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Draco tosses his cards on the table as Theo rakes in his winnings. “This is boring,” Draco says, pushing to stand and making his way to the bar in the back of the room. He refills his glass, downing it in one go and refills it again before rejoining his friends. He thinks this might be his fifth drink? He lost count along with how much money he’s lost to Theo tonight.
Theo’s grin is broad. “You’re just pissed that I keep beating you.”
Draco rolls his eyes. “I’m pissed because you keep cheating.” He falls back into his chair. “We should go out. I’m sick of sitting in this stuffy old Manor.” He wrinkles his nose.
“Aw, the poor little rich boy all alone in his oversized home,” Theo mocks with a fake pout.
“Fuck you.”
“If you insist,” Theo says with a wink and reaches for his belt.
“Aren’t you seeing someone?” Pansy asks pointedly, like she knows more than she’s letting on.
Blaise, however, cuts everyone off. “Draco’s right. Let’s go out,” he insists, despite Draco being able to see the possessive way his hand cups Pansy’s thigh, dragging it up toward the already-short hemline.
He scoffs. “Must you two get off on getting off in public?”
Pansy shrugs. “Don’t be jealous, Draco. Just because you’re not getting any…”
“Fuck all of you.” He’s a Malfoy. He could have any witch he wanted if he chose, it’s that none of them are interesting enough to keep around for more than one night. They’re all boring and predictable, they jump in his bed faster than he can apparate and are more interested in the size of his vaults than the size of his cock.
Both equally impressive, might he add.
“You know…” Pansy says casually, inspecting her nails. “No, never mind.”
Draco rolls his eyes. “You’re about as opaque as a glass window, Pans. Spit it out so we can move on.”
“I know someone you might be interested in.” Pansy toys with the buttons on Blaise’s shirt. If they don’t hurry this up he’ll have a front row seat to a show he’s seen far too many times already.
“I sincerely doubt that.” He takes a sip of his drink, pushing to stand. “I’m going out. You lot coming?”
“I plan to soon,” Blaise mutters into the crook of Pansy’s neck.
Pansy hums, ignoring her boyfriend’s pawing. “I ran into a witch the other day. She’s recently moved back, you know. Newly single. We bonded over cocktails. She’s different than I remember from school.”
Theo rubs his hands together. “Ooh, I love a guessing game. Was she in our year?”
“Mhm,” Pansy says, fighting her inevitable cat-like smirk.
Draco couldn’t be more bored.
“Slytherin?” Theo asks.
“Nope,” Pansy responds, popping the p.
“Ooh! Was it Lovegood? She seemed like she’d be a bit of a freak in the sheets.”
“We’re getting warmer…” Pansy taps her black-tipped nails on the table. “She looks better in red though. Wears it quite a bit.”
“Red? A lion?” Theo mutters under his breath as if it's not obvious.
“No,” Draco says, his voice terse. Final.
“Why not?” Pansy asks.
“I’m not interested.” His hand is clenched so tightly around his glass he’s afraid he might shatter it.
“Who is it?” Theo demands, his eyes snapping between Pansy and Draco.
“Granger,” Pansy and Draco answer at the same time.
“Hermione Granger?” Theo laughs.
“Do you know another Granger?” Draco deadpans.
“She certainly wouldn’t bore you,” Theo tells him.
“No, but she probably wouldn’t be interested.” Pansy’s baiting him.
“The feeling’s mutual,” Draco insists, though the liquor makes it harder for the lie to slip off his tongue.
“Wouldn’t it be fun though? A challenge? See if you can break her?” Pansy drags one nail along the table mindlessly.
“No.”
“Hmm.” She leans back into Blaise’s arms. “And here I was ready to make a wager.”
Draco’s eyes narrow. “I see right through you, Pans.”
“You’re just too afraid to lose.”
Draco hates losing and she knows it. Still, he shakes his head. “I said no.”
“You’re no fun,” Theo pouts.
Pansy cocks her head. “Think of it like a game. What’s that muggle saying? Something about, it doesn’t matter if you win or lose?”
“It’s about how you play the game,” Theo finishes.
“And think how fun she’d be to play with,” Pansy insists.
“Hot-headed,” Theo adds.
“Fiery,” Pansy quips.
“Stubborn.” Theo tempts.
Pansy sighs whimsically. “All the more fun to break.”
Draco spits the words out between clenched teeth, more desperate to get them to shut up than anything. “What are the terms?”
Her catlike grin is sinister as it unfurls. Theo is practically dancing in his seat.
“How long shall we give him, boys? A month?”
“A week,” Blaise says.
Pansy chuckles darkly. “Ooh. I like that. One week. You have one week to fuck Granger and when we’re back here next week you can tell us all about it.”
