Better Ridiculous Than Boring (Drabbles)

Hermione was exceedingly pleased with herself. She’d been tinkering away with her jam recipe for weeks, and that morning, she was willing to admit that she’d finally nailed it. Thickly lathered across the toast was some damn good blueberry jam, if she did say so herself. A stellar start to what was, admittedly, going to be a fairly boring Sunday. She had some clothes to get washed, a spot of weeding to do out in the garden. Maybe she’d run the hoover round after lunch, having always found it to feel more thorough than the magical spell based equivalent, even if she knew that it logically was not. All in all, a standard sleepy Sunday. 

And then Draco Malfoy crashed through her floo. 

“You have to believe me, it wasn’t my idea.” He gasped out, wrenching off his coat and tossing it over the closest armchair. “I swear I never would have gone if I’d known that was their plan, Granger.” His eyes were wide, desperation and panic practically dripping off him as he never broke eye contact. 

“Good morning to you too, Malfoy. Are you having a pleasant weekend?” She asked sarcastically, taking a nonchalant bite of toast. 

He sagged into one of her dining chairs and buried his head in his hands. “You have every right to be mad at me, and I should have come over sooner. I know that.” He mumbled, sounding really quite distraught about, well. Something. 

“I don’t know that, though. Has something happened?” She asked, frowning and taking in his rumpled clothes. It appeared to be the same shirt and trousers she’d last seen him in on Friday afternoon, which was, in itself, alarming, considering the man took a deeply ridiculous amount of pride in the way he looked. He’d once explained to her that he couldn’t possibly attend drinks at the Leaky without a suitable waistcoat that matched the rest of his ensemble, and she’d very nearly wet herself laughing at him. 

He looked up at her, elbows coming to rest on the table as he rested his chin on his hands, shoulders slouched. (Somewhere across the Channel, in an outlandishly opulent French chateau, Narcissa Malfoy’s eye twitched.) Malfoy seemed to be studying her, and sighed as he came to some sort of conclusion. 

“Nobody’s told you yet, have they?” He said, sounding resigned.

“That’s not really a question I can answer. One does not know what one does not know.” Hermione pointed out as she reached for her mug and took a satisfying slurp of tea.

With another particularly dramatic sigh, he fixed her with a determined look. “We went to the Raven’s Vice.”

She blinked. “That new strip club on Knockturn?” She asked, and he nodded gravely. Hermione, failing to understand the problem, shrugged. “Ok…? Did you- I don’t know. Have a nice time?” 

It was then Malfoy’s turn to look confused. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Merlin, Draco! Did you touch a tit? I don’t know what you want me to say.” She huffed out a bemused chuckle.

“But… you don’t mind that I ended up there?”

“What’s it got to do with me? I’m not your keeper.” She replied. “Water is wet, and stag dos end up in strip clubs. Particularly stag dos organised by Graham bloody Montague. I don’t understand why you’re so worried about this.” She was gesturing with her second slice of toast, sending crumbs flying across the table.

“I thought I’d fucked this up before we’d even properly started it.” He said, somewhat sheepishly as he dragged his hands over his temples and down his face, and suddenly the pieces clicked into place. His nervous energy, the insistence on proof - it wasn’t just guilt. It was fear. She promptly dropped her toast onto the plate.

“Astoria has a hell of a lot to answer for.” She muttered, shaking her head. “Malfoy, as of right now, we haven’t established what we are. I’d like it to be exclusive, but we haven’t had that conversation yet, so I can’t sit here and dictate to you what you do in your own time. Even then, I’d trust you in a place like that. I know you wouldn’t cross any boundaries.” She smiled in a way that she hoped was reassuring. “Thinking about it, I hope you did tip the dancers, actually. They’re usually very talented, and you have more money than you know what to do with. They need to be more recognised and respected for their craft, really.” She added on, and Malfoy started to laugh. 

“You’re really one of a kind, you know that?” He looked vaguely bewildered, and she reached for his hand across the table. 

“As long as it’s only me that ends up in your bed, Draco, then I’m happy. I trust you, and I know Astoria didn’t and that’s why you were so worried about this, but please don’t be. I’m not her.” She smiled, and he squeezed her hand, intertwining their fingers and looking down with something that might be described as reverence. “I can’t imagine that was your thing anyway, was it?” She asked, and he scoffed.

“Gods, no. I’ve never felt so awkward in my life. Monty wouldn’t let any of us leave, so Longbottom, Blaise and I just sat staring at the table all night. Goyle hated it too - said it was the low point of his stag. He just sat at the bar with Potter talking quidditch, from what I could tell. I only bought drinks, but Theo and the others spent enough on the dancers that I don’t feel bad about it.”

Hermione chuckled, releasing his hand and retrieving her breakfast. “Can’t imagine Pans was overly pleased with Neville’s attendance.” 

