“The crux being, an error of judgement has led to what may turn out lethal for both muggles and wizards. It's our best bait to take a defensive stance.” Spreading his fingers open along the mahogany of his table, Percy Weasley breathed out deeply, his decision made. “ Therefore, Miss Granger, I would like you to have a meeting with the muggle prime minister and lay out the logistics for whatever course of action they take.”
Draco watched Granger jerk out of the stupor that involved her and the heaps of parchment she was studying. The corners of his lips quirked up at her swotty distractedness. Only she could have the graces to bury her head in file when Persy Weasley rambled on. Lesser beings like Potter and Goldstein unabashedly stared out of the windows.
“Sure.” She affirmed, closing the file with a thud. “Considering the ammunition is theirs and the tiff was caused by the negligence and wrong decisions of our-”
“I agree, the aurors let him get away, security measures weren’t quite up to the mark, were they now?” Deluded Weasley spoke, an air of contempt in his voice as he turned haughtily at Draco, braving the disappointed stare even as he was met with an arched eyebrow.
“Pardon my recalcitrance, undersecretary. Seems your memory isn’t serving you right. It was the Ministry’s wondrous idea to get Rookwood off the hook. I remember stating that it would be the start of the Ministry's self-directed shitshow.” Draco tsked, relishing the deep shade of red that erupted the man. Leaning back, he continued, “I also recall sacrificing some really happening Friday evenings to hang back with Potter and file drafts opposing your sanctions. All of which ended up being a waste of parchment and intelligence.”
He caught Granger hiss shortly as Percy Weasley stiffened in indignation, taking personal offence and launching into a spitfire.
“The decision was in public interest- to put forward the ideas of acceptance and apology, especially designed for Purebloods so they don’t feel like they’re not part of this society.”
His glasses slid down his comically flushed nose as he thundered up, a tremor accompanying his outraged speech.
Sensing a brawl, peace-maker Granger rose up, raising her hands in a ‘calm down’ motion.
“Malfoy.” She clipped at him, disappointment and anger in her features. “Percy, what we are in is a delicate situation. The Aurors are working, and as much as I agree to Malfoy’s stand of seizing the ammunition, I understand where you’re coming from. I will go and speak to the Muggle prime minister.”
Chest puffing out in self importance, Weasley-the-bore quickly pushed his glasses up his nose, nodding and to sit down, Draco’s narrowed eyes trailed on Granger’s.
“However,” She interrupted, making him freeze midway through the squat, hovering inches above his chair. “I will ask the Prime Minister to hand over the hijacked trucks in case they find it first.”
Granger let her words hang for a minute, making it known that she didn’t believe the muggles would find it before the Aurors.
“Hermione, we have to give the Muggles some space to make their own moves, so they feel that they have a little power” Percy started, choosing to stand up again, a defeated air in his words as he moved his hands listlessly, trying to indicate something.
“As head of Muggle Regulations I believe the best we can do is to make them aware of how terribly dangerous Rookwood is.”
“That would freak them out!”
“The elephant in the room would be explaining just why such a man is free in the first place.”
“Exactly.” Percy wheezed, swinging to Draco as if he could expect some help from his side, which was just how far the redhead could stretch at being comedic.
“We cannot put ourselves in the line of fire, don’t you see? They will have questions and Merlin, haven’t those muggles got too many questions?”
“They have every right to raise eyebrows at your questionable actions.” Now was the fun part, which began with Granger loosing her cool.
That transcended into an awespiring flare in her eyes, and if he was lucky, the person on the other side succeeded at pissing her off to the point the ends of her hairs produced those little sparks. For once, Draco enjoyed not being assaulted by her temper, choosing to laugh openly at the way Hornbill Weasley went from fuchsia to blue to a little green around the ends, the stark bright canopy of his hair falling flat against his affronted skin.
“I'm doing this to preserve the Ministry’s honour.”
“You are choosing to save face. I remember standing in this very room and begging you not to let that man go but he was just some means to an end, wasn’t he? To your politics?” Granger seethed, a dark shadow on her face.
“Now Hermione, you know this was a joint decision, you cannot dump the whole lot of dung on me.”