“Or show us. She seems the type to leave marks,” Theo wiggles his brows.
“A week? You think I can pull Granger out of work on, what, a random Tuesday and shag her in her office at the Ministry? Have you forgotten that she loathes me?”
“Perhaps…” Pansy dangles the carrot. “But there’s someone she hates even more than you right now.”
Even Draco’s brows shoot up at that. He didn’t think that was possible. “Who?”
“Weasley.”
“Don’t we all?” Blaise mutters while Theo snorts, “Which one?”
“Ronald.”
Draco’s brows furrow. “Aren’t they married by now?” He hadn’t kept tabs on the Weasel or Scarhead post-war. Last he heard Granger was off doing research for the Ministry in Egypt with the ginger idiot and that was five years ago now. He’d thought they’d be married with a bunch of little redheaded terrors running around.
Pansy, however, shakes her head. “They were engaged, he cheated on her, she left him and is crashing with a friend in London.”
“And you got all of this out of her after one run-in?” Draco’s sceptical.
“Admittedly, she was drunk, but I’m rather charming you know,” she winks.
“What do I get if I win?”
“Aside from the glory of finally sleeping with the girl you’ve been obsessed with since school?” Theo snorts.
“I was not obsessed with her—”
“The wizard doth protest too much,” Blaise adds with a smirk.
Draco groans under his breath.
Pansy leans forward, her palm flat against the table. “If you lose, I want your chateau in France.”
“That’s my family’s property. It’s been—”
“In your family for centuries, yeah, I know. It’s called incentive, Drake.”
He sneers at the nickname she knows he hates. “Who’s to say I won’t lie?”
“You can’t.”
He quirks a brow.
“I spiked your drink earlier. If you try to lie the word LIAR will be etched onto your forehead.”
He grits his teeth. “Fine. But when I win—”
“Oh, he’s getting cocky now,” Blaise loudly whispers into Pansy’s ear.
An evil thought comes to mind and a laugh bursts out of Draco. It’s too good. “I want your father’s quidditch team. He has 51% ownership and I want that stake.”
“But you don’t even like—”
“I know.” Draco’s smug.
“You know what team he owns.”
“I know exactly what team he owns.”
Pansy’s grin broadens as she extends her hand. “You have yourself a deal.”
***
They end up at The Wild Thyme, a new nightclub in Diagon Alley. Draco rolls up his sleeves the second they step through the door and beelines for the bar while his friends find a booth or table. He pays for a round of drinks and sets off to find his group.
They’re huddled around a standing table, Blaise’s arms wrapped around Pansy while the raven-haired witch rubs her arse against his crotch. Theo’s scoping out the dancefloor already and Draco realises he’s not nearly drunk enough to deal with them right now.
Pansy seems delighted at Draco’s sour mood. “Don’t even give me that look. You’re the one who wanted to go out.”
“I didn’t realise you were bringing me to a club, Pans. I would have changed.” He brushes his hands over his trousers.
Pansy rolls her eyes. “Next time I’ll consult with Mopsy so she can lay out the proper outfit for you.”
Luckily for them all, the drinks arrive at the table before either of them can make further quips. Draco got Firewhisky for himself and Blaise, red wine for Pansy, and a fruity little cocktail in a coconut equipped with an umbrella for Theo.
Draco snorts. “Not even going to comment on your drink?”
“These are delicious, I don’t care what you say.” He slurps down his drink happily.
Draco turns toward the witch of their group, finding her looking for something on the dance floor.
“Let’s go,” she says suddenly. “I want to dance.”
Blaise follows her without question and Theo finishes off his drink, wiping his mouth and follows excitedly. Draco sighs, downing his drink at once and finishing Blaise’s before heading back toward the bar.
He leans an elbow against the bar top, watching his friends weave through the crowd to the centre of the floor. Pansy, despite wearing all black, is formidable and people part ways the second they spot her.
The raven-haired witch waves at someone on the floor and pulls the mystery witch in for a reluctant, albeit forceful, hug. The other witch is in a tight red dress with caramel curls tumbling down her back. Draco lets his eyes scan the length of her, hovering a second too long on her shapely arse.
Fuck. It has been too long since his last good shag if an arse is making him half-hard.
Pansy winks at him over the witch’s shoulder, her smile almost fake enough to appear genuine as the hug breaks and she looks into her new friend’s eyes. Pansy points at him and the witch she’s talking to spins around slowly.
Draco nearly drops his tumbler.
The tight red dress hugs a set of curves a sculptor would kill to carve, the neckline dipping low to showcase her cleavage, her long neck half-obscured by her untameable mane. Her pink lips are parted, pouting and turning slightly downward as she spots him. Her amber eyes, nearly the same colour as his liquor, study him with shock.
