Best of Fifteen

“Well?”

Ginny’s voice was a screech that Hermione attributed partially to phone static and partially to the witch’s impatience.

“I don’t know. It was fine.”

Hermione could make out a huff.

“That’s it? Hermione Granger, I am demanding details. This is me demanding.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Okay, we met at a restaurant. He pulled out the chair. We shared some wine. He told me about his job and didn’t ask more than two questions about mine. He paid. He tried to kiss me and I pretended I didn’t notice him leaning in.”

Ginny’s wince was audible.

“He really didn’t ask you about yourself?”

“Barely,” Hermione sighed. “He was much more interested in telling me about his investments in various quidditch teams.”

“Oof. Alright. So Michael Corner is a no,” Ginny said, “But I’m proud of you for going!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Hermione handed off her galleons to the witch at the coffee cart in the Ministry’s atrium, grabbing a cup. She ended the call, telling Ginny she was needed in a meeting, and got in line for the lift. What she’d told Ginny about Friday night’s date was true, but she’d left out the fact that she’d tripped over a chair and lost the thread of their conversation no less than four times. Hermione’s mind hadn’t been at the swanky restaurant. It had been replaying her conversation with Malfoy.

He’d been sincere– she knew that much. Hermione knew when someone was feeding her bullshit, and Malfoy had meant everything he’d said. Pansy liked Malfoy, the Aurors in her department seemed to like Malfoy, and even Harry got along with him now. But Hermione valued actions, not words. And she couldn’t help but remember hurrying to the library to research basilisks in second year, unsure why she was the only one who could see the problem.

It was perhaps a bit overkill to compare Malfoy to a giant fanged monster, Hermione reasoned as she exited the lift, but it never hurt to be careful. Beyond the glass windows, the DMLE conference room was full. Harry caught her eye from where he stood next to Robards and gave a slight grimace.

“These incident reports are MESSY,” she heard the older wizard shouting. “Are you all third years? Do you know your letters yet? Shall I have you write lines to practise?”

Hermione kept her head down as she passed the meeting space, spotting Seamus Finnegan in the middle of the group, looking deeply ashamed. As she crossed, she noticed the tall form of Draco Malfoy, outfitted in a perfectly tailored slate grey muggle suit, leaning against the wall nearby. Her heartbeat picked up. He was watching the meeting through the glass, looking a bit gratified as Robards continued to yell.

Noticing her, Malfoy straightened up. She watched some emotion flash across his face, but it was quickly replaced by determination. He nodded towards the conference room.

“National emergency,” he said.

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“That’s what we call them,” he explained, “Every few weeks Robards notices some departmental incompetence and gathers all the Aurors in the conference room to put the fear of Merlin in them.”

Hermione nodded. She looked at Malfoy. He stood straight, his face a mask of calm, but his left hand was drumming on the leg of his trousers. He’s nervous, Hermione realised.

“And you watch them all squirm as entertainment?” she asked.

Malfoy’s features twisted up. “No,” he said quickly, then paused. “Yes. Sometimes.” He looked at her warily, then followed with, “they really deserve this one. I’ve lost three cases in the last month because of incomplete incident reports.”

Hermione snorted. Malfoy looked at her in surprise as her hand flew to her mouth.

“Sorry,” she said emphatically, “it just sounds so much like Ron and Harry in school.”

A smirk crossed Malfoy’s face before he schooled it. Although Hermione had been laughing, she felt a surge of protectiveness at the thought of Malfoy laughing at her friends. It must have shown on her face, as Malfoy stiffened.

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” the wizard said quietly, nodding at her cup, “Ministry coffee is awful.”

He turned and walked to his office. Hermione looked after him as the door to the conference room opened and Aurors, looking chastened, filed out. Hermione took an experimental sip of her coffee and grimaced. She threw it in the bin as she followed Malfoy’s blond head to their offices.

