Hermione and Draco had come a long way since their school days. It had started small—a few professional interactions at the Ministry, which gradually turned into genuine conversations, and, over time, an unspoken friendship. Draco had grown up, and Hermione had moved beyond the prejudices of their past. They now found themselves in a strange, comfortable rhythm as friends, something Hermione never expected but welcomed.
Hermione often wondered when it shifted. Maybe it was after Draco had made an offhand comment about how the Ministry cafeteria's coffee was worse than a first-year's Polyjuice Potion, making her laugh. Or perhaps it was the time he had quietly helped her with a tricky case involving ancient artifacts that only someone with Draco's knowledge of pure-blood history could solve. They had started meeting for casual lunches, sharing gossip and venting about work. Soon enough, Hermione found herself relying on Draco in a way she hadn’t thought possible.
So, when she was invited to a prestigious gala to be honored for her recent contributions to magical law, it only felt natural to invite Draco as her date—or, at least, what she had hoped would be a date. She spent days nervously wondering if she was reading more into their friendship than he intended.
The night of the gala arrived. Hermione stood at the entrance, heart racing. She had chosen an opulent gown, a strapless masterpiece of shimmering gold and silver, the bodice fitted tightly to accentuate her slender frame. The dress cascaded down in layers of delicate lace, each tier edged with midnight blue embroidery and sparkling beads that caught the light with every movement, reminiscent of a starlit night. It was a gown fit for the grandest of occasions, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel regal as she took Draco’s arm upon entering.
The ballroom was magnificent. Golden chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting a soft, warm glow across the room. Elegant round tables, covered in deep emerald tablecloths, dotted the floor, each one set with delicate silverware and gleaming crystal glasses. The scent of roses and jasmine filled the air, their arrangements perched in silver vases at every table. Couples danced in the center of the room, their robes swirling in time to the music as an orchestra played a slow, melodic waltz.
Draco whistled softly as they stepped inside. “Hermione, you look—”
She blushed, her heart leaping in her chest. “Thanks. I’m glad you could come tonight. I was worried you’d be too busy.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Draco responded smoothly, his eyes scanning the room. “Besides, how often do I get to attend these things with a war heroine?”
Hermione smiled, but her stomach fluttered nervously. She had hoped Draco would have noticed how special tonight was for her—how special she had hoped it would be for them.
They found their table near the front of the ballroom, positioned perfectly to give them a clear view of the stage where Hermione would soon be honored. Draco pulled out her chair with surprising politeness, something that only made Hermione’s heart thud harder.
"Relax, Granger," Draco murmured as they sat down. "It’s just a bit of recognition. No need to be nervous."
She smiled nervously, her fingers gripping the edges of her gown. "I know, it’s just... it’s a lot. I didn’t expect this much attention."
"You're the brightest witch of your age, remember? Of course, they'd make a big deal out of it." Draco’s words were sincere, and for a moment, Hermione let herself hope that he saw her as more than just a friend.
But as the evening progressed, and the champagne began to flow, things took an unfortunate turn.
It started innocently enough. Draco excused himself to get a drink, leaving Hermione at the table with a few of their Ministry colleagues. She chatted politely with them, but her eyes kept drifting to where Draco had gone, her heart hoping he’d come back quickly. She was beginning to feel like an outsider at her own celebration.
She spotted him at the bar, a flute of champagne in his hand—and beside him was a tall, statuesque blonde witch, draped in a skin-tight gown of dark red that left very little to the imagination. The witch’s hair was perfectly styled, cascading in soft waves over her shoulders, and her lips were painted a bold crimson to match her dress.
At first, Hermione tried not to think too much of it. Draco was social, and he often attracted attention. But as the minutes ticked by, her stomach sank. She watched as the blonde witch giggled at something Draco said, her fingers lightly trailing down his arm. Draco, for his part, seemed more than pleased with the attention. He leaned in close, his lips forming that cocky smirk that Hermione knew all too well.
She forced herself to look away, trying to engage in conversation with her colleagues, but every laugh from Draco and the blonde seemed to echo in her ears. Each time she glanced over, Draco was leaning in a little closer, smiling a little brighter, and Hermione could feel the ache in her chest grow.
After what felt like an eternity, she saw Draco lead the witch to a quieter corner near the ballroom’s edge, away from the crowd. He was completely engrossed in his conversation with her, his full attention fixed on the blonde. The way he leaned casually against the bar, his body angled toward her, and the easy charm on his face—it was a scene Hermione had seen far too many times before.
But this time it hurt. Badly.
Her heart twisted painfully as she watched him. The gala was supposed to be her night, and she had invited Draco because—well, because she had hoped it could be more than just friendship. She had dressed up for him, imagined dancing with him, laughing with him. Instead, she was sitting alone, watching the man she had been quietly falling for flirt shamelessly with someone else.
It wasn’t until the end of the night that the final blow came. Draco approached her, the blonde witch still hanging off his arm.
“Oh, Hermione,” he said, oblivious to her pained expression, “I was just about to head to the Floo. This is Evelyn,” he introduced his date casually. “I think I’ll be heading home with her.”
Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course, Draco. Have a good night.”
His grin was bright as he gave her a quick nod, turning and disappearing with Evelyn into the green flames of the Floo. And just like that, he was gone—leaving Hermione standing alone in the middle of the grand ballroom, surrounded by strangers and the fading warmth of what could have been. Her chest felt hollow, a gaping ache where hope had once lived.
