Chapter 7
Once again, Draco found himself on a mission—an urgent and imperative one. He needed to find, purchase, and master the art of using a Muggle contraption just so he could text Granger.
He was determined, strategizing his next steps… or at least, trying to, while Theo and Blaise took great pleasure in annoying the absolute hell out of him. They were gathered in the Manor’s Lounge—an inviting room, furnished with plush velvet sofas, a grand fireplace crackling in the corner, and a well-stocked drinks cabinet gleaming under the warm glow of enchanted sconces.
The three of them sat sprawled across the room, each with a tumbler of firewhisky in hand, the scent of aged oak and spice mingling in the air.
Draco shot Theo a sharp look. “How come you never told me you had one of those bloody Muggle contraptions and that you text Granger instead of owling her?”
Theo shrugged lazily. “You never asked. And let’s be honest, you’ve never shown even the slightest interest in Muggle technology.”
Blaise smirked, sipping his drink. “Yeah, I have one too. Red uses it to talk to Granger all the time. Honestly, it’s brilliant. Also, excellent for sexting when I’m in Italy.”
Draco nearly choked. “What the fuck, Blaise?! You too?! And what the hell is sexting?”
Blaise waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind that. Far too advanced for you. You need to start with the basics first—like turning the thing on.”
Before Draco could formulate a cutting response, Blaise’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and said casually, “Oh, look. Hermione just texted me.”
Draco’s eyes widened in sheer betrayal. “What?! Now you call her Hermione?! And she texts you?! What the fuck is going on?!”
He lunged, nearly wrenching Blaise’s arm off in his attempt to snatch the device.
“Oi! That hurt!” Blaise yelped, holding his phone out of reach. “Calm down, you lunatic! I just asked Red for her number! She’s a curse breaker, and not just any curse breaker—I need her expertise!”
Draco scowled, chest heaving, barely restraining himself from hexing them both into next week. This was officially the worst day of his life. Dark Mark and all included.
Theo raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly do you need Hermione’s expertise for?”
Draco’s eye twitched. Seriously? Theo was calling her Hermione now too?
Blaise smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “As you may very well know—” he shot Draco a pointed look, “Hermione is a renowned blood curse breaker. And let me tell you, she’s brilliant. Honestly, I’ve never seen someone with her level of expertise, her knowledge, her creativity—it’s actually quite amaz—”
Draco cut him off with an exasperated groan. “Yes, yes, we get it—Granger is a bloody genius!” He threw his hands in the air. “For Salazar’s sake, stop gushing and just get to the point!”
Blaise chuckled. “Anyway, my aunt’s family is dealing with a blood curse—one that came from her husband’s side. It only manifests in the female descendants, and unfortunately, my cousin has inherited it. Hermione —” he emphasized her name just to annoy Draco, “—has been experimenting with new methods to break blood curses, combining magical charms with Muggle science. So far, her results have been impressive, and I want her to take a look at my cousin’s case.”
“That’s… that’s actually brilliant,” Draco said, momentarily stunned. “Combining Muggle science with curse-breaking techniques—that’s…”
“Oh, look who’s gushing about Hermione now,” Theo drawled, smirking.
Draco groaned, rubbing his temples. “You two, stop wasting my time.”
Before Theo could protest, Draco grabbed him by the collar, hauling him up with the determination of a man on a mission.
“Oi! Where the hell are we going?” Theo yelped, trying to pry Draco’s hands off. “I know you’re desperate for Granger, but I really don’t think I’m a suitable replacement for the night.”
“Shut up, you twat,” Draco snapped. “We’re going to Muggle London. I need one of those bloody trinkets, and you’re going to help me buy one.”
Theo scoffed, brushing off his shirt with an exaggerated flourish. “Oh, so now I’m your official Muggle liaison? Brilliant. Just one tiny problem, Malfoy—most shops aren’t open at this ungodly hour.”
“Fine, I have the perfect solution,” Draco snapped, digging into Theo’s coat pockets without an ounce of shame. “I’ll just confiscate your little contraption, and you can get yourself a new one.”
“You absolute git! You can’t just steal my mobile—I’m in the middle of sexting someone!” Theo protested, swatting at Draco’s hands.
“I don’t give a fuck,” Draco retorted, triumphantly holding up the device. “And, for the record, I already took it.”
Blaise, watching the chaos unfold, let out a low chuckle. “Right. That’s my cue to leave before you two morons start hexing each other over a bloody mobile.”
Theo sighed dramatically. “Fine, keep it. But only because your tragic attempts to contact Hermione have been utterly pathetic. Honestly, it’s painful to watch you struggle like this.”
Theo’s mobile buzzed, lighting up with a new message. Draco glanced at the screen and read aloud, “ I’ll use the rubber yellow gloves and I’ll plunge a fi— ” He stopped, blinking in horror.
“For fuck’s sake, Theo! What's this? And who in Merlin’s name is crazy enough to send you that?”
