Fresh Eyes

Draco freezes.

He’s holding a shirt by its hanger but it drops from his fingers, landing onto the wood floor of the shop with a mighty clatter.

Bye, Gin.

Bye, Gin.

Certainly not—Ginny Weasley? 

He bends and picks the shirt and hanger off the ground. His heart is banging thunderously in his chest. 

It can’t possibly be Ginny Weasley.

Of course it can’t—because if Ginny knew where Hermione was, the whole wizarding world would know. People have been looking for Hermione.

A really weird coincidence though, no?!

Draco tries to remain calm.

“It’s so easy to fluster you,” Hermione teases, her phone call over. She joins him by the shirt section, oblivious to the apocalyptic storm raging in Draco’s head. “Your cheeks are all red.”

For a moment, Draco considers asking about it. That would be the safest strategy for him, in terms of minimizing risk. He could learn more about the situation.

Who was that on the phone?

Your friend’s name is Gin—what’s that short for?

But he can think of no way of phrasing the question that doesn’t make him feel underhanded and slimy.

He will not be weird and slither-y and pry for information. He will not try to dodge fate. Draco has decided he wants to spend time with Hermione, and that means he has to be alright with whatever consequences come. 

So he doesn’t ask about the phone call at all.

“What do you think about this one?” he asks, holding up a silk shirt in a particularly unappealing shade of yellow. There are polka dots on it, for unfathomable reasons.

Hermione laughs with delight and Draco grins.

“No, no,” she says, pulling a faux fur vest off the rack. She holds it against his torso. “It simply has to be this one…”

They leave the shop after twenty minutes, Draco with a paper bag full of clothes in tow and Hermione with a new tweed beret on her head. She'd thrown it on as a joke but ended up liking it, and Draco bought it for her with one of the muggle money bills he has on him. She looks adorable, and he's sure he will remember the sight of her like this forever. Eyes bright, cheeks pink in the brisk fall air, a wide smile on her face that she's directing at him. At him.

"Thanks for suggesting the shops," Draco says when they get back to her flat. "That was—really fun. I'll take a shower and change into some of these new things."

"Ooh, shall I come in with you?"

Draco can't even a stammer an answer because Hermione giggles and kisses him, pulling him forward by the collar of his shirt so that he presses her against the wall. 

Her little hand slides down the front of his shirt, pressing against his chest and then his stomach. She playfully runs a finger under the band of his trousers and he gasps.

Hermione giggles and lets him go. She loves flustering him, though he can't fathom why. He's sure that the sight of him blushing and pathetically aroused can't possibly be attractive.

"I know you don't want me to see you naked yet," she says, as Draco tries to collect himself. "Don't worry. I'll be good."

He is painfully hard, his trousers tight and constricting.

Luckily she just kisses his cheek and walks away, leaving Draco free to hide out in the bathroom where she won't see the evidence of how horny she's made him. Not that she seemed to mind his erection, back when they were in bed this morning. God, that memory of her crawling down his body, pressing her lips to his zipper—

This is something like the fourth time in two days that Draco has been painfully turned on and not been able to do anything about it. If he was anywhere but here he would be coming in his hand by now, no doubt gasping from relief at the release of some of this pent-up pressure.

But jerking off in Hermione's shower, to thoughts of her, no less, is far too creepy. He tries to ignores his twitching erection. The cold water helps, at least.

Hermione is lying on the sofa when he steps out of the bathroom. He stills when he realizes she's on the phone with Gin again.

"Yes, he's still here," Hermione hums happily. "He's showering."

Draco takes a seat next to her, resting his elbows on his knees and looking at the rug. His knee bounces nervously.

“I do really like him,” Hermione says softly into the phone, giving Draco a little smile. “He’s kind, and funny."

Draco hears the tinny, muffled sound of Gin speaking on the other end. He can't make out the words, but he can tell the voice is happy. Gin is clearly thrilled that Hermione has found someone to spend time with. Draco wonders what she'll do when she learns that the someone is not a nice muggle man, but instead her least favorite person from Hogwarts.

Unfortunately, that moment is much closer than he'd expected.

"Why do you want to know his name?" Hermione asks with a laugh. Draco's mouth goes dry. "So you can look him up on the internet?"

She darts another smile his way but he can't meet her eyes. His knee bounces faster.

“Okay, okay," Hermione says. "Draco. That's his name."

The tinny chatter on the other end stops abruptly. Even without the phone pressed to his ear Draco can tell how heavy the silence is.

~

Gin loves chicken curry, evidently, so that’s what Hermione is cooking for dinner tonight. 