The ballroom, once magnificent and alive, now felt too large, too empty. She stood there for a moment; her breath shaky as she tried to gather herself. It wasn’t just that Draco had left with another witch—it was that he hadn’t seen her. Not really. Not in the way she had wanted him to. She had spent the entire night watching him be effortlessly charming with someone else, while she had foolishly hoped that maybe, just maybe, tonight would be different.
Her hands clenched at her sides as she smiled tightly at the remaining guests, excusing herself with murmured goodbyes. Her feet felt like lead as she walked toward the exit, the laughter and music fading into the background. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough, each step heavier than the last as her heart thudded painfully in her chest.
Outside the grand doors of the ballroom, the cool night air hit her skin like a splash of cold water, but it did little to ease the ache building inside her. She apparated home in a rush, the familiar surroundings of her flat providing no comfort as she stood in the middle of her living room, the echo of Draco’s departure still ringing in her ears.
The apartment felt eerily quiet as she stepped inside, her heels clicking against the hardwood floors. The echo was deafening in the stillness. She kicked her shoes off at the door, the sharp click of them hitting the floor making her wince. Each step felt heavier than the last as she trudged toward her bedroom.
When she finally stood in front of the mirror, her breath hitched. The dress that had made her feel like a queen now felt like a costume. She had worn it thinking tonight would be magical, that Draco would see her—really see her—and they’d share something beyond friendship. But all it had been a night where she stood by, unnoticed, while he found someone else.
She turned away from her reflection, her chest tightening as she fumbled with the clasp at the back of her gown. Her fingers shook, and she bit her lip to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. When she finally managed to undo the clasp, the gown slipped down her body, pooling at her feet in a soft, shimmering heap. She stepped out of it, standing in her undergarments in the dim light of her room, feeling more vulnerable than ever.
Her skin felt cold without the luxurious fabric, and the room seemed to press in on her. She peeled off her jewelry—each ring, bracelet, and earring felt heavier than they had all night. One by one, she set them down on her vanity with trembling hands, each piece a stark reminder of the evening’s painful failure.
Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, pulling her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs, burying her face in them as the first tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another, and then another. The sobs came quietly at first, then harder, her body shaking with the weight of the disappointment, the rejection, the heartbreak she had tried so hard to hide all night.
She had been so foolish. How could she have let herself believe that Draco Malfoy, of all people, could ever feel the same way about her? That they could be something more than just friends?
She thought about the way he had smiled at Evelyn, the way his eyes had lit up in a way they never had when he looked at her. She thought about how easily he had left her alone at the gala, not even bothering to look back. The sting of it cut deep, a fresh wave of tears spilling over as she curled up on the bed, pulling the blanket around her like a shield against the pain.
The night she had imagined—the moment she had hoped would change everything between them—had ended in a way she hadn’t expected. Instead of magic, there was only heartache. Instead of a new beginning, she was left with a bitter end.
She cried herself to sleep that night, her heart heavy with disappointment and unspoken feelings, knowing that when morning came, the weight of it all would still be there, lingering like an unhealed wound.
Draco was still riding the high from Friday night as he lounged in his flat. The gala had been... entertaining. He hadn’t expected to meet someone like Evelyn—a witch with all the right curves and the kind of easy charm that made the night fly by.
As he relaxed on his couch, there was a knock at the door. Blaise Zabini, looking as nonchalant as ever, strolled in, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Malfoy,” he greeted. “Heard about your big night. How was it?”
Draco smirked, crossing his arms. “Better than expected. Met someone, Evelyn. Merlin, she was stunning. You should have seen her—blonde, legs for days, and funny, too. We had a fantastic time.”
Blaise raised an eyebrow, his tone sharp with curiosity. “Evelyn, huh? And how did Granger feel about that?”
Draco waved his hand dismissively. “Hermione? She was fine. She invited me as her plus one; nothing more. We laughed, chatted, and then I met Evelyn. I’m sure Hermione understands—she knows we’re just friends.”
Blaise blinked, his expression hardening. “Wait. You’re telling me you think Hermione invited you to her gala just as a friend?”
Draco frowned, confused. “What else would it have been?”
Blaise sighed dramatically. “Merlin’s beard, Malfoy, are you daft? Hermione invited you as her date, you complete idiot.”
Draco scoffed. “You’re overthinking it, Blaise. Hermione doesn’t see me that way.”
Blaise gave him a long, exasperated look. “Mate, you need to pull your head out of your arse. She was hoping for more, and you left her for some random witch at her own bloody celebration.”
Draco paused; the certainty he had once felt starting to waver. But he quickly shook his head, refusing to let doubt creep in. “She’s never hinted at anything more than friendship.”
Blaise chuckled darkly. “Maybe that’s because you’re too blind to see it. But hey, keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”
As Blaise left, Draco sat in silence, the words echoing in his mind. Had he really missed something?
Hermione’s POV
Monday morning dawned grey and unwelcoming, perfectly matching Hermione's mood. The weekend had been a whirlwind of emotions that left her emotionally exhausted, and now she had to face the one person she absolutely didn’t want to see—Draco Malfoy.
As she stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, Hermione steeled herself for the day ahead. Dark circles lingered under her eyes; a reminder of the restless nights spent overthinking Friday’s gala. Her heart still ached; the weight of disappointment heavy in her chest. She hadn’t told anyone about how she truly felt—not even Ginny, and that was saying something.
"Get it together," she muttered to herself, smoothing down the front of her robes and taking a deep breath. "He's just a friend. Just a friend who… has no idea he broke your heart."