Hermione spent Wednesday morning fighting with a filing cabinet. The whole thing had been transported in from the crime scene, and it was surely full of incriminating goodies. However, it had the unfortunate habit of biting the hands of anyone who went to open it. Hermione stuck her finger in her mouth after a particularly hard bite drew blood. She returned to her parchment, crossing off her latest try. A sleeping spell, like what she’d used on Fluffy in first year, caused the cabinet to lock itself. She’d attempted a derivative of the incantation, hoping to simply calm the cabinet, but perhaps some of the Latin was wrong?

Chewing on the end of her quill as she read over her work, Hermione heard a knock at the door.

She opened it with a wandless spell to find the smiling face of Neville Longbottom. The wizard held up a brown paper bag that smelled like kebab.

“Neville!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Harry’s told me it’s impossible to get you to leave the office for lunch, so I’ve brought you some. And if you don’t take a break to eat with me I’ll be put out.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but accepted the bag gratefully. She transfigured an empty evidence crate into a suitable coffee table and set their lunch out.

It was true that Hermione often worked through lunches, but in the face of her friend and delicious-smelling food, she put aside thoughts of work. Instead, Hermione and Neville caught up. She sat on her couch and he sat on the floor across from her, his long legs splayed out comically. As he updated Hermione on the news from his greenhouses, she smiled fondly at the man. He’d grown into a handsome wizard, tall and sturdy, and with a self-assurance he hadn’t had at Hogwarts. But as his eyes widened while describing his Dittany crop, Hermione saw the boy who’d been her first real friend in the Wizarding world. She smiled fondly at him.

“Have you seen Pansy recently?” Hermione asked as a detailed description of his irrigation system waned.

Neville looked up sharply and sighed.

“Plenty, Hermione.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“She’s at Theo’s when I’m consulting on his grounds, at yours when I’m checking on the plants… she asked me if I’d help with her window boxes? I don’t think she even has window boxes.” Neville shook his head.

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Hermione asked.

Neville let out a rueful laugh. “We’ve had dinner at Theo’s twice in the last week and discussed her window boxes over coffee on Sunday. But the second I ask her to see me, on purpose and alone, she vanishes.”

Hermione sucked in a breath. “Pansy is– she’s been–”

“I know,” the wizard said, his hand running over his face, “I’m willing to wait.”

Hermione nodded, meeting Neville’s eyes. She saw his patience in them, deep and enduring.

Both friends jumped as a knock sounded on the door. Before Hermione had a chance to respond, the door swung open.

“Hermione, I’ve got a– Oh, hello Neville!”

Harry, who’d entered, grinned at his fellow Gryffindor, clearly forgetting his earlier train of thought. He strode over to clap Neville on the back, then leaned forward to steal one of Hermione’s chips.

“Yes, Harry?”

“Oh, right,” the green-eyed wizard said, swallowing, “I’ve got Malfoy here for you.”

Harry swung his thumb back to the door, where Malfoy was indeed standing, looking supremely uncomfortable. The blond’s eyes jumped between Hermione and Neville, his brow furrowing.

“Now that you’re getting somewhere with the files, I’d like Malfoy to give you a rundown of what we’re looking for here. You know– legal jargon.”

Harry popped another chip in his mouth before heading to the door. “Gotta run!”

Neville got to his feet as well, dusting the crumbs off of his shirt.

“I should head out, leave you to it,” he said, gathering their trash.

Hermione nodded. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Anytime!”

As the Gryffindor followed Harry to the office door, he stopped in front of Malfoy.

“Good to see you, mate,” Neville said, switching the hand he carried their bag in to give Malfoy a shake. “How are the Polyantha? Liking the rain?”

“Um– Yes,” Malfoy responded, shaking himself, “My mother says they’re much happier.”

“I bet,” Neville responded. “Well, my best to Narcissa. Bye, Malfoy. Bye, Hermione.”