Hermione fucking Granger.
Pansy crooks her finger, beckoning him forward. As if working on their own volition, his feet move instantly. He pushes through the crowd, tall enough to keep an eye on his former nemesis as he weaves to the centre of the floor to greet them.
“Malfoy.” His name is sharp on her tongue. She’s already laying out her weapons.
“Granger.” Her name spills off his tongue like honey. Slow and sweet. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
Her brows furrow. “What are you—”
“Heard you finally got rid of the Weasel. Took you long enough.”
Her mouth falls open in outrage. If only he could shove his—
She slaps him.
It’s like deja vu.
“What the fuck, Granger?”
“What is wrong with you?” She crosses her arms over her chest.
He tries not to notice the way it pushes up her cleavage. “It was a compliment. ”
“That’s how you compliment someone?”
“I was simply suggesting that you’re so much better than the Weasel. For someone so smart, I’m surprised it took you this long to realise it yourself.”
She’s rendered speechless for a moment. “You’re a complete arse, you know that?”
“He knows. We tell him quite a bit,” Theo adds, rather unhelpfully.
Granger stomps away in a huff and Draco can’t help but watch her go.
“What did I do?”
Pansy shakes her head. “When I move to France, you’ll visit me, right?” She wiggles her brows as she walks after Granger.
“You’re fucked, mate,” Blaise says, following his girl.
Theo places a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Allow me to help you out with Granger.”
“What could you possibly know about women?”
Theo looks affronted, his hand dropping to clutch imaginary pearls. “I’m gay. That automatically means women tell me everything.”
Draco rolls his eyes.
“Hermione Granger is no ordinary witch—”
“Seriously, Theo? What next, are you going to detail all of her exhaustive accomplishments? I’m quite sure I know exactly who Granger is.” His nightmares are still full of her screams, after all.
“You can’t flash your vaults at her or bribe your way into her bed. You have to woo her.”
“Woo? You sound like one of those bad romance novels Astoria used to read.”
“My point is, you can’t pick fights with Hermione and expect her to jump on your dick. If she was attracted to rich arseholes, do you think she would’ve fallen for her best friend?” Theo taps a finger on Draco’s temple.
Draco swats his hand away.
“Think about it, mate.”
***
The next day, Draco decides to start fresh with Granger. He can admit Theo was right. About some of it, anyway, not that he’ll admit that to his friend and further inflate his ego.
Unfortunately, he was also right about the part where Draco was… intrigued by her at Hogwarts. What started as naive hatred quickly morphed into fascination, though he never had the chance to explain or explore that with her…or apologise for being a brainwashed prick.
The fact is, Granger’s not going to give Draco the time of day if he keeps being an arse—even when he’s not trying to be one.
He owls her and hopes she’s willing to let him explain out of the goodness in her heart, or at the very least that Pansy is right and she’s open to a bit of revenge herself. Either option will work in his favour.
Despite his owl going unanswered, later that night he waits outside of his favourite restaurant, L’amuse Bouche, with a bouquet of classic red roses in hand. He resists the urge to glance at his watch for the third time in ten minutes.
She appears down the street, lips pursed, practically stomping in her heels, and a stunning champagne dress hanging off of her frame. She moves to stand before him, arms crossed over her chest.
“You came.” He grins at her. “These are for you.”
She snatches the bouquet out of his hand. “What do you want, Malfoy?” The usual fire lacing her tone is wilted with exhaustion.
“To apologise,” he starts, and she cuts him off.
“So you said in your letter.”
“I’m sorry.” Two small words that can’t possibly encompass all of the things he’s sorry for, but it’s a start.
“Wow. I didn’t know you were capable of uttering those syllables in that order.”
He fights a grin. She’s fun to spar with.
“I’m full of surprises, Granger.”
“You’re full of something, alright,” she mutters.
“Give me a chance,” he pleads with her.
“Why?” She lets the bouquet hang down by her side like an afterthought.
“To prove to you I’m not who you think I am.”
“You have about seven years’ worth of personality to undo to prove that to me.”
He cocks his head to one side. “You don’t think I can prove it? Or are you scared that I can?”
She purses her lips. “Why do you care what I think of you?”
He blatantly checks her out, not even trying to mask it. “You’re Hermione Granger. Doesn’t everyone care what you think of them?”
She snorts.
It’s cute.
“Definitely not.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to hate me anymore.”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t hate you.”
“Oh, sorry, was that not strong enough? Perhaps loathe or despise?”
“I’ve never hated you, Malfoy.” She shakes her head, like there’s more that she’s hiding.