But the thought only made her stomach twist painfully. The more she reflected on it, the more certain she became that she needed to create distance between them. It was the only way she could heal and move forward. She couldn't keep pretending that spending time with Draco didn’t affect her. She couldn’t keep lying to herself.
As she apparated to the Ministry, her mind was made up: avoid him at all costs.
The moment Hermione stepped into the Auror Department, she could already feel the tension building. She had timed her arrival to be later than usual, hoping that Draco would already be buried in work, giving her enough of a head start to avoid any unnecessary interactions.
Her plan, however, was quickly put to the test.
“Hermione!” Harry called from his office door, waving her over as he leaned casually against the frame.
Hermione hesitated but forced a smile, walking briskly toward him. “Morning, Harry.”
“Morning,” he said with a grin, but his expression quickly turned curious as he gave her a once-over. “You alright? You seem… a bit off.”
Hermione forced a laugh. “Just tired. Didn’t get much sleep over the weekend.”
Harry eyed her, clearly not buying it but choosing not to press. “Well, we’ve got a busy day. Draco and Theo are already here. We’ll be meeting in the conference room in—”
“I can’t,” Hermione interrupted, feeling her pulse quicken. “I mean, I’ll be working from my office today. There’s paperwork I need to catch up on.”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “You’re skipping the morning meeting? Since when do you pass on those?”
Hermione fumbled for an excuse. “There’s a backlog of cases. I… I just really need to focus on that.”
Harry gave her a long, scrutinizing look before sighing. “Alright, if you say so. Just… don’t work yourself into the ground, yeah?”
She nodded, offering him a quick, tight-lipped smile. “I won’t. Thanks, Harry.”
Hermione quickly turned on her heel and practically fled down the hallway toward her office. The sooner she could disappear behind her desk, the better.
By the time noon rolled around, Hermione had avoided any direct contact with Draco. She had buried herself in case files, determined not to leave her office unless necessary. If anyone came by, she used quick, efficient answers, making sure no one lingered for small talk.
But it wasn’t long before her resolve started to weaken.
Sitting behind her desk, staring at the latest report in front of her, Hermione sighed heavily. Her heart still stung every time she thought about Draco and the gala. How he had left with Evelyn, completely unaware of how much that moment had hurt her. How she had felt so invisible standing there, watching him laugh and flirt with someone else. The ache in her chest flared up again, and she knew this wasn’t something she could just brush aside.
She needed space. Real space. Distance from Draco to give her heart time to heal.
But how was she supposed to do that when they worked together every single day?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Hermione’s heart sank when she heard the voice she had been dreading.
“Granger?” Draco’s voice called from the other side of her office door, sounding as casual and unaware as ever. “You in there?”
Her pulse quickened. Why now?
Hermione sat frozen for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. She glanced at the clock. It was lunchtime—perfectly normal for Draco to be checking in, maybe to see if she wanted to grab something to eat like they often did. But today, the very thought of facing him made her heart pound in fear and embarrassment.
“Granger?” Draco knocked again, this time more insistent. “You can’t avoid me all day.”
Oh, but I can, she thought, quickly flicking her wand to lock the door. She knew it was childish, but she wasn’t ready. Not yet. Not after Friday. Not after the way her heart had shattered when she’d watched him leave with someone else, completely oblivious to the fact that she had wanted it to be him and her, not him and Evelyn.
There was a long pause, and she could imagine Draco standing on the other side of the door, frowning, trying to figure out why she wasn’t answering. “You’re being weird, Granger,” he finally called, his voice sounding closer to the door. “But alright. I’ll catch you later, then.”
Hermione waited, her heart hammering in her chest, listening until his footsteps faded away.
She slumped back in her chair, covering her face with her hands. This was ridiculous. But how was she supposed to act like everything was fine when, deep down, she felt as though everything had fallen apart? She had spent so long pretending that her feelings for Draco were purely platonic, but that was no longer the case. She was in too deep, and now she had to deal with the consequences.
As much as it hurt, she knew she had to protect herself.
Draco’s POV
Draco strolled into the Ministry on Monday morning, feeling confident as always. The weekend had been relatively peaceful after the gala, and he was ready to start a productive week. The memory of Friday night, with Evelyn hanging on his arm, still brought a satisfied smirk to his face. He’d expected the gala to be tedious, but it had turned out surprisingly enjoyable. He figured Hermione had been too caught up in her moment to notice when he left, but they would catch up today, as usual.
Or so he thought.
Draco scanned the bustling office of the Auror Department, searching for the familiar sight of wild curls bent over a stack of paperwork or firing off instructions. Usually, Hermione was the first one in, and they’d exchange a few sarcastic remarks before starting the day. Yet now, her desk was conspicuously empty.
He frowned, adjusting his collar as he headed towards Harry’s office. He hadn’t seen Hermione all morning, and that was unusual. Surely, she wouldn’t miss the morning meeting. Hermione never missed anything.
As he approached Harry, who was leaning casually against the doorframe of his office, he asked, "Where’s Granger? She’s not at her desk."
Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco’s inquiry. "Oh, she’s working from her office today. Said she’s catching up on paperwork."
Draco’s frown deepened. "Paperwork? Skipping a meeting? That doesn’t sound like her."
Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I thought it was odd too, but she seemed pretty insistent."
Draco nodded, but something didn’t sit right with him. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was a gnawing feeling in his gut. It’s nothing, he told himself. She’s just working. Maybe she had a rough weekend.
But by noon, Draco’s unease had grown into full-blown frustration. He hadn’t seen Hermione once, not even when he made a trip to the file room, where she usually spent at least part of her mornings. She hadn’t come by his desk, and when he’d stopped by hers earlier, it was empty, save for a few scattered documents. It was almost like she was… avoiding him.
