Chapter 2
As soon as they exited the Floo, they were greeted—of course—by Potter, who had somehow ended up as Draco Malfoy’s Auror partner.
Draco still found the whole arrangement mildly absurd. Honestly, the Weasel was an Auror too—though a rather pathetic excuse for one, in Draco’s opinion. At first, working in the department had been hell. No one trusted him. When he started training, the whispers were constant, people questioning how a former Death Eater could even be in Auror training.
But Draco was determined. He wanted to make a difference, to do something good for once—to atone for his past decisions and his cowardice. So, he shoved all the sneering and distrust to the back of his mind. He ignored the snide comments, the condescending looks, and simply kept pushing forward.
Initially, he was given solo missions. Gawain Robards, the Head Auror, was perpetually furious that Draco insisted on going solo, but there was no denying the results. Malfoy’s success rate at tracking down and apprehending Dark Wizards was the highest in the department.
Eventually, someone—probably Potter—noticed that he and Draco had the same relentless drive to “catch the baddies.” Before long, they became a reliable team. Much to Draco’s annoyance, he had to begrudgingly admit—at least to himself—that Potter was a very good partner. Not that he’d ever say it out loud, of course. In public, Draco maintained his signature scowl whenever Potter was around. Privately, though, he was starting to find that scowl almost… fond.
"Malfoy, took you long enough to finish your hair routine today.” Potter greeted, flashing that irritatingly easy smile of his. “Nott, good to see you,"
"You know how vain our boy is," Nott smirked, clearly enjoying this far too much.
Draco scowled, ever the picture of composure. "Potter, I won’t even dignify that with a response," he said, flicking his hair dramatically—only to make it obvious he was still a bit precious about it. "Where’s Pansy? I brought her favourite champagne."
"Always so uptight," Harry teased, entirely unfazed by Draco’s glaring. "Pansy’s in the kitchen. She’s already seething because you’re late," he added with a grimace, as if picturing the storm brewing.
"Oh, Draco’s rather lucky today; I’m sure Pansy won’t be too nasty with him," Theo chimed in with a wink, before his eyes drifted to the other side of the room. "Wait, is that Lovegood?"
Draco followed his line of sight as Theo’s expression turned oddly sour.
"Hmm, that witch," Theo muttered. "She ghosted me after getting me into her knickers." Without waiting for a response, he marched off in Luna’s direction, looking more determined than Draco had seen him in years.
Harry blinked a few times, as if trying to process what he’d just heard. Then, decisively, he shook his head. "Nope. You know what? I don’t even want to know," he said, turning his attention back to Draco.
"Shall we?" Harry asked, gesturing towards the kitchen.
Draco let out an exasperated sigh. "Lead the way, Potter."
As they walked towards the kitchen, they could hear Pansy's loud laughter, followed by Granger’s voice. He could already feel something building into his stomach. That fucking Theo, he thought, probably this fucking potion was badly brewed and he could feel the adverse effects already.
"Salazar, Granger, take your head out of that strange contraption of yours and enjoy the moment for once!" Pansy’s exasperated voice rang out as Draco stepped into the kitchen.
What greeted him was an odd sight: Granger, utterly absorbed in a strange, rectangular artifact, her fingers flying across tiny buttons with a speed that was almost unsettling. It looked as if she were playing some kind of instrument, but all that emanated from the thing was a faint, repetitive clicking sound.
"It’s not a trinket," Granger snapped, barely glancing up from the glowing rectangle in front of her. "It’s called a laptop, and it’s a highly advanced piece of Muggle technology with countless applications. Frankly, I’ll never understand why magical people are still stuck using parchment and quills to collect their research data. It’s downright archaic."
Draco blinked, leaning casually against the doorway, entirely unnoticed by the room’s occupants.
Granger let out a huff, her irritation practically radiating off her. "And don’t get me started on owls. Why are we still relying on them for communication? The poor creatures get exhausted just delivering a single letter. Muggles have had efficient communication devices for decades. They’re faster and don’t leave feathers everywhere."
Pansy, perched by the counter with a glass of wine in hand, raised an eyebrow. "Yes, but can this… lap-whatever deliver a Howler?" she quipped, her smirk as sharp as ever.
Before Granger could reply, Draco cleared his throat, finally announcing his presence.
"Draco!" Pansy exclaimed from behind the counter, her tone unusually bright. "You’re late, darling, but I’ll let it slide just this once."
Strange, he thought. If there was one thing he knew about Pansy, it was that she never let anything slide. Maybe Theo’s concoction was doing something after all.
"Hello, Pans," he said smoothly, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "I brought your favourite champagne."
"Oh, darling, always so charming," she purred, accepting the bottle with an uncharacteristic lack of snark.