His brows shoot to his forehead. “You’re a good actress. You should star in one of those muggle films.”
She studies him a moment, as if trying to understand him. “You and Pansy talk a lot about muggle things.”
Draco shrugs, acting nonchalant. “We’ve had a bit of free time since the war, you know.”
She doesn’t say anything, doesn't even react.
He leans in as if to whisper conspiratorially. “Come on, Granger. At the very least you might even get to hear me apologise some more.”
“Well, you should’ve said that sooner.” She fights a grin as he straightens and she’s forced to look up at him from under her lashes. “Fine. You’re lucky I’m starving.”
“Oh, because you put on that dress with the intention of leaving without dinner?”
She glowers at him. “There’s that charming personality again.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“I was flirting.”
She barks out a laugh. “That’s how you flirt?”
“You don’t like how I compliment you, don’t like how I flirt. Can I do anything right in your eyes?”
“Nothing comes to mind.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen every side of me yet.” He presses one hand to her lower back as he leads her into the restaurant.
He manages to hold off on continuing his futile attempts at flirting with her until they get to their table. He pulls out her chair for her and winks after she sits down and he moves to his side.
“This place is nice,” she says, looking around.
Draco shrugs. “I was told I have to woo you.”
She snorts again. Oddly, he doesn’t find himself wanting to mock her for it. “Woo me? What year is it, 1950?”
“You don’t like to be wooed, Granger?”
They pause as Draco orders them a bottle of wine.
Hermione looks contemplative. “Truthfully, I don’t know what I like.” She fiddles with her napkin. “Things with Ron just kind of…happened naturally. There wasn’t really a wooing period, if you will.”
“He’s a bloody idiot.”
Hermione narrows her gaze. “Is that you flirting again?”
“No, that’s me telling the truth.”
Her cheeks flush and she looks away. “I don’t blame him. Not really. I mean, I was always working and I wasn’t ready for—”
“Are you really taking the blame for that oaf cheating on you?”
Her mouth opens and closes like she doesn’t know what to say.
“He’s known who you were since you were eleven years old. Your ambition doesn’t give him an excuse to be a complete tosser.”
“Spoken like a true Slytherin. Ambition over everything, right?”
The waitress comes back with their wine and they order their meals quickly.
Draco looks at her, shaking his head. “You’re wrong, you know. Loyalty over everything. It’s possible to be ambitious and loyal and understanding.” He closes his mouth, keeping in the words he’s desperate to say.
She notices anyway. “Say it. Whatever it is, just say it.”
“I never thought you were a good match anyway. You and Weasel- y. ” He tries to mask the insulting nickname at her sharp glare. “You’re so different.”
“Yeah, that became apparent.” She shakes her head, taking a healthy swallow of her wine. “I hate having to start all over.”
“You shouldn’t stay in something just because you’re comfortable.”
She finishes her first glass of wine and he can tell she’s uncomfortable. “What about you? I haven’t seen you in the society pages lately with any witches on your arm. Are you dating anyone?”
He cocks his head to the side, his fingers toying with his wine glass. “I’m looking for something a bit more serious than what a lot of these witches are willing to offer.”
There’s that snort again. “Your big empty house and huge filled vaults aren’t a draw for witches? I find that hard to believe.”
Draco shrugs, lifting his own glass. “Perhaps, but I want more than that.”
***
“Come on, Granger. Up to bed.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to shag Draco Malfoy,” she slurs and giggles, his shirt bunched inside of her tiny fist.
“Well, that’s good, because you’re not.”
He uses a key to unlock her front door because apparently she’s staying with Potter in muggle London. They had to apparate a mile away and walk the rest of the trek to her place, a walk he’s not particularly looking forward to on the way back.
He helps her inside and kicks the door closed. “Where’s your bedroom?”
“Are we going to shag after all?” She looks up at him and licks her lips.
“No, I’m trying to put you to bed, not take you there.”
Her brows wrinkle as if she can’t follow his logic.
He sighs and scoops her in his arms. Making an educated guess, he carries her upstairs and pauses.
“Which way?”
She points lazily, so he turns down the hallway and moves toward the last door. Her room’s a mess, clothes and shoes scattered everywhere as if she couldn’t decide what to wear tonight. He grins at the thought.
He places her on the clean side of the bed and her fist is still wrapped in his shirt. She tugs him down, trying to kiss him.
“Granger…” he pulls back, tugging her hand free. “You’re pissed.”
She pouts and her eyes get watery. “Why doesn’t anyone want me?” she asks so quietly.