No. That couldn’t be it. Why would she avoid him?
Draco leaned back in his chair, staring at the stack of papers in front of him without really seeing them. He drummed his fingers on the desk, trying to shake the weird feeling that something was off. Hermione was acting… differently.
By the time lunchtime rolled around, Draco had made up his mind. He would find out what was going on.
As he walked toward her office, Draco replayed the events of the gala in his head, searching for anything that might explain her behavior. Everything had seemed normal—at least, from his perspective. They’d arrived together, he’d complimented her, and then…
His steps faltered for a moment as his memory sharpened on the moment, he’d left her at the gala. He had introduced Evelyn, and Hermione had smiled—hadn’t she? She had seemed fine, right?
He quickened his pace, shaking the thoughts from his mind. She was probably just busy. There was no way this was about Friday night. But as Draco reached her office door and knocked, his unease returned.
"Granger?" he called, leaning casually against the doorframe. "You in there?"
No answer.
Draco frowned. He knocked again, louder this time. "Granger, open up. You can’t avoid me all day."
Still nothing.
Now, Draco’s frustration began to mount. Was she seriously ignoring him? He had been nothing but himself at the gala, and if this was reaction to that night, he needed to know why.
He pressed his ear to the door, listening. The soft shuffling of papers told him she was inside, but she clearly wasn’t planning on answering.
"Granger," he said again, his voice quieter this time, a tinge of confusion slipping through. "What the hell’s going on?"
A tense silence followed, confirming what he already suspected. She was avoiding him.
Draco stepped back from the door, running a hand through his hair in frustration. This wasn’t like her at all. Sure, they bickered sometimes, but it was always light-hearted, part of the rhythm they’d developed. This… this was different.
"You're being weird, Granger," Draco called out, his voice exasperated. "But alright. I’ll catch you later, then."
As he turned to walk back to his office, Blaise’s voice rang in his head, sharp and mocking: “You need to pull your head out of your arse. She was hoping for more, and you left her for some random witch at her own bloody celebration.”
Draco shook his head. No. Blaise had to be wrong. Hermione had never given him any indication that she saw him as anything more than a friend. They were colleagues. They joked, they worked, they argued—that was their relationship. Right?
But as he walked back to his office, doubt gnawed at him. What if Blaise had been right? What if Hermione had been hurt by the way he’d left with Evelyn at the gala? He hadn’t even thought about it at the time, but now…
Draco sat down heavily at his desk, staring blankly at the stack of paperwork in front of him. His mind replayed the gala again, this time with more scrutiny. He remembered the way she had looked that night—Hermione had put in more effort than usual. The dress, the smile that hadn’t quite reached her eyes… and then the way she had told him goodbye. It had been so casual, so un-Hermione. Had she been upset?
You complete idiot, Blaise’s voice echoed in his head, louder now.
Draco groaned inwardly, sinking back into his chair. Could she really have thought…
No, that didn’t make sense. He hadn’t seen anything between them—no hints, no subtle gestures. Hermione wasn’t the type to play games. If she liked him, she would have said something, wouldn’t she?
But as the day dragged on and Hermione continued to avoid him, Draco’s certainty began to crumble. She had wanted something more, and he had been too blind to see it.
The more he thought about it, the more obvious it became. She had been excited for him to be there. They had gone to the gala together, and he had left her for some random witch without a second thought. What if she had seen it as a date? What if he had completely misread the situation?
The knot in Draco’s chest tightened, guilt creeping in where confusion once sat.
How could I be so blind?
His gaze drifted back toward Hermione’s empty desk. She was hiding from him—there was no other explanation. She didn’t want to face him because he had hurt her, and she hadn’t said anything because… because she was Hermione. Always keeping things to herself, always trying to maintain control, even when she was hurting.
Draco groaned softly, running a hand through his hair. He had to fix this. He couldn’t let her avoid him forever, not when he had been the one to mess everything up.
I screwed up, he admitted to himself for the first time, the weight of the realization settling in.
And now, he wasn’t sure how to make things right.
Hermione’s POV
Hermione flooed home that Monday afternoon, still feeling the weight of the day’s tension hanging over her. Avoiding Draco had taken more energy than she expected, and the guilt of dodging his knocks at her office door had settled heavily in her chest. All she wanted was to hide away in her flat, have a cup of tea, and maybe, just maybe, not think about Draco Malfoy for a few hours.
But when she stepped out of her fireplace, she was greeted by the sight of three very familiar witches lounging on her sofa, each holding a glass of wine.
“Hermione!” Ginny exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she jumped up to greet her. “We’ve been waiting for you!”
“What—what’s going on?” Hermione asked, bewildered. “Why are you all here?”
Luna smiled dreamily from where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Oh, Ginny said you might need some company today. And I thought it was a lovely idea to drop by for some girl time. You know, to clear the Nargles.”
Ginny snorted. “More like to clear the ‘stupid boys’,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’ve been acting off all weekend, so we figured something happened.”
Pansy Parkinson, leaning back against the armrest with a perfectly arched brow, raised her glass in a casual salute. “Spill, Granger. What did Malfoy do this time? Because if it’s not him, I’ll eat my words.”
Hermione sighed, suddenly feeling both grateful and overwhelmed by their presence. She hadn’t been sure who to turn to after Friday night—she had avoided talking to anyone about it—but here they were, ready to listen, and maybe that was exactly what she needed.
