Chapter 6
A few days had passed since Pansy and Theo had bestowed upon Draco their so-called wisdom on wooing Granger. Honestly, the whole thing was absurd. How had his life come to this?
"Seriously, darling," Pansy had drawled, swirling her wine as if she were about to deliver the Ten Commandments of Dating. "With Granger, you need to be proactive. Get her out of her head, show up at her office, surprise her, drag her out of her comfort zone!"
"Yes!" Theo had chimed in enthusiastically, pointing a dramatic finger in Draco’s direction. "You can’t be subtle with Granger. If you want to see the witch, you have to make her see you. Storm into her office, demand—no, declare—that she must have lunch with you. Or dinner! Or tea! Hell, dangle the Malfoy Manor library in front of her like a bloody carrot if you must. Bribery is a perfectly acceptable courtship method."
Draco had pinched the bridge of his nose. "Bribery, Theo? Really?"
"Academic bribery," Theo corrected, entirely unapologetic. "It’s different. She’ll love it."
And that was how Draco found himself standing outside Granger’s office, clutching a first-edition tome of Arithmantic Theorems and Their Practical Magical Applications like a man about to propose—with a book.
Draco let out a long-suffering sigh before finally knocking on the door. A few seconds later, he heard Granger’s voice—strained and slightly breathless.
“Please, come in!”
He pushed the door open, only to freeze in place, utterly caught off guard by the sight before him.
Granger was mid-contortion, twisted into what could only be described as a torture pose , wearing one of those criminally tight Muggle outfits that hugged every inch of her body in ways that should be illegal. Draco’s brain short-circuited. His mouth went dry.
“Oh, Malfoy—just a second,” she said casually, as if she wasn’t currently defying the laws of human flexibility. “I didn’t have time this morning to do my stretching routine.”
And then, as if the universe truly had it out for him, she bent forward—folding herself clean in half—offering Draco what could only be described as a glorious, unfairly distracting view of her perfectly sculpted bum.
He didn’t know whether to curse Theo for his brilliant plan or himself for walking straight into his own personal hell.
Draco cleared his throat, forcing himself to look anywhere but at the very distracting view in front of him. He needed to gather himself —and more importantly, he needed to avoid being caught blatantly gawking.
“Granger… I hadn’t heard from you in a while.” His voice was carefully measured, his Occlumency shields snapping into place, masking any sign of impatience—or worse, desperation . He exuded nothing but pure, effortless nonchalance.
“Thought I’d stop by, see if you were still alive,” he added smoothly, striding into the office with deliberate ease. With a perfectly casual air, he placed the book he’d brought onto her desk, then folded his arms across his chest—because nothing screamed I’m not bothered at all like taking up space and looking vaguely unimpressed.
She shot him a sheepish glance, her face red from the torture pose. “Yes, sorry. I’ve been away the past week—some Muggle Immunology conference. And now I have mountains of work to catch up on.” She let out a dramatic sigh.
“It’s hard to owl you when I’m surrounded by Muggles,” she added, rolling her eyes. “It would be so much easier if you just had a bloody mobile phone like a normal person.”
Draco scoffed, tilting his head. “Oh, I’m the abnormal one? Says the witch currently twisted into a human pretzel in her office?”
He stepped closer, his presence deliberately invading the space she had so shamelessly twisted herself into moments ago. He could still feel the lingering heat of her body, the warmth radiating from her skin, and—Merlin help him—he didn’t miss the way her breath hitched ever so slightly at his proximity.
“Now, now, Granger,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something dangerously smooth, his lips just a breath away from the shell of her ear. “Maybe you could help me find one of those Muggle trinkets… so we have better chances to communicate.”
He smirked as he watched the way her fingers tensed around the edge of her desk, her pulse fluttering at her throat.
Who knew shopping for Muggle technology could sound so damn suggestive?
She let out a heavy sigh, clearly torn between frustration and amusement. Turning abruptly, she nearly collided with his chest, stopping just shy of pressing into him.
“I really can’t right now,” she muttered. “Maybe ask Theo or Blaise—they already have a mobile. Text me when you get one. They can give you my number.”
Draco’s mouth opened to protest, but before he could get a word out, her gaze flickered to the book he’d left on her desk. He saw the exact moment her eyes brightened, her fingers twitching with anticipation.
Oh. Not so fast.
Just as she eagerly reached for it, he snatched it away, dangling it teasingly just out of reach.
“Pity,” he drawled, smirking as she huffed. “Here I thought I might convince you to grab a coffee with me… maybe enjoy a bit of light reading together.” His smirk widened as he watched her eyes darken with interest. “I know you’ve always had a knack for Arithmancy.”
Granger crossed her arms, glaring up at him, torn between exasperation and intrigue.
“Oh, you absolute git,” she scowled.
Draco leaned against her desk, arms folded, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Oh, come on, Granger. Surely you can spare a few minutes for some riveting literature.”
She let out a sharp sigh. “Fine,” she snapped. “Ten minutes.”
His smirk deepened. “Twenty.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Malfoy, I swear —”
He raised a brow, undeterred. “You can’t possibly appreciate the brilliance of this book in just ten minutes. That’s practically an insult to all the knowledge inside these pages.”
She crossed her arms, glaring at him. “Fifteen. Final offer.”