Fuck. “Granger, you are brilliant and beautiful and if you weren’t three sheets to the wind right now trust me, I would test how strong your silencing charms are. However, if Potter comes in here and finds me hovering over you in this state he’ll probably finally take the opportunity to avada me and I don’t think you want that on your conscience. I would be happy to take a rain check on shagging you if you happen to remember this tomorrow but I have a feeling you either won’t remember or will be too mortified to owl me.”
“You really mean that?”
“I’ve meant every word I said to you tonight, Granger.”
She snorts. “I have a first name, you know.”
“Goodnight, Hermione.”
She hums. “I like you saying my name.” And then she’s snoring.
***
Draco’s stride doesn’t even stutter as he walks into the drawing room. He rolls his eyes and heads for the bar cart.
“I’d ask how your date went but considering you’re alone…” Pansy quirks one eyebrow, swirling the liquid in her glass.
“You think I’d bring her back here to fuck her?”
“Why not? Make a mess of her cunt in the same spot her muddy little blood made a mess of these floors. It’d be rather sanctimonious, don’t you agree?”
Draco ignores her.
She keeps heckling him. “So you fucked her at her place then?”
“You didn’t tell me she was crashing with Potter.”
She looks him over once. “You seem to still have all your bits. None of them seem to be wet though.” She cocks her head to the side, grinning nastily. Pansy runs her hand along the back of the couch. “Would you mind parting with this couch? It’d look great in my new French chateau.” She smirks.
“What’s this really about for you?” Draco sits down on the other side of the couch, eyeing his friend. “Why do you care if I fuck Granger?”
Pansy shrugs. “I’m bored, you’re bored. Why not?”
He studies her. “I don’t believe you. There’s more to it.”
“It’s irrelevant. We’ve made the deal.” She’s touchy.
“Call me curious.”
“You know what the muggles say about curiosity…”
He pauses, remembering what Granger said about Pansy talking a lot about muggle things. “That’s the second time you’ve made a muggle reference.”
“Yes, well, I had a lot of free time during my probation, you know. Read up on some literature.” She toys with her hair. “Isn’t my hatred of her enough?”
“Do you hate her though? You seemed rather chummy at the club.” He sips his drink, watching her every move.
She acts bored. “Have to keep up the pretences.”
He doesn’t believe a word she’s saying. “What did you expect to happen afterwards?”
She hesitates. “What do you mean?”
“After I fucked Granger. What were you going to do?”
She purses her lips. “Nothing.”
“Pans…”
She rolls her eyes. “Nothing really. Sell the story to Skeeter, maybe. Send in photos. It wouldn’t even be bad for her. It would be a good thing. Show up the Weasel and all.” She waves her hand with a blasé attitude.
“Photos?”
“Don’t be dramatic, Drakey. I’d make sure you looked good in them.”
He sneers. “You wanted to sell embarrassing photos of Hermione to the Prophet to publish?”
She crosses one leg over the other, bouncing her foot lightly. “So?”
“That’s fucked up. Even for you.”
She rears back, affronted. “What does that mean?”
“It means you do some messed up shit, Pans, and I look past a lot of it but it’s time you grow the hell up. What did Hermione ever do to you?”
She pauses and puts her glass down on a nearby table. “When the hell did you start calling her ‘Hermione’ is my question?”
“It’s her name.”
“You spend one fucking night with her and you’re already pussy whipped? What is it with this fucking girl?” she grumbles with irritation.
“Is this really about some old school jealousy? Let it go already.”
She plants both feet on the floor, sitting forward and pointing at him angrily. “You’re one to talk. Don’t act all holier than thou when you were all too eager to try to fuck the girl to win a pathetic little bet.”
He feels like he’s talking to a brick wall. “A bet that you started.”
She runs a hand through her hair, trying desperately to appear unbothered. “So, I’d thought it’d be fucking interesting to play with the lion, who cares? To knock little Miss Perfect down a peg. To see her get used by you like everyone else does,” she snaps, the façade cracking.
It dawns on him then. “That’s what this is about? You and me?”
Pansy scoffs. “Please.”
“You want to make Granger feel used and try to hurt me in one fell swoop.”
“Back to Granger, are we?”
“You knew how I felt about her back then.”
“It was bloody fucking obvious. I’d have known even if I was blind.”
“Look, I’m sorry—”
“You used me until you got bored then you moved on to Daphne and then Astoria You hooked up with Cho Chang, the fucking Patil twins, even Gabrielle sodding Delacour. Is that what you want me to say, Draco? That you fucking hurt me? Because if you didn’t know that by now, you really are bloody hopeless.”
He tenses his jaw, his teeth gritted together painfully. “What did you say to Hermione that night you met?” The thought grates on him.
Pansy rolls her eyes.
