Dog walk
In any other scenario, Hermione would consider today the perfect fall day. The grass still retained dew from the past several days of rain. She breathed in air that was crisp in the sun’s light. Fresh fallen leaves crunched underfoot. She loved autumn. She loved walks, when she could be bothered to shrug off her blankets and books to take them. The season reminded her of carving pumpkins, apple cider, and bundling up next to a bonfire.
Today would be perfect, if not for Aspen.
Aspen was Harry’s dog, or, more precisely, Albus’ dog. As is the case with most children and pets, the responsibilities ended up falling on the parents, Albus only claiming the dog when convenient, which was never at the same time as walks or meals.
She cursed the Potters under her breath as she struggled with the leash and the 6-stone dog threatening to yank her off balance.
“I’m so sorry, please, just keep walking,” she gritted out with a pained smile, the couple walking by with their twin Staffordshire terriers looking at the pair of them like they were both hell dogs out to drag them to their deaths.
Aspen was inconsolable at not being allowed to run straight up to the other party as they scurried by. “Leash reactivity,” Harry had called it.
What a fat load of bollocks.
Oh, she believed there was a term for the way their super mutt rescue went completely ballistic every time he was on the leash and saw another dog, but it had been years now since they’d adopted him. Surely, by now, they should have trained the behavior out of him?
Now here she was, barmy to have accepted not only house sitting for her best mate and his family while they were on vacation, but dog sitting with all the activities it entailed.
Like walking. Three. Times. A day.
“Aspen, come! Aspen, look!” Her commands went straight over the fuzzy black head without eliciting any response. He continued to tug forward without looking to her for approval or permission.
This is why she preferred cats. Even owls, with their razor-sharp talons and grouchy nips were better. At least they delivered mail.
Giving up, she allowed herself to be pulled along their usual route along the gravel path around the pond. They took this walk every morning, then in the afternoon they went the opposite direction through the little Muggle subdivision of homes. One final evening walk to work off dinner cut partially through the same neighborhood into a cleared path through the nearby forest.
She didn’t begrudge the multiple walks—they afforded her regular exercise and well-needed breaks from the tasks into which she often lost herself.
It was encounters with others that made her drag her feet in putting on the leash and harness.
Aspen would be a lovely companion if not for his loss of self at the sight of another dog, delivery truck, bicycle, and scooter. He draped himself over her every morning and she cuddled him for the next half hour as she slowly woke up. He kept her feet warm wherever she perched, book or pen in hand. He eagerly followed her to sleep at night, curling up at the foot of the bed with his head towards the door to guard their dreams.
“Oh! Finally.” She perked up as the dog curled into a familiar position.
It was as she settled down into a crouch, hand reaching out with a bright blue bag towards a steaming pile of shit that Malfoy found her.
“Hey, Aspen, and—Granger?”
Her stomach dropped at the voice she’d recognize anywhere. She might as well continue what she started. Without looking up, she proceeded to bag the poop and tie it off before standing to face the man jogging in place next to Aspen.
“Hello, Malfoy.”
She bobbed her head politely, hoping the stench from her hand didn’t reach him. If this area wasn’t Muggle she could vanish the bag. He didn’t give any indication of discomfort. In fact, he looked good.
Despite the cool weather, he wore a simple black vest and matching joggers, the prominent muscles of his arms revealed for all to see. He looked every inch the Auror that he was, one who rivaled Harry as his partner and featured far too often in Hermione’s fantasies.
He brushed back a fallen strand of hair, returning his platinum locks to their usual perfection. How could a man out for a run look so put together? Hermione wasn’t a slouch, even jogging on her own a few times a week, but her hair had a tendency to explode outward as if the steam from her head filled it to bursting with nowhere else to escape.
“Why are you walking Aspen?”
He didn’t say it with any disdain, but Hermione couldn’t help but bristle.
“Why can’t I walk him?”
He raised a slender brow and finally stilled his movements, hands moving up to rest on his hips. Her traitorous companion immediately butted up against his legs begging for attention, which, of course, was given.
Bent over, fingers digging into Aspen’s soft fur, Malfoy looked up with his mercurial eyes, famous smirk in place. “Of course you can; I asked why you were doing so. Where’s Potter?”
Hermione wanted to kick herself in her annoyance. Why was she being so prickly towards Malfoy? It wasn’t like she still harbored resentment towards him—it had been nearly a decade since Hogwarts and they’d bumped into each other often enough over the years. She could be civil.
She blamed Aspen and his reactivity.
“They’re on a family vacation and I agreed to house sit.” She bit her tongue before she could say anything more.
Malfoy had given into temptation and dropped down to spoil the mutt with both hands ruffling his ears and massaging his sides. That lucky fucker.
With a gasp, she realized she was jealous of Harry’s dog.
The wizard looked at her once more at the sound, never ceasing his ministrations. “Everything alright?”
“Yes,” she cleared her throat, “I just realized I might have left the stove on. We should get going.”
His lips twitched almost like he was holding back a smile, like he knew she was lying.
Was tonight a full moon? Is that why she was feeling so affected by the sight of his wide mouth, his full lashes rimming the prettiest grey eyes she’d ever seen that seemed to change with his emotions, and his visibly veined arms wrapping around Aspen? He could probably pick up the behemoth of a dog without breaking a sweat.