“I most certainly can.” She huffed, her hair dancing in waves across her back as she raised her chin in indignation. “When you act like this dodgy slime who doesn’t give a rat’s arse about the muggles so long as you fulfill your agenda and keep both the sides happy-”
“For Merlin’s sake, this isn’t about politi-” With that decibel level, Percy Weasley was most certainly encouraging a verbal bloodbath.
“This is about public safety, Weasley.” Draco cut in smoothly, standing up and walking over to the unfortunate table that had been subject to too much of banging in the last few hours. “Probation or not, Rookwood is a dangerous guy, and thanks to your department, he’s on the loose.”
His eyes did a swift do over to Granger, catching her flushed cheeks and her squinted eyes before turning to face Percy Weasley properly.
“From what we know he has nicked three trucks worth of muggle ammunition and trust my judgement when I say this. Muggles can be dangerous when it comes to weapons of destruction so I’d suggest you don't take this with a grain of salt. You put a tracker on that guy’s wand so he hounds off with Muggle weapons. We don’t know who he would use them on. We don’t know if he has acquired an illegal wand and is planning to blow your little town up. Either way, we find him and we lock him back in where he belongs. Got it?”
“I’m not one of your staff, Auror Malfoy-”
“Don’t kid yourself Weasley, you wouldn’t last a day under me.” Scowling, Draco glanced at Hermione to find her watching him with a concealed grin on her face. The spark in her eye was more than entertained, it held a crisp of awe and was it- admiration?
“Its decided. We’re not stopping the search and we’re not fooling the Muggles into believing anything about an upper hand. We find the weapons, we do our diagnostics, we return them back as soon as possible.” Hermione stated with finality, picking up her files.
“You know they won’t like it.” Weasley looked like he had just danced with a dementor, all drained and out of colour.
“Its their safest bet.”
“Auror Malfoy.” Dead-faced Weasely spoke. “You would go with Miss Granger as her additional security, given that you seem extremely concerned about safety.”
And look at this. He’s threatening me with a good time.
“Be right there, Weasley” He drawled, allowing his robes to swoosh around the room as he turned, letting Granger slip in front of him. “In case Granger here butts heads with the Muggle minister, I wouldn’t hesitate with my convincing techniques.”
The last thing he saw was Percy’s eyes stretched wide like that of a barn owl, and Granger’s indignant “You wouldn’t dare-” rang through his ears.
“This guy would give Potter’s Weasley a run for his money.” He huffed as they reached the corridor, fixing the lapels of his robes.
“Ginny?” Hermione looked at him in confusion. “I thought you said she was the best Weasley out there?”
“Thats Arthur. And no. I was talking about the other one. You know.”
Her face melted into a playful smile, the kind that he saw progressively develop with each mug of butterbeer that she chugged down on friday nights.
“No. There are seven Weasley kids and then there’s Molly and Arthur and many more if you think about it, we’ve got three-”
“No, no, now don’t about laying the whole bloody family tree, you swot. You know which one I’m talking about.”
“No.”
“Want a hint? You are being about as insufferable as he is.”
“Correction. I’m mirroring you. Thanks to the fact that I work with you and we correspond a lot more than what is advisable for my sanity. You’re the prat, I’m just giving you a taste of your own medicine.”
Draco chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets and taking a step in her direction, and then another, that brought him right into her space. Working a smirk, he tipped his head till his hair hung down his face, his breath fluttering on her face.
“I’d rather you give me a taste of yourself.”
Hermione huffed out rather loudly, rolling her eyes and pushing her fingertips to his chest till he was respectably far away, face bright pink. Chuckling, Draco propped his shoulder on the wall, trailing his eyes over her.
“You gave owl-face over there a splendid asswhooping. He’s going to lose sleep for a month over it.”
“Oh, that.” The smile dropped off her face, a few angry lines replacing them. “He’s being ridiculous, and I sincerely hope somebody injects some sense into him.”
“The twins must have got something for that.” Draco offered, lifting off the wall and taking from her hands the file that she was tugging around. Heading towards the lifts, he watched her catch up just a second later, which reminded him to slow down a notch.
“Yeah. Something that involves tying him to a hungarian horntail and shipping him off to Merlin-knows-where.”
