Knock 'em Dead
The morning started quietly in the shared house. Hermione had woken first, the familiar stillness of the early hour making her feel at ease. But the memory of Draco’s irritation the last time she’d ventured out to the kitchen before him had stopped her in her track, and she’d decided to stay in her room until the others stirred. Writing in a journal, her pen following nothing but the stream of her consciousness, helped her ground herself and pass time until then.
When she finally emerged, she found Theo perched on the couch in the living room, his laptop balanced precariously on his knees. Dark circles showed under his eyes, the unforgiving light of his screen only making them more noticeable at first glance. He didn't look like he had slept at all. His focus was absolute, his fingers flying over the keyboard without pause. Hermione hesitated for a moment before heading to the kitchen.
She returned with two steaming cups of coffee. Setting one down on the table in front of Theo, she waited for him to notice. His typing slowed, and he glanced up, blinking in mild surprise. Their eyes met briefly before he gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment. Hermione offered a gentle smile and said softly, "We’re moving to the debriefing room."
Theo didn’t reply, simply closing his laptop with a decisive click and picking up the coffee. He followed her without a word, barely showing a hint of the exhaustion Hermione knew he had to feel.
When they entered the debriefing room, Draco was already there, seated with his own coffee mug in hand. He barely looked up, his attention fixed on a file he was reviewing, but the air around him carried his usual tension. Hermione set her own notebook down and glanced toward the doorway just as Blaise walked in, exuding his typical effortless charm.
"Morning, beautiful." Blaise said, accepting the cup of coffee Hermione handed him. His fingers brushed hers briefly, and the corner of his mouth quirked into a grin. As he passed by her, his hand settled lightly on her lower back, the touch lingering for a moment before he moved away to take his usual seat. Hermione felt her cheeks warm but quickly turned her attention to her notebook, willing herself to focus.
Ginny poked her head into the room, already half out the door. "Errands call." she announced with a bright smile. "Try not to set anything on fire while I’m gone." Her playful tone lightened the room briefly before she disappeared, leaving the core team to settle in.
Theo opened his laptop, the faint click of keys filling the silence before he spoke. "There's an auction." he began, his tone clipped and factual, no preamble to explain what he was talking about. "It's set to take place in three days. Exclusive guest list. Several big names in the art world are attending, including Smith and the auctioneer tied to Mary."
Blaise leaned back in his chair, balancing it precariously on two legs.
"Do you ever sleep, Theo?" he teased.
"Not when there’s work to be done," Theo replied matter-of-factly, his eyes fixed on the screen.
"What do we know about the auction itself? Security? Attendees?" Hermione redirected the conversation.
Theo tapped a few keys before answering. "High security. Minimal staff. Most attendees are collectors or intermediaries, not the sort who enjoy attention. Discretion is key."
"Which makes attending without suspicion even riskier." Draco finally looked up, his gaze sharp. "Do we have a solid cover?"
"We will," Hermione said, her voice sure, glancing at Blaise to check if he agreed since, more likely than not, he would be the one coming up with their cover story. He nodded in return . "Blaise and I will go undercover as buyers. Theo runs interference from here. And you—"
"I’ll come too." Draco cut in abruptly, his tone leaving no room for debate.
Hermione blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard.
"Are you sure that’s a good idea?" she asked carefully, her tone measured to avoid outright questioning his abilities. But the hidden message was pretty clear nonetheless.
He hadn't been the warmest person to have around and every single housemate had very clearly warned her about how prickly and unfriendly he was around people. Having Blaise as a partner in a social setting was a given. He knew how to make anybody comfortable, he was a social chameleon. Draco? Well, she could already imagine him somehow insulting someone without trying and picking a fight in the first five minutes.
Before Draco could respond, Blaise grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Actually, it’s not a bad idea. Malfoy’s probably more comfortable in art galleries and around pompous rich folk than either of us. He’s practically built for it." He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping into a mock whisper. "He's filthy loaded."
Draco’s jaw tightened, his eyes flicking toward Blaise with a look of displeasure that bordered on annoyance. It was nice to see he didn't reserve those just for her after all.
"Fascinating as your analysis of my upbringing is, Zabini, I’m more interested in making sure at least one person isn’t going to screw up and blow our cover."
The jab landed squarely at Hermione, and her posture stiffened. "If you have something more to say about how I handled Smith, just say it," she shot back, her tone sharper than intended.
"I think I just did." Draco said, his expression cold.