Both Hermione and Malfoy watched in dismay as Neville turned the corner and disappeared. After a moment, Malfoy turned towards the witch and cleared his throat. She stepped back and gestured for him to come in. He did so, eyes lingering on the transfigured table and the pillow that Neville had placed on the floor.

As she closed the door behind him, Hermione attempted to school her features. She hadn’t known that Neville and Malfoy had spoken in the last years, much less that they were friendly.

When Hermione turned back, Draco was frowning down at the piece of parchment she’d been scribbling on. Deep in concentration, he seemed to be mouthing something to himself. Hermione stole a moment to look at the wizard before her. He’d always been tall but was even more so now, and his build was lean but strong. He’d grown into his features: his cheekbones were still high, but were evened out by a strong jaw. He was pale, but not sickly the way he’d been in sixth year and when Hermione had seen him at his trial. And his hair, while still its recognizable colour, was no longer slicked back. A hand had come up from his grey robes and was perched under his chin, his pointer finger absent-mindedly resting on his lips. It was the motion of that finger, not Hermione’s own interest, that led her attention towards his mouth, soft pink, and with full lips.

Hermione felt her face redden, and she abruptly walked over to her desk chair and sat down.

“Harry said you needed me to look for something?”

Malfoy practically jumped when she spoke. Hermione watched, with no small amount of satisfaction, as he looked sheepishly away from her parchment. Clearing his throat, Malfoy began a description of the types of bank statements that would be most useful for his case. As Hermione asked a follow-up question, she watched his eyes drift back to her paper.

“Malfoy, what are you looking at?” she finally snapped.

For a moment, it looked as though he would say “nothing”, and let the moment pass. But he didn’t. The wizard pushed the paper in her direction.

“You’re trying to lessen the effect of a bewitched sleep here, aren’t you?”

Hermione nodded, a bit put off.

“The standard prefix is a Latin root, but the original incantation, Dornröschen, is Germanic.” Hermione opened her mouth to refute him, but he barrelled on. “Which of course you’ve already explored– this third derivation is brilliant– but that’ll lessen the duration, not the effect, so I wonder if, from the Latin, a targeted Laxo cast in conjunction might do the trick?”

He reached out a hand, and Hermione watched as he swiped a ballpoint pen, not a quill, from her pen cup to scribble down his idea.

Malfoy looked up at her. She looked down at his work. He was right. She hated that he was right.

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before getting out of her chair.

“Alright, let’s try it.”

Malfoy clearly had not been expecting this, but he nodded gamely, and followed her to the enchanted cabinet.

“On my go,” she said.

“At the cabinet?” He asked, clearly confused.

Hermione just nodded, shooting a glare at the object. At her signal, the two cast their spells. At Hermione’s magic, the object fell once again into a slumber, the entire cabinet rattling with snores. Malfoy’s relaxation spell hit it not a second later, and the cabinet’s jaw slackened. Each drawer rolled open.

Malfoy turned towards her. She looked up at him, expecting to see a taunt in his eyes, some pride at having bested her, but there was only excitement. Excitement, and perhaps a bit of surprise. She turned back to the cabinet and reached a tentative hand inside. There were no teeth this time, and Hermione opened it wide enough to levitate the documents out and onto her desk. She repeated this with each drawer, until the cabinet was empty. In her triumph, she gave the now-useless piece of furniture a kick to get back at it for the biting.

Hermione heard Malfoy chuckle. She spun towards him.

“I’ll have you know that it deserved that kick and more. It’s been tormenting me all day.”

“I’m sure it has.”

“Thanks,” she said, a bit more seriously. “That was smart.”

The wizard nodded, not quite looking at her.

“Well,” he said, “I’ll leave you to it. If you find anything, do let me know.”

“I will,” said Hermione, her attention already moving to the documents in front of her. She didn’t see Malfoy let himself out, nor did she see the amused smile that pulled across his features as he looked back at her for a moment.

As she set about organising the new evidence, Hermione’s movements paused just once as it occurred to her that Draco Malfoy had called her brilliant today, and he’d meant it.