“That’s why you know all this muggle shit. You needed an in. You needed to convince her you were different, to tempt her, to prove to her none of us are who we were in school.” He laughs, a bit crazed. “But that’s exactly what you wanted me to do to her anyway, isn’t it? To finally fuck her, to take a stab at Weaselbee, and then leave her like I’m the same prick I always was. Did I get it right?”
“Merlin, you’re so dense. I’m leaving. I don’t know why I fucking bother with you.” She stands and he follows suit.
“What about Blaise?” She freezes. “Do you even love him?”
“Of course, I fucking do. It doesn’t make it easier that you’re his best friend, to watch you fuck your way through the entire fucking wizarding world.”
“I thought you’d take comfort in the fact that it’s not about you, Pans. I’m the problem here. I can’t find anyone who wants to stay.”
She cackles, it’s maniacal and reminds him a little too much of Aunt Bella. “They all want to fucking stay, Draco. Open your eyes. It’s Hermione I was banking on. I wanted you to fall for her and I wanted her to crush you for a change. I wanted you to know what it felt like this time.”
Draco nods slowly. “Unbelievable. You just wanted to hurt us both. You didn’t care how it happened.” He runs a hand through his hair and finishes his drink. “You know, I am sorry I hurt you, but I was sixteen and there was a bit more on my mind back then. Don’t act like this is all on me. You used me as a distraction too.”
“I waited for you. It was always supposed to be us.”
“It was never going to be us!” He yells, finally snapping. “I was protecting you! I should be dead right now! Or at the very least rotting in prison with my parents. Is this the life you wanted, Pans?” He stretches his arms wide. “Is this everything you dreamed of? Married to a Death Eater, living alone in the house of fucking horrors? Being a goddamn pariah everywhere you go, being unemployable, being on probation and unable to leave the country? This? This is what you wanted?” He scoffs. “You know what, take the fucking chateau. I can’t use it anyway.”
He throws his tumbler, smashing it against the wall, glass shards splattering everywhere.
“This is my life now, Pans. Trust me, you don’t want it.” He vanishes his mess and turns away from her.
“Salazar’s tits, you daft, fucking idiot. It was never about the chateau! I didn’t want to win, don’t you get that? It was nothing but incentive. The push you needed to pursue her. I wanted you to win. I wanted you to be crushed. That’s all it bloody was.”
He doesn’t even turn back to her when he snaps, “Get the fuck out.”
***
Draco’s hungover the next morning and is ready to avada whatever is making the irritating tapping noise that woke him up.
With a groan he rolls over in bed and in nothing but his briefs he moves to his window, pulling aside the blackout curtains to find a tawny owl. He opens the window and takes the letter from its leg, offering it one of the treats that belongs to his eagle owl before the loud bird flies away.
He takes the letter back to bed, sitting up against the headboard to read it.
Malfoy,
He grins down at the scrawl of his name, though he’s shocked she actually owled him after last night.
I wanted to say thank you for not taking advantage of me last night. I’m sorry for how I treated you and if I said anything inappropriate. Also, thank you for getting me home safely. And if we could forget everything else that happened last night, I’d appreciate it.
Her
Grang
HJG
Thanks.
He smirks down at the letter, at her failed attempt at signing it. He goes to his desk and pulls out a slip of his personalised stationery.
Hermione,
I have a first name too, you know. If you insist on me calling you by your name, I’d appreciate the same courtesy.
I had a nice time last night. Your continued pawing at me and begging me to shag you will play on repeat in my brain for all of eternity. I’m considering pulling the memory and storing it somewhere safe so I can replay it whenever I please. I do have a pensieve in the Manor, you know.
As I’m sure you’d gathered, I will absolutely not forget anything about last night and considering you owled me after all, I take it this is your formal request at rescheduling that shag you requested? When works for you? I’ll make sure to clear my schedule.
Draco
After sending off the owl, his thoughts flit briefly to his interaction with Pansy last night, wishing things could have gone differently. If he could go back…no. That’s not a rabbit hole he’s ready to fall into this early in the morning.
He can’t change the past, but he can take responsibility for his choices he’s making now. With that thought in mind, he hops in the shower and takes a pain potion to soothe his hangover.
Draco dresses quickly before apparating to the border of muggle London. If he keeps this up he’ll have to buy those hideous tennis shoes he sees muggles wearing. His dragon hyde boots were not made for this much walking.
He knocks on the door and waits, suddenly regretting his sense of urgency and wishing he wouldn’t have come empty handed.
The door opens and his grin falls. “Oh.”
“You show up at my house and say oh? ”
“Hello, Potter.”
“Why are you here?” He leans a hand against the door jamb, effectively blocking Draco from entering.
Draco rolls his eyes at the git’s imprudence. “To see Granger. Is she home?”