She took a deep breath, slipping off her shoes before collapsing onto the armchair. “It’s Malfoy. Of course, it’s Malfoy.”
Ginny groaned sympathetically, sinking back into the cushions. “I knew it. What did he do?”
Hermione hesitated, biting her lip. How was she supposed to explain that she had foolishly thought inviting Draco to the gala was something more—only for him to leave with another witch without even realizing how much it hurt her?
Luna tilted her head, her expression serene. “You’re still carrying it around, aren’t you? The hurt from Friday?”
Hermione nodded slowly, looking down at her hands. “I invited him to the gala thinking… I don’t know, thinking it would be something special between us. But he didn’t see it that way. He left with some blonde witch—Evelyn—and I just stood there like an idiot.”
Ginny’s mouth dropped open. “He left with someone else. After you invited him as your date?”
Pansy let out a low whistle, sipping her wine with a smirk. “Typical. Classic Malfoy. Completely blind to the obvious.”
“He didn’t even realize it was a date,” Hermione added quietly, feeling the embarrassment burn in her chest again. “I thought maybe he’d see me… differently. But no. He just went off with her like it was nothing.”
Ginny groaned, setting her wine down and leaning forward. “Okay, first, he’s an idiot. A complete and utter idiot. You’ve been spending all this time together, and he didn’t even think that you might have feelings for him?”
Pansy snorted, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. “This is Malfoy we’re talking about. He probably didn’t think beyond who he could impress with his charm. He’s thick-headed like that.”
“But he’s also kind,” Luna added softly, her eyes distant as she fiddled with a charm bracelet on her wrist. “He doesn’t know he’s hurt you, Hermione. Not really. Malfoys aren’t used to these kinds of things—they miss the little signs.”
Ginny nodded vigorously. “Exactly! That’s what I was saying. He’s clueless, Hermione. You probably just need to be more obvious. Slap him across the face with your feelings or something.”
Hermione laughed despite herself, running a hand through her messy curls. “Yeah, I’ll just send him an owl saying, ‘Hey Draco, in case you didn’t notice, I’m in love with you. P.S., you’re an idiot.’”
“I would actually pay to see his reaction,” Pansy remarked dryly, taking another sip of wine.
Ginny grinned. “You know what? That’s not a terrible idea.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m not writing Draco a letter confessing my feelings. I just… I don’t even know what to do now. I’ve been avoiding him all day, and I don’t know how to face him after what happened.”
“Well, first off,” Ginny said, crossing her arms, “stop avoiding him. That’s just going to make him think something’s wrong. You know how paranoid Draco can get—he’ll probably assume you’re angry about something else entirely.”
“She’s right, you know,” Pansy chimed in. “Malfoy hates being kept in the dark. He’ll drive himself mad trying to figure out why you’re acting weird. And trust me, you don’t want him to come up with his own theories. His brain isn’t wired for that kind of subtlety.”
Luna smiled gently. “Maybe instead of avoiding him, you should just… be honest. Tell him that it hurt when he left with someone else. That you thought it was something more.”
Hermione winced. “I can’t. I don’t think I’m ready to put it all out there. What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if he laughs it off?”
Pansy raised an eyebrow. “If he laughs, I’ll hex him into next week. But I doubt he will. Malfoy’s not that stupid.”
Ginny shot Hermione a reassuring smile. “Look, Hermione, we’re your friends, and we’ll support you no matter what. But I think you’ll feel better once you get everything out in the open. Whether that’s today or later, you need to talk to him. Otherwise, you’ll just keep torturing yourself like this.”
Luna nodded in agreement. “You can’t keep carrying the weight of this unspoken feeling. It will only grow heavier.”
Hermione sat back, staring at her friends. Each of them had a point—different perspectives, but all revolving around the same central truth. If she didn’t talk to Draco, if she didn’t at least try to address what had happened, the ache in her chest wouldn’t go away. It would fester, and avoiding him forever wasn’t a solution.
“I don’t know,” she murmured, her voice soft. “I need to think about it.”
“That’s alright,” Luna said gently. “Take your time. But remember, the longer you hold it in, the harder it will be to heal.”
Ginny smiled brightly, leaning over to give Hermione a tight squeeze. “You’ve got this, Hermione. No matter what happens, you’re not alone in this. We’re here, and we’ve got your back.”
Draco’s POV
Meanwhile, across London, Draco was pacing in his flat, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. He had spent the entire day trying to make sense of why Hermione was avoiding him. It was driving him mad.
"Bloody hell, Granger, what the hell did I do?"
He’d been knocking on her office door like some madman, and she hadn’t even had the decency to tell him off. She just ignored him. Ignored him!
Draco collapsed onto the sofa, his mind racing with every possible reason why Hermione would avoid him all day. “I didn’t do anything, did I?” he muttered to himself, but the doubt crept in.
You left her at the gala… a little voice in his head whispered, but he quickly dismissed it. That couldn’t be it. They were just friends. She hadn’t cared that he left with Evelyn… right?
Just as he was about to collapse into a full spiral of confusion, the fireplace flared up, and Theo Nott stepped out, dusting some soot off his robes with an exaggerated flourish.
“Malfoy!” Theo grinned as he spotted Draco slumped on the sofa. “Merlin, you look like a Hippogriff sat on you.”
Draco groaned, rubbing his temples. “Not now, Theo.”
Theo, of course, ignored the plea and flopped down next to him, an annoying grin still plastered on his face. “So, tell me. Did Granger finally hex you into oblivion? I noticed she was avoiding you all day at work. Very suspicious, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask you,” Draco snapped, but his frustration was clear. “She’s been avoiding me all day, and I don’t know why. I mean, I tried talking to her, knocking on her office door. Nothing.”
