Monday, December 8,2008

Wake up.

Breakfast—three egg whites, half a cup of mixed berries, and two pieces of bacon with a single cup of Earl Grey.

Work out—running around the grounds because he was not about to trudge to the Ministry gym on a holiday.

Mid-afternoon tea with Mother.

Lunch in the study with Father.

Document review post-lunch in his chambers.

Dinner in the dining hall.

And now, an evening reading in the library

By all accounts his day had gone one hundred percent according to routine. Everything seemed right in the world as far as Draco was concerned. Except of course, if he didn't take into consideration the way he could not bloody close his eyes without thinking about Granger.

The way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. The sound of her laugh. The frizz to her curls. Her freckles.

The way she smelt—spring flowers, vanilla and just a hint of citrus.

The softness of her hand in his.

The way her breath prickled his skin when he leaned in, seconds away from tasting her lips.

His eyes slammed closed as the memories of their near kiss clouded his mind once more and his fingers curled around the book that rested in his lap. He'd been struggling through the old text of Mermaid mating rituals, hoping it might provide useful for an upcoming case. While the subject matter was not his favourite, he should have been able to push through it. He'd made it through the fucking numerous lectures by Professor Binns without any problem, but this Granger issue was proving to be more distracting than he was prepared to admit.

With a deep breath, Draco tried to force his feelings away using Occlumency tricks that he'd perfected long ago. Gathering the wayward feelings, he forced them into a little box in the dark recesses of his mind.

The sound of the library door sliding across the marble flooring pulled him from his process, and he craned his neck towards the door expecting to see his mother. She often would visit him in the evenings while he read, opting to choose a book and sit beside him— but it had been a number of weeks since she'd graced him with her presence after dinner.

Instead of Mother, the image of one of his best friends awaited him.

Theo was looking around the room, dressed casually in a pair of trousers and a thick gray jumper. His hair was lightly mussed, letting Draco know he'd likely just come from home as opposed to an outing.

"Theo?"

The wizard turned his attention from his casual inspection of the library shelves and offered him a smile. "In the flesh."

"Is everything okay?" Draco picked up a black ribbon from the arm of his wingback chair and slipped it into the book before setting the tome on the table beside him. It was rare to take visitors this late—let alone one whose spouse was literally weeks away from giving birth. Surely there had to be an emergency.

"Everything's perfectly fine. I just wanted to pop by and say thank you for the gift," Theo explained with a casual wave of his hand as he approached.

Draco nodded, his brow knitting as he watched the wizard claim the open seat directly across from him and he pursed his lips together. "You wanted to come visit, in person, to thank me for a gift? Surely a card would have been a better use of your time."

"Tracy is handling the card business. So don't think you won't receive one," Theo said as he crossed his legs over one another, settling back into the chair.

"Okay, seriously. Not that I mind the visit, but what the bloody hell are you doing here?" Draco questioned, trying to cut through the bullshite to determine the actually purpose of Theo's appearance. "You've got a pregnant witch at home, and what looked like a mountain of gifts to put away. I highly doubt you're here just to thank me."

Theo let out a small laugh, and he folded his hands over his stomach. "Tracy's mum is over helping prepare the nursery. So truthfully, I needed to get the hell out to keep my sanity. I also might have wanted to see what happened between you and Romilda."

And there it was. The truth.

This wasn't a friendly visit. It was a bloody recon mission. He had likely been instructed by his wife to go determine if sparks flew and future plans were made.

"Well then, this should be a quick trip," Draco murmured as he lifted a hand to rub against his temple. "Nothing happened."

"Oh, no. You seem to have misunderstood." Theo uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, head dipping lightly as he leaned forward to press his elbows to his thighs. "I'm well aware nothing happened. She made a point to mention how oddly you behaved in an owl this morning to Tracy. What I am trying to figure out is what the hell happened."

"What do you mean?" Draco questioned. "I wasn't interested. Plain and simple."

"Draco, this little meeting was supposed to be a precursor to a date… and you ignored the witch." Theo sighed, lifting his palms upwards as if to inquire as to what the problem had been.

"Look, I would apologize but frankly, I don't really feel inclined. I told both you and Blaise that it was unnecessary for you to meddle in my love life," Draco explained plainly, his hands dropping unceremoniously to rest on the arms of his chair. "I am sure Romilda is a lovely witch. She just… isn't my type."

"Since you clearly have a set of criteria you're judging witches against, please, do tell—what exactly is your type, Draco?"

Draco's lips pulled down in a frown, and his eyes dropped to look at the marble flooring. That was a very good question. Draco hadn't actually given much thought to whathis type was exactly. He just knew that Romilda, Lavender and Hannah were absolutely not what he was looking for in a partner.

"I… don't know. I've never given it much thought," he admitted, index finger tapping against the smooth leather.

"Well, humour me then. What are some traits you find desirable in a witch."

