Timetabled Seduction
Timetabled Seduction
Hermione was enjoying a quiet breakfast alone, reflecting on the last week. Things had calmed down somewhat as people began to settle into the new normal, working on becoming comfortable with their assigned partner. In Hermione’s case, things were still going very well. She’d stopped forcing herself to have doubts, and was just going with the natural feel of things. She’d been feeling quite calm on the subject, up until the morning post was delivered. A letter on what was clearly expensive parchment landed in front of her, and Hermione assumed it was the correspondence she’d been dreading.
Malfoy had informed her that he’d finally let his mother know who he’d been matched with, as well as their uniquely high percentage, and she was to expect some sort of message in the coming days. Apparently, that day was today. Malfoy wasn’t at breakfast that morning yet, despite being an early riser, so she decided to just open the letter and find out what the indomitable Narcissa Malfoy had to say.
Miss Granger,
My son has informed me that you have been matched with him by the Ministry for this deplorable law that has been forced upon you and your peers. Whilst I offer my condolences that your choices are being made for you, he expressed in his letter that you have been getting on well together since the announcement, and I must confess that I was deeply surprised to hear this. The events of the war weigh heavily upon me, particularly that day at the Manor with my sister and her horrendous actions towards you, and to find out that you are both moving forward in peace brings me an unimaginable sense of comfort. All I have ever wanted is for my son to be happy, and if this compatibility percentage is to be believed, then I have to trust that he will find it with you.
If you would be amenable, I would like to take this opportunity to extend a standing invitation for you to visit the Manor. From now on, you are always welcome. If you never want to set foot in this house again, I would understand completely, however I will tell you that I have undertaken significant renovations since the end of the war, and it is largely unrecognisable. I believe I have managed to make it feel like a home again after purging the last of the dark magic left behind by our unwanted guest.
Finally, I want to let you in on a secret. My dear Draco won’t want me to tell you this, but what is a mother’s role if not to embarrass her son? He has always had a particular interest in you. I don’t think we had a single Christmas break without mention of you for a long time. His father manipulated that innocent interest into something darker by teaching him that horrific slur, but I won’t apologise for that now, I am not in the business of doing so through letter. Take me up on my offer, and I am more than willing to speak on these matters over tea.
I hope things continue to progress positively between the two of you. Know that I approve entirely, who would not be proud to have such a capable witch for a daughter-in-law?
Yours faithfully and in earnest,
Narcissa Malfoy
Hermione wasn’t entirely sure what to make of such a letter. She was inclined to take it at face value, but she wasn’t naive enough to forget that Mrs Malfoy had once been a slytherin, and was a very intelligent woman. It was fairly safe to assume she had some kind of plan, some sort of game that she expected Hermione to play, and she couldn’t let herself be out-manouvred this early on. She’d meet the Malfoy matriarch on a level playing field, demanding the respect she deserved. Her final sentence suggested that Malfoy may have been right, his mother approved of Hermione because of the public perception, the positive effect she’d inevitably have on the family reputation, rather than simply accepting her for who she was. Pureblood ideals were hard to shake, particularly in the older generations, and Hermione was no fool, she wasn’t expecting Narcissa Malfoy to warmly welcome her with open arms. She was expecting all business, if she ever met the woman.
Someone nudged her shoulder gently, and she turned to find Malfoy sitting next to her, smirking.
“Hi.” She said, and he laughed.
“I’ve been sitting here for nearly five minutes, and you’ve only just noticed, Granger.”
“Oh. Have you? Sorry. I was just thinking.”
“Did my mother write to you too? If she was rude, then I apologise. I’ll tell her to not contact you again.”
“No, that’s not it at all. She was actually fairly nice. I was just pondering the subtext, what she’s said between the lines.”
“Can I?” He gestured to the parchment, and she passed it to him. His face grew hard as he read, and she took the opportunity to eat some of her toast.
When he turned back to her, he looked fairly grave.
“This isn’t good, Granger. I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve earned the genuine Narcissa Malfoy stamp of approval. This is how she speaks to people she likes.”
“Oh, Merlin. She’s going to be involved in this, isn’t she?” She gestured between them and he nodded.
“Keep an eye out for those napkin samples, I’d say.”
“Should I take a class to learn the behaviours of eloquent ladies, just in case? Will you teach me the difference between all the forks you fancy people use at dinner?”
“You work from the outside in, it’s not that complicated. Oh, fucking Salazar.” He rested his head on the table.
“Draco, what are you doing?” Pansy asked, bemused as she strolled past them. Blaise trailing after her. Ginny and Neville conspicuously absent, she noted.
“My mother likes her.” He mumbled into the table, and Pansy gasped.