“That would make the world a happy place. Only second to it is getting the other Weasley shipped off on some impossible stealth mission that he could never return from, you know. Like getting the exact address of durmstrang or finding that dragon you all had nicked back in first year.”
“Norbert.” Granger grinned, pausing all of a sudden. “You remember?”
“I would. I was playing detective, and clearly, I was a natural. Should have known I’d be an Auror someday. Quite a good way to have old Lucius turn in his grave.”
The mention of his father didn’t dim the mood even as the lift binged open, a swarm of magical memos circling over their heads. One of them almost clocked Draco in the eye- something which was very amusing to Granger, and then they were in.
“Ofcourse.” She grinned, pushing to the back of the lift and leaning backwards on it. “Draco Abraxas Malfoy, Scion of two Ancient, Noble houses crumbling under the demands of his profession to the point he willingly participates in fistcuffs with Percy Weasley.”
Draco sneered at the shit eating grin on her face. “If that's your attempt at mirroring me, it's tortured. I recommend six months of field duty, where you do nothing but sit and observe me before you so much as take another shot at imitation. I am endearing on any regular day. You.” He whispered lowly, stalking purposefully into her space. This time, he took the opportunity to drink in her response to his eyes trailing down her eyes and over the curve of her lips. The flushing of her skin and the hitch in her breath, the subtle way in which she tucked her lip into her teeth
“Nevermind.” He took a step back, laughing silently at the way Granger blinked in confusion. The lift opened to their floor and Draco ambled out, watching her like a hawk as she stepped out, looking once at his face and then to the other side. Begrudgingly, she turned to look back at him, an unintended frown forming.
He’d bet all the galleons in his family vault that she enjoyed- no, desired, getting cornered by him.
A magical memo crafted in the shape of a paper airplane cut through the palpable tension between the two of them. The type of parchment used, beige, with the seal of the aurors, showed that it was meant for Draco. If he was to guess, this was the one that almost took out his eye.
Damn Potter.
Snatching it, he unfurled the piece, handing Granger back her stack of files.
“Rookwood was spotted” He whispered when he was done, making her lose the carefree smile.
“Near Windsor castle. People believe he might have the Royals as their target.”
Granger swore, and he would have taken a moment to grin at it if he wasn’t so pissed.
“‘I’ll be off.” He stated in a quick farewell, striding down the corridor past Bates and his assistant, who greeted Hermione. On reaching the end, he swiveled around, catching her eye.
“You left your coat at Potter’s. Take it before you leave, its flooding out there.”
“Oh, I completely forgot. Thanks.” She called out.
Two teams were dispatched to Scotland immedately, a third engaged with tracking all the portkeys commissioned from brokers past the date of rookwood’s release. Safe houses were raided and streets scourged for any concealment or safety charms, and much to Draco’s frustration, the backstabbing little fuck was yet to be found.
“I don't give a hippogriff’s arse what Percy said. We’re suspecting he could be hiding somewhere near the Freybends, and that is your domain, Malfoy. We need you there.”
“It's touching, how much you need me.” Draco remarked smugly just as Potter reached the end of his passionate rant.
He turned just in time to catch the paperweight his itate partner flung at him. “Calm down tiger. Seeker’s reflexes, remember?”
“You call yourself a seeker? Really?” The four-eyed git snorted, marching to the other side of the room.
“I can bring a list signed by a hundred people who would swear I make a spectacular one.”
“How much of this list would be women who you’ve snogged or shagged?” Draco rolled his eyes at the black-haired git’s comedic wiggle of eyes.
“About three fourths.” With a tap of his wand, he sent a set of files flying out in a pile to the transportation department. “I’m a charmer, you said so yourself.”
“Malfoy, I’m getting… bored. Stop messing around. We need you with us tomorrow.”
“You don’t.” Leaning back in his seat, Draco twirled his wand between his fingers. “Had my sources check. Nothing. He was never there.”
“He wasn’t?” Potter irritatedly swept his ringe off his face, looking back up at him with a perturbed gaze. “Even more reason why we need to hurry the hell up and crack where he can be.”
“You do your thing.” The corners of Draco’s lips quirked up. “UnderSecretary's orders. I have to be with Granger.”
Draco wished he could hex Potter for that irritated groan, followed by the shake of his head and his usual lazy smirk, dripping in condescension.
