A Rose By Any Other Name
“Why in the bloody fuck does Lympsham know what my favourite book is?” Malfoy demanded as he slammed into the head's dorm. Hermione didn’t look up from the book she was reading.
“Is that a rhetorical question?” She asked.
“No, it’s not a rhetorical question, you infuriating swot!” He replied, and she sighed heavily as she placed the book down on the table in front of her.
“Perhaps Scarlett was actually invested in your date and bothered to find some things out about you?”
“Lympsham has been one of the slytherin chasers since forever, and she has never expressed an interest in reading before. I wasn’t even aware she could read.” He said, pacing about in front of the fireplace. “That’s besides the point. Nobody knows what my favourite book is, Granger, because nobody gives a flying fuck. So why did she know?”
“Why does that sound like an accusation, Malfoy?” Hermione asked, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“It wasn’t. It’s just getting absurd what these witches will do to try and prove they are my soulmate. Theo said I should start carrying around a damp cloth to test the marks they’ve all drawn on. Lympsham was a friend and nothing more, and I would have liked it to stay that way, but this bloody thing is ruining my life.” He gestured to his soulmate mark, a thin golden band wrapped around his arm, just below the elbow. It had appeared shortly after his 18th birthday, but being in the midst of war at the time, he’d not paid it much attention. Returning to Hogwarts to repeat their last year had meant that people found out about it, and saw their chance to get their hands on the Malfoy fortune. Hermione had thought it all rather tiresome, even if she enjoyed the way that the line beheaded the dark mark on Malfoy’s pale skin. Quite the poignant image, she thought.
“It’s hardly ruining your life, Malfoy.” She replied, and he flopped down next to her.
“These last few dates have been awful. It’s like they manage to get one part perfect, but then once they’ve run out of things to say, that’s it done. I’ll be having a nice time, and then suddenly the subject will change, and they’re as dull as dishwater.”
“What do you mean by that?” She frowned.
“Lympsham asking about the book, but then not actually knowing anything more than the title. Patil brought that picnic to the quidditch pitch, something I’ve always wanted to do, but it just felt like sitting with a friend. Other Patil managed to talk about the one specific part of Divination I find interesting, but then immediately lost me once she tried to read my tea leaves. Saunders invited me to Hogsmeade so we could wander round Flourish and Blotts, but didn’t actually want to buy anything, so I looked like a tit with my stack of books. I just don’t get it, Hermione.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Hermione?”
He turned to her. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”
She studied his face for a moment, mulling over the situation. “You call everyone by their surname. Well, except Theo.”
“Because he doesn’t like the link to his father. Did you want me to call you Granger instead?” He asked, and she shook her head. She decided to take the plunge. It was hard to resist when he was looking at her so earnestly.
“It was me. Giving advice about the dates.” She said, and he blinked. “Padma and Megan had no ideas whatsoever, so I told them to go to the pitch and Flourish. Parvati only ever talks about Divination anyway, so I told her to stick to rune casting because that’s the only aspect rooted in any sort of discernible science, and Scarlett came to me after the match the other week because she realised she knew nothing about you. I was fed up with you coming back here completely dejected after a string of shitty dates, so I thought maybe if I helped a bit, that would be…good. I guess.” She faltered as he continued to stare at her.
He was quiet for a moment. “How do you know what my favourite book is? I’ve never told anyone that.”
She huffed softly. “The elves keep leaving me your lucky quidditch socks when they drop off the washing. I’ve left notes to say they’re yours, but every week, I get them anyway. When I go into your room to leave them on your bed, that book is always there. It’s been there all year. I made an assumption.” He blinked, before getting up off the sofa and disappearing into his room without another word. When he returned, he dumped the socks in her lap, retaking his place next to her. “What do you want me to do with these?” She asked.
“Do you know why I think they’re lucky?” He said, and she shook her head. He smiled as he waved his wand over the black, expensive-feeling socks. The charm fell away, leaving her holding a blue and brown pair, full of holes and haphazard stitching. She recognised them immediately.