“ Oh,” Theo said, glancing at the text before waving a dismissive hand. “Just ignore that.”
”What’s with all these tiny buttons? How is anyone supposed to write anything on this?” Draco grumbled, squinting at the screen like it had personally offended him.
Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Theo added: “You owe me big for this. I can already tell this is going to take an excruciating amount of time and personal sacrifice.” Shoulders slumping in resignation, he flopped onto the sofa like a man accepting his tragic fate.
He begrudgingly explained that, despite being a Muggle device, Granger had worked her magic—literally. She’d enchanted the battery so it would never drain, adjusted the reception to function even in wards that typically blocked Muggle tech, and, perhaps most impressively, made the entire thing unbreakable.
“Trust me,” Theo had said with a dramatic sigh. “I’ve dropped this thing down a flight of stairs, spilled firewhisky on it, and even accidentally threw it at Blaise once. Not a scratch.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Accidentally?”
Theo smirked. “Well, mostly.”
After no less than three grueling hours—and multiple near-death hexing incidents—Draco finally managed to string together a coherent message on the tiny Muggle thing.
By some miracle—and Theo’s endless suffering—he now had Granger’s number and even understood the sorcery behind sending a text. He had also, in a moment of sheer idiocy, managed to type “Granger’s tits should be classified as a national treasure”—an achievement that took a solid twenty minutes, plus another twenty just to correct his typos.
Progress, he supposed.
“Hand me that,” Theo huffed, snatching the mobile. “Let me just send Hermione a text letting her know this is no longer my mobile and now is yours—Merlin, help her.”
Draco shot him a sharp look but, begrudgingly, conceded.
Biting the tip of his tongue in concentration, Theo furiously jabbed at the absurdly tiny buttons, muttering under his breath, “ Stupid twat, stealing my phone. I swear, I deserve a huge compensation for this. ”After a painstaking moment, he finally shoved the mobile back into Draco’s hands with a smug smirk.
“There. Done. You’re officially a modern wizard. Try not to embarrass yourself or text something that’ll make her hex you.” Theo smirked.
Before Draco could even glance at his mobile, Theo blurted out in a suspiciously rushed tone, “Gotta go, early morning tomorrow!” He snatched a fistful of Floo powder and disappeared into the fireplace.
When he finally turned his attention to the contraption’s screen, his stomach dropped. His eyes scanned the message Theo had sent to Granger, and for a horrifying second, he genuinely considered fainting.
“Hermione, Draco threatened to hex me if I didn’t hand over my mobile, so now this is his. The poor twat was desperate, sorry. Here’s the first thing he managed to type: Granger’s tits should be classified as a national treasure. It took him nearly three hours, but expect one of his ridiculous texts soon.”
Draco let out a strangled noise—somewhere between a groan, and the final gasp of a dying man. That absolute menace. He had a new mission now. A mission of vengeance. Theodore Nott was a dead man walking.
A few minutes later, Draco’s newly acquired mobile buzzed in his hand. Dread coiled in his stomach as he glanced at the screen.
Hermione Granger: Oh, so you’ve finally joined the 21st century, Malfoy? I’m honored. Though, I must say, if my tits were to be classified as a national treasure, I’d demand a plaque and a public holiday.
Draco choked. That bloody witch.
Another buzz.
Hermione Granger: Also, it took you THREE HOURS to type that? Godric help you, Malfoy, this is going to be painful for both of us.
Draco scowled. He was never telling her how many typos there had actually been.
After a painstaking fifteen minutes—and only a handful of typos—Draco finally managed to type: “How do I send a scowl through this thing? I have a Muggle trinket. Now, have dinner with me tomorrow.”
Hermione Granger: “Merlin, Malfoy, even my gran types faster than you. I nearly dozed off waiting for your text. Fine. Pick me up tomorrow at 8—I can’t do any earlier.”
Draco Malfoy: “Cheeky, Granger. I was making sure my message had the proper gravitas—wouldn’t want to rush perfection. See you at 8.”
Hermione Granger: “And what exactly is the dress code for this grand event, Malfoy?”
Draco Malfoy: “Dress to impress, Granger. But don’t stress—I’d still take you out even if you showed up in one of those ghastly jumpers. Actually, scratch that. Not the jumpers. Anything but the jumpers.”
Hermione Granger: “Noted. No jumpers. Anyway, good night, Malfoy. Try not to be late tomorrow—wouldn’t want you spending too much time perfecting every strand of that ridiculous hair of yours.”
Draco Malfoy: “I’ll have you know, Granger, my hair routine is a work of art. I’ll be there at 8 sharp—try not to spend all night dreaming about me.”
Finally! He sighed. After nearly two weeks of frustration and what felt like hours of pure torment, Draco Malfoy was taking Hermione Granger on a date. The infernal Muggle trinket might have been a headache, but he had to admit—it had its perks.