“Malfoy?” He hears her voice from behind the bespectacled git standing in the doorway.
“I believe I asked you to call me Draco.”
“Demanded, more like.”
“Not so different from your demands last night.”
Potter visibly shudders. Draco grins at the wizard’s discomfort.
“Is this going to become a thing from now on?” Potter asks, shifting to the side to allow Draco to step inside.
“I sincerely hope so, but that remains to be seen after this conversation.” He turns toward Hermione, taking a long moment to appreciate her messy hair, her t-shirt, the black pants that look glued to her body, and her bare feet. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
She nods. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Come on in.”
He waits for Potter to remove himself from the doorway and he steps inside. Hermione leads Draco to the couch and they both look at Harry expectantly.
“Pretend I’m not here.” Harry moves to sit beside them.
“Do you mind, Harry?”
“Not at all,” the wizard says, reminding Draco a little too much of a certain irritating friend of his own.
“Harry,” Hermione snaps, and the wizard huffs.
“I’ll be upstairs if you need me. Where I can hear everything. ”
Hermione turns back to Draco with a grin. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
He fidgets, suddenly feeling nervous as he tugs on his sleeves. “In the spirit of proving myself and turning over a new leaf, I need to be honest with you.” He takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “I made a bet with Pansy that I could get you to sleep with me in a week’s time.”
Hermione lets out a heavy breath. “I figured as much.”
“She told me—what?” Draco furrows his brow. “But—then why did you go out with me last night?”
“Pansy tried to convince me to use you too.” She bites her lip. “She wanted me to get back at Ron and then leave you…I assumed there was a reason she was pushing me to you but I couldn’t figure out why she was so hellbent on me leaving you afterwards.”
Draco shakes his head. “I didn’t think—” He should have realised after last night that Pansy was playing the both of them. “It doesn’t matter. I wanted to be honest and apologise for even entertaining Pansy. She…she’s not a bad person, she’s just been through a lot.”
“Haven’t we all?” She rubs her palms on her thighs nervously. “Why didn’t you lie? Just tell Pansy that we slept together?”
“She gave me a potion to tell if I was lying.” He rolls his eyes. “Apparently LIAR would imprint itself across my forehead.”
A laugh bubbles out of Hermione. “I know a spell to reverse that.”
He raises his brows in surprise.
“Fifth year. Marietta Edgecombe.”
Draco shakes his head. “Of course,” he mutters. He sits there for a moment quietly, his thoughts sobering. “So, you were actually going to use me too?” And Pansy would’ve gotten exactly what she wanted.
“It was a compelling argument about getting even with Ron.”
“Feel free to use me for that anytime.”
Hermione shoves his shoulder lightly. “What did she say to you?”
Draco rolls his head from side to side. “She didn’t think I’d be able to convince you…that you wouldn’t lower your standards for me.” He curses under his breath. It doesn’t matter what Pansy said. A bet’s a bet. “I’m going to have to give her my chateau.”
“Your what?”
“It was part of the bet.”
“You bet a whole house?”
He furrows a brow. “Just a summer house.”
“Just a summer house,” she mocks. “Unbelievable. What if you won? What did you get? Merlin, if you can just give up a whole bloody house, what on Earth do you even need?”
Draco can’t even fight his smile. “She was going to transfer her father’s ownership of a quidditch team.”
“I’m surprised you don’t already own one.” She rolls her eyes. “What team?”
His grin broadens. “The Chudley Cannons.”
Hermione’s mouth falls open. “You were going to sleep with me and buy out Ron’s favourite quidditch team in one fell swoop?”
Draco clears his throat and nods, nervous for her reaction.
“That’s diabolical.” She grins.
“Some might say evil.”
She looks at him from under her lashes. “That would most certainly get back at Ron for what he did.”
Draco cocks his head to the side, gaze dragging over the witch beside him. “It certainly would.”
“Sounds like we’d all be winning then.”
“Everyone but the Weasel.” He leans in incrementally.
“And Pansy, I suppose.” Hermione scoots closer.
“She can live without a house in France. Blaise has a place in Italy that should suffice.” They’re so close he can feel her breath ghost against his lips. “Are you sure about this?”
“What’s a little revenge sex between friends?”
Draco laughs a little. “Is that what we are now? Friends?”
“I have no idea what we are,” Hermione tells him. “But I know I want this.”
“That’s all I needed to know.” Draco reaches for her, his hand finding her neck and tugging her lips to meet his in the middle.
He kisses her the way he’s wanted to for years, like he’s been starved of touch and she’s the only other person in the world. He grips on to her waist, tugging her flush against him. Hermione swings a leg over his, straddling him, grinding down against him deliciously.