“Do I see someone pining? No,no, I see a love besotted puppy. C’mon now Malfoy, just ask her out and put us out of our misery.”
“Nobody’s asking anybody out. I’m doing my job and I assure you, it will be a job well done.”
——
The Muggle world was never Draco’s strong suit. Having been brought up completely alienated from their ways of life, he frequently found himself clueless about most things. Sometimes, he would take some time off his schedule to educate himself about their ways of life and customs. Other times, he would vehemently, resolutely deny them any chance at redemption.
For instance, now. The official that they were supposed to talk to, was late. Fashionably.
He and Granger portkeyed to the back of the castle- and by sheer dumb luck, she lost her footing and landed straight into his arms. That had marked a good start to the day.
Except, things went down right after. At first, the guards at the gate weren’t informed of their secret randezvous. Then, an official came racing out of the grounds, huffing and puffle, a little blue in the face. He invited them in, wheezed out an apology for the inconvenience and took them in.
When they were finally inside, they had been informed that the Minister and his team were currently having tea with the king and his extended family, and so they would be delayed for a while.
Absol-fucking-lute rubbish.
While Granger, in her usual steely professionalism accepted to wait with not much of a fuss, Draco was a second from confounding the man.
“We cannot harass him, Malfoy. He’s just doing what he is told.” Granger had put her nimble fingers around his arm, dragging him to the luxious sitting room, a glint in her eye as she said.“I will give the minister a piece of my mind.”
“You better.” He reckoned he shouldn’t have felt so disgruntled when someone stepped forward to take his and Hermione’s coats, reminding himself these people didn’t have magic to sort out their welcomes. Another rolling a trolley into the room with an assortment of what would be the best wines in England.
“Do I see a bottle of Malbrooks?” Hermione pointed, and Draco perked up at the familiar bottle, trying to remember if his mother had ever mentioned dealing with the muggle royals.
He contemplated rising to check which kind it was, but the stomping of boots interrupted him. Granger’s eyes steeled in focus towards the door, ready to be escorted to the Prime Minister.
“Yes Madam,” A posh, heavily accented voice rang out from the door, a finely dressed man strolling into the room. Hermione shot Draco a disappointed look as he relaxed back on the couch. Their visitor walked up to the trolley, dismissed the server and picked up the bottle of Elf-made wine, processed straight from the Malfoy vineyards in France.
He acknowledged Draco with a nod before turning towards Hermione, who was up from her seat. “The best in the world, this one is. The bordeaux blend is a signature, its worth the millions. Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, and Petit Verdot. Then there’s the aroma that ensnares you. Its bewitching, wine of this kind. ”
Draco couldn’t believe what was happening in front of his eyes. Some ordinarily muggle was fondling a bottle of wine that he had helped craft and bring into existence. Flaunting it unabashedly. And for what? To flirt. With Granger. Granger, who was here for meeting purposes. Have these Muggles been taught anything? He grimaced as the guy expertly popped the bottle and grinned at her as the fizz subsided, pouring out two glasses of the luscious red liquid.
Granger doesn’t even like red wine, especially not this one. The aroma made her heady.
Twat-extraordianaaire presented the glass to Hermione, and Draco had to marvel at the audacity of the man- checking Granger out so openly and to top that handing her the wine made from his property, pretending to be so smug about acquiring it, of giving her a taste.
Granger- always too kind for her own good- reached out for the glass glass and the man snatched up her hand, curling his grubby fingers around her knucles and pressing what Draco could define was the sloppiest, messiest kiss of the sodding century on her fingers.
His observation was further acknowledged when Granger crinkled her brows and immediately swapped hands to take the glass of wine, shooting him a confused look.
“When His Majesty asked me to hang around for tea this afternoon, I didn’t realise it would lead to the postponement of such important matters.” Whoever this guy was, besides being an avid licker of His majesty’s arse, held a proclivity for refusal of personal space. He took up the other glass, clicking it with Granger’s.
“Steven Lucas Umberto Glasgow. I'm a distant of the Windsors. The occasional business brings me here so I often end up being-“ Draco’s knuckles turned white from straining to not reach for his wand and shoot a hex- “Greedy.” The last word was a putrid whisper, with the S.L.U.G reincarnate dragging his eyes sleazily all over Granger.