Blaise leaned back in his chair, letting the tension linger for a beat before cutting in with an exaggerated "Oooookay." dragging the word out with a grin as he glanced between the two. "Glad we’ve all got that out of our systems. Now, more importantly..." he pointed his finger at Hermione, wiggling it in the air between them. "You, lady. You're going to need a wardrobe upgrade. No offense, but I doubt they’ll take cardigans or pencil skirts seriously in that crowd."
Hermione rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. As Blaise’s remark hung in the air, she glanced down at her outfit—a simple cardigan over a beige T-shirt and slacks. What was wrong with that? she thought irritably, though the hint of a pout tugged at her lips.
"For your information," she said, lifting her chin slightly, "I do know how to clean up nice when I want to."
"Ginny should help." Theo cut in, his voice unbothered by the banter. Like everything else he said, this was stated as a fact, led—no doubt— by his complete lack of faith that Hermione could, indeed, manage it on her own. In the background Draco snorted mockingly although his eyes were down towards the file in his hands. Blaise, at the very least, had the decency to offer her a somewhat apologetic smile. Theo continued as if oblivious to the jab he had landed. "I’ll have profiles on key attendees ready by tonight. I’ll also map out the venue’s layout and mark possible access points."
"And I’ll make sure we have the auctioneer’s full background," Draco added, his tone clipped but efficient.
The plan was coming together, but Hermione felt a nervous energy buzzing inside her. She was unsure why, maybe it was the prospect of going undercover, maybe it was the small doubt the boys had instilled in her that she might mess it up somehow. She glanced at Blaise, who was now tapping his mug idly, and then at Draco, who was still reviewing the file Theo passed to him as he walked out of the room. Nothing in their dynamic had changed, like this was just another Tuesday. So Hermione forced herself to breathe through the budding anxiety.
A few hours later, Ginny returned, breezing into the kitchen with her usual upbeat rhythm. Hermione approached her hesitantly, quickly explaining Blaise’s suggestion—no, insistence—that she’d need a look overhaul to blend in at the auction. Ginny’s face lit up with enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling as she clapped her hands together.
"Oh, this is going to be so much fun!" Ginny said, already rattling off ideas for the perfect outfits.
Before Hermione could protest, Ginny grabbed her arm with a grin and pulled her out of the kitchen and towards the living room doorway.
"Let’s see what we’ve got in my closet first." Ginny continued. "No need to waste time shopping when I’ve already got half a boutique in my wardrobe. Theo!" she called out, her voice carrying. "Pull up the venue’s style profile and guest list for me, will you? I need inspiration."
Theo’s usual monotone voice floated back from the briefing room he had never left.
"Already on it."
As they walked through the living room, Hermione’s protests grew weaker. "Ginny, I—" she started, but Ginny cut her off with a bright laugh.
"Don’t worry, Hermione," Ginny said confidently. "By the time we’re done, you’ll look like you’ve been attending exclusive art auctions your whole life."
"She’ll look great no matter what," Blaise’s voice chimed in from the doorway. He leaned casually against the frame, his grin teasing as his eyes swept over Hermione. "But you know, I could offer some input too."
Hermione felt her cheeks warm as Blaise sauntered into the room. Ginny shot him an unimpressed look, hands on her hips.
"Oh, no you don’t. This is girls only."
"Why not? I’m great at picking out accessories," Blaise replied, his voice a mock whisper as he winked at Hermione.
"Somehow I doubt that." Hermione chuckled, rolling her eyes
Blaise smirked, clearly enjoying himself. "You’d be surprised. But fine, I’ll leave you to it. Just remember, Hermione, I’ll expect a full runway debut later." He lingered for a moment longer, his gaze playful, before Ginny physically turned him toward the door.
"Out," she said firmly, herding him back into the hallway. "We’ll call you when we’re done."
"He's really always like that, isn't he?" Hermione asked once he was out of view and her slight blush left her cheeks.
"Worse." Ginny said with a grin, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders and spinning her toward the hallway. "Alright, off to your room. Give me five minutes."
Hermione raised an eyebrow but followed the instruction, retreating to her bedroom with curiosity gnawing at her. True to her word, Ginny appeared a few minutes later, her arms piled high with an impressive assortment of dresses in every color and cut imaginable. With a flourish, she dumped the load onto Hermione’s bed and turned to lock the door behind her.
"Now," Ginny said with a mischievous glint in her eye, "Let the fashion show begin."
"Ginny, I don’t know about this," Hermione began, eyeing a particularly glittery dress with visible apprehension. "I’m not exactly… comfortable in things like these."
