November 30
Harry twirled Ginny around the dance floor. Hermione smiled as he whispered something to the redhead, who blushed and used her arms around his neck to pull herself closer. The way they looked at each other…
“Disgusting, isn’t it?”
She choked on her champagne and turned to face Draco Malfoy.
“Who invited you to a celebration of love and marriage?” Hermione asked.
He smirked. “That’s what I said when I got the invite.”
Ten years.
Harry and Ginny had been married ten years, and in that ten years, Harry had not only befriended Draco Malfoy, but had blended him seamlessly into their friend group.
It was still surreal.
Ron and his wife Erin, who he’d met in the Auror Academy, stood with James, Albus, and Lilly, trying to wrangle the three restless kids who wanted to storm the dessert table. Neville Longbottom and his wife Pansy Parkinson stood across the room, watching Harry and Ginny dance, Neville’s hand resting on Pansy’s very pregnant belly. Theo Nott and Luna Lovegood were swaying back and forth, his arms around her from behind, his chin resting on top of her head.
And Hermione and Draco, the only remaining singletons in their group, stood together, sipping champagne, making snarky comments to each other per usual.
There was no heat or animosity behind their words now. In fact, Hermione and Draco had become something of…best friends as the rest of their group coupled off and settled down.
Draco was married to his hard won independence, and Hermione was married to her job as a healer. They relied on each other to get through events like the Potters’ vow renewal- they already had plans with a bottle of vintage syrah and some cheap Thai takeout at Hermione’s townhouse after the reception.
A little hand tugged at Hermione’s gown, and she looked down at Eloise Nott.
“Hi, honey,” Hermione greeted her, bending down to scoop her up. Eloise’s hand went to the neckline of Hermione’s dress to steady herself, and Hermione nearly flashed the room. Cheeks red, she pulled up the gown and removed Eloise’s hand.
“Hungry,” the toddler told her.
“Well, we can cut the cake as soon as Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny finish their dance. How does that sound?”
“Cake!” Eloise squealed.
Draco chuckled. “I feel the same way, kid.”
They turned back to Harry and Ginny, who had stopped dancing and were kissing each other in the middle of the floor like they were the only people in the room.
After ten years, this was normal behavior for them. Hermione smiled softly and turned to Draco, a quip on her lips, but she paused when she saw the way he was looking at the happy couple.
His eyes were uncharacteristically soft, and his expression was almost longing. She felt the corner of her mouth pulling up into a smile and turned back to face the dance floor.
The song ended, and she clapped with the rest of the room. The couple waved at everyone, cheeks pink, and Ginny pulled Harry over to the cake table. At this, Eloise fought to get down and succeeded this time in giving the room an extreme glimpse of Hermione’s cleavage. Bloody satin didn’t pair well with toddler hands.
She fixed her neckline and kept her eyes trained forward, refusing to look at Draco. She knew he would have a comment ready if only she acknowledged him.
Harry and Ginny cut into the cake- red velvet with cream cheese frosting, just like Harry had asked for on their wedding day- and the crowd descended on the dessert table.
Hermione found herself a little while later with a slice of cake, another glass of champagne, and another toddler in her lap.
Lily Potter was insistent on feeding herself her own piece of cake, and Hermione’s beautiful blue dress was covered in frosting. She smiled ruefully as the toddler took her last bite and gave Hermione a smacking kiss on the cheek before jumping down to go play with her brothers.
“Your poor dress,” Pansy sighed.
Hermione nodded. “It’s a tragedy. This one was my favorite.”
“Good thing you’ve befriended a witch who knows every satin-safe cleaning charm known to wizardkind.”
“I’ll send you the dress tomorrow, and you just send me the bill.”
“The bill will be me demanding that you change some nappies when baby Rose comes.”
Hermione smiled. “Done.”
After cake and a sappy speech from the happy couple, the crowd started dissipating. Hermione apparated home and changed into her favorite leggings and jumper. She’d just opened the wine to let it breathe when her floo roared to life, and Draco stepped into the living room with a brown takeout bag.
“Did you remember the spring rolls?” she asked.
“Of course I remembered the spring rolls.”
“With the peanut sauce?”
“Yes, with the peanut sauce. A bloke forgets one time…”
She grinned and took the bag from him. He grabbed the plates from her cabinet, and she dished up healthy servings of the pad kee mao. He added the spring rolls and peanut sauce to their plates and grabbed the chopsticks.
“Can we eat in front of the telly?” he asked.
“Of course. I’ll bet we can find a Christmas film on somewhere.”
“Not a stupid sappy one, I beg you.”
“You know you loved A Mummy for Christmas. I saw you tearing up.”
“I was weeping because I hated it so much.”
She laughed and handed over the remote. He put on A Christmas Carol- they’d only missed the first twenty minutes.