If she shuffled uncomfortably one more time Draco didn’t know what he-
“Hermione Granger.” Despite being taken aback by the sudden launch of sluggy boy, Granger was a trained professional and had handled more than one unfortunate situation like this before.
All of which could have been avoided if she would just let him play around with his wand a little.
“I’m sure you already know but I’m representing M.O.M industries.” She titled to the side to look past the man and gaze at Draco, who had remained seated through the whole irriatating exchange, a shadow on his face.“And that is Draco Malfoy-“
The annoying little twat turned with a sweep, eyes sparking up in faux surprise, as if he only just realised Draco was here.
“That must be your assistant!”
Being Granger’s assistant would be rather hectic for someone like him, but he would contemplate the possibility after he’d hexed that crooked grin off this guy’s gruffy face.
They had their usual standard story for each time the Ministry paid a visit to the muggles. Most of the details were kept highly confidential, but the usual tale that went around was that the M.O.M industries was an offshore giant that traded goods of some kind that the government treasured too much to disclose to the public. Any aurors or employees who visited had to ensure they were wearing muggle outfits, so there were no raised eyebrows. Or rather, the only eyebrows raised were because people from the top-secret place had come to talk about their top-secret thing.
“No he’s not. That is-” For a second Draco thought Granger was going to repeat his name till the fame and the ancestry struck sluggy, but she caught herself. “That is our firm’s partner and prime investor. He oversees operations and has a lot of other side business.”
“Oh,” The other guy stated, turning back and puffing himself up in an air of importance. “Pardon me, Gentleman. I forgot my manners. But then again, when you’re in the presence of such a formidable, beautiful woman,” He swept his eyes sideways to Hermione, who shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and grey eyes steeled menacingly on the man. "You often forget about other things."
“Mr?” He prompted, holding out his hand. At the invitation, Draco sneered, regarding the hand stretched out in front of his, and then the man. Average height, trimmed beard, an air of haughtiness that needed to be stuffed straight up his ass.
His hand remained outstretched and hovering, and Draco had to give that the guy had been trained well in etiquettes, much like he had been.
However, he put that upbringing to good use and didn’t smother unsuspecting witches without so much as a reason.
Left at the uncertain end, Steven blinked, looking back at Granger who frowned at him, placing the wine.
Draco wasn’t above little staring contests with unassuming pigs who ambled for more than their worth, but this was only getting entertaining. Long legs unflurling, he finally rose up from his comfortable seat, taking his time to roll up the sleeves of his silk shirt- just what he had been doing before he was interrupted. When the sleeves were finally rolled up to his taste, tattoos out in all their glory, he approached the man. Correction. Towered over him, a mean stare on his face which he was sure would only turn worse the more this little thumbelina spoke.
“Draco Malfoy.”
He still didn’t take that hand.
“Oh.” Taking the signal, royal associate schooled his features into what could be a contorted smile, lines of insult written all over his face. “I happen to know lots of investors abroad and I’ve never once come across that name. You must be all for keeping a low profile, isn’t that right?”
Draco clicked his tongue. “Stephen.” He began, voice as patronizing as it could be. “You’re more than acquainted with me. If anything, I would call you a connoisseur of my craft.”
Stumped, the royal dipshit turned in wonder towards Granger, the clinking of glasses bringing his attention back to Draco.
“This. Chateau Narciss Malbrooks. It comes from the Malfoy Family vineyard at Bordeaux. Narciss comes from Narcissa, my mother.”
If S.L.U.G had kept his mouth sealed for another baffling second, Draco would have wondered if he had accidentally hexed the man with a lockjaw.
Behind him, Hermione sighed, pushing her curls out of her face in anticipation of what could unfold.
“Right. Okay.” For the abysmal yet pattering flirt that he was, Royal-douche had been rendered speechless. Draco kept that hard look on his face, but each time his eyes caught up with Granger’s he sent a teasing grin her way.
“Its a pleasure.” Having finally found the words he was searching for. “I’m quite a pleased customer, I must say, Mr.Malfoy. You’ve done a great job with this. I remember attending the tasting and inauguration that happened in Paris, that was quite a posh one. I keep attending these things, quite like having the finer things in life.”