“You kept them?” She looked up at him, and he nodded.
“The six weeks I spent in Azkaban were the worst of my entire life. I can’t begin to describe what it’s like there, Hermione, it’s worse than you can imagine. All of the days I spent there were cold and dark and utterly hopeless, until the day that you sent me those. Because after that, yes, it was still cold and dark, but it wasn’t so hopeless. I thought that maybe, one day, people could start to forgive me if you, the person I’ve arguably wronged the most, cared enough to knit me some socks. So of course I bloody kept them, you barmy woman.”
“That’s why the elves think they’re mine. It’s my magic all over these.” She said, and he frowned at her. She smiled. “There’s a warming charm.” She explained, and he huffed incredulously.
“I’ve never noticed that. Here I was thinking that they were just really thick wool or something.” He held one up, looking at her, almost in awe. “You know, don’t you?” He said after a moment, and she nodded.
“Obviously.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She sighed, rubbing her face. “I suppose I wanted you to have a choice. All of your choices and decisions have been taken away from you for most of your life, and so it felt unfair of me to take this from you too. You might moan about the dates, but I know you’ve enjoyed all the attention. Positive, for once, after all the reasons everyone had to feel negatively towards you. And at the start, I didn’t know how you’d feel about it being me. I mean, you’ve got to admit, this is ridiculous.” She gestured between them, and he snorted.
“Of course it’s ridiculous, all the best things are.” He replied. “Go on then. Show me.”
She held his gaze as she rolled up her sleeve, revealing the golden line that cut through the top of the ‘M’ of the scar his aunt had given her. He ran a gentle finger over it.
“It’s almost sickeningly poetic.” He muttered, and she laughed.
“That’s what I thought. Do you suppose we’ll have to do a Prophet interview about love winning out after all?”
“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but I have always had a preference for my Gentle Hermione.” He said, and she slapped him in the arm. “Ok, maybe not so gentle.”
“When have you ever heard anyone describe me as ‘gentle’?” She asked, and he shrugged.
“You’re anything but gentle, however I intend to spend the rest of our lives embarrassing you by being a soppy shite, so gentle you now are, dearest.” He grinned, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Theo’s going to be horrendous about this, you know.” He said.
“Why?” She asked, thinking that she’d been getting on well enough with the slytherin, who’d been her potions partner all year.
“He bet me 100 Galleons months ago that it was you.” He replied, and she snorted.
“Maybe he read your tea leaves at breakfast.”
“I hoped it was you. At the start.” He said after a moment. “I don’t deserve it, but I wanted it anyway.”
“I suppose it’s a good job you’ve got all this time to try and do something to deserve me then, isn’t it.” She replied with a smirk. He barked out a surprised laugh.
“Yeah, we’re going to be just fine.”
“Only fine? Did nobody ever tell you to aim high, Draco?”
“Aspiring to call Hermione Granger mine always felt like an especially lofty goal.” He said, tilting his head to look at her with soft eyes.
“Yet here you are, overachieving.” She said, taking his hand in hers, allowing herself to bask in the way it felt just right. “Did you want to check my mark for authenticity, by the way?”
He was staring at their interlinked fingers with a peaceful expression. “You are many things, Hermione. A gold digger is not one of them.”
“Will you free your house elves?” She asked suddenly.
“Already did. Months ago.” He replied. “The ones that decided to stay are the highest paid in the country. By a significant margin.” He looked at her again and smiled. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to have you, but in the event that I did, I wanted to be prepared. Yes, I know it was the right thing to do and all that bollocks, but you have to know that you were the catalyst. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t like you so much.”
“I feel like we’ve wasted a lot of time. Are we idiots after all?” She asked, and he shrugged.
“We are all fools in love.”
She snorted. “You’re going to need to stop with the Shakespeare.”
“And if I don’t?” He raised an eyebrow.
“You don’t want to start with me, Malfoy.”
“I think you’ll find I absolutely do, Granger.” He said. “I really bloody do.”