When the food was gone, Draco deemed the wine sufficiently aerated and poured them both a glass with a heavy hand. Hermione took an eager sip, closing her eyes in appreciation of the rich red.
The first glass went down quickly, and when Draco poured their second, he went ahead and finished the bottle. Hermione was feeling pleasantly warm and tipsy when he brought up the upcoming holiday season.
“I have to bring a plus one to so many events,” he complained. “It’s like we all hit 30 and it’s not okay to ‘take your time and figure it all out’ anymore. It’s all ‘isn’t it about time you settled down with a nice witch?’”
Hermione nodded. “In residency, they got upset when people started getting married and pregnant. Now, they’re making faces at me for being untethered. Like it’s unnatural for a woman of my age to not have a husband and ten kids.”
Draco took a gulp of wine.
“Let’s pair up this season,” he suggested.
“Pardon?”
“Not really,” he said with a chuckle. “But let’s go to each other’s Christmassy things together and let people assume what they will. The kids call it ‘fake dating.’ That way we don’t have to hear any comments about being single for the holidays.”
Hermione pondered this with her now fuzzy brain and determined Draco Malfoy was a genius.
“You know what? Let’s do it. Healer Flannigan can fuck right off when he sees me come in with a date to our Christmas party.”
“And the crew can stop calling me Heartbreaker,” he added.
“They do not call you that,” she argued.
He sighed. “No, they don’t. You couldn’t let me have that?”
She giggled. “No.”
***
December 7th
Hermione checked her inbox at work and recognized Draco’s poncy handwriting on the topmost letter. She opened that one first.
‘Just reminding you about the squad dinner tonight. I’m picking you up at 7. Please don’t still be in your lime green robes.
-Draco’’
She cast a tempus and saw that it was already five thirty, and she’d been dallying just as Draco feared. She would never admit to him that he’d been right to send her a reminder.
She walked quickly back to her office and set the rest of the mail on her desk, clocked out, and used her private floo to get home.
A quick shower got rid of the hospital smell, and she had just enough time to get pretty for the Christmas dinner.
Draco’s Auror team was having an early Christmas celebration tonight. The five men and their wives (plus Hermione) would be meeting at the new Italian place in Diagon for dinner and Secret Santa. They’d rented out the back room so the wives could hang their cheesy decorations and the group could drink to their hearts’ content without bothering the rest of the restaurant. Hermione was actually looking forward to it.
She waffled on what to wear to impress as Draco’s date and still fit the festive theme. Finally, she decided on a deep green cable knit sweater with a short black skirt and black thigh high boots. She pulled her curls into a tamed half updo and finished the look with gold snowflake earrings and a gold chain around her neck. She looked fashionable and Christmassy.
Satisfied, she spritzed on her gardenia perfume and went downstairs to wait for Draco.
He was right on time, of course, and she grinned when she saw his black trousers and deep green sweater.
“We match,” she told him.
He looked her up and down, his grey eyes warm, and smiled. “You look…really great, Granger.”
She felt her cheeks warm and the compliment. “Thank you.”
She didn’t say that he looked extremely handsome in green- he’d known since Hogwarts.
She stepped into the floo with him, close because of the small space, and she inhaled his familiar musky cedar scent. It was crisp and masculine, and she’d appreciated it for years now. She made the mistake of looking up at him while they were so close and his scent so strong, and she had the strangest flutter in her belly.
“Tony’s on Diagon,” he called, and she closed her eyes against the spinning sensation, grateful for the distraction.
They stepped out of the floo, and Draco vanished their soot with a wandless, nonverbal charm. Hermione definitely wasn’t impressed by the skilled magic.
She greeted everyone and put up with several comments along the lines of “Oh, Draco, she’s gorgeous!” and “Finally got this one to settle down, huh?”
Draco met her eyes and smirked- the group was eating up the fact that he had a date.
Hermione set down her Secret Santa gift and joined Draco at their table. The private room was decked out with snowflake and gingerbread man decor on the walls and fairy lights hung with care. It was festive and cozy, and she was glad she hadn’t worn the wool tights with her skirt- someone had a perfect warming charm going.
“Hermione Granger in person. I’m fangirling a bit,” a wife confessed.
Hermione smiled. “Oh, don’t tell me that. I’ll get a big head.”
“I’m Jasmine. I’ve read your article on Seasonal Affective Disorder and how the muggles suffer from it, too. I felt so…normal for having it,” the redhead to her left confessed.
Hermione smiled. “It’s more normal than you think.”
She got swept up in conversation about work, and the waiter was asking for their drink orders before she’d had a chance to look at the menu.
“She’ll have a glass of the Bourdeaux,” Draco answered for her. “And I’ll have the same.”
The waiter nodded and moved along.
She turned to Draco. “A bit presumptuous, are we?”
He smirked. “Please. Like you’d settle for subpar wine after I’ve expanded your horizons.”
