face him, meet those grey eyes, and pretend she didn’t find him attractive. No. Definitely not.
At exactly 10 AM, Draco Malfoy arrived, radiating his effortless grace. Earlier, anyone peeking into the grandeur of Malfoy Manor would have seen the noble heir pacing his library, wearing down the carpet as he grappled with thoughts of the woman now standing before him. Neither wanted to fold.
“Malfoy.”
“Granger.”
The greeting was brief, sharp, and devoid of the countless steps Draco had taken to steady his nerves.
“Tea?” Hermione offered.
“Uhm… okay?” He had braced for hostility, perhaps even a hex, but she poured tea.
“Okay? You don’t like tea?”
“I like chocolate shakes,” he blurted, internally wincing. In the end, tea was served.
They read, debated, argued—just another attempt to save that insufferable Weasel. Draco might loathe Ron, but there was an odd satisfaction in these exchanges, an undercurrent that kept him tethered to the moment. Still, it wasn’t her words that distracted him the most—it was her scent.
Her shampoo carried the crisp sweetness of ripe strawberries, a scent that lingered faintly, teasing his senses every time she shifted in her seat. It was maddening, soft yet persistent, drawing him in without effort. Then there was the faint musk of her lotion, subtle and warm, a contrast to the brightness of her hair. If he knew better, he would assume it was a scent of a man’s liking. Could it be Weasel’s or Potters?No, definitely not Weasel. Too refined for the likes of that red head. But it is also too polished for Potter. It wasn’t their style. Could there be someone else?
The realization left him restless. Was there someone else? Some nameless man whose presence lingered on her skin? His gaze flicked around the room, searching for signs—an extra coat, a pair of shoes out of place. Nothing. Her apartment, much like her, gave away little. But the scents stayed, clawing at his composure, daring him to lean closer. It was driving him mad, and she didn’t even seem to notice.
And the fact that she is unaware of his inner turmoil unraveled him—it was how the scents combined, clinging to the air around her. They seeped into his thoughts, tangling with the rhythm of her voice and the way her lips curved in defiance. Every breath seemed to betray him, filling his lungs with something intoxicatingly Hermione.
“I used a new lotion,” Hermione said abruptly, catching him mid-sniff.
“I… yes, well, thank you for considering my highly refined senses.” That was the best he could come up with?
“You seemed deep in thought,” she teased.
“I wasn’t sniffing,” he grumbled.
“Whatever you say.”
He fumed silently. How could she be so utterly careless when a perfectly handsome specimen sat right before her? A gentleman who is going bereft by the simple likes of her smell.
“Single apparition, yes?” Hermione clarified.
“Yes,” Draco replied, distracted.
“And no stops?”
“Best way to stay undetected.”
“I haven’t done that before,” she admitted softly.
That threw him off. A flaw in Granger? Unthinkable.
“Tag along with me,” he said, as if it were the simplest thing.
Minutes passed before Draco dove into the grim details of their plan to rescue Ron.
“Polyjuice Potion, disguises, single apparition,” Hermione listed methodically.
“And you’ll negotiate for Kingsley while I stay in Inkswood,” Draco added.
“Why can’t you come with me?” she asked, frowning.
“For me? It’s not safe,” he replied cryptically.
“But—”
“No buts, Granger. If you want to save your boyfriend, we do it my way.”
Her lips tightened, but she didn’t deny Ron being her boyfriend. She just huffed and moved on. Draco’s brows furrowed at that. Together? Not together? He couldn’t tell.
—
It was the next day, and if scent could kill, Draco would be buried deeper than the vaults of his ancestors. That scent—her scent—clung to him, haunting his every breath. It was maddeningly addictive, a mix of sweet strawberry and faint musk, as though it had been crafted solely to drive him insane. It didn’t just linger; it consumed. Intoxicating and utterly inescapable.
But there were more pressing matters at hand, or so he told himself. He needed to rein in his thoughts, to maneuver the conversation where it needed to go. Focus, Malfoy. Focus. Yet even as he tried, the faint memory of her scent tugged at him, threatening to derail his carefully constructed plans.