“She’ll be here in twenty minutes,” Hermione says cheerfully, pouring Draco a glass of red wine. “She’s so excited to meet you.”

He'd considered making up an excuse and leaving. Shortly after Gin learned his name she insisted on coming over. He knows this won't end well—Aurors will probably be arriving on Ginny's heels. But he will not allow the last thing he does with Hermione to be fleeing from her, like a coward. He's been cowardly enough for one lifetime.

"That's nice," he says, leaning down when she puckers her lips for a kiss. "I'm—excited to meet her, too."

Hermione smiles and stirs the simmering saucepan with a wooden spatula.

"Can you try this?" she asks. "Is it too spicy?"

She offers Draco the spatula to lick and he does so, humming in appreciation even though he has no appetite.

“It's perfect. You made it perfectly."

She beams at him.

Hermione is a very good cook—not just in terms of flavor, but also in timing. He supposes that the methodical intelligence she's known for carries over to kitchen logistics too.

The whole house is fragrant with the smell of spices and chicken by the time the curry is done, and the timer for the rice goes off not a minute later.

Hermione puts two pot coasters on the table and brings over the food, big red oven mitts on her hands. Will this be the last time he gets to see her in this kitchen?

"Gin is running late," Hermione says, glancing at the clock. "Do you think she forgot?"

"I—doubt it."

As if on cue, there is a knock at the door. Hermione smiles broadly and runs to go get it.

"Ginny!" she says, engulfing her in a hug.

Draco allows himself a millisecond of pathetic, futile hope that maybe this is an entirely different Ginny. But of course, it's not.

Ginny Weasley's freckled arms are wrapped around Hermione in a hug. Her voice is cheery and bright to match Hermione's, but Draco sees her eyes dart around the house, looking for him.

They land on Draco.

Her eyes narrow. The vengeful fury of one thousand suns burns in them.

Yes. Ginny Weasley.

I know, Draco wants to say. I'm sorry. It's me.

Ginny looks like she might be capable of casting an Unforgivable on him right here and now, but then Hermione steps back from the hug and the redhead forces a smile.

“It’s so good to see you!” Ginny says. "Thanks for having me on such short notice."

"You're welcome whenever, you know that. Draco—come meet my friend Ginny. Gin—this is Draco."

“Hello,” Draco says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Ginny bares her teeth at Draco in a rough imitation of a smile. 

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

“I think you guys are really going to get along,” Hermione says happily, returning to the kitchen to stir her curry. “Gin—glass of wine?”

“That would be lovely,” Gin calls, dawdling by the doorway to take off her shoes.

As soon as Hermione is out of earshot, Ginny wheels on Draco.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing, Malfoy?” Ginny hisses.

“I don’t know," he mutters. "I don't—I don't know.”

“Here’s that wine, Gin!” comes Hermione’s voice.  

“Coming!” Ginny calls cheerfully. 

She glares at Draco, seems to be debating to herself whether or not to strangle him immediately or later, then finally walks away. She throws him a filthy look as she does, which Draco accepts as his due. He stands by the shoe bench for a moment longer before joining them both in the kitchen. He's not sure what Ginny is planning on doing, but until she makes it known he's just going to have to soldier through this dinner. 

It becomes evident that Hermione is extremely excited for Ginny and Draco to get along. Presumably this is because she doesn't have that many people in her life, which tugs at Draco's heart. For her sake, he tries his best to make forced, false smalltalk with Ginny. 

"I hear you like curry," he tries valiantly. 

"Everyone likes curry," snaps Ginny, and Draco winces.

It gets no more comfortable as the evening stretches on.

For some reason, Draco had anticipated that Ginny would pull the rug out from under him before dinner started. He'd been ready to be detained by Aurors, shackled and sent off to the Ministry for trials. He had not anticipated the possibility that he might have to have a whole meal's worth of conversation first.

Ginny stares daggers at him whenever Hermione isn't looking.

"So," she says, viciously stabbing a bit of chicken that she no doubt wishes was him. "How long have you known Hermione?" 

“Just a week or so,” he says, shame heating his cheeks.

“Goodness, not long at all. You work quickly."

Draco flinches at the implication that he's been some kind of mastermind, that he's pursued Hermione with lascivious and premeditated intent.

“It just happened,” he breathes, looking down at his plate. “By chance.”

"Lucky chance," Hermione says with a smile, pouring everyone more wine. She gives Draco a kiss on the cheek. Ginny looks like she might throw up.