"Oh, hush," Ginny said, plucking the glittery dress from the pile and holding it up against Hermione. "This one first. And trust me, you’ll feel different when you see yourself in them."
Hermione groaned but complied, disappearing behind her wardrobe screen to change. The first dress was too tight in all the wrong places, and the second had sleeves so voluminous she joked she might take flight.
"I look ridiculous," Hermione complained, stepping out to smooth the fabric of yet another over-the-top gown.
Ginny, perched cross-legged on the bed, stifled a laugh as she tilted her head. "You’re just not used to it. Trust me, you’ll find the right one. But, fair… that one does look a bit… Victorian drapery." She laughed, dodging the throw pillow Hermione half-heartedly launched her way.
After a few more rounds of vetoed dresses—one too tight, another far too sparkly—Ginny produced a sleek, emerald green number that she pushed insistently into Hermione’s hands.
"This one. Try it. No complaints."
Hermione sighed but obeyed, slipping into the dress and emerging reluctantly. This time, Ginny’s reaction was immediate—her hands flew to her mouth as she clapped.
"Now that," Ginny declared, "is a game-changer. You look incredible."
Hermione glanced at her reflection in the mirror, her cheeks heating. The dress hugged her figure perfectly, the rich green bringing out the warm tones in her hair and eyes. "It’s… alright," she mumbled, smoothing the fabric self-consciously.
"Alright? Hermione, you look stunning. All the men will fall over themselves." Ginny teased with a smirk.
As if on cue, Blaise’s voice called from the hallway. "Whatever she’s wearing, make sure it’s green! She’d look great in green!"
"Does he ever stop?" Hermione groaned, her face flushing again, although a genuinely amused smile pulled at the corner of her lips.
"Not until he’s bored," Ginny replied with a grin. "Ignore him. He’s just likes the attention." she shook her head at the door as if Blaise could see it before looking at Hermione again. "So, how are you getting on? Really."
Hermione hesitated, fiddling with the edge of the dress. "It’s been… an adjustment," she admitted, her voice softer now. "Everything here feels so... intense."
Ginny’s expression softened. She leaned back against the bedpost, folding her legs beneath her.
"The boys are a handful, I’ll give you that. But once you figure them out, they’re manageable. Even Draco."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Draco seems like he hates everyone."
Ginny laughed, the sound light and genuine. She made herself at home against the small pile of pillows on Hermione's bed and patted a spot next to her in invitation. Hermione did as she was asked, sitting on the edge next to her.
"That’s just his default setting. He’s... complicated, but not impossible. Underneath all that brooding, he’s not as bad as he seems. Just don’t let him walk all over you. He respects people who push back."
"I think I’ve noticed." Hermione smiled softly, remembering that hint of respect in his eye the day before, that she was still unsure had been there at all.
Ginny tilted her head, watching Hermione closely. "And Blaise? How’s that going? He seems to have taken a liking to you."
"I think Blaise takes a liking to everybody. That's kind of what he does, isn't it?" she laughed in response, shaking her head.
"He’s a menace." Ginny corrected with a smirk. "But he’s harmless. Mostly. Just don’t let him distract you too much."
Hermione chuckled, feeling more at ease in this conversation with Ginny than she ever had since she stepped foot in this new environment with the singular goal in mind to learn how to fit in as quickly as possible. Ginny was easy to get along with, she reminded Hermione of Blaise in that way. But unlike Blaise, Ginny's kindness and her upbeat demeanour were familiar, calming. Infectious.
The conversation meandered as Ginny continued to dig through the remaining dresses. Just in case, she had said. Blaise, of course, made his presence known every few minutes, shouting through the door with suggestions that were equal parts helpful and absurd.
"No, gold! Actually, she should pick silver—it matches her eyes!" he had called once. "Strappy shoes! You can't go wrong with strappy shoes Gigi!" he had shouted through the door again later on.
As the pile of dresses dwindled, Hermione found herself relaxing more, the tension from the last few days slowly melting away. By the time they settled on the emerald green dress, the atmosphere had shifted and the sun was lowering itself down, the afternoon almost over already. Hermione hadn't even seen the time fly in Ginny's company, a feat that was difficult to achieve. Ginny put a hand on her shoulder gently, her earlier laughter settling down slowly.
"You’re going to do great." Ginny said softly, nudging Hermione. "You’ve got this. And if one of the boys gets too unbearable, just remember, you can actually hit them."