Theo raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Interesting. Very interesting. So, what did you do?”
Draco threw his hands up in exasperation. “I didn’t do anything! That’s the problem. She’s the one acting weird.”
Theo smirked, crossing his arms. “Weird how? Did she hex you and wipe your memory? Because that would explain how you’ve managed to miss the obvious.”
Draco glared. “Miss what, exactly?”
“Oh, you know,” Theo drawled, clearly enjoying the moment. “How she invited you as her date to the gala, and you left with some random witch without even realizing it was a date?”
Draco blinked. “What?”
Theo rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh, come on, Draco. You’re telling me you didn’t realize Granger invited you to the gala because she wanted to spend time with you? She looked like she’d been hit by a Bludger when you left with Evelyn.”
Draco’s stomach twisted. He sat up straighter, suddenly feeling like he’d been hexed. “She… what? I thought we were just going as friends. She never said anything about—”
“Mate,” Theo interrupted, shaking his head with an amused sigh, “sometimes you’re too dense for your own good. You don’t need her to spell it out in a bloody letter. She invited you to her big night, got all dressed up, and you ditched her for some random blonde.”
Draco opened his mouth to argue but found himself at a loss for words. He thought back to the gala—Hermione had been quieter than usual, sure, but he’d just assumed it was nerves. He hadn’t realized… hadn’t considered…
“Oh, Merlin,” he muttered, suddenly feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. “I didn’t… I didn’t know.”
Theo clapped him on the shoulder, his grin wide. “Well, now you do. So, what are you going to do about it?”
Draco groaned, sinking back into the sofa. “I have no idea.”
“Good thing you’ve got me,” Theo said with a wink. “Otherwise, you’d be hopeless.”
Draco shot him a look. “You’re not helping.”
“Oh, but I am,” Theo replied with a mischievous grin. “Now, let’s plan how you’re going to grovel, because, mate, you’re going to need to grovel hard.”
It had been two weeks since the gala fiasco, and Hermione was still steadfastly ignoring all her friends' advice. No matter how much Ginny, Pansy, and Luna encouraged her to confront Draco, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. The embarrassment of the gala still burned in her chest, and every time she thought of his obliviousness, it made her stomach churn. So, she continued to avoid him like the plague.
Draco, on the other hand, had been growing more desperate by the day. Theo had devised a plan—“Just corner her. She can't run from you forever.”—but Hermione had been dodging him with a skill that would have impressed even the most elusive Auror.
On Wednesday morning, Draco finally had enough. He was done playing this ridiculous game of cat-and-mouse. He had spent days trying to catch Hermione, but every time he came close, she would disappear around a corner or slip out of the office with some excuse. But not today. Today, he was determined to find her, apologize, and end this madness.
It just so happened that Hermione was on Level 7, delivering some documents for a recent case. She thought it was the perfect place to avoid Draco—quiet, out of the way, and full of boring Ministry officials handling Portkey regulations and Floo Network issues. What could possibly go wrong?
Everything, as it turned out.
Draco spotted her the moment she stepped out of the lift. His heart leapt. This was his chance.
“Hermione!” Draco’s voice echoed through the corridor, loud enough to startle a few nearby employees.
Hermione froze for a split second before her eyes widened in panic. Oh no. No, no, no. She spun around, her mind racing. There was no way she could face him. Not here. Not now.
“Hermione!” Draco shouted again, his voice growing closer as he broke into a jog. “Wait up, will you?”
Without thinking, Hermione bolted.
Draco blinked in disbelief as Hermione took off down the corridor. “Hermione! What are you doing?!” He shouted, breaking into a full sprint after her. “I just want to talk!”
“No, thank you!” Hermione yelled over her shoulder; her voice breathless.
The chase was on.
Hermione sprinted through the hallways of Level 7, her heels clacking loudly against the stone floors. Draco was hot on her heels, his robes billowing behind him as he tried to keep up. She darted around corners, dodging startled Ministry employees who barely had time to react to the spectacle unfolding before them.
“Oi, Granger! This is mental!” Draco called out, weaving past a wizard holding a stack of files. “You can’t keep running!”
“Watch me!” Hermione shot back, her heart pounding in her chest.
“Stop being daft!” Draco shouted, frustration lacing his voice. “We’re causing a bloody scene!”
“Oh, now you notice!” she yelled, turning sharply down another corridor, narrowly avoiding a witch holding a tray of tea.
Several Ministry employees had now stopped what they were doing, staring in amusement as Draco chased Hermione down the hallways like a madman. Some snickered, others whispered, but all eyes were on the two of them.
“I just want to apologize!” Draco huffed, his breath growing ragged as he tried to close the gap between them.
“Apology not accepted!” Hermione called over her shoulder.
At this point, Draco was red-faced and panting. “You’re… you’re a right pain in the arse, you know that?”
Hermione didn’t answer; she was too busy weaving through the maze-like corridors of Level 7, her heart hammering in her chest. She had no idea where she was going—she just needed to get away from Draco. Every second spent near him brought back the humiliation of the gala, and she wasn’t ready to face that. Not yet.
On Level 2, Harry and Theo stepped out of the lift just in time to witness the commotion. They stopped dead in their tracks, watching as Hermione darted past them, Draco close behind, looking positively exasperated.
“Oh, Merlin’s pants,” Harry muttered, rubbing his eyes as if that would make the scene disappear.