“Ginny works with a professional football team,” Hermione says to Draco, blissfully unaware of the cold war happening at her table. “Though she refuses to tell me which one. Non-disclosure and all that.”

"I have some guesses," Draco can't help but mutter under his breath. He knows full well from the Daily Prophet sports pages that Ginny works for the Chudley Cannons.

“And what about you, Draco?” Ginny grits out. “What do you do for a living?”

“Business," he answers shortly.

"How nice," Ginny says icily. "Good at taking advantage of deals, are you?"

Consternation flickers over Hermione's face, and she looks between them.

"Gin?" she asks quietly. "Are you alright?"

Ginny looks regretful at once—clearly she, like Draco, was hoping to keep the memory-lossed Hermione out of the mess of this conflict. 

"Sorry," Ginny says with a smile. "I'm sorry. I just had a long day. Draco—could you pass me that yogurt sauce?"

"Sure," he says, handing her the bowl.

Hermione looks tentatively hopeful. 

Between the twists of shame and nerves in his stomach, there is a burning bit of curiosity as well. Why hasn't Ginny gone to the authorities already? Everyone has been looking for Hermione, why hasn't Ginny told them where she is?

Not that he is one to talk.

Dinner crawls by. There is a perceptible chill in the air, though Draco and Ginny do their best to mask it. Hermione tries to spark conversation between them.

“Draco and I went clothes shopping today,” she says to Ginny. “We had so much fun. We got sodas and he bought me a funny little tweed beret."

“Oh!” Ginny says. “How nice.”

"It was my first time having Italian soda," Draco tries, not wanting to disappoint Hermione by being too taciturn.

Ginny looks like she couldn't care less if Draco ever drank anything again, but she manages to give him a tight smile.

Finally, finally, dinner ends.

Hermione insists they don't help clean up (it seems she is hoping that Ginny and Draco will get along when it's just them at the table, while Hermione bustles about with dishes), but neither are interested in remaining at the table. They all stand at once, grateful for something to keep their hands busy.

Draco is just wondering how Ginny is planning to get him alone for a conversation when she clears her throat.

“Oh, Hermione," she says. "I forgot to mention—I brought you a gift!"

"Oh! You shouldn't have, that's so kind of you." 

"I—hid it in the bushes at the bottom of the stairs," Ginny says haltingly, in an abominable attempt at lying that only a Gryffindor would believe. "You should go get it.”

Draco gives Ginny a dry, disbelieving look that she ignores.

“In the bushes?” Hermione asks with a laugh. "Why?"

“Yes, Ginny, why?” Draco can't resist muttering.

“Oh, you’ll see!” Ginny says to Hermione with forced cheer, her smile fixed and painful-looking. “It’s all part of the surprise!”

Hermione can’t resist a surprise. She leaves the dishes alone and within moments her shoes are toed on, and she's out the door.

There is a moment of silence as the door clicks shut. Then:

“You motherfucker!" Ginny hisses furiously, turning to him. “I’m going to make sure you spend the rest of your life in Azkaban, you—you predator—”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Draco says. He is surprised how easily the indignation comes—how angry he is at the implication that his intentions are dirty. “I know this isn’t right. I’m sorry, I don’t—I don’t know how this happened. I'm not trying to hurt her."

“You expect me to believe that? You probably came hunting for her just as soon as you could.“

“I don’t even know what she’s doing here! And—and speaking of that, what are you doing here? Why haven’t you told the Ministry where she is?”

“Oh, that's rich, coming from you—"

The doorknob rattles and Draco instantly steps back from the whisper-fight. Ginny does the same, plastering a smile on her face.

“There was nothing in the bushes,” Hermione says, poking her head in. 

“Oh! Silly of me, I meant to say I left it in the flower beds! The ones just across from the stairwell.”

Hermione leaves.

"Nice," Draco mutters. "She's going to be so disappointed when there's no present."

Ginny looks like her head might explode.

"You need to leave her alone," she says through clenched teeth. "You're taking advantage of her."

“I know that," Draco says at once. His cheeks are hot with shame. "I didn't mean to let it get this far. I've tried to stop seeing her twice, and both times she wouldn't let me go—”

"Oh, you tried twice?” Ginny shrieks quietly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why didn't you say so? Let's get you a medal!" 

"I already said I'd leave her alone!" Draco says, his voice cracking. He hates himself, can't she see that? "Let's just take her to the Ministry. She'll want nothing to do with me when her memory is back."

"The Ministry can't help her," Ginny says furiously. "And she made me promise I wouldn't tell anyone she's here."