He was right, but she wouldn’t admit it.
“I just hope you’re paying,” she sniffed.
His smirk became more of a smile. “Granger, I would never let my date pay. Only the best for you.”
His eyes were warm, and she’d gotten a whiff of his cologne when he leaned in. She felt the little flutter in her belly again and wondered what was wrong with her tonight. This was Draco. Just because they were here on a date didn’t mean she could suddenly start feeling…like that. It wasn’t even a real date.
She turned back to Jasmine and company to distract herself from the sudden thoughts of how Draco would treat a real date.
The waiter reappeared with drinks and took food orders. Hermione let her attention drift to the incredible manicotti and enjoyed a second glass of wine before finishing everything off with a serving of tiramisu- she had to get her own order because Draco refused to share his.
The night went off without a hitch, and Hermione found that it was one of the best Christmas dinners she’d been to in recent times.
“You were brilliant tonight,” Draco told her after they’d flooed back to her place.
She smiled. “I am the Brightest Witch of Her Age, Draco.”
He pulled on a loose curl and watched it spring back into place.
“Don’t get a big head yet. We’ve got a few more events to go.”
She nodded solemnly. “I’ll do my best.”
He held out his arms and pulled her in for a customary goodbye hug. She decidedly did not sniff his cologne.
“Goodnight, Draco. I’ll see you next weekend for Friendsmas. I can’t believe you’ve talked me into going as your date to that. They’ll see right through us.”
“They probably expect us to pair off, anyway. It’ll be fine.”
“And why would they expect that?” she demanded, flustered.
“We’re both single, attractive, and obsessed with work. At least that’s what Theo’s been on about for the last year.”
She shook her head. “They won’t rest until the whole world is coupled off.”
“Which is why my plan works so well. They’re happy, we get left alone so we’re happy…”
“Speak for yourself. I have to date a poncy blonde.”
He laughed. “True.”
She smiled. “See you next weekend.”
“See you.”
She removed her boots and sent them up to her room with a flick of her wand and settled into the couch, suddenly alone for the first time tonight. As she pulled a blanket over her lap and settled into the big couch, she found herself wishing he’d stuck around a little longer.
***
December 14
“Draco! Hermione! Come in!” Theo opened the door of Nott Manor.
Hermione took in his Father Christmas sweater and bare feet and deduced that the drinking had already begun.
Draco put a hand on Hermione’s back and guided her inside. Theo’s eyes zeroed in on the motion, and his mouth dropped open.
“Ginevra!” he all but screeched. “You owe me ten galleons!”
Rapid footfalls approached, and Hermione’s redheaded best friend ambushed them in a hug before they knew it was coming.
“Oh, Merlin, finally! I had my money on Valentine’s Day, but Theo knew you two wouldn’t make it through the holidays without jumping each other. Congratulations!”
Hermione and Draco eyed each other over the top of Ginny’s head, and Hermione instantly felt guilty. Ginny was so happy, and she and Theo had…bet on their eventual coupling?
Draco reached out and squeezed her arm in reassurance.
“We’re just…dating for now. Seeing where things take us.”
She made herself nod along.
“Look, you even got dressed up for him,” Ginny continued. “So bloody cute.”
Hermione flushed red. She’d dressed up a bit…but not for Draco. She’d adamantly told herself as much when she decided on the red sweater dress and suede heeled booties.
Draco smirked at her. She gave him the finger behind Ginny’s head. It only encouraged him to waggle his eyebrows at her.
She pulled out of Ginny’s embrace, certain she’d gotten her facial expression under control.
“Right, well, where do we put the gifts?”
Theo led them to the den and took their gifts, setting them under the tree. Luna sidled up to them with a glass of Christmas punch in each hand. They accepted the drinks and greeted her with hugs.
“You two still have some wracksuprts afloat. I’d suggest you sit down and talk about how you’re truly feeling. Seems to clear them up for Theo and me.”
She smiled and left them standing, shocked, by the fireplace.
“‘Mione, Malfoy,” Ron greeted them with a goofy smile. His cheeks were flushed- a sure sign that his cup of punch was not his first of the night.
Hermione found herself taking a large gulp of her own punch when she saw the realization in Ron’s eyes.
“Bloody hell, you two finally figured it out? Good for you!”
They made eye contact again, and Draco smirked as if to say ‘I told you so.’
Hermione was starting to really regret letting Draco talk her into this. Her friends were going to be devastated in the new year when they weren’t dating anymore.
Still, she sipped her punch and let herself be led, Draco in tow, to the couch by the Christmas tree.
None of their friends seemed surprised by the idea of them together, and the little flutter Hermione had experienced last weekend showed up again when he slung an arm across the back of the couch. She looked up at him while he chatted with Harry and Theo, and she had a sudden awareness as she felt his arm around her and his leg pressed against hers on the couch that he was a man. A man who was her best friend, who smelled incredible, who was smart and funny and loyal and who had been a steady presence in her life now for years. It was no wonder her friends thought she would want him.