Hermione chuckled, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "Thanks, Ginny. I mean it."
"What are friends for?" Ginny replied with a wink.
Every now and then, laughter from the hallway reminded them both that Blaise’s antics weren’t likely to end anytime soon, but for now, the two women shared a moment of camaraderie that Hermione hadn't expected when she had been dropped off here in the first place. She knew things weren't going to become easy all of a sudden, but thanks to Ginny's intervention, Hermione now felt like maybe, just maybe she could actually manage it in time. She had told herself the exact same thing time and time again for the last few days, but right here, right now, it was the first time she caught herself actually believing it.
The next two days passed in a blur of activity. The team worked tirelessly to craft airtight cover stories and compile profiles on nearly every attendee expected at the auction. Theo seemed to thrive under the pressure, producing detailed dossiers and layout maps of the venue. Hermione was starting to worry about what little sleep he appeared to get however. Blaise spent his time rehearsing the finer points of their buyer personas, often teasing Hermione about her “artistic tastes” as she committed key details to memory. Draco, true to form, offered curt but invaluable insights on the habits and behaviors of high-society collectors, though his interactions with Hermione remained as clipped as ever.
Now, on the night of the auction, Hermione stood in her room, staring at her reflection. Ginny had spent the last hour helping her get ready, her hands moving deftly to secure the sleek updo that left the curve of Hermione’s neck elegantly exposed. The emerald green dress they’d chosen fit her perfectly, the silver necklace accentuating both the neckline of the dress and the soft swell of her breasts peeking from it. High heels completed the look, elongating her lean frame. Ginny had even convinced her to wear a bold red lipstick, a final flourish that made Hermione feel both nervous and... powerful.
“You look incredible.” Ginny said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Trust me, everyone’s going to be speechless.”
Hermione’s cheeks flushed, but she managed a small laugh. “Thanks, Ginny.”
Before Ginny could respond, Draco’s voice echoed sharply from downstairs.
“Granger, we’re going to be late!”
“He’s worse than a clock." Ginny rolled her eyes. "Go knock ‘em dead, Hermione. And don’t let him get to you.”
With one last glance at the mirror and a deep breath to steady herself, Hermione stepped out of her room, the sound of her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor. She descended the stairs carefully, one hand hovering over the railing. The faint murmur of voices from below grew steadily louder as she approached the bottom of the stairs.
Blaise was the first to notice her. He was lounging on the arm of a chair, dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit paired with a crisp white shirt and a tie in deep emerald green that matched her dress. His hair was styled with casual precision, an expensive looking earing glinting against his dark skin. His expression shifted to one of delighted surprise when his gaze landed on her.
“Well, well,” he drawled, standing as she reached the bottom of the stairs. His eyes swept over her appreciatively, his grin widening. “You clean up nicely. Nicely might actually be an understatement.” His footsteps led him right in front of her, his hand gently lending on her bare arm. "You look gorgeous." he offered, as genuine as she'd ever heard him.
Hermione felt the warmth rise to her cheeks but held his gaze, managing a small, self-conscious smile. “Thank you, Blaise. You're very handsome yourself.” she replied, her voice steady. The flirtatious undertone that accompanied each conversation with Blaise was starting to become more comfortable, more second nature to her.
Draco, standing near the door with his arms crossed, glanced up as Blaise spoke. He was dressed in a sharp black suit with subtle silver detailing that caught the light when he moved. His tie was a deep, muted grey, nicely complementing his pale complexion and an almost perfect replica to the stormy grey of his eyes. For a moment, his expression remained impassive as he took her in, his gaze lingering just a fraction too long on the curve of her neck and the shimmer of the silver necklace against her collarbones.
“Let’s go.” he said curtly, his tone clipped but lacking its usual bite. He turned toward the door but paused briefly, as if he wanted to say more. Instead, he exhaled through his nose and added, “We’re late.”
Blaise chuckled, leaning slightly toward Hermione as Draco walked ahead. “That’s Malfoy-speak for ‘you look amazing.’ Just so you know.”
Hermione shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips though she didn't doubt that Blaise had made up that last fact for her benefit. He gracefully offered her her coat and after slipping it on she followed them toward the door. There was a tension in the air—not unpleasant, but electric, charged with anticipation. The night ahead was going to be challenging, regardless of the amount of preparations they had made. Hermione could just feel it. But for now, she allowed herself just a few minutes to feel beautiful and powerful, just a little bit. After all, she'd need to embody both to get out of this night unscathed.