She blinked with surprise when he smoothly stood and approached her with a palm outstretched. Looking down at the hand, then back at him, she could do nothing but gape in confusion.
He snorted, thrusting his hand out even closer to her direction. “I’m not going to hex you, Granger. It’d be rude of me to not offer my farewell.”
“Yes, but must we shake on it?” she blurted out, still nonplussed.
A wrinkle formed between his eyes, and she realized she was being horribly rude. They might not be friends and she might harbor fantasies of riding him like a bull until she collapsed on top of him boneless and breathless, but it wouldn't do to ignore a friendly handshake.
The instant her hand slid into his and his eyes flashed silver, she remembered just who it was she was talking to. Smug satisfaction flickered across his face, and, with a wrenching twist to her gut, they disapparated.
Leaves fluttered into the air at the precise spot they’d left. A squirrel scampered across, nuts pocketed in cheeks meant for winter storage.
The reappeared at Harry’s front door, Hermione stumbling forward straight into Malfoy’s sturdy frame.
“What the bloody hell, Malfoy?” She smacked him with the end of the leash in rhythm to her yells. “You can’t just apparate people without notice!” He’d side-apparated not only her, but also Aspen, and the magical finesse behind such a feat turned her on even as it infuriated her. “You could have splinched us! Killed Aspen! What would I even say to Harry? Albus would be devastated—”
To her complete and utter shock, he shut her up with a kiss.
She stiffened for a couple of seconds, poop bag dropping forgotten onto the door mat behind her along with all pretenses of a stove left on, but as the realization hit her that this was not a dream and that none of them had lost limbs in their teleportation, she let herself feel.
His warm, very large arms wrapping around her to pull her flush against him.
His head tilting, lips slanting to meld against her own.
His tongue swiping at the seam then dipping in to taste her.
The scent of him, woodsy and spicy and rich, and she knew it to likely be from some stupidly expensive cologne in some foreign language and nearly impossible to find.
Aspen leaning against their legs, for once not being a brat and shoving them apart the way he did to Harry and Ginny.
By the time he pulled away, Hermione was breathless and even more befuddled than before he’d appeared in front of her and interrupted her walk.
“What—”
He dropped another kiss, this one chaste and sweet.
Words left her, and she simply stared up at him in wonder. This had to be a dream. Or perhaps a nightmare? Maybe she’d wake up in bed, smothered underneath dog hair, painfully alone again since her last relationship several months back.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he said with a grin, leaning his forehead against her own.
“Stealth apparate a witch?” she asked, thoughts still moving sluggishly, her heart beating slow and loud in her ears.
“Shut you up with a snog.” His smile was so wide, it threatened to reach his ears.
“Since when?”
His smile dropped as he stared at her silently. She tried to pull away, but his arms tightened around her, keeping her in place.
“For longer than appropriate.”
Her eyes widened at the revelation. She had only been around him because of Harry—the two work partners had become friends enough to go out regularly for drinks. She’d been invited to many of them, her interactions with Malfoy short but always memorable. They usually argued, but occasionally they talked. Not the sort of meaningless chatter she loathed, like scrambling for Quidditch news or the weather. Heavy topics, like modern applications of runes. Variations on magical bonds. Merits of the Statute of Secrecy.
She’d always known he was smart, even since their school days, but these moments where she could stretch her mental muscles and find herself well and truly challenged by Malfoy’s views were liberating.
So, she fantasized.
Now, he revealed he’d wanted to kiss her for quite some time.
“Do you always jog around the pond in the morning? Why haven’t I seen you before?” She’d been here for the past five days and this was their first encounter. They were also nowhere near his ancestral home in Wiltshire. His being here today couldn’t be a coincidence.
“I might have been the one to show this neighborhood to Potter. My flat is nearby.”
Aspen had finally gotten bored and was now winding around their legs, the leash ribboning around them.
“And the timing?” she prompted.
For the first time, a faint pink blush tinged his cheeks.
He looked adorable.
“I did see you. You’re just usually so distracted that you don’t notice when I run by.”
Oh.
This time, it was her turn to blush. She didn’t doubt him. She had a habit of daydreaming, even when out for a walk. The solitude of nature and her presence in it induced her to disappear into her thoughts.
“Well,” she gathered up her courage to put her hope into words, “you are welcome to join me on my walks whenever you see me. If it doesn’t cut into your exercise, that is.”
His smirk was back, and she couldn’t help but breathe in deep to savor the delicious scent of him. It might be a new favorite for autumn.
“How much longer are you house sitting?”
“A little over a week.”
“Consider us a dog walking team until then.” With a snap of his fingers, arms still hugging her close, the leash was unwound and hanging loose down to where Aspen had stretched out on the ground.
She searched his eyes, for what, she wasn’t sure. Truth? Determination?
One hand came up to cup her cheek, his skin almost scalding against the coolness of her own, his thumb ghosting down to trace her lips.
She parted them just slightly to whisper, “And after?”
He twisted his hand to brush knuckles up her jaw, then push wayward curls over her shoulder. The simple touch shouldn’t have felt as sensual as it did, but the motion betrayed a desire for familiarity born from years spent together. A touch that meant more than just friendship, more than a fling.
“We can still go on walks without Aspen.”
The innocence of his suggestion encouraged one snort, then another, and before long, they giggled together at the idea.
Dog walks, but without the dog.