She didn’t, though. Because that would mean risking…everything they had built over the last decade.
She took a larger sip of punch and jumped up to get a refill.
“Get one for me, too?” Draco asked.
She nodded and took his empty cup, making a dash for the kitchen.
Alone, she dropped her face into her hands. “Get it together,” she whispered. “It’s just weird because you’ve seen him in a new light tonight. It’s almost Christmas, and your friends are excited, and it’s rubbing off on you. It’ll go back to normal.”
She straightened, renewed from her pep talk, and refilled their cups of punch. No one knew what Theo put in it, but the Christmassy drink was legendary among their friends. She vowed to take this cup slow, as it was already going to her head a bit. And if there was ever a night to keep her head…
She rejoined her friends. They enjoyed Theo’s ridiculous, expensive charcuterie board, Luna’s homemade gingerbread biscuits, and more punch. They played a game Ginny had prepared, in which she’d rolled small gifts inside a massive ball of saran wrap, and they were allotted ten seconds to try and unravel as much of the wrap as they could to get the little presents. By the time the gift exchange came around, Hermione had relaxed and was feeling almost normal again.
They’d moved away from buying gifts for everyone and started playing Secret Santa a few years ago, when their group had doubled with everyone’s spouses. It was cheaper that way, and they could focus on one great gift for someone instead of a bunch of small gifts.
Hermione had drawn Pansy’s name this year, and she’d stressed on what to buy until she’d stumbled across an ad in a muggle magazine.
Pansy unwrapped her robe first. It was lavender colored silk with pale pink roses adorning it. She beamed at the pretty present and opened her mouth to say thank you, and Neville noticed the second robe.
“Look, love.” He pointed back at the box.
Pansy looked in and saw the tiny matching baby wrap and headband, and her eyes welled with tears.
“We can match?” she asked, voice cracking. “Oh, Merlin, I hate these bloody pregnancy hormones. Granger, you bitch, I love it.”
Hermione laughed and crossed the room to give the crying pregnant woman a hug. “I didn’t mean to make you cry!” she insisted. “I just thought you would want to be a little…extra when you deliver baby Rose.”
Pansy laughed, too. “You’re right. I’ve planned for many a matching outfit for us, but this will be the first. Thank you.”
Hermione went back to her seat, thrilled that Pansy had loved her gift, and settled in to watch her friends open their gifts. She was surprised when Draco was the one to hand her his prettily wrapped present.
Hermione looked at the shape of the gift and resigned herself to opening a book for the fifth year in a row. She appreciated books, and she loved a thoughtful gift, but she felt that people often took the easy way out with her presents- because what else would Hermione possibly like but a new book?
She kept the smile on her face as she unwrapped the present, determined to be happy no matter what.
She opened a box, not a book. Draco tapped the box with his wand, and it enlarged itself. Curious, she tore it open.
Inside was an adorable plush otter, a framed certificate, and a photo of a real otter. She pulled out the picture and the certificate eagerly, and she was beaming when she turned them around so her friends could see.
“It’s an adoption certificate from the World Wildlife Fund. I have a little otter. His name is Mr. Darcy!”
Draco’s smile was as big as hers when he saw her excitement.
“That’s the bloke from your book, right?” Ron asked.
“Yes, Ronald, he’s one of the most famous muggle literary characters…never mind. Yes, and it’s perfect. Look at this little guy!”
She turned to Draco and threw her arms around him. “Thank you, Draco! I love him with my whole heart.”
Draco hugged her back. “I know they’re your favorite animal and your patronus. I figured you’d like to help a real one.”
She tightened her arms around him and only pulled away when she realized he was stroking her hair and she’d been holding onto him for an excessive amount of time.
Blushing, she settled back into her own seat and hugged the plushie to her chest. Her heart was all over the place, and she needed to wrangle it back into submission.
She stopped drinking for the rest of the night and made sure to not give any more spontaneous hugs, but it was no use. The thoughtful present and his stupid smile and his stupid laugh and his stupid pretty face were all conspiring against her until she was safely back in her flat and away from his presence.
His parting words had reminded her that they would be attending an event for her next weekend. She laid awake, both looking forward to and dreading the St. Mungo’s gala with Draco at her side.
***
December 21
Hermione’s dress was…bold. She’d decided on an a-line black satin gown, and when she’d changed out of it and started carrying it to the checkout till, she’d seen this one.
It was gold, shimmery, and backless with a halter neckline. It was fitted in the chest and waist and draped more loosely to the floor, ending in a small train. There was a slit up to her right knee for easy walking, and to show off whatever shoes she chose. Ginny had marched her back to the fitting rooms, dress in tow, and Hermione had left with it.