Draco agreed to the Aristocratic prat, and was horrified all at once, because being rich doesn’t equal being subtle or smart, and S.L.U.G’s glances towards Hermione were nauseous.
“Its the likes of you that keep me loaded. Connoisseurs, pleasure seekers, freeloaders.” Draco’s voice dropped mercuriallly, making the guy flare up in indigance on an accusation not thrown yet.
“Business demands it, so I bring out the gold and pull in the hounds and thirsty wolves. They will scram in, because their reputation demands it. “
“That's rather pragmatic and business like." Slug winced, looking scalded. This man had a penchant for theatrics, because he was spinning all the way towards Granger, again.
So much to rest his slimy eyeballs on her for a second. Draco wouldn't have him ogle at her for more than that at a stretch. "Miss Granger- is he always like this? Scathing? Breathing fire?”
Taken aback, Granger laughed, eyes light and teasing. “That would fit. His name’s Draco, and Dragons do breathe fire.”
“Dragons?- Oh wait a minute.” Dunderhead perked up in what could be realisation. “There is the name of Dragon circulating around Mexico. Fight clubs and the other business- I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. Is that you?”
Draco wasn’t even aware what purpose did fight clubs hold, but his best bet was that they were the muggle equivalents of duel clubs.
Granger whipped her head from side to side and he shrugged, pouring himself a glass before strutting back to the velvet chair and sinking right in like he was the heir to it. Old habits never die.
“I don’t know Sylvian. I’d need a little more than fight clubs to work with.” He took a long, lasting sip. “Sit down Granger.” He ordered softly, and to her credit, Granger complied. “You too. Now tell me, does this Dragon guy show any proclivity for antiques?
Ruffled up like a mauled ostrich, S.L.U.G tilted his read. “I was at a Denver auction when he had a representative there? Were you interested in canes? I got myself a staff, made of copper really, but the handle is the unique bit. Entrusted with rubies, that one. Some of the largest kinds. And a circular motif filled with diamonds. Cost me quite a fortune.”
Like Lucius, like Sluggy. Mr-high-and-mighty-holding-a-stick-tighty turned to Hermione as he said this, animatedly describing the structure and the design of it.
“If you break a bone or two it would be of great help.” Draco interjected, grinning at the way his face paled.
“Or old age. Those come handy then.”
“Mr.Malfoy! That staff has been preserved for the last three centuries. It belonged to the Mughals! I wouldn’t diminish its worth by subjecting it to my meagre, everyday needs.”
“Ridiculous. Buying something precious and stacking it away in a corner? What's the point in getting yourself a beauty if you can’t savour it?”
Wasn’t the best comeback if you take into account Malfoy’s usual standards, but Slug looked stumped enough for peace-maker Granger to intrude.
“Mr.Glasgow.” Granger cut in smoothly, rising and straightening the crushed ends of her skirt, a glare thrown towards Draco. “While this is an incredible conversation, we are already thirty minutes past the scheduled time. Can I know when the Prime MInister would be ready for us?”
“I’m so sorry about the inconvenience Miss Granger. The Prime Minister is currently having a meeting with the royals, concerning some- ah, confidential matters. He’ll be seeing you shortly, and I will personally escort you to his office. And Mr.Malfoy too.”
Dark, irritated looks were shared between the two of them, accompanied by an awkward chuckle from the asshat in front.
“Windsor is incredibly beautiful at this time of the year. Sunsets from the west tower, particularly. The best view ever. Would you fancy a walk around the castle?”
“Mr.Glasgow, that would be wonderful, but we really need-” to emphasize, Hermione tried to point to the mirage of files they had huddled on another trolley, but Draco interjected.
“A walk sounds nice. That tapestry over there is giving me a migraine. You’d think the Royals would have some good taste in interior decoration.”
Draco grabbed his coat, striding up to Granger, a sparkle in his eye as she tried to hide her grimace.
“That one?” Taking personal offence, S.L.U.G tried to beseech Draco with a look of revulsion. “It's a scene from the Ovid. Embroidered in silk and lined with gold. It's a work of Ephillia Elvarez, one of the best we have had in our century.”
“That one?” Draco chortled, quite enjoying the growing fury on Hermione’s face as she rounded around the sofa and marched up to him.