He cringed, leaning back in his chair as he began to relax. “She made him sleep in his greenhouse. Even though he gave her his memories that proved he barely looked up from the ground, that he practically begged Monty to let him leave. Apparently the flowers he got her were ‘an admission of guilt’.”

“It’s Montague’s fault, not Neville’s. He worships the ground Pansy walks on, she must know deep down he’d never do anything to intentionally upset her.”

Malfoy let out a long breath. “We should have spoken about boundaries before we left. Not everyone’s as on as long a leash as I am.” He smirked, and she rolled her eyes. 

“You’re not on a leash at all, you fool.”

“I brought this, you know. I thought you’d need proof.” He accio’d a few sheets of parchment from his jacket pocket, and she frowned as she scanned the words. 

Vincent Wilhelm Crabbe

19-10-2003

185 Galleons - The Raven’s Vice, Artist Charge

10 Galleons - The Raven’s Vice, Bar

2 Galleons - Hex & Hops Brewery

Gregory Douglas Goyle
19-10-2003

No data

Neville Frank Longbottom
19-10-2003

10 Galleons - Leaky Cauldron Public House

3 Galleons - Hex & Hops Brewery

15 Galleons - Mandrake and Marigold Florists

Draco Lucius Malfoy
19-10-2003

35 Galleons - The Raven’s Vice, Bar

20 Galleons - Hex & Hops Brewery

8 Galleons - Flourish and Blotts Stationery Supplies

Graham Philius Montague
19-10-2003

230 Galleons - The Raven’s Vice, Artist Charge

Harry James Potter-Nott
19-10-2003

10 Galleons - The Raven’s Vice, Bar

4 Galleons - Leaky Cauldron Public House

Theodore Cantankerus Potter-Nott
19-10-2003

125 Galleons - The Raven’s Vice, Artist Charge

20 Galleons - The Raven’s Vice, Bar

12 Galleons - Hex & Hops Brewery

Blaise Oleander Zabini
19-10-2003

8 Galleons - Leaky Cauldron Public House

“Astoria would be happy to pry in your business like this? This is what she’d ask for from you?” She asked after a moment, looking back up at him. 

“She wouldn’t just take my word for things. I know you’re nothing like her, but old habits…” He trailed off, and she smiled sadly.

“There will never be a day where I need a summary from Gringotts to believe you were where you said you were. I won’t ever need anything other than your word.” She promised, and he nodded slightly. She knew it would take time for him to unlearn the behaviour Astoria had forced on him during their time under the marriage contract, but she didn’t mind. She could be patient. “What did you get from Flourish?” She asked after a moment, and he chuckled softly. 

“Apology present.” He replied, accio’ing four new quills from his other jacket pocket and placing them in front of her. “I’m guessing this is unnecessary too, though.” 

“Oh, let’s not be so hasty now. Maybe I’m very upset after all.” She grinned at him, and he raised an eyebrow. 

“You accept bribes, do you? Filing that information away for later.” He smirked at her as she laughed. He then grew more serious for a moment, fixing her with a glance that would have made her knees buckle if she hadn't been sitting down. “You really do trust me, don’t you?” 

Hermione glanced at the quills, and then back at him. “Completely.” 

He huffed out a disbelieving laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Unbelievable. Falling for the brightest witch of our age, and it turns out she’s a terrible judge of character."

Hermione rolled her eyes a final time, setting the quills aside and standing, moving around the table to stand in between his legs. "Luckily for you, I’m rarely wrong.” She smiled, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head as his hands wrapped around her waist.

“Noted.” He mumbled.

“Want some toast?” She offered, and he leant back to smile up at her.

“Is your jam finally up to standard?”

“I’m considering offering it up as a new wonder of the world, actually. It’s some of my best work.” She sniffed proudly, and he chuckled. 

“I’m a bit obsessed with you.” 

“That is decidedly a mutual feeling, Mr Malfoy.” She replied, reaching around the back of his head and dipping her finger in the remnants of jam on her plate. “Decidedly. Mutual.” She bopped him on the nose, covering him in the sticky red spread and grinned.

He shot her a flat look, even as he struggled to keep the sappy smile from his face. “I take it back. You’re the worst.” 

“Well if you hadn’t realised that by now, then I truly don’t know what to tell you.” She barely finished speaking before he clutched her waist more tightly and peppered her face with sticky, jam-flavoured kisses. Even as she squealed, wriggling to get away from him, she wasn’t truly bothered. She couldn’t think of anywhere else on the planet she’d rather be, regardless of the jam covering them both. It was sweet, and so were they, and she figured after all that had happened to them in their lives, maybe it was time they deserved something good like that. Something that was deliciously saccharine and sickly and precious.