Theo, however, burst out laughing. “This is bloody brilliant!” He grinned widely, leaning against the wall to watch. “Didn’t think she’d actually run.”
“They’re supposed to be adults,” Harry said, shaking his head. “But look at them—like kids in a playground.”
“More like a fox hunt,” Theo snickered. “With Draco being the one who’s completely lost the scent.”
Harry just crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. “This is going to be a nightmare to clean up. They’re making a right scene, and half the Ministry’s watching.”
“I wouldn’t stop them if I were you,” Theo remarked, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. “This is therapeutic. Let them work it out.”
Meanwhile, Hermione had made her way to Level 2—the Auror Department. Her lungs were burning, and she was starting to regret her choice of shoes. But she couldn’t stop now, not when Draco was still chasing her.
Out of sheer desperation, she made a beeline for the special holding cell area—a place where suspects were brought directly for questioning. It was the last place anyone would think to look for her… except for the fact that Draco was still hot on her trail.
“Hermione!” Draco’s voice echoed down the hall, even louder now. “Stop! You’re being ridiculous!”
“You’re ridiculous!” Hermione shouted, skidding to a halt as she reached the entrance to the holding cells. “Just… leave me alone!”
Draco came to a stop just a few feet away from her, panting heavily, his hair sticking to his forehead in sweaty strands. He looked disheveled and utterly exhausted but determined. “Not… until… we talk.”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed, and without another word, she disappeared with a loud pop, Apparating straight home before Draco could say another word.
Back in the hallway, Draco stood frozen in place, staring at the spot where Hermione had just vanished. His chest was heaving, and he couldn’t believe she’d run all the way to Level 2 just to avoid him.
“Well, that went well,” Theo quipped as he and Harry walked over, both looking thoroughly entertained.
Draco shot them a glare, still trying to catch his breath. “She’s… she’s impossible.”
Theo clapped him on the back, grinning. “You’re the one chasing her through the Ministry like a madman. Honestly, mate, I think you’re just making it worse.”
“Shut up,” Draco muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I’m not done yet.”
Harry sighed, shaking his head. “I’m too tired for this. If you two break anything else, I’m not getting involved.”
Just as Draco was about to give up and regroup, his gaze landed on Harry’s wand, peeking out from his robe pocket. A sly smirk formed on Draco’s face as an idea sparked.
“Sorry about this, Potter,” Draco muttered, and in one swift move, he disarmed Harry, snatching the wand from his grasp.
Harry, startled, blinked at his now empty hand. “Oi, Malfoy! What the—”
“I’ll return it later,” Draco said, already turning on his heel. “Need to borrow it for a moment.”
“Borrow it?” Harry sputtered, half-amused, half-annoyed. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Theo, grinning ear to ear, simply clapped his hands. “Oh, this is going to be good. Go on, Malfoy. Get your girl.”
Harry glared at Theo, still trying to comprehend the situation, but Draco had already disappeared with a determined pop.
When Hermione arrived at her flat, she wasted no time slamming the Floo shut and casting wards around her home. She made sure to allow only Harry through the wards, just in case he needed to come over later. But beyond that, no one—especially Draco—could get in.
She collapsed onto her sofa, her heart still racing from the absurdity of the chase. “I can’t believe I just ran through the bloody Ministry,” she muttered to herself. “And to the holding cells, of all places.”
But just as she was starting to relax, there was a loud pop in the living room. Hermione’s head snapped up, her eyes wide as she saw Draco standing there, looking red-faced and out of breath.
“Malfoy!” she gasped. “How did you—”
Before she could finish, Draco tossed Harry’s wand casually onto the couch. “Borrowed Potter’s wand. You didn’t think I’d let you get away that easily, did you?”
Hermione stared at him in disbelief as he leaned heavily against the wall, his chest still heaving from the effort. His usually pristine robes were wrinkled, and his hair was a mess, but he didn’t seem to care.
“I’m… not… leaving,” Draco panted, pointing at her, “until we talk.”
Hermione groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Of course, you're not."
Draco stood in the middle of Hermione’s living room, still panting from the insane chase through the Ministry and the sprint to her flat. His hair was sticking to his forehead, and his usually pristine robes were wrinkled beyond repair. He tossed Harry’s wand onto the sofa, where it landed with a soft thud, and pointed at Hermione, his face still flushed from the effort.
“I’m not leaving,” Draco huffed, catching his breath, “until we talk.”
Hermione crossed her arms, glaring at him from her spot near the fireplace. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Draco shook his head, taking a few deep breaths. “No, I’m not kidding. You’ve been avoiding me for two weeks, Granger. And you just ran—ran—through the entire bloody Ministry to avoid a conversation. You were acting like a crazy person!”
Hermione’s eyes widened in disbelief, her face flushing. “Me? Acting like a crazy person?” She let out a sarcastic laugh, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “I wasn’t the one chasing someone through the Ministry, Malfoy! That’s mental!”
Draco blinked, momentarily thrown off. “I’m not the one who ran like I’d been hit with a Stunning Spell!”
“Well, you looked like a bloody maniac charging after me!” Hermione shot back, her hands on her hips. “You practically chased me into the holding cells! Who does that?”
Draco ran a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. “Who runs from someone just trying to apologize?!”
Hermione threw her hands in the air again. “Who apologizes by running after someone like a lunatic?!”
Draco let out an incredulous laugh, his voice rising in disbelief. “Oh, I’m the lunatic, am I? You sprinted through the Ministry, Granger! I’m surprised you didn’t pull a hamstring with the speed you were going!”