“Fuck, she does?!” Pansy said, slamming her bag down and taking a seat at the bench next to him, stroking his arm comfortingly.
“Granger, pass the letter?” Blaise said, and she handed it over, brows furrowed at their collective dramatics. He skimmed it and glanced up, smirk firmly in place. “Best of luck, Granger, your life is over.”
“Why is this a bad thing? You’re all being really quite dramatic. I thought that was Theo’s job in your friendship group.” She waved her hand at the three of them, and Malfoy sat up, meeting her eyes.
“If she hadn’t liked you, then she would have hidden us away, we could have lived our lives in peace. Because she does, in fact, like you, that means events, appearances, responsibilities to the family.”
“When you say appearances-”
Pansy interrupted her. “I hope you’re as good at ballroom dancing as you are at everything else, Granger. You’ll never know privacy again. You’ll have to mingle, Cissa will want to let the world know that she is oh-so-happy with her new family, everyone must come and bask in the glorious relaunch of the Malfoy dynasty.”
“Fuck.” Hermione whispered, suddenly picturing how horrendously public her life was apparently going to be.
“Yes. Fuck.” Malfoy enthusiastically agreed, nodding.
“You think it’s too late? I could try and free your house elves? Smash a few priceless heirlooms?” She offered, and Malfoy laughed despite himself.
“Cissa plays the long game. She’ll already have a theme picked out for the coming-of-age party of your third child.” Blaise said, and Hermione groaned.
“Great.” She said, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the wall behind her. She felt someone, presumably Malfoy, lean their head on her shoulder, and she laughed. She heard Pansy gag, and knew that it was Malfoy leaning on her. She opened her eyes and sat up properly. Malfoy didn’t move.
“Well she can’t force us to become socialites whilst we’re still in school, right? We’ve got some months of freedom left.”
Malfoy hummed in agreement. “We’ll just both have to get important jobs straight away and be very busy all of the time.”
“You thought I wasn’t planning on doing that?” She looked down at him, and he laughed again.
“Sorry, I forgot who I was talking to.”
She looked at Pansy, who was observing her relaxed nature with Malfoy with interest, and if she didn’t know better, jealousy. She met her eyes.
“How’s Neville?” Hermione asked, and Pansy groaned.
“I am royally fucking that up, Granger. I don’t know how to speak without being a massive cow. We aren’t compatible, they’re just wrong.”
“You come to me for honesty, right?”
“I do.” She said begrudgingly, sighing slightly. Blaise chuckled in the seat next to her.
“You’re afraid he’ll reject you and you’ll end up hurt and alone, so you do the hurting first. If you push people away, then it was your choice that they left. He’s already stood against you once, when you duelled like children in the corridor, so what’s to stop him from doing it again? You want someone steady in your corner, and you can’t imagine how that person will ever be Neville.”
“You’re such a fucking bitch, Granger.” She mumbled, and Hermione smiled at her innocently. Malfoy finally sat up, stealing the apple from her plate. She pretended not to notice.
“Observant, though.” She said, and Pansy huffed.
“You and him are a terrible, horrific combination, and I hate you both so very much.”
Malfoy snorted. “The days where the dream was for us to end up together just so we wouldn’t kill ourselves out of sheer boredom are over, Pans. You’re avoiding Longbottom because he has the power to hurt you, and you’ve never liked when people have that over you. Keep the circle small and you aren’t at risk of being fucked over, right? I get it.”
“We’re just too different. It’s like I’ve tried to make a start with him, and I just keep getting it wrong.”
“The Ministry has fucked up our lives for good by assigning us all our own personal gryffindor.” Hermione snorted, and Malfoy grinned at her before turning back to Pansy. “They aren’t going anywhere, but neither are we. You aren’t alone in this, Pans. I’m not ignorant of the fact that I am somehow the luckiest bloody wizard on the planet, and my relationship has been smooth sailing when it objectively should have been hell, but I’m still struggling all the same. Our lives aren’t going to be what we imagined they would be, and you have to stop clinging to the expectations you had. Hey, what if we all met together? The animosity isn’t going away until it’s addressed, and maybe the problem is that they don’t know where we stand. Granger only knows because I wrote her a depressing letter after my trial. I don’t think we’d be where we are if I hadn’t done that. You need an equivalent with Longbottom. And with Weasley, Blaise. You said you thought she was fit, what’s the problem?”
“She won’t even look at me. I tried, but she just ignores me. We went out to the quidditch field and sat in silence for a bit before she walked off without saying a word.”
“To be fair to Ginny, at the start of this week she was in a stable relationship with Harry, and then that was unceremoniously ripped away from her without warning. Then she finds out that Harry was going to break up with her anyway, that’s a lot for anyone. She’s the most stubborn person I know, but she does just need time. I think speaking as a group could be a good idea, actually. For all of us.” Hermione added, and Blaise looked at her, hope in his eyes.