"You mean beyond the physical?"

"Blimey, yes. If looks were the only thing you were interested in, I'm fairly certain Blaise has an entire little black book that he could lend you," Theo snarked with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Draco's lips pursed and he lifted his eyes towards the ceiling as he put thought to Theo's question. "She needs to be career-driven, but know how to enjoy herself outside of the office. Outspoken. I don't want a witch who agrees with me all the time. Someone who is intelligent. I'd like to have meaningful conversations with—"

"So, Granger, then?" Theo interrupted, his brows lifting.

Draco's eyes immediately focused on his friend as he blanched. "What?" He had to have misheard. Granger? His… type? No. No, absolutely not. Granger was a colleague. His attraction was just… physical. Wine-induced. Nothing more.

"Your type is Granger," Theo said plainly, as if it were the most obvious and simple answer in the world—which Draco would happily point out, it wasn't.

"No—" Draco said with a quick shake of his head before he adjusted his footing to straighten his spine. "No, it's not like that."

"Isn't it though?" Theo questioned, his voice rising an octave as he spoke. "You two have lunch together nearly every day."

"We are colleagues who happen to share an office. It's just coincidence that we take the same lunch hour."

"You shared a meal."

"Neither of us were that hungry. Besides, I'd hardly call a plate of chips a meal."

"She makes you laugh."

Draco pushed up from the chair, his hands lifting to smooth back the fringe across his head as he moved around the chair to pace behind it in growing irritation. "You and Blaise often make me laugh. By that logic, should I date you two as well?"

"Draco, come on," Theo said with a roll of his eyes, his arms crossing over his chest. "You ignore a fit witch at my baby shower—which by the way, would have been a sure thing. Instead, you spend the entire evening chatting with Granger. The same bloody witch you spend nearly nine hours a day with during the week."

Draco opened his mouth, prepared to retort but as Theo's words sunk in, Draco realised he didn't know what he could defend. Theo was right. Romilda should have been his type by all accounts—but there was something off about her. Something he couldn't place as to why he was so disinterested in even getting to know her.

"Look, mate. I'm not telling you what to do, but it's pretty bloody obvious you're interested in Granger. Why not just ask her out?" Theo shrugged at the suggestion, leaning back in the armchair once more.

"Because it's not like that, Theo. Granger is my friend. Yes, she does make me laugh. And yes, I enjoy her company, but—"

"Please just stop with the excuses." Theo lifted a hand to silence him, his lips quirking to the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to like her, Draco. We're not kids anymore...your father will get over it, and I highly doubt Narcissa would so much as blink if you brought her home. I'm not suggesting you go propose tonight, but… maybe just think about it. She makes you happy, you clearly make her happy and I think after all the bullshite both of you have waded through, you deserve to be happy."

Maybe Theo was right. Granger did make him happy. But there were what felt like thousands of reasons to not give in to the feelings. They came from two very different lifestyles. Sure in an office setting they could cohabitate, but surely it would be different if romance was involved—wouldn't it? Granger would never see him like that. Not after everything they'd been through… right?

"Look, I should get back to Tracy, and you look like you need to ponder life decisions, so on that note, I'm headed home." Theo stood up from the chair, his hands slipping into his trouser pockets as he peered down at Draco. "But when it all works out between you two—which it will—just send me an invite to your wedding," he winked, not bothering to wait for a reply as he headed out of the library, leaving Draco to wonder if maybe, just maybe, Theo might be right.

Maybe his feelings for Granger weren't one-sided.

Maybe she felt it, too.

It was late.

Too bloody late for him to be headed to Granger's flat, but Theo's words wouldn't leave his mind.

And although Draco would never verbalise it, Theo was right.

He liked Granger.

Not just as a friend or colleague. But romantically. In hindsight it seemed so bloody obvious. This growing fascination had been there for months, and had now blossomed into a full blown crush.

And it wasn't just her looks, or her brains that he liked. It was everything about her. She made him feel at ease just by being in the same room, and Merlin how he longed for her company when she wasn't around. They could spend hours discussing the merits of declassification of intelligent magical life from creature to being, and he would never grow tired. When he was not at work, he missed her. When he was there, he longed for time to slow down so he could enjoy her company for just a bit longer.

And with this new—and rather important realisation, Draco felt obligated to inform her. To put his feelings on the line and risk ruining their working relationship by letting her know. That's what wizards were supposed to do right? Some big romantic gesture? Well it certainly wasn't a serenade in the park, but it was breaking his routine and as far as Draco was concerned, that was more fucking special than anything else.

Moving down the narrow hallway to her front door, Draco rapped quickly on the door, practically bouncing on his heels as he waited impatiently for her to answer. He needed to do this quick, or else he might lose the courage and convince himself this was not the best course of action.