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s rich coming from the bloke who looked like he was training for the Quidditch World Cup. What was your plan? Catch me and then what—throw me over your shoulder like a caveman?”
Draco raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I would’ve, if I wasn’t so knackered by the time you Apparated out of there.”
Hermione snorted, quickly covering her mouth, trying to hide her laughter. “You looked like you were going to pass out.”
Draco rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. “Well, you could’ve stopped running at any point, you know. Would’ve saved us both from dying of exhaustion.”
Hermione crossed her arms again, but this time there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. “You started it.”
Draco scoffed. “I started it? You’re the one who bolted as soon as I called your name!”
Hermione narrowed her eyes playfully. “Because I knew you were going to make it awkward.”
“Awkward?” Draco threw up his hands in disbelief. “You sprinting through the Ministry like you were being chased by a Hungarian Horntail was awkward. You’re going to have half the Ministry talking about this for weeks!”
“Because you chased me!” Hermione pointed out, though now she was trying hard not to laugh. “You couldn’t have just… I don’t know, waited to talk to me like a normal person?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Draco retorted sarcastically, “maybe if you hadn’t avoided me for two bloody weeks, I wouldn’t have had to chase you like a madman!”
“Maybe if you hadn’t been such an oblivious git at the gala, I wouldn’t have had to avoid you!” Hermione shot back, her hands still on her hips.
Draco blinked at her, his smirk faltering slightly as her words hit him. The tension in the room shifted just a little, and Hermione’s glare softened as well.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly frustrated but now more sincere. “Alright, fair point. I messed up. I know I did. I was… an idiot.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “That’s putting it lightly.”
Draco sighed again, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I didn’t realize—about the gala, I mean. I thought… I thought we were just going as friends. I didn’t think it was anything more, and I’m sorry. I really am.”
Hermione exhaled, some of the tension easing out of her shoulders. “Yeah, well, it was a bit more than that to me, Malfoy.”
“I know,” Draco said quietly, his voice softer now. “That’s why I’ve been trying to talk to you. I messed up, and I hate that I hurt you.”
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Draco quickly stepped closer, cutting her off before she could get another word out. “Granger,” he said with a smirk, “you never stop talking, do you?”
“Excuse me?” Hermione narrowed her eyes, about to launch into another retort, but before she could say anything else, Draco closed the distance between them and, in one swift move, kissed her.
Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise, and her first instinct was to pull away—but then… then she felt herself melting into the kiss, her mind whirling. Draco was kissing her. Draco Malfoy was kissing her. And she was—Merlin help her—kissing him back.
When they finally pulled apart, Hermione stared at him, breathless and slightly dazed. “What—what was that for?”
Draco smirked, brushing a stray curl away from her face. “To shut you up. You were driving me mad.”
Hermione gaped at him for a moment, completely at a loss for words. Then, slowly, a grin spread across her face. “You’re mental, Malfoy.”
Draco shrugged, clearly pleased with himself. “You’ve said that already.”
Hermione let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. “You kissed me.”
“You’re very observant, Granger.”
Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “So, what now?”
“Well,” Draco said, his smirk softening into something more genuine, “I was thinking… how about I take you out on a proper date? No running involved.”
Hermione arched an eyebrow. “A date? Really?”
Draco nodded. “Yeah. A real date. No misunderstandings this time.”
Hermione bit her lip, her heart pounding in her chest, but she found herself nodding. “Alright. But no more chasing me through the Ministry.”
Draco grinned. “Deal.”
A little while later, the two of them were sitting on the sofa, Draco lounging on Hermione’s lap with his head resting against her, his eyes half-closed in contentment. Hermione absentmindedly played with his hair, a soft smile on her face as they basked in the unexpected comfort of each other’s company.
“I can’t believe I’m letting you lie on me,” Hermione murmured, her fingers threading through his messy blonde hair.
Draco smirked lazily; his eyes still closed. “You love it. Admit it.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face didn’t fade. “You’re impossible.”
Just then, there was a loud pop, and both Draco and Hermione looked up to see Theo and Harry standing in the middle of the room. Harry, however, wasn’t smiling—he looked both annoyed and amused, his arms crossed as he stared at the two of them.
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Harry muttered. “I knew you two were childish, but this…”
Theo, on the other hand, was grinning like a lunatic. “Well, well, well. Looks like Malfoy got his girl after all.” He shot Draco a playful wink. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Draco, without even sitting up from Hermione’s lap, casually reached into the sofa cushions and tossed Harry’s wand toward him. “Here, Potter. Thanks for the loan.”
Harry caught the wand and shook his head, clearly unimpressed. “You nicked my wand, ran through the Ministry like a lunatic, and now you’re sprawled out on Hermione’s lap like a bloody prince. You two are absolutely mental.”
Draco smirked, finally sitting up. “Worked, didn’t it?”
Hermione let out a soft laugh, still playing with Draco’s hair. “He’s got a point, Harry.”
Harry groaned, rubbing his temples. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother with either of you.”
Theo clapped his hands together, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Ah, Potter, don’t be a sourpuss. They’re in love. Let them be ridiculous.”
Draco shot Theo a mock glare. “We’re not in love, Nott.”
Hermione grinned, elbowing Draco gently. “Not yet at least.”
Harry groaned again. “Alright, I’m leaving before this gets worse. You two enjoy… whatever this is.”
With that, Harry and Theo disappeared with a loud pop, leaving Draco and Hermione alone once more.
Draco turned to Hermione with a grin. “Well, that was interesting.”
Hermione laughed, leaning in to kiss him softly. “You have no idea.”