“You think she’d give me a chance?”
“I think she would. 96% right? She won’t throw that away. I guess the way to look at it is that she’s had a very recent break up, and needs to work through that first before she can seriously consider anything with you.”
“That’s fair. Alright, thanks Granger.” He nodded and she smiled.
“Anytime.”
Malfoy smiled at her, slinging his arm around her shoulders. Pansy rolled her eyes, but at least she didn’t gag this time.
“I suppose we should ask how you’re doing? Seeing as you spend all of your collective time putting out other people’s fires.” She said, looking between Hermione and Malfoy.
“I’m running an experiment to see how she feels about physical touch. It’s going well, I reckon.” Malfoy said, and Hermione sat up straight to look at his face.
“Is that why you’re suddenly so needy? I just thought you were feeling a bit lonely.”
“We’ll graduate to hand holding next week.” He patted her arm, and smirked.
“You’ve got a timetable?”
“Obviously. It’s colour coded.”
“I mean if anyone was looking to seduce Granger, I would assume a colour coded timetable would be the way to go about it.” Pansy commented.
“You’re all the worst.” She muttered, and Malfoy simply tightened the hold he had on her, smiling broadly at her discomfort.
“Mione!” Ron hollered from the other end of the hall. She sighed heavily, dreading the approach of her hot-headed friend when she was casually sitting with three slytherins.
“Yes, Ron?” She said coolly.
“We’ve got potions, you coming with? Oh, and can I copy your essay? I didn’t do it.”
“Yes, I will come to potions with you. No, you cannot copy my essay.” She replied testily, extracting herself from Malfoy’s arm. She stood, and Ron immediately walked off, huffing about the essay, but turned around when he realised she wasn’t following.
“What are you waiting for?”
“I am waiting for my friend Blaise, who is also in our potions class.” She said in a patient tone, as if speaking to a child, and gestured to Blaise, who was picking up his bag and rising from the bench.
“Oh.” He grumbled, fiddling with the strap of his bag, not meeting anyone’s eye. Malfoy was smiling, enjoying the whole thing far too much. Hermione knew he was going to say something stupid to annoy Ron even further, she knew the look in his eyes.
When Blaise was ready, and she suspected he took a little longer than necessary, he offered his arm to Hermione. It was a little sarcastic but she took it all the same. If Ron was going to be an arse, then she wasn’t against teaching him a lesson or two.
“Goodbye light of my life.” Malfoy said to her in a simpering tone, and she looked at him wearily. Ron glared at them, before turning around, yanking his bag further up his shoulder.
“I cannot stand you.” She said, smiling innocently, before marching off behind Ron. She could hear Malfoy laughing.
As she moved away, she caught something Pansy was saying.
“You’re so obvious, you know. I can’t believe you caught feelings that fast, you pathetic man.”
Hermione didn’t hear his response if there was one, but she decided to put off thinking about that too much until later.
Catching Feelings
A week. He’d lasted a week. Pansy was right, he was a bit pathetic. He’d slipped into something so natural, so easy with Granger that of course he’d started to like her. They’d been aiming for friends, but he’d moved straight past that into something else entirely.
He knew what colour her eyes were now, and he was worried about the very real threat of his imminent pontification about them. He had things to say about Hermione Granger’s eyes, and that scared him a bit. He’d always been a chatty drunk, and he was genuinely concerned that a few firewhiskeys would turn him into a soppy fool. Or, perhaps more accurately, they would loosen his lips just enough for him to vocalise all his innermost thoughts, which primarily concerned her as of late.
He couldn’t really understand how they were moving so much faster than their friends. It was like they were skating over ice when everyone else had to wade through mud. Was the missing 4 or 5% from their compatibilities really enough to make such a difference? Perhaps it was more to do with the way both him and Granger were naturally impatient people, and neither particularly felt it necessary to dwell on the past when they had lives to start living. He’d made the choices he had, she knew the reasons why, and that was that. Now they only looked forward, apart from the odd time where Granger would knock him for six with one of her war stories. He would encourage her to write a book one day, he’d already decided that. People needed to hear of the things she’d done, and he was convinced it would be a bestseller.
He was really not listening to Professor Vector, despite having always enjoyed arithmancy. His brain was too addled, too full of Granger and her hair to take on new information. It made him feel a bit sick, if he was honest. He was sitting next to Theo, who, he noticed, had Granger’s textbook, full of her notes. Whether he’d asked her for it or had simply stolen it, Draco was unsure. Either way, he suspected he’d be the one tasked to return it to her, as well as the one to face the consequences if it turned out Theo had stolen it.
