Chaste

Predictably, it took Ron more time to come to grips with Harry and Draco's surprise wedding plans than Hermione. A brief flash of confusion had clouded her face when Harry had ushered Draco into the room, clutching a bouquet of sparkling and glittering flowers so large his face was almost obscured entirely behind them. A stern frown in Harry's direction was the only indication she had any other thoughts on the matter before she smiled gently at Draco and reached out to take the flowers. 

"These are lovely, Draco, how thoughtful of you. I suppose they're a courtship gift for Harry, aren't they? Shall I get them a vase?"

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley. They're Georgian Bearded Plumes, to signify an enduring connection. And of course, I have a small token of my gratitude to you for welcoming me to Mr Potter's home this evening and assisting with the - our - situation."

Hermione blinked at him. "Um. You can just call me Hermione. Mrs Weasley is Ron's mum." She passed the flowers to Harry when she realised Draco was holding out a small black box to her. Gingerly, she eased the lid off the box. 

"Oh, Draco. This is gorgeous! Wherever did you get it?"

"It's an antique from the Malfoy Estate. One of the few items not tarnished by - well. It was kept in a summer home near Vienna, so it never - it's yours."

Hermione's eyes were wide and glassy. She showed the box to Harry and then Ron, though from what Harry could tell the shiny object nestled inside the box meant as little to Ron as it did to him. 

"Err." Harry squinted at it. "What exactly is it?"

Hermione sighed. 

"It's a Sapientia Clavis - essentially the magical version of a flash drive, except much better. So much better. Oh, thank you, Draco, this is wonderful. I have been trying to get one made to help with my WARP work, but the charm work is incredibly intricate and they're so difficult to get a decent amount of storage in them for the volume of information I'm dealing with... You wouldn't happen to know -"

"I believe four hundred."

"No!"

Draco simply nodded, somewhat smugly. "Malfoys have always valued intricacy, and time has never been an issue for the creatives in our family. It was made by one of my great grandfather's cousins, I believe."

"Thank you, Draco! This is such a treasure!"

Draco bowed slightly towards Hermione. "As I said, a small token of gratitude for your assistance this evening. I am afraid I couldn't think what to get Mr Weasley, so I hoped he might accept an invitation to join Mr Potter and myself at the upcoming European Quidditch Tournament? It won't be as... eventful... as the World Cup, I expect, but the offer is open to you  to join us in the family box as long as Mr Potter wishes to attend Quidditch matches with me."

Ron gaped. 

"You - the - Yes!" 

Hermione stepped delicately on his foot.

"Err. Yes, thanks Malfoy. That's decent - very decent - of you."

With another awkward bow, it appeared Draco was done delivering gifts, and Harry swooped in with a takeaway menu. Once their order was in, stilted conversation began which had Harry's skin crawling with embarrassment. Draco appeared to be treating each of his turns in the conversation as part of a job interview, answering politely and with adequate detail but lacking any real openness. Hermione seemed to be grasping at topics that might cause least offence to all present, and in doing so had moved from the subject of Harry's front garden to the cold but sunny days they'd been having recently. 

With relief, Harry excused himself to the kitchen to collect glasses, plates, and cutlery, which was where Hermione cornered him.

"Harry, how could you?"

"It was an accident, Hermione, I wouldn't've touched it if I'd known."

"I know that, but how could you drag Draco into this? His family must have had arrangements, I'm sure most of the old families still do. Have you even considered how he feels about heirs? Where will you live? I can't believe you're going to move to Malfoy Manor, and I doubt very much Draco will want to live here." She glanced around the kitchen admonishingly.

"Oi!" Harry huffed, "What's wrong with my flat?"

Hermione folded her arms and turned her look of consternation on him. "Harry, your bed folds out from the wall."

"That's- "

"You can't open the bathroom door if the bed is down and the shower has all the water pressure of light summer drizzle."

Harry felt a creeping dread shiver up his spine. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess not here, then."

Hermione sighed, reaching a hand out to squeeze his arm. "Harry, do you even know how he feels about men?"

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed, relieved to have a question he was sure of the answer to.

"Well?"

"He's gay, he told me himself!"

"And how does he feel about you?"

Harry stumbled on that one. "Err. He - um - he thinks I'm attractive?"

Hermione nodded, slowly. "Is that enough for him to be happy married to you?"

"I -" Harry fumbled, hanging his head. "I don't know. Maybe?"

"Well I really think you ought to find out. Godric knows you've been obsessed with him since forever, so that won't be a problem at least."

"Hey!"

Hermione just raised an eyebrow.

"I have never been - been obsessed! Interested - I mean, suspicious! Definitely suspicious, but we all knew he was up to something - you and Ron agreed!"

"Ronald and I went along with your obsession because we heard less about him if you were busy stalking him than if you were telling us about how interested - oh all right, suspicious - you were of his every move."

"What, you didn't think he was acting strangely?"

"Of course we did, Harry. We just didn't feel the need to personally witness his every move."

"Well. I was right, anyway."

Hermione sighed. "You were, I suppose, in the end. But Harry, do you really want to marry him?"

"I do, Hermione. I mean, I don't have much choice right now, but I do. And. Well, he is a good partner. At work! I mean, he's good at work. At partnering. At work-partnering. He's the best work partner I've had, way better than Grey, so much faster than Hobart, and unlike Berwick, he doesn't just blindly do whatever I say."

She raised the eyebrow again. "So. You've met your match then?"

"I hope so." As soon as he said it, Harry realised the truth in his words. He really did hope he'd found a long-term partner in Draco, it was the best pairing he'd been in since graduating the Auror programme, and as weird as it felt to say it, he'd come to like Malfoy on a personal level too. 

"Well I'll have to hear it from him too, to be able to begin the engagement spells. It would be totally unethical to engage you if he wasn't sure."

"Just ask him, 'Mione. He said it wouldn't be the worst thing, but then he compared it with marrying Pansy, and - oh god, what if I'm ruining his life?"

"Okay. Okay. Harry, after dinner, you take Ron out to the shed, and I'll talk with Draco."

"The shed?"

"Yes, Harry. You tell Ron to help you with the motorbike, and I will check if Draco really wants to marry you."

"Thanks, Hermione," he said, gathering her up into a crushing hug, "You're the best."

"Draco's the best, apparently."