So instead of giving in to the maddening urge to bury himself in the curve of her neck and drown in her scent, Draco forced himself to speak. "You’re sure Kingsley’s hands are tied? No backdoor support, no Auror squad waiting in the shadows?" His voice was steady, betraying none of the chaos her presence stirred within him.
Hermione replied, "Positive. As Minister, he can’t be seen taking sides. If he intervenes, it’ll escalate into an international incident. Everyone’s watching his every move."
Draco stopped pacing, his expression unreadable. "Then it’s unofficial. Just you, me, and whatever resources we can scrape together."
"And Theo," Hermione added. "He’ll be our key to getting in."
Draco snorted. "Theo Nott. Always knew his obsession with those wolves would come back to bite someone, and now it’s us. What’s the deal you’re offering him?"
Hermione grimaced. "I’ll draft legislation to legalize controlled experiments with magical creatures, including werewolves. Strict oversight, of course."
"Legislation?" Draco arched a brow. "You’re handing Theo a wand and hoping he doesn’t hex the entire system. You realize this could set a dangerous precedent."
"I know the risks," Hermione admitted, "but we don’t have a choice. He’s the only one with access to the lair—or rather, the wards protecting it. Without him, we’re dead in the water."
Draco leaned on the desk, his eyes narrowing. "Fine. But if Theo’s involved, we’ll need a failsafe. Something to keep him from turning this into a power grab."
"I’ve thought of that," Hermione said firmly. "A clause in the legislation granting the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures the right to revoke permissions if ethical standards are breached."
Draco smirked. "Clever. But we’ll also need leverage during negotiations with Theo. He might expect us to beg for Ron’s life. We can’t give him that satisfaction."
Hermione sat back, thinking. "We appeal to his ego. Theo thrives on control, doesn’t he?"
"Exactly," Draco agreed. "He’s built his reputation on being untouchable. We exploit that. Play on his paranoia."
Hermione nodded slowly. "Imply that we have information that could dismantle his alliances. Suggest that if anything happens to Ron, the Ministry will have no choice but to act—neutrality be damned."
Draco tried not to be bothered by how passionately Hermione spoke of Ron. He crossed his arms, and schooled his expression, a calculating look. "And we feed him just enough truth to make it believable.”
"We’ll need to be precise," Hermione said, leaning forward. "Too much pressure, and he’ll call our bluff. Too little, and he’ll see through us."
"Psychological warfare, it is," Draco concluded. "Theo’s not just a criminal; he’s a strategist. If we’re going to outmaneuver him, we’ll need to think several moves ahead."
Hermione scribbled furiously. "We stage the meeting somewhere neutral but subtly in our favor. Somewhere with wards we control. If things go south, we need an escape plan."
Draco nodded. "And a backup to the backup. I’ll handle that. You focus on making Theo’s involvement airtight. If he senses weakness in the deal, he’ll exploit it."
Hermione paused, her quill hovering above the parchment. "And Theo?"
"We make him believe he’s winning," Draco said coolly. "Offer him a token concession—something meaningless to us but valuable to him. And then we hit him where it hurts."
Hermione tapped her quill on the desk, her voice low. "We’ll also need to counter any contingencies he might have in place. Theo’s smart enough to expect us to come prepared."
Hermione’s eyes lit with a realization. "If his alliances weaken, he’ll be more inclined to negotiate. But we’ll need someone on the inside to confirm the effect."
"I have a few contacts," Draco said with a faint smirk. "They owe me favors. I’ll reach out discreetly."
Hermione frowned. "What about after? Even if we succeed, Theo won’t let this go lightly. We’ll need to prepare for retaliation."
Draco shrugged. "Let him try. By the time he regroups, we’ll have consolidated our position. Besides, Theo’s too pragmatic to waste resources on revenge if the cost is too high."
Hermione looked up, determination hardening her features. "Then we move fast. Once Ron is safe, we dismantle Theo’s network piece by piece."
Draco straightened, his tone turning sardonic. "Granger, if we pull this off, remind me to never underestimate your Gryffindor stubbornness again."
Hermione managed a faint smile. "And if we don’t?"