They’d organised a meet-up of all of their friends later, outside by the lake in case anyone was feeling violent, and he was a little surprised to realise he was looking forward to it. He wanted his friends to be happy in the same way he was. Things were going well with Granger, but a lot of their time consisted of babysitting other people, and it was beginning to grate on him. He’d always been the one to give advice in his friendship group, always the one that people turned to for comfort or stability in times of crisis. He wasn’t sure how that happened, but he’d never questioned it, not even during the many times he’d felt it necessary to sit in the common room late at night, ensuring everyone got back safe if they’d been out at some secret party somewhere, placing a hangover potion and glass of water by their bed. He got the impression that Granger was the equivalent for her friends, and it made him wonder if it would always be like this now, with people turning to them for advice because their relationship had been put on a pedestal, a paragon of inter-house cooperation. He wondered if he should deliberately start a fight with Granger, just to make sure they still had the capability. He could very easily lose himself in her, and he didn’t want that. He liked the person he was, he didn’t want to morph with Granger and become some nauseatingly sweet conglomeration of the people they used to be. Equally, he didn’t want to bend to her every whim and become one of those husbands that just did what they were told. That is what he would have become had he married a pureblood witch, and seeing as he wasn’t doing that, he didn’t want to end up at the same outcome just because he was falling hard and fast and couldn’t control his thoughts properly. It had been an intense week, and he hoped that speaking openly with everyone later today would help him put his feelings in perspective. He’d had his fair share of one night stands with various witches, and not once had he ever felt like this. It was unsettling, to say the least.
“You’ll displease your wife if you don’t take decent notes.” Theo whispered, tapping his quill on Draco’s conspicuously empty parchment.
“Piss off, Theo.” He forced himself to refocus despite his words, knowing that Granger would genuinely be annoyed at him if his grades slipped. The fact that it was her that was the distraction in the first place probably wouldn’t work in his favour, either. The thought that he should try occluding the thoughts away crossed his mind, but he’d worked hard to kick that habit. He’d needed to occlude heavily every day when the Dark Lord took up residence in the Manor, and it was tempting to stay that way, in the quiet haze of nothingness. No, he’d just need to pull himself together like everyone else did. He’d had crushes before, he could manage to exist without following Granger around like a lost puppy. Perhaps it was the fact that he knew for certain his future included her that made his feelings worse, but he needed to get a grip all the same.
Theo tapped his parchment again, and he scowled at his friend, who simply smirked in response. He’d need to practice being able to continue to function as a person, apparently, now that his head refused to cooperate with him. Perhaps that was the Ministry’s aim with this, they’d put you with someone that was so perfect for you it prevents you from being able to do anything else, a pleasant sort of torture instead of the more classic variety you’d find inside Azkaban. Now more than ever, he wanted to know what their percentage was calculated with. Was it simple things, like they wanted the same number of kids and both liked their tea the same way, or was it more complicated, perhaps to do with their magical cores, their souls being made of the same stuff. Maybe they could run some experiments later, when everyone was gathered by the lake. Doing a personality quiz felt overly simple, but if it produced answers, then it was a start. He figured there would be some sort of argument first though. Or the more persistent gryffindors may want to grill him and his friends as to where their loyalties truly lay. If they wanted to ask him about the war, throw allegations around and gawk at his forearm, they were welcome to do so, but he wouldn’t stand by and let them insult his friends, his feelings for Granger be damned. He sighed, his head leaning on his hand, and Theo snorted quietly before tapping the parchment a third time, more forcefully than before.
“Can you try and stay with us for two minutes? You’ll see her later.” He whispered, and Draco rolled his eyes, as if what Theo had said wasn’t exactly what he’d been thinking about. He almost replied ‘see who?’ but there was no point in lying to his friend, Theo was far too astute for his own good. Apparently, the days where he could school his face into a mask of indifference in the same way Blaise always did were gone, and his every thought was painted on his face for all to see. He’d need to practice that too, or he’d be accused of harbouring sentimentality in a way that was decidedly at odds with the Draco Malfoy everyone knew. He’d joked about their relationship being saccharine, but he was half a step away from exactly that if he wasn’t careful. He didn’t recognise the person his feelings were turning him into, and he didn’t like it. Perhaps he’d spent too much time with her, maybe space was what they needed? He didn’t know what to do about any of this, he had no plan, no obvious next step. Draco didn’t want to allow Theo the opportunity to tap his page a fourth time, and so shoved all of his thoughts forcibly back, hiding them as deep as he could. It wasn’t occlumency per se, but it was also something he couldn’t get into the habit of doing. He finally joined the rest of the class in the room, tuning into what Vector had been saying.
He hoped it wouldn’t always be this difficult, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it would only get worse.