Easily, he placed an arm around her waist, sharp auror ears privy to the surprised gasp that left her lips, and the look of narrowed venom flashing over Sluggy’s face.
“Thats a fake. You had to know that.”
“Its not!”
“How do you know that?”
Slug’s offended words were droned out by the intrigue that swam in Granger’s eyes, anger pushed to the recess with the thirst for knowing something new.
There were many reasons for Draco to claim that tapestry to be a fake. One being that Ephillia Elvarez was once Ephillia Black, and one of his ancestors so quite naturally, she would curse all her creations to ensure it never landed in the hands of the muggles. Two, she never worked with Paduasoy silk.
“It is. Someone’s looting your relatives.” The condescension burned through good old Stevie-boy.
“Thats not right!”
“If you’d paid attention to the details, you would know this pattern of sewing hadn’t even been introduced in her time. The other glaring detail being that Paduasoy silk was something she preferred not to use, as stated in her autobiography.”
The wretched idiot didn’t look quite convinced, but Granger hung on to each word that he said, eyes glittering as she held herself back from asking for more. He wondered if she had related the connection to the black family line yet.
“We’d catch the sunset if we leave for the grounds now. Or would you fancy a look from the high towers?” Having decided he was not winning this, S.L.U.G changed the topic.
“The towers would be fine.” Granger smiled apologetically at the guy, and Draco’s fingertips pressed into her side before he gave her a long look and released her. S.L.U.G ambled out, followed by a frazzled Hermione and a malevolent auror.
Deciding to step out of the room was, infact, one of the worst decisions they had made that day. Draco watched the sleaze inch towards Granger and down went the last grain of effort at being magnanimous. They turned and reached an intricate flight of stairs and SLUG offered his arm to Granger, and Draco swore his mind exploded.
Would it be too suspicious if Sluggy very conveniently toppled over the edge of the banisters while trying to show Granger a chandelier?
It wouldn’t. The little shit was swinging too much for his own good, maybe he’d do the world a favour and launch off on his own.
“This is one of the largest private residences in the world. If you have the time after your meeting, I would like to give you a private tour.” The bearded git offered, eyes sparkling at granger. The fizz died just the next second, when Draco’s murderous face appeared in front of him.
“You too, Mr.Malfoy. You would fancy the castle, and you seem to be knowledgeable about the fine arts. This would be quite the tour for you. You own a chateau in France ,don’t you?
“I hold the pleasure of calling two castles my own.” Draco whispered softly, stalking darkly behind the pair, his hand thrust in his pocket, secretly thumbing his wand. “One in Italy, which was passed down. Another around Scotland, which was more of me dabbling with the finer things in life. Most certainly, they aren’t lined with fakes.”
“Oh, alright. And I still don’t believe that item is a fake. We’ve got invaluable, beautiful things around this place.” Extremely put out, Glass-ass, shot a jealous, clamouring look at Draco while Hermione sputtered to change the topic, pointing at the horses strolling outside. At the mention of that- Glasgow relaxed a little, his eyes lighting up.
Desperate thing he was, enduring all this humiliation for a witch he would never have. Not while Draco was breathing.
“What a beauty, they are. There was a time when I used to ride horses, but then, I got a spine injury. Couldn’t continue.”
If only Draco could have a say about riding Abraxan horses.
“Then I shifted my interest to cars. Rolls, Lamborghinis.”
“You downgraded.” Draco drawled, and this time, Hermione couldn’t stop the sound of her mortification.
“I’m so sorry about him, Mr.Glasgow. He’s had a long day-”
“You don’t worry Hermione, can I call you that?” Glasgow grinned, flashing a smug grin Draco. “Mr.Malfoy and I- we’re jesting. Its a guy thing.”
“No.” Draco snapped, a dark look over his face. He swivelled to the corner, leading to an open corridor that led to an ornate balcony. “We have to be at the same level for it to be a guy thing. Don’t kid yourself, slug.”
Without waiting for a reaction or reply, Draco marched forward to the balcony, the bloody migraine of a day weighing down on him. It had tested every last nerve of his patience, and he was done. He was snarky, irritated and positive he would explode if he had to watch a slug crawl over Granger for one more minute.
The furious clicking of heels behind him indicated that peace would elude him for a lot longer.