In light of her recent…complicated feelings about Draco, she was glad to be in the sexier gown- it would make her feel like she had the upper hand tonight.
She pinned her curls into a chignon at the base of her neck to show off her back and completed the look with shimmery eyeshadow, nude lipstick with a clear gloss, and gold heels that would have been dangerous without her stabilizing and cushioning charms.
She was packing her wand, lip gloss, hairpins, and in-case-of-emergency potion vials into her clutch- it barely closed around everything- when she heard the floo downstairs.
“Coming!” she called.
One more glance at herself from all manageable angles, and she was confident enough to go downstairs.
Draco was waiting at the base of the stairs with a bouquet of red and white roses. His eyes raked up and down the dress, and she was pleased to see him run his hands through his hair and breathe deeply.
He wasn’t overly emotive, but she knew his tells, and the gown had gotten to him. She felt they were on even footing after last weekend.
“Thank you for the flowers. What’s the occasion?”
“They’re for when you inevitably win Healer of the Year tonight. And if the award is rigged and goes to someone else, they’re a consolation prize.”
His smirk was cheeky. She couldn’t help but laugh.
“Thank you, Draco. They’re gorgeous. Let me just put them in water.”
She felt his eyes on her bare back as she led him to the kitchen, and she fought a shiver at the thought of him touching her.
‘Stop it,’ she scolded herself. ‘He’s your best friend.’
Once the flowers were in a vase of water, she followed Draco to the floo. They stepped in together, and she kept her eyes away from his, not trusting herself in this close proximity with him in a suit, smelling so bloody good.
They stepped out of the floo, and Draco grabbed her hand, guiding it to his arm. She looped her elbow through his, and they faced the St. Mungo’s Christmas Gala together.
“You look amazing, by the way,” Draco murmured as they found their assigned table.
She smiled, cheeks flushing. “Thank you, Draco. You look dashing in your muggle suit.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m always dashing, Granger.”
“Well, go be dashing and charm your way into the good whisky for me.”
“On it.”
She set her purse down in her seat and looked around at the other names.
Neville and Pansy were seated at their table- Neville wasn’t a healer, but he supplied the hospital with high quality potion ingredients and was willing to give generous discounts for low income families. Hermione was relieved to see his name. They would also be seated with Healer Ainsworth and her partner Mary, and Healer Tonne and his plus one. She wasn’t thrilled about Healer Tonne- Hermione had nearly reported him for harassment during her residency, she’d had to turn him down so many times. She whispered a charm under her breath, and his place card was suddenly at the furthest seat from hers.
Satisfied, she was turning to go find Draco when her supervisor, the head of the Janus Thickey Ward, called her name.
“Hello, Thomas,” she greeted with a smile. It was weird to call her superior by his first name, but he’d insisted since she started rising through the ranks on his staff.
“What a beautiful gown,” he complimented her warmly. His wife kissed both of her cheeks and added her own compliment.
She thanked him, then the inevitable happened.
“Here alone?” he asked. “It’s Christmas.”
She fought an eye roll. “Actually-”
“Here, love,” she heard.
Draco sidled up to her and placed a hand on her bare back. She felt goose pimples at his touch. She accepted the Old Fashioned from him and smiled at the rescue.
“Draco, this is my supervisor, Thomas Flannigan, and his wife Penelope. Thomas, Penelope, this is my date, Draco Malfoy.”
Draco shook Thomas’s hand and kissed Penelope’s. Hermione fought a smile at the blush on Penelope’s cheeks.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he told them with an air of sincerity.
“You, too, Mr. Malfoy. It’s so nice to see our Hermione with a gentleman at one of our events. She works too hard, you know. I’ve been telling her to find someone who can make sure she’s taken care of.”
Draco smiled. “Yes, she can be quite stubborn when it comes to work. But don’t worry, I’m looking out for her.”
He continued to absolutely woo her boss, and Hermione found herself relaxing into his side. He really was a charmer, she noted as she sipped her drink.
They greeted a few more of Hermione’s coworkers, and Draco was gone to get Hermione a second drink when Pansy and Neville arrived.
“Neville! Pansy!”
Hugs and cheek kisses were exchanged, and Hermione told Pansy that she was absolutely glowing in her deep blue silk gown with the empire waist.
“You have to say that because I’m the size of this ballroom. But thank you,” Pansy replied.
Neville kissed her cheek and whispered something that had Pansy turning pink. Hermione thought it best not to think about what he’d said to her.
Mollified, Pansy took her seat and patted the one next to her for Hermione.
“Where’s Draco?” Neville asked.
“Right here with another old fashioned for you,” Draco responded from behind her before she could sit.
She smiled and gratefully accepted the drink. He’d been so attentive tonight, stepping up to charm her coworkers, saving her from awkward interactions, getting her drinks so she didn’t have to wait in the queue at the bar. His hand never left the small of her back when he was at her side, and she had a feeling that she could get quite used to this treatment.