"Huh?" Potter interjected, squinting at Pansy like she’d grown a second head. "Are you feeling alright, Parks? I was here for the show—you know, the one where you properly scold Malfoy for being late. Don’t tell me I’ve missed it?"
"Oh, shush it, pet! I’m not done with you," Pansy said, narrowing her eyes in Potter’s direction. "I’m still cross with you for letting Cherry and Kreacher take their holidays right before our housewarming party. And now I’m stuck here doing all the hard work!" She pointed the knife in her hands at Potter with a dangerous flourish.
Draco couldn’t help but notice that Granger, once again, had her head buried in that trinket, her fingers flying furiously over the tiny buttons. What was it with that witch? She never seemed to notice him—or his perfect hair.
"Oh, by hard work, you mean sorting the buffet we ordered from that fancy, ridiculously expensive restaurant you adore into your silverware," Harry protested, crossing his arms. "And let’s not forget, you agreed, when my head was between your legs, it was time for Cherry and Kreacher to use their anniversary present we got them. They deserved the Caribbean cruise honeymoon—it’s been a year!"
"Oi!" Weasley shouted as he barged into the room. "Honestly, you two! Every time I come into this house, I’m hit with some sordid detail about your sex life—or worse, your elves’ sex life." He gagged dramatically for effect.
Draco grimaced, his annoyance only growing at the fact he had to agree with the Weasel for once. The only mild consolation was that Granger didn’t even glance up from her Muggle device, ignoring the redhead entirely as if he weren’t even there.
Before long, Weasley had grabbed Potter by the arm and dragged him out of the kitchen, leaving Draco alone with the two women once again.
"Granger!" Pansy snapped, slamming Granger’s device shut with a flourish of her wand, earning a sharp, furious glare. "Where are your manners? You haven’t even greeted our dear Draco yet. Honestly, Granger…" She muttered under her breath, something about "bushy head swot" and "insufferable know-it-all."
"Rude!" Hermione shot back, yanking her device away as though it were her child. "I was almost finished! I have a deadline, mind you! Some of us actually work, unlike some people!"
She blinked a few times, finally noticing Draco standing there. Draco, meanwhile, had been frozen in place, his attention inexplicably fixed on the freckles scattered across her face. Those beautiful… no, obnoxious freckles that he definitely didn’t want to count. No, definitely not.
"Sorry, Malfoy," she said sheepishly, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. "I get a bit… immersed in my work sometimes. Good to see you."
And to Malfoy’s utter shock, she smiled at him.
She smiled. At him.
Perhaps Theo’s potion wasn’t so bad after all. He couldn’t, for the life of him, recall the last time Granger had smiled at him—not that he’d been counting or anything. Definitely not.
But to his complete mortification, his brain seemed to short-circuit, and before he could stop himself, he blurted, "You’re smiling."
Brilliant. Just brilliant. Way to go, Draco. Bloody perfect.
Granger tilted her head, looking bemused. "Yes… is that a problem?
Before Draco could dig himself into an even deeper hole, Pansy burst into laughter, her cackle echoing through the kitchen. "See, Hermione? Even Draco thinks it’s noteworthy when you manage to take your head out of that glowing thing and actually smile at people!"
Granger groaned, rubbing her temples. "Ugh, every time you call me Hermione, Pansy, I know you’re about to start meddling in my life."
"Not just any part of your life, Hermione—your sex life," Pansy retorted, her grin positively wicked. "Seriously, darling, you’ve been dating Krum for over a year, and yet we’ve never seen the bloke. What truly shocks me, though, is how much effort he puts into staying in your life. The flowers he sends you, the constant owls—it’s all very sweet, of course."
Pansy held up a perfectly manicured finger to silence Hermione, who looked ready to protest. "Oh no, don’t interrupt me. I’ve noticed, Hermione. We’re neighbours now, remember? And even before that, I had my ways of knowing."
Granger sighed heavily, but Pansy pressed on, undeterred. "Anyway, my point is: can’t you just live a little? Have a shag without needing to schedule the whole thing like one of your research papers? Just loosen up."
Even Draco had to admit, despite losing Granger’s attention, he was now fully invested in this conversation. Purely out of curiosity, of course, he assured himself. Not because he cared about Granger’s love life or anything.
Granger let out a deep, measured breath, as though she were summoning the patience of a saint to endure this conversation. "First of all," she began, her tone clipped, "we’re not dating. We’re… friends. Sort of. Friends with benefits, if you must know. He knows it, I know it—we’re adults, and we agreed to keep things casual and not exclusive."
Draco raised an eyebrow, Pansy’s eyes lit up like Christmas had come early, and Hermione pressed on, determined to maintain her composure.
"Second," she continued, closing her eyes and massaging her temples as if physically restraining herself from snapping, "I do not schedule all my shags. It’s just that with him, it’s a bit more complicated. You know, because he’s a bloody professional Quidditch player who lives in Bulgaria and is constantly travelling."