Draco did not answer then, without another word, they returned to their preparations, minds racing against the clock.
—---
It was the next day and Draco insisted that they have their research somewhere else. To hermione’s surprise, they went into a muggle library. It’s dusty much to her taste. If only Ron is out of grave, she would have devoured all these books.
It was a tiny library, dimly lit reflecting the auburn and burgundy hues of the fixtures and furniture. Yet a tense air hangs over the space they both share as Draco leans against a bookshelf. His arms crossed. Hermione tried putting some space between them and sat in the carpeted floor. Pulling all her thick ledger of parchments from her beaded bag.
Draco broke the silence. “You are wasting time, Granger. It would be much appreciated if you enlighten me now. Let’s hear your plan”
Hermione’s eyes didn’t leave the parchment. "I’ve been thinking about leverage. Theo’s biggest fear isn’t us; it’s losing his position in Britain’s wizarding society."
Draco shrugged, “He already lost that when he lost his court appeals a few years ago after the fall of the Dark Lord”
Hermione bristled. She did not expect him to call Voldemort that but that is not a pressing issue at hand.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "You’re suggesting we bring him back?"
"Under very specific conditions," Hermione replied, finally looking up. "We offer him immunity for his past activities—no prosecution from the Ministry. In return, he gives Ron back and hopefully dismantle or proceed with his werewolf experiments in accordance to the law."
Draco snorted. “Granger, in case you have not noticed. There are no laws relative to the werewolves so how in any sense of the word, pray tell, how exactly would there be any 'accordance with the law'?
“I’m working on it. I already have a lot of lairs laid out for this”
“Do tell Ms Granger, I have not heard of this”
"Of course, you wouldn’t know," Hermione said, her tone clipped. "I’ve kept it under wraps—by myself, no less—but I’ll need your father’s support for it to materialize."
"And I’m guessing you already have a plan to get his attention?" Draco said, arching a brow.
“Yes. Going back to Nott”
Draco frowned. "Immunity? Granger, that’s playing with fire. Do you know how many people he’s crossed?"
"I do," Hermione said firmly. "But think about it. Theo’s work is controversial, yes, but he’s also valuable. If we frame this as a controlled reintegration, he’ll jump at the chance.Besides, with proper control, his research could be beneficial for the wolves"
Draco’s gaze darkened. "He’ll jump at the chance to use that immunity as a shield while he consolidates power. You’re giving him a blank check."
"Not exactly," Hermione countered. "The immunity will be conditional. Any violation of our terms, and it’s revoked. We’ll tie him up in so much bureaucratic red tape he won’t dare step out of line."
Draco’s lips curved into a cold smile. "I like the way you think. But Theo’s not stupid. He’ll see this for what it is—a trap."
"That’s why we sweeten the deal," Hermione said. "In addition to immunity, we grant him limited access to Ministry resources for his research. With oversight, of course."
Draco snorted. "Oversight. Like that’s ever stopped someone like Theo."
"It’s not just about stopping him," Hermione said. "It’s about making him think he’s winning. If he believes this is his chance to rebuild, he’ll cooperate."
Draco tilted his head, considering. "And when he realizes he’s been played?"
"By then, we’ll have what we need," Hermione replied. "Ron safe, Theo’s network exposed, and the werewolf experiments either shut down or flourished under the right supervision."
“Let me guess, it will befell under your jurisdiction so it will be under your supervision”
“Yes Malfoy, any problem with that?”
If this didn’t turn him on, he’d be a liar—and a liar he was not. He hadn’t expected Granger to be this cunning, this utterly maddening. Her scent, that intoxicating blend of strawberry and faint musk, mingled with the rich, aged smell of the library’s wooden furniture, and it was enough to drive him to distraction. His thoughts betrayed him: bending her against one of the bookshelves, running his hands over her, tasting her skin.
He could have done all that and more, but instead, he forced himself to focus. With a sharp inhale, he buried the urge and carried on with their conversation.
"All right," Draco said, straightening. "Let’s say Theo bites. How do we get him to the table without him hexing us the moment we show our hand?"