He’s panting as he, regretfully, breaks the kiss. “The things I want to do to you can’t be done on a couch.”
“We can go to my room…”
“But Potter…”
“You’re thinking about Harry at a time like this?” She grinds her hips down against the growing bulge in his trousers.
He pinches the back of her thigh teasingly.
“You said you wanted to test the strength of my silencing charm.”
“You remember that?”
She nods, her eyes fluttering closed as Draco attaches his lips to her neck.
For the first time in a while, he doesn’t want this to be a one night thing. The realisation sobers him. “Maybe we shouldn’t rush this,” he murmurs against her skin.
There’s a part of him, though he’s loath to admit it, that’s afraid she’s going to listen to Pansy. After years of denial and hatred, how else would they have ended up here? He wouldn’t be surprised if Hermione’s only using him to get back at the Weasel, and not because it’s something she really wants to do.
“You’re right. You’re right.” She leans her forehead against his, her warm core still pressing against him.
Draco eases her off of his lap and they’re both panting, staring at one another, the tension taut between them.
“I don’t want there to be the pressure of a bet hanging over my head when we do this.” He reaches out, cupping the side of her face. “You deserve to be properly wooed, after all.”
Hermione snorts. “Where did you come up with that again?”
“Theo,” he tells her, as if the name alone is enough of an explanation. If she knew him, it would be.
She sits up, straightening her clothes. “We should go pay your friends a visit, don’t you think?”
Draco narrows his eyes as an evil little grin unfurls on Hermione’s face. If she keeps looking at him like that, they’re never going to leave the house and they absolutely will be testing those silencing charms.
“Let me go change.” She runs upstairs where Draco can hear a conversation between her and Scarhead.
“Is it safe to come down yet?” Potter asks from the top of the stairs. “I’d forgotten my tea and it was touch and go for a bit there.”
He can practically hear Hermione roll her eyes. “Yes, Harry. We’re actually leaving anyway.”
Draco raises his brows, leaning forward on the couch to listen.
“I have a few of Draco’s friends I need to meet.” She hops down the stairs with Potter in tow. Hermione walks over to Draco, a small vial in her hand. “Drink this.” He eyes the vial sceptically. “Trust me.”
He downs the potion as Potter comes into view, his brows raised and blending in with his messy hair. Doesn’t the wizard own a brush?
“I’m coming with you.”
Hermione rolls her eyes. “I don’t need your protection, Harry.”
“Oh, I know. But as an auror, they might need protection from you. ”
Draco coughs to mask his laugh.
The three of them apparate outside of Pansy’s place. Draco doesn’t bother with the formality of knocking, opting instead to push right inside.
Hermione and Potter follow into Pansy’s drawing room where they find Pansy atop Blaise’s lap with Theo lounging nearby.
The former-Slytherins look at the newcomers with amusement. Theo sits up, a broad smile on his face.
“Hello, love.” He stands, moving toward Draco.
“We’re close, mate, but we’re not that close,” Draco rolls his eyes.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Theo retorts, moving past him to get to Potter.
Draco’s eyes go wide as his best friend leans in to press a kiss to Scarhead’s lips. He glances at Hermione and her expression is equally as perplexed.
“Well, this is new.”
“They’ve been together for weeks,” Pansy waves a hand. “So, what brings you all here? Decide to seal the deal and give me a show all in one? It’ll really make getting pictures of you two much easier. Blaise, darling, run and get my camera, will you?”
“Perhaps we already sealed the deal, Pansy,” Hermione sniffs, her hand coming to hold Draco’s.
He frowns as she looks down at the witch, but she looks undeterred.
“Tell her, Draco.”
He clears his throat, speaking hesitantly. “Yeah, Pansy. It’s done.”
The raven-haired witch studies him, staring at his forehead for the word Draco’s sure must be etching into his skin, but her brown eyes go wide in shock. “It’s true?” Pansy sits up. “I must say, even I didn’t think you were that easy, Granger.”
Hermione winks at him coyly. The brilliant little minx.
Draco smirks. “Don’t worry, Pans. This whole bet wasn’t about if you won or lost—”
“But you also didn’t play very well,” Hermione finishes.
Pansy’s brown eyes are narrowed as they flit from Hermione to Draco and back again.
“You told us both your entire plan,” Hermione snorts, the sound mocking the former-Slytherin girl. “We compared notes. We realised this thing between us could be rather beneficial. It’s a win-win.”
“For me and Granger, anyway. You did lose,” Draco points out.
Pansy rolls her eyes. “How ever will I go on?”
“Well, first you’re going to go into your father’s office and get some quidditch papers,” Hermione says with a sinister grin. “I believe you have a trade to make.”