Chapter 2
Of all the new liaisons the ministry could send. Draco's biggest worry had been another incompetent buffoon, like Thickensee's nephew had been a few years back. Getting in the way of their work was a nuisance at best, but extremely dangerous at worst. Whenever he and Charlie were saddled with a third on their various assignments and expeditions, it almost always felt like too many elves in the kitchens. It was unsafe, inconvenient, and dragged them down. But in all of Draco's worst-case scenarios, nothing could have prepared him for this.
He was so bloody mortified, at that first interaction. Of course, Charlie had eschewed any sort of warning, for either of them it seemed, in favor of one of his little "surprises". Bollocks. One of the few moments that forces Draco to remember that his coworker and now-good friend was still, at heart, a Weasley.
Absolutely horrible, it was. And it happened so quickly. Thank Salazar that Charlie had the good sense to get her out of there so quickly, and save him further embarrassment.
Granger. Bloody fucking Granger. Why did it have to be Hermione Granger?
After they left the tent, Draco had deflated to catch his breath. He'd instinctively puffed himself up, not necessarily to seem intimidating, but to show he wasn't fazed. Lies, of course.
He continued looking over the old diagrams he had been translating but found his eyes continued to glaze over. He didn't think anything more would get done today, so he resolved to get some flying in. It keeps him sharp and clears his head. Unshrinking his broom from his pocket, he exits the bounds of the reserve and disapparates to the nearest pitch, to prevent spooking the birds.
...
After a tiring but exhilarating fly, Draco returns to the reserve a sweaty mess, intending to make a beeline for the baths. He walks towards the entrance to the cavern (as they call the large underground complex where most of the dragonologists and other reserve employees work and live) when he barrels face-first into a wall of burly muscle.
"Jeez, Malfoy, you can't watch where you're going?"
"I happen to be somewhat distracted, Charles."
"Ooh. Charles. Am I in trouble?"
The oaf wraps an arm around him and scruffs his hair like he's some sort of puppy. Then he gets a whiff of Draco and gags dramatically.
"Oi mate, you stink!"
"Went for a fly, you bloody brute. Not like I could focus on the translations after the stunt you pulled. You could have at least given a warning that she was here."
"Aww, what's the fun in that? You should have seen the look on your face. Ugh, priceless."
"I'm glad you had a laugh."
"Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad. She'll recover. It was just a shock to the system, is all. Just got her all settled in her quarters, and after some much-deserved beauty rest she'll be ready to take another look around."
"Sure."
"And I bet you anything she'll be absolutely mortified at how mean she was. That little tantrum was very unlike her, absolutely delicious."
Charlie grinned mischievously and patted Draco on the shoulder.
"Alright mate, go hit the showers and come join me for a pint. You've more than earned it."
Draco rolled his eyes as he watched Charlie saunter away, clearly very proud of himself, but he couldn't help but smile at the antics. The great oaf had grown on him, like some invasive orange gillyweed. Bastard.
...
Freshly showered, Draco saunters into the pub. If it can even be called a pub; it's an underground bar in the cavern and also the only wizarding establishment in the area where one can acquire an adult beverage and spend time with mates. It's acceptable for what it is, but most of the alcohol is on the cheap side for Draco's taste.
Charlie lifts his butterbeer and pats the barstool next to him.
"Took you long enough."
"Well, I'm here, aren't I?"
"You're so high maintenance. I'll wager you have a whole shelf of little products and potions you spruce yourself up with. Am I right? I bet I'm right."
Charlie downs the rest of his butter beer with a gulp. He's not off base, but Draco blows him off with a shove to the shoulder.
"So, Mr. Malfoy... how are those translations coming? Sorry for bolloxing up your progress."
"It's alright, it's...pretty dense still, but I'm working my way through it. Most of what I've gotten so far is information already known to wizard kind, or complete gibberish, but I'm confident there's something useful in those documents. There's just got to be."
Draco orders himself a firewhiskey, neat, and appraises Charlie, grinning into his mug.
"You seem awfully chipper today."
"Well, I am! I wasn't just having a laugh, I really am chuffed Hermione's going to be working with us. She's always the best at whatever she does, so no worries about incompetence, and she's just fun to have around."
"As long as I don't have to deal with your charming brother coming for conjugal visits."
Draco shudders at the thought.
"Who, Ronald? Don't you read the papers?"
"The gossip columns are hardly worth my time."
"They broke it off ages ago. Like, maybe a year after graduation? He was devastated of course, but she's too good for him anyway. And I have a theory he was screwing around, or doing something else unsavory. Wouldn't be the first time he's mucked something up for himself."
Draco opens his mouth to say something but is swiftly cut off.
"And I'm allowed to say all that, him being my baby brother and all. I know you tiffed in school but I don't want to hear it. He's an idiot, but he's my family. Got it?"
Draco groans. "Fine."
"Plus it'll do wonders for you if you avoid the subject around Hermione. They may not be together, but they have some sort of truce, and she's still fiercely protective of him. Of all of us, really."
"You seem to know her pretty well."
"I mean yeah, mate. We're like family. I didn't know her too well when you lot were in school, but after the war...well, she spent a lot of time at the Burrow."
"What about her muggle family?"
"Merlin, lot of questions about someone you supposedly loathe."
"It's not that I loathe her exactly...well, not anymore at least."
"Look at that! Progress!"
"But there's a lot of bad blood. A lot of things said and done, things that can't be taken back."
"I won't lie and say I think this whole thing will be easy, but I want this to work. I think we could make a great team, if we put our heads together, and do a bang-up job on the next couple projects on our docket. But it will only work if we make it work. Now, I know you feel guilty-"
"I wouldn't say-"
"Yes, but I WOULD say. You feel guilty. And since you feel guilty, it's your job to act normal. Just act as normal as possible, be professional, don't rile her up. No matter how fun it is."
Charlie smiles that wicked smile, and Draco can't help but fight a grin.
"She'll respect that you're serious about your work, and maybe even soften up a bit. You'll see."
Draco pondered this. Could it really be that easy? Stay in his lane, do his work, keep his head down, and everything will fall into place? He wasn't hopeful, but maybe it was worth a shot. Maybe with any luck, she'll be so miserable she'll request a transfer on her own.
"And don't you go scaring her away, I'd be very cross with you."
Charlie downed the rest of his second butterbeer and went off to bed (whether it was his own or not tonight, Draco could only guess). He stared into his firewhiskey and begged it to give him the strength to endure the next couple of days (weeks? months?). This was his absolute nightmare, but he refused to let it ruin the life he had built here. Nothing was going to get in the way of that. Especially not her.