Seconds ticked by, but it felt like minutes and when he lifted his hand again to knock on the door, it swung inward to reveal a very confused Granger.

"Draco? Are you okay?" she questioned as she pulled a ratty old gray cardigan around her middle, attempting to hide the mismatched pyjamas underneath.

Draco nodded, a short laugh slipping from his lips as he took in her disheveled appearance. Merlin help him, he even found her tattered sleepwear endearing. He was positively hopeless. How he'd gone so long without realising just how utterly perfect she was seemed so bloody impossible—especially since his heart seemed to kickstart just by being around her.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I just… I needed to tell you something," Draco explained.

Hermione looked over her shoulder, her brow furrowing. "It's nearly eleven at night."

"I know, it was important. It couldn't wait."

"Okay…"

"Granger… I like you."

Hermione looked taken aback by his statement, her head cocked to the side as her eyes narrowed on him. "I'm sorry… what?"

"I like you," Draco repeated, his mouth suddenly felt dry, and his stomach muscles clenched.

"Uh… thank you? I like you, too, Draco. But was it really necessary for you to come confirm our friendship this late?"

"No, Granger. Not like that. I like you," Draco tried again, his hand lifting to rub across the back of his neck nervously, like some bloody fourth year asking a date to the Yule Ball.

"Yes, we've established that, Draco."

"No! I like like you."

All at once the weight of his words must have hit , because one moment she looked confused and the next it was as if she were hit with an Immobulus. Her eyes widened and her lips formed an adorable little 'o' that made his heart stutter.'

"And I don't know if you feel the same, but I just thought you ought to know," he began to explain, his voice cracking with nervous tension. "I think about you all the time. All those bloody dates—and gods they were awful, but they didn't work because… because they weren't you. I don't want any of those witches. I want someone who challenges me, and who pushes my buttons—and Merlin knows you do. Someone who gives me hell when I'm wrong, and who makes me want to do right. And… that's you, Granger. You do all those things. You make me want to be a better wizard. Not just for you, but because of you."

Hermione stood frozen, her lips parted as she looked up to him in shock, as if trying to process his declaration. "Draco… I… this is—"

"Oh fuck," Draco breathed, his hand lifting to pinch the bridge of his nose as the jitters he felt morphed into a leadened brick. It was one-sided. She didn't feel the same. He'd literally just ruined the best thing he'd had going for him at work. He'd have to request a new office. Which meant a new office mate—and likely one who wasn't anywhere near as pleasant to be around as Granger.

"You don't feel the same, do you?" Draco questioned as he dropped his hand lamely to his side, a grimace taking over his features. "Merlin, I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to make you uncomfortab—"

Before he could even get the sentence out, Hermione moved from her apartment towards him. Her small hand curled into the front of his jumper and she pulled him towards her as she leaned up on her toes to close the distance between them.

Her lips felt like velvet against his. Soft and supple. He wanted to lose himself in the feeling of them pressed against his. His hands instinctively went to her waist and pulled her body closer to his until she melded perfectly into him.

The kiss was chaste, the promise of more lingering as her lips parted against his, hot breath tickling his chin as she pulled back to look up at him, a pink tint coloring her cheeks.

Draco gulped, his Adam's apple running the column of his throat as he looked down at her. His mind whirled, trying to catch up to what just occurred. He was so sure he'd ruined their friendship, that it felt like he had bloody whiplash from the change of events. "Does… this mean you like me, too?" Draco breathed his question, his fingers playing with the hem of her ratty cardigan, letting the worn fabric slide beneath his fingertips as he stroked across her lower back.

Hermione let out a small laugh as a smile widened across her features. Her eyes crinkled, and when she looked down to where her body pressed into his, his eyes followed her lead. "Yes, Draco. I like you," she said softly before lifting her gaze back up to his. "One might even say I like like you."

Draco could feel his lips twitch in response to her tease and his hand rose from her waist to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing across her blush before he brought her lips back up to his. He knew this—whatever it was between them was likely going to be complicated. Beyond their unique history, there was the fact she was divorced, a social faux pas within Pureblood circles—and still friends with a pair of wizards who would likely not be keen on her involvement with him. And of course, he had his parents to deal with. Nevermind the fact that Draco also needed to determine just how he would work her into the routine of his life. But for now, Draco couldn't be bothered with thinking about the logistics of it all. There would be plenty of time to figure that all out later.

No, for now Draco wanted to spend as much time as he could enjoying the feeling of her lips beneath his, and the weight of her body in his arms.

Author's Note:

And that's a wrap. Thank you to the team of amazing fandom friends who helped put this together- Mcal, Disenchantedglow, & tofadeaway. Without them this story would not have made it this long. Thank you to themourningmadam for hosting this fun fest. I hope you enjoyed my interpretation of Taper Tom! After all, Draco make's the most darling unhappy princess, doesn't he? ;)

Until next time, xx.