Draco sighed, shaking his head like he was making a great sacrifice. “Tragic, really. But I suppose I’ll just have to make every second count. ”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue—though he didn’t miss the way her lips twitched, fighting a smirk of her own.
“I have an Italian coffee machine in my office—far superior to the sludge they dare call coffee in the cafeteria.”
Granger crossed her arms, eyeing him with dry amusement. “Of course you do.”
Draco smirked. “What can I say? I always want the best, Granger. You should try it sometime.”
She arched a brow, fully aware of the lingering, suggestive gaze he trailed over her body.
With a flick of her wand, her outfit transformed—morphing into a sleek grey pencil skirt that hugged her curves just right, a crisp white silk blouse, and black heels that accentuated the graceful lines of her legs, making her calves look effortlessly sculpted.
Before she could utter a word of protest, Draco seized her hand and, with a sharp crack, Apparated them straight into his office. As the disorientation settled, he smirked. “Can’t afford to waste precious time.”
Draco watched as Granger all but snatched the book from his hands before sinking into the dark green sofa in his office. Her eyes widened with unfiltered delight the moment she realised—it was a first edition.
“What type of coffee would you like, Granger?” he asked, leaning against his desk, watching her with amusement.
“Hmm,” she hummed distractedly, her head already buried in the pages, her fingers delicately tracing the spine as if she were touching something sacred.
Draco exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. The book had been an excellent strategy to lure her in, but a truly disastrous one if he actually wanted to have a conversation. She was utterly lost to the text, devouring the pages.
Damn it, Nott. This was your bloody stupid idea.
As much as Draco enjoyed watching her read, this wasn’t exactly helping him achieve his goal—getting Granger on a proper date and, more importantly, wooing her.
He figured she’d probably enjoy a cappuccino—though, considering she was used to drinking instant coffee, anything from his Italian coffee machine would be a significant upgrade. With a flick of his wand, he set the machine to brew a cappuccino with oat milk.
The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room, but not even that was enough to lure Granger away from her book.
"Granger, here’s your coffee. I figured anything would be an improvement over that murky sludge you usually drink," Draco drawled, effortlessly floating the cup in front of her.
Without so much as glancing up, she reached out blindly, fingers fumbling for the cup as her eyes remained glued to the pages. "Thanks," she muttered absently, taking a sip without a second thought.
Fuck! Why was it so bloody difficult to get this witch’s attention? This insufferable, infuriating, ridiculously brilliant, maddeningly sexy, utterly beautiful—errm—swotty, daft, impossible witch!
How the hell had he managed to shag Granger in the first place if he couldn’t even get her attention now?
Oh, fuck no.
The bloody potion. Surely that wasn't the only reason he got her attention, right?
He’d only been lucky enough to catch her interest before because of that stupid, sodding potion. And now that the effects had worn off? She wasn’t even sparing him a bloody glance.
“Hermione,” he called, wincing as he caught the unmistakable hint of desperation creeping into his voice.
At least it was enough to startle her. She blinked, finally tearing her gaze from the pages. “Oh, sorry. I got carried away,” she sighed.
Draco cleared his throat. This required a tactic shift.
“Hermione,” he tried again, his tone smoother, more deliberate. “I can lend you the book—you can take it with you and read it at your leisure.”
Draco arched a brow, watching as she practically caressed the book like it was some sort of treasured lover. Unbelievable. He never thought he’d sink so low as to be jealous of a bloody book
“Oh, thank you, but I’ve already read it… twice,” she said, her voice tinged with fondness as she ran her fingers reverently over the spine. “But I never get tired of the way the theorems are presented here. It’s brilliantly structured. And I’ve certainly never had the pleasure of reading a first edition annotated by the author .”
Draco exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.Salazar help him! He was competing with bloody Arithmancy equations for her attention.
“What I’m trying to say, Hermione, is that I’d very much like to have dinner with you—preferably sooner rather than later. But you, it seems, are infuriatingly difficult to pin down.”
She eyed him wryly. “Dinner… like a date dinner?”
“Yes, like a date dinner, Hermione.”
She cringed. She. Cringed.
Draco barely stopped himself from gaping at her.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, Malfoy,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair, “but I told you before—I don’t want a relationship. And a date? A date feels like the first step toward one.”
For fuck’s sake . What was it with this witch and her infuriating aversion to a relationship? Honestly, he just wanted to take her out to dinner, not propose with a bloody ring. Why, in the name of Salazar, was that so difficult?!
“Granger, I just want to get to know you better, that’s all. It’s dinner , not a bloody betrothal contract.”
"We could just shag, you know…” she teased.
“Absolutely not,” he scoffed, then paused, smirking. “I mean, we could have dinner first—I’ll be a proper gentleman, we’ll have a lovely evening, enjoy each other’s company… and then we can end the night with a truly spectacular, mind-blowing shag.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are so dramatic.”
Before he could retort, a loud, obnoxious beeping sound erupted from her wand.
“Oh, look at that—your fifteen minutes are up,” she said, standing abruptly and nearly colliding with his face.
“Granger, what about dinner?” he pressed.
“I’ll text you,” she called over her shoulder—then, with a sharp crack, she Disapparated.
Damn it. Not this again.