She took a sip of her drink at that one, reminding herself that Draco was only putting on a show for her coworkers tonight.
She’d just reflexively leaned into his side when the thought hit her like a freight train, and she stiffened a bit.
“I think I’ll sit,” she told him, taking the seat by Pansy.
She reached for her water goblet, deciding that the whisky would only muddle her brain more. She needed to be sharp tonight so she didn’t do anything stupid like start believing their little ruse.
She turned to Pansy and asked about how the nursery was coming along. If there was one thing that could get the witch talking, it was interior design.
Hermione let herself be distracted by talk of charmed wallpaper and the debate between a floral mobile or one with animals. The rest of the table filled up, introductions were made, and Healer Tonne blessedly left her alone when he saw that she had a date this year.
By the time dinner was served, she was feeling more level headed.
The roasted chicken dinner was much better than the beef dish they’d served last year, and it was followed up with a rich chocolate cake that Hermione could have eaten in its entirety. She was feeling full and content when the music changed.
The band had been playing soft instrumental music during the dinner hour, and the change in pace to something more lively signaled the time for dancing.
“How are your feet, my love?” Neville asked.
Pansy smiled. “I could be persuaded to dance for one or two songs.”
Neville helped her up and guided her to the dancefloor with a hand on her back. Hermione smiled at the happy couple as they started swaying to the beat.
“How about you, Granger?” Draco asked.
She nodded, certain that she could separate her stupid hormones from reality for a few songs.
She let herself relax as Draco pulled her close and settled his hand on her lower back. She’d danced with him before and knew he was excellent at leading, so she wasn’t worried about embarrassing herself in front of the crowd.
“You went quiet on me tonight. Feeling okay?”
She met his bright grey eyes, full of concern, and nearly missed a step. She averted her eyes under the guise of looking down at their feet to focus on the dance.
“I’m alright. You know how I feel about these galas. I’d rather be home in my pajamas.”
“That would be a travesty. This dress is too good for you to sit at home.”
She blushed and smiled up at him. He led her into a spin and pulled her back in.
“It’s fun to dress up every now and then,” she conceded. “I’ve got to remind everyone I’m not just a stuffy Healer.”
He laughed. “No one thinks you’re just a stuffy Healer, Granger. You’re Wizarding Britain’s Sweetheart.”
She pulled a face at the name. He grinned. She relaxed further, feeling more normal. He was her best friend, and she vowed to stop being weird around him.
Being best friends with the opposite sex came with moments of attraction like this sometimes. It didn't mean anything.
They danced to two more songs before stopping for drinks. She stuck to water, and Draco got himself a double of Ogden’s Finest on the rocks.
The awards portion of the night snuck up on them while they were back at their table, deep in conversation about the merits of growing locally harvested potions ingredients versus imported.
Hermione had been dreading this.
She'd been obsessed with recognition in her youth. She'd found her self worth in her successes being recognized and validated externally. After the War, when she had more attention than she could handle and was hailed as a heroine, the Brightest Witch of Her Age, the Golden Girl, Wizarding Britain’s Sweetheart by the same people who had let her be prosecuted for her blood status and made her fight so hard to prove her worth in the first place…she was rather over the whole thing.
But she'd had a groundbreaking year in the Janus Thickey Ward, and she’d made some huge strides in healing some forms of spell damage that used to be considered permanent. She’d done it to help people, not to win awards, and she was feeling very conflicted about the fact that she'd been nominated for Healer of the Year. Her younger self would be shouting it from the rooftops. This version of herself, who was confident in her abilities and didn't need it shouted from the rooftops, was dreading the attention.
She really, really hated giving speeches now.
She enthusiastically applauded the Rising Star recipient from the residency program, remembering how hard her own residency had been, then she found herself growing anxious as Healer Davis took his seat, award in tow.
Draco’s hand found hers, and she squeezed his tightly as the announcer held up the award of the night.
“The Healer of the Year award goes to someone whose groundbreaking efforts have managed to reverse years of Cruciatus Curse damage to both the mind and body of some of her patients. Congratulations, Healer Hermione Granger.”
Draco was the first person standing. Neville and Pansy joined him, and soon the whole room was giving her a standing ovation as she made her way to the stage.
She accepted the award with shaking hands and smiled for a picture for the Daily Prophet, hoping her nerves wouldn’t show in the picture. The roar of the crowd was disconcerting, and she nearly panicked until her eyes found Draco again.
He was beaming with pride, his eyes bright and smile a mile wide. She focused on him while she gave her thank you speech, tuning out the rest of the people she couldn't care less about.
Her eyes didn't leave him as she made her way back through the room to more applause.
She found herself smiling at the look of pride on his face.
“You're a rockstar,” he told her.
“Since when do you know what a rockstar is?”