Hermione’s expression hardened. "We give him a reason to listen. I’ve been asking about the movements of his closest allies which he does not have, honestly. But, If we’re subtle, we can leak just enough information to make him paranoid."
Draco’s smirk returned. "Divide and conquer. Classic. Let Theo’s own mistrust do the work for us."
"Exactly," Hermione said. "Once he feels isolated, we approach him with the offer. He’ll see it as a lifeline."
Draco stepped closer to the desk, his tone sharp. "And if he doesn’t?"
"Then we’ll have contingency plans," Hermione said. "I’m drafting one now. If Theo refuses, we’ll use our leverage to force his hand."
"Leverage like what?" Draco pressed.
Hermione’s eyes gleamed. "I have contacts in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who would love to know about his dealings. A few well-placed inquiries, and Theo could evaporate.”
“This will affect our business so I say no to the last part. We cannot have him dead”
“Not dead Malfoy, just tro-”
“Yes, powerlessness means death. If you want my help, we pretend you did not utter a single word of your last sentence.”
Hermione nodded slowly. "A subtle threat it is. It should be effective. But we’ll need to handle this delicately. If he even suspects a double-cross, he’ll cut us off."
"Which is why," Hermione said, "you’ll be in charge of securing the meeting location. Somewhere neutral but with wards we control."
Draco’s smirk widened. "Leave that to me. I know just the place."
Hermione sighed, leaning back in her chair. "This has to work, Draco. If we fail..."
"We won’t," Draco said firmly. "Granger, you’ve got the brains, and I’ve got the brains and the connections. Theo doesn’t stand a chance."
"Let’s hope you’re right," Hermione said quietly. "For Ron’s sake."
Draco gave her a rare look of agonizing yearning and just a second its gone replace by a grin “Don’t worry, your boyfriend will be just fine”
The two exchanged a determined glance, their unspoken alliance forged stronger by the stakes ahead or atleast she thought it was. Then, without another word, they returned to their respective tasks, the weight of their mission driving them forward.
In retrospect, Hermione hadn’t expected anything about this to come easily—especially not the Ron issue, which gnawed at her constantly. But the Lucius part? That was different. She’d been mulling over how to gain his attention, and now here they were. The man in front of her held the key to reaching Lucius Malfoy.
Though she’d never admit it aloud, she respected Lucius cunning, wit, and strategy. He was a master manipulator, yes, but also a sharp tactician. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone like that in her corner. Draco could deliver Lucius—how exactly, she wasn’t sure yet, but that could be worked out.
The real question was this: could she work closely with him? She already was, and it had been nothing short of hell on her end. Perhaps she was exaggerating, but leaning too close to the sun always left burns. And Hermione Granger had no intention of being scorched.
—--
A thousand miles from where she lived, Draco was pacing his father’s personal library, his restlessness filling the silence between them.
Malfoy Manor didn’t just meet expectations; it shattered them. Prim. Grandiose. Evocative. The halls were wider than those of Hogwarts, the furniture a testament to obscene wealth, and the air itself reeked of generational prestige. In one of the many private libraries, two men stood, both cut from the same cloth.
They were strikingly similar in appearance—sharp features, the same piercing eyes. The only difference was in their hair. The younger man’s was shorter, sleek, and silver, while the older’s was longer and paler, almost ghostly.
“Do you think this will work?” Draco asked.
“I would be a liar if I said yes, and I detest lies,” Lucius replied.
“It will backfire. It already has,” Draco said quietly.
“He is a logical man,” Lucius offered.
“I do not trust him,” Draco countered.
“Trust the legal process. Trust his intentions,” Lucius said.
"I want to meet her" Lucius added breaking no arguement.
Draco’s voice dropped. “A tragedy may occur for this so-called improvement I’m liaising.”
Lucius murmured as he turned to leave, “Not yours, hopefully.”
The door closed behind him, and Draco finally stopped pacing. His palms pressed firmly against the edge of his father’s desk. “Not hers, hopefully,” he whispered.
After a while, he sent an owl to her apartment inviting her for a luncheon affair with his father. It was direct to the point and commands no question. This is a must.