“What was that?” Small fingers circled around his bicep, and he clenched his knuckles, aware that he was in for a nice, long lecture.
“Can I get some tea, slug? Would need that before we get started.” Without looking at either them, he spoke softly, allowing her to wrench him around so he was angled towards her.
“He’s gone. He was humiliated and for what reason?” Granger hissed, only to be awarded by a look out of the corner of his eyes. If he had to go throught that all afternoon and then face a tiring lecture from Granger, he might as well act difficult.
“Give me one good reason why you’re acting like such an arse.” She huffed, pinning him with a very annoyed glare.
“I’m being me. I don’t like bullshitting, and I was responding the way he deserved.”
“Bullshit!” Granger snapped, forcing at his arm till he turned, giving her a bored once over. Pissed, her hands rose, slamming him back on the stone railings, her hands on his chest, eyes crackling in fury. “Bullshit!”.
"You are repeating your words."
“You were being an awful bully!”
“And he was being a conceited, decieving piece of shit!”
“You could have tolerated it for two minutes!”
“I would rather not! I don’t want to be in the presence of such entitled, pretentious pieces of shit!!” Draco spat, momentarily distracted by the curl of her lips before she raged fire at him again.
“And aren’t you all those things?”
“Worse.” Draco snarled, swallowing deeply before gripping her elbows and tugging her to his chest, his nose hitting hers. “And yet, I manage to keep my hands off of things that don’t belong to me."
Granger blinked, dumbfounded, before realization dawned over her. All of the anger swept out of her eyes immediately, amusement seeping in. She didn’t leave his embrace, standing and peering up at him with beady, amused eyes, her fluttery breath on his face..
“What?” He snapped, halfheartedly, turning back to catch the sunset. She spanned her hands from his chest to his biceps, trying to catch his eye.
“And he was a liar too. Best view of the sunset my arse.” Draco grumbled, scoffing irritatedly when Hermione bit her lips to stop herself from laughing.
“Hogwarts was monumentally better. I’m even disappointed with the castle- even sodding Malfoy manor is better engineered than this shithole.”
“You absolutely tore him apart.” Granger stated, grinning all too bright at him.
“He wouldn’t stop touching you!” The tremour in his voice startled him too, all of the day’s anger and frustration flooding out all at once, with her in his arms. A part of him wondered if he was seriously behaving like a lovesick puppy, who had ventured out all territorial over his girl and ruined things for himself.
“It was rather entertaining.” Granger swept closer, going on to slide her arms over his shoulders, before curling them languidly around his neck, her fingers sliding into the trimmed hair at the back.
“His touches?” Draco drawled, fixing her with a glare that dared her to fuck with him.
“Would you throw some more of your riches at him if I say so?”
“I’d grab the tosser and physically haul him out of this balcony.”
“Charming.”
“Endearing. Just as I'd said. Glad that we’re on the same page about this.”
“We are.” She stated, and Draco stopped tracing patterns along her arms to venture closer, wrapping his hands completely around her waist, and then dragging them up her back to sink into her curls.
“Before we discuss the other things-” Granger interrupted, a breathiness in her words. “I got Harry’s message. Rookwood was intercepted. Landed right into whatever mousetrap you had laid.”
“I was certain of that, this isn’t news to me.”
“Oh.” She smiled coyly, pressing forward and crushing her breasts into his hard chest. “Then its best we move forward to more pressing matters.”
“Absolutely.”
His hand curled around her neck, switching the two of them around just the moment his lips crashed on hers. Fireworks, storms, and a whole club full of jet lights went off all at once in his head. Months and months of pining and denial all building up the furious passion, desperate and heady. Hermione Granger kissed like she savoured, and Draco was all for the keeps.
“After this,” He rumbled, only letting her breathe before capturing her mouth again. “There would be no going back. Everything changes, Granger.”
“About damn time it did.” She panted, tracing his jawline with her thumbs before cupping his face and kissing him again, softer this time.
“I’m pretentious. And I wouldn’t mind flaunting. Especially if its you. Take it or leave it.”
“I take it. Just don’t start another royal pissing contest while you’re at it.”
Draco chuckled, stealing another searing kiss from her.
"I’ll wait, but only till I get you a ring. No promises after.”