“Give me some credit, Granger. I've picked up some things over the last decade.”
She grinned. “Thank you, Draco.”
He picked up her award, studying the pretty plaque.
“You deserve this, you know.”
Her throat was suddenly tight.
She nodded, unable to form the words to thank him for his support. His eyes softened when he took in her expression, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Pansy beat him to it.
“You fucking boss!”
Hermione laughed, the spell broken. She turned to accept Pansy’s hug, then Neville’s.
“It's true,” Neville added. “You've done something incredible this year. I hope it leads to a breakthrough with my mum and dad one day.”
She hugged him tighter. “Me, too, Neville.”
She focused on Draco’s hand on her back as more people congratulated her. She tried to be gracious instead of outwardly anxious as she accepted all of the compliments, and his steady presence at her side helped make it possible.
When the night was over, they flooed back to her house, exhausted.
“You're quite popular,” he complained as he stretched across the couch.
“No shoes on my couch!” She scolded.
He kicked them off without missing a beat. She followed suit and slouched down next to him.
“Thank you for tonight,” she said seriously. “You were amazing.”
“So were you. I know you hate the attention, but there's a reason they call you the Golden Girl.”
She looked up at him, unused to the sincere compliments. Where was her snarky best friend?
“You're so bloody smart and hardworking. And kind. You can talk to anyone and make them feel like they have your full attention. It was amazing to see tonight. And you really did incredible work this year. I'm proud of you, Granger.”
She couldn't blame her actions on alcohol, as she'd barely had any tonight. No, she only had herself to blame for the way she leaned forward, grabbed him by the lapels, and kissed him.
He froze, unresponsive.
She froze.
She ripped her mouth away from his and leapt away, humiliated.
“Oh my God, I'm so sorry,” she began.
“Granger, wait-”
“No, no, I need to go to bed. I don't know what came over me. I'm… I… Goodnight,” she forced out.
She started for the stairs, not looking at him.
“The parties are over for the season, and we can go back to normal. Just pretend this never happened.”
She fully turned away and took the stairs as fast as humanly possible. She hit her door with a locking charm and a silencing charm and stood there, horrified and embarrassed and in tears.
Merlin, she was so bloody stupid. She replayed over and over the way he'd frozen and not kissed her back, falling further and further into a pit of dread each time.
She'd been so swept away by his encouragement, the look on his face when she won the award, his attentiveness to her all night, the pretty words he'd said on her couch.
He'd been a good best friend, and she'd gone and kissed him.
She could never face him again.
She cried as she changed out of her stupid dress and took off her stupid makeup and took her stupid hair down. She admitted to herself now that she'd dressed for him tonight because she was an idiot who was in love with her best friend.
She'd ruined everything.
***
December 22
Hermione closed off her floo and threw up an anti-apparition ward when she woke up.
She didn't want Draco to try and let her down gently today. And she certainly didn't want to see anyone else.
She spent the morning moping around. She even let herself cry again. Then she made herself get up and clean her whole house the muggle way, finish decorating her tree, and bake her famous Christmas cookies.
When that failed to make her feel better, she did what any self respecting witch would do.
She fixed her warding to allow herself to apparate and made a trip to the grocery store. She bought two pints of ice cream, some extra buttery microwaveable popcorn, a party sized bag of crisps, three chocolate bars, and a cheap bottle of red wine.
She spent the night watching romantic Christmas movies, eating junk, getting drunk alone, and crying.
***
December 23
Hermione woke up with a wine hangover and a laundry list of regrets.
Perhaps she should…not have made herself completely unreachable yesterday. Or ran away and locked herself in her room after kissing Draco instead of talking to him about it.
She took down her wards and opened the floo after a hangover potion and a hot shower.
She picked up after her drunk, snacky self and tried not to settle into self loathing. She'd done enough of that yesterday.
Now it was time to be an adult and fix things.
She got dressed and grabbed a tin of the Christmas cookies she’d baked yesterday. Draco lived for these cookies and could eat a whole tin in one sitting. He hadn't celebrated Christmas without them in years. They would be a perfect icebreaker.
After the self pep talk of the century, she grabbed her wand and apparated to Draco's flat.
She knocked on the door and waited.
Nothing.
She knocked again.
She stood, clutching the cookies like a lifeline.
Nothing.
“Draco?” She called. “I came to apologize.”
Radio silence.
Cheeks burning and eyes teary again, she apparated to Grimmauld Place instead of home.
It was time to come clean.
***
“You sweet, sad little idiot.”
“Excuse me?” Hermione asked.
Ginny offered her a tissue.
“You and Draco have been in love for years.”
“No, we haven't.”
“Yes, you have.”
“I- okay,” Hermione sighed.
Ginny was probably right. Now that she knew she loved him, she supposed the signs had been there for some time.
She never dated. She spent all her free time with him. She could breathe in the smell of his cologne and hear him laugh forever.