Pansy snorted, barely containing her laughter. "So, what you’re saying is… you just like to ride Krum’s broomstick when it suits you?" she teased, her smirk widening.
Hermione raised an eyebrow at Pansy, her expression full of annoyance.
"Don’t act so bothered, Hermione," Pansy said with a scoff. "I know you’ve got a naughty side. Those torture sessions you drag me to—oh, sorry, Pilates classes—you’re ridiculously flexible. Even Harry’s been appreciating the improvement in my flexibility, I’ll have you know."
Draco coughed, suddenly feeling uncomfortably warm at the mental image of Granger and her flexible abilities riding Krum’s broomstick. It was definitely not something he wanted to picture—much like he didn’t want to hear about the house-elves' sordid sexcapades.
"Why don’t you pick on someone else’s sex life for a change?" Granger snapped, clearly fed up. Then, to Draco’s utter horror, she turned her head, fixing him with a wicked smile that sent a chill down his spine.
Oh no. That couldn’t be good.
"Like Malfoy here," she continued, her voice dripping with naughtiness. "I’m sure he has tons of affairs for you to meddle in. Now kindly leave me the fuck alone."
Pansy sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You two are going to drive me mad. You’re like two sides of the same coin. Granger, you just want your scheduled encounters and a few rides on broomsticks. Oh, don’t give me that look—I know about the Muggles you’ve had your little… flings with. Ginny told me everything."
Hermione’s eyes widened, but before she could protest, Pansy’s attention shifted to Draco.
"And Draco," she continued, her voice softening into something almost fond, "is my dear little helpless romantic. Such a bleeding heart, utterly hopeless and helplessly needing—"
"Pansy!" Draco cut in, waving his hands in indignation. "I’m still in the room, thank you very much. I don’t need my love life being broadcast to everyone!"
Pansy sneered, "Oh, darling, more like the complete lack of it."
Pansy began examining her nails with a smug smile, her voice mockingly sweet. "Anyway, what I mean, Hermione, is that you can’t just live in the moment, can you? Everything’s a plan, a schedule—even your shags."
Then, with a devilish glint in her eye, she turned her gaze to Draco. "And you, my darling? You just need to loosen up and let yourself be happy….” she finished her drink and added “I'm out this kitchen, I had enough sorting out everything for today, what was Potter fucking thinking…” and with that she left without a second thought.
There was an uncomfortable pause between them before Granger broke it. "So… Do you want something to drink? Not my house, but since I’m their neighbour and they practically invade my privacy all the time, it seems only fair to offer you something."
"Yes, firewhisky, please," Draco replied, his voice a touch too quick. He was still lingering on thoughts of Granger’s flexibility and, before he realised it, found himself watching her.
She always favoured her Muggle-style clothing—illegally tight jeans that clung to her curves or those maddeningly fitted trousers that showed every detail of her legs. She was, objectively speaking, insanely sexy. Not that Draco was paying attention, of course. He was simply observing. He wasn’t a blind man, after all.
"Malfoy? Are you alright?" she asked, handing him a tumbler of firewhisky, her curious eyes scanning his face.
"Oh, yes. Sorry, just… had something else on my mind," he replied, taking a small sip of his drink, hoping it might steady his thoughts—and banish the entirely inappropriate ones.
"Hmm, where’s your mind at?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.
It hit him like a Bludger to the chest—this was the first time in nearly three years, since their social circles had awkwardly merged, that he found himself alone with her. Completely alone. And for the first time, she was giving him her full, undivided attention.
Maybe it was the potion working in his favour. Or maybe it was his own growing boldness. Either way, he decided to take a leap.
"I was thinking…" he said, his voice dropping lower, smoother, more deliberate. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he didn’t miss the way her gaze followed the motion. Her lips parted slightly, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, the small, tantalising movement sending his pulse racing.
He stepped closer, the gap between them narrowing to something intimate, his presence almost overwhelming. Leaning in until his mouth was just a whisper from her ear, his voice dropped to a sinful whisper.
"I was thinking about you. About those flexible abilities of yours. And how I wouldn’t mind seeing just how far they go. "Tell me, Granger," he continued, his lips curving into a devilish smirk, "is that naughty streak of yours as thorough as everything else you do?"
Granger froze for a moment, his words lingering in the charged air between them. Then, to Draco’s surprise, a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.
"Why do you want to know? Are you curious?" She asked, her curls brushing against his cheek as she leaned closer, closing the last shred of distance between them.
"Careful Malfoy," she whispered, "if there’s one thing you should know about me by now, it’s that I never do anything halfway."
She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, the gold in her eyes was pure fire—and perhaps something more, a challenge. Then, with an arched brow and a deliberate flick of her hair, she turned and walked away, leaving him rooted to the spot, utterly spellbound.