Merlin, she was stupid.
“Theo and I thought you were ready. We could see it in the way you looked at each other. Hence our bet.”
Hermione nodded.
“But of course you two couldn't just get together. No, you had to go and pretend to date, but you were really dating while pretending you weren't in love with each other.”
Hermione stared into her tea.
“Gin, I don't think he feels the same way. When I kissed him, he was so cold. He didn't respond at all.”
“Maybe he was shocked, ‘Mione.”
“Or maybe he didn't want to kiss me and he didn't want to hurt my feelings by saying that.”
“It sounds like you didn't let him say anything.”
She shrugged. “I couldn't bear to hear it.”
Ginny groaned. “For someone who possesses an incredible amount of infallible logic and emotional maturity, you are such a bloody child when it comes to love.”
Hermione scowled. “Aren't you supposed to be making me feel better?”
“No, I'm supposed to help you. There's a difference. Let's not focus on what's done. Let's make a plan to fix it.”
“I tried. I went to his flat with cookies and tried to apologize. He didn't let me in.”
“Doesn't he go home to spend Christmas with his mum every year?”
Hermione gasped. “You're right! He didn't answer because he's in Wiltshire!”
“When does he normally come back?”
“After dinner on New Year's Eve.”
“Then we have some time to figure out what you want and how to get it.”
***
December 30
Christmas was over in a blur. The Burrow was loud and chaotic, and Hermione reveled in the feeling of being surrounded by family.
When she came home, she did some soul searching and admitted to herself that she wanted more than friendship with Draco, and she would have to tell him that.
She regretted panicking and shutting him out, and she would start with that apology. Then she would confess her feelings for him.
Easy.
She made a fresh batch of cookies since he hadn't gotten any from her this year, and she sprung for an expensive bottle of champagne. If all went according to plan, they would be celebrating. If it didn't, she would have really good champagne to drown her sorrows in.
She practiced her speech to him until she was sure it was perfect.
As prepared as she could be, she settled into bed and spent the night overthinking everything.
***
December 31
After her annual New Year's Eve dinner with the Potters, Hermione gathered every bit of her courage and apparated to Draco’s flat.
She knocked on the door at eight o'clock, sure he would be home by that point, and waited with baited breath.
Nothing.
She knocked again, heart pounding.
Nothing.
She deflated, all hope leaving her.
Clearly, he hadn't come back. Maybe he wasn't ready to face her.
Maybe she really had ruined everything.
She took a minute to blink away her tears and do some deep breathing- she needed to calm down or she’d likely splinch herself.
Feeling just steady enough to make it home, she apparated back into her living room.
“Hermione.”
She jumped, startled, and dropped the champagne and cookies.
She cursed as the expensive alcohol got all over her, heart still pounding at the unexpected greeting.
“Draco,” she breathed when she finally gathered herself enough to realize he was in her house.
She stood there among the broken glass, staring at him.
She felt like she had been through the wringer. Her rehearsed speech flew out of the window, taking all of her courage with it.
She had no clue what to do now.
Luckily, Draco did.
He vanished the mess at her feet and crossed the room to her in a few strides.
His eyes searched hers. He must have found whatever he was looking for, because he took a deep breath, grabbed her face in his hands, and kissed her.
She was the one who froze this time. She quickly overcame her shock, though, and she clutched at his shoulders as she kissed him back enthusiastically.
She felt like she was floating and falling at the same time.
She pulled away, not going too far as he was still holding her face in his hands, and looked at him questioningly, hardly believing this was really happening.
“Please don't run away this time.”
She shook her head gently. “I'm not. Merlin, I'm so embarrassed about what happened, I'm so sorry-”
“No, I didn't mean to freeze up on you, I was just so shocked-”
“Then I warded myself inside like an idiot-”
“You are an idiot, but it's okay-”
“Hey,” she protested.
He grinned. “I’m an idiot, too. I shouldn't have asked you to fake date me when I wanted you to really date me.”
“Yeah, that made things very confusing when I started to realize I had real feelings for you.”
He leaned down and kissed her again.
“I love you,” she confessed. “I guess I have for ever, and I've just realized it.”
“Me, too.”
There was that now familiar flutter again. This time, she welcomed it.
She leaned in for another kiss, and Draco obliged.
She melted into him, and when he lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried them to the couch, where she forgot all about the cookies and the spilled champagne. He made her forget her own name.
***
January 1
Luckily, Draco had also brought champagne.
They kissed again at the stroke of midnight, and he accioed the bottle and two flutes.
“To more naked midnights,” he toasted.
She laughed and sipped the champagne, not sure how anything could top tonight but very willing to try.
“Happy new year,” she told him.
He beamed. “Happy new year, Granger. Thanks for being my date tonight.”
“I suppose you're stuck with me as your date for a long time.”
“That's what I was hoping for.”