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“Malfoy!” His ridiculously ornately carved door made a pleasing thud as the handle crashed against the deep green walls. Hermione suppressed a shudder; head held high, she strode into the snake pit.
“Everyone's favourite Gryffindor,” Malfoy drawled, looking up from his meticulously ordered desk. A neat pile of parchment sat to the left of a silver ink pot. Charmed words that hung in the air to his right disappeared into mist with a wave of his hand. The years, or perhaps a reduction in the amount of hair gel, had been kind to him. His pointy ferret features had softened beneath the sweep of fine strands of platinum blonde hair across his forehead. “What brings you charging into my office like your broom’s on fire, Granger?”
“You cannot be serious with these proposals.” Hermione's voice grew higher as she threw the cursed paperwork onto his desk. The large stamp of approved writ across it in glistening green letters. “It's their home.”
“Whose home? I submitted all the relevant paperwork to the required offices. There were no objections.” Malfoy examined the feather of his pure white quill, straightening the barbs with his index finger.
“That’d be because you filed them under restricted access!”
“If they really cared they'd have taken the time to check. Plenty more trees in the forest, whatever the creatures are, they can just relocate there.” His pale grey eyes met hers as he pushed his chair back and settled into an infuriatingly relaxed pose. “But if they need compensation I'm sure I can arrange it, never let it be said that Malfoy potions aren't generous to those in need. Make it your cause to help them re-establish themselves for all I care. Reinstate VOMIT or whatever it was.”
“It was S.P.E.W. and the aggrieved party in this case are centaurs. They have important historic sites in that part of the forest, you can't just scrub out hundreds of years of their history.”
“As I said, Granger, there were no objections raised. Perhaps they should have seen it coming in the stars.” His lip quirked up in that familiar smirk he'd worn so often in their schooldays, Hermione rolled her wand through her fingers in her pocket. It would be so easy to curse that aggravating half smile from his face.
“You are insufferable.”
“And yet, you've chosen to grace me with your illustrious presence. Now, if you've quite finished shouting at me, then I've got work to do.”
“If I’ve…” Hermione paused, sucking in a breath through her teeth. “You are proposing to raze an entire forest, and for what? It's not as though you need more land!”
“One, it's not for me personally, it's a business venture. Two, it's approved. If you've got an actual issue with that, rather than simply wishing to vent in my direction, then take it up with the department that approved it. I know my indiscretions in childhood hardly endeared me to you.”
“Your indiscretions?” Hermione repeated incredulously. “You bullied me for years just because you thought my blood lesser.”
“And for that I have already apologised. You were there when the preparatory school for muggleborn students was inaugurated.”
“You can't buy forgiveness.”
“I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm asking you to let me run my business and for you to do whatever it is you do.” He gestured towards the door with a dismissively airy flourish of his wand.
“So what is this business venture? What's so important you need an entire forest to disappear?” Hermione asked, attempting to change tact. Maybe if she knew why he needed the land she could suggest an alternative.
A faint pink blush dusted across Malfoy's cheekbones. Handsome floated unbidden through Hermione's mind, she quashed it down with an internal hiss that looks didn't alter his abhorrent personality.
Malfoy spun the slender feather through his fingers, watching it and not looking at her. “It's to grow some potions ingredients,” he eventually explained. “Are you aware of what my company does?”
“Yes, of course I am.” What did he take her for? She'd done her research before confronting him. Specialised potions developed on demand. “Surely you could grow ingredients elsewhere? Literally anywhere. Or have you forgotten that you can use magic?”
One of his eyebrow’s quirked up in an annoyed challenge. “Forgotten,” he snapped. “Of course not.”
“So, why don't you?”
“I could grow it anywhere,” he conceded. “But this was the largest plot of land available.”
“Find somewhere else then.”
“If you are that bothered by it, you find it.”
“Fine. I will!”
She allowed the door to slam shut behind her as she stomped from his room. She would find somewhere else for this venture.
Malfoy,
Please find enclosed several potential alternative sites for your ever so important potions ingredients.
Regards,
HJG
P.S. still using owl?
Draco rifled through the papers Granger had sent him. Important didn't even begin to touch on how vital this site was to his research. Aconite was incredibly finickity; it needed just the right conditions to bloom and provide the essential component to the enhanced wolfsbane potion he was determined to perfect. Although you could force it to flower with magic, it lost much of its potency in the process.
Two of the suggestions he discounted immediately, the latitude was not suitable for optimum growth.
The third though held some promise. It would need closer investigation. He sighed as he accioed a piece of parchment towards him. When he'd challenged Granger to find him a location, he shouldn't have discounted her actually doing so.
The sudden appearance of her in his office had come as a shock. Without any time to prepare he'd resorted to the safety net of sarcasm. An attempt to quash Theo’s taunting from seventh year that he found competence attractive from dancing unbidden through his mind.
Granger
Of course I'm using owl. Or would you rather I apparated to you and delivered my message in person.
Please relay your earliest convenience to provide me with further details on the moors site you proposed.
Regards,
DLM
As the owl soared out of the open window, Draco pushed back his chair. Theo had been right, of course, at school. Draco did find competence attractive. And Granger was the picture of competence. The smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose complemented her deep brown eyes. She was an attractive woman, he'd be a fool not to admit it.
The owl returned within the hour. A small black box clutched between its talons in addition to the parchment tied to its leg.
Malfoy,
This is the latest in wizarding technology, it's based on a muggle design. It will allow us to communicate without relying on inefficient owls.
I trust a superior mind like yours will be able to work it without too much difficulty.
Regards,
HJM
The unwritten challenge was clear in Granger's words. He'd told her he'd changed his views on muggles; this was his chance to prove it.
It wasn't even that he'd changed his views. He'd never truly held to the bigoted position his father had instilled in him from early childhood. How could he when, within weeks of starting at Hogwarts, he was being bested in almost every subject by a muggleborn? But he was a Slytherin, and self-preservation had led him to conclude that life would be simply easier if he played along with his father's ideals. And it had been. Surrounded by fellow purebloods, his time at school had been seven carefree years.
But entry into the real world had been a shock. The demise of Voldemort at the hands of a baby half-blood Potter had changed the outlook of many witches and wizards. No longer were purebloods lauded as superior, whatever delusions his father was holding to under his extended house arrest. (A little secret that explained why his parents only ever entertained at the manor and never visited elsewhere. Although Draco had only discovered that particular truth upon leaving school.)
He flipped open the box, a small smooth piece of glass on the inside lit up with a dull green glow. A raft of buttons underneath displayed the letters of the alphabet in a disordered jumble. On the glass was a single sentence.
Draco slowly pressed the buttons, committed to following this simple instruction. It was a painstakingly slow method of writing.
The response appeared almost instantly. How was she sending a message so quickly?
Draco peered out of the still open window, the sun was creeping down towards the horizon. His eyes followed the owl which had flown off with a solitary hoot; it had clearly decided its services would no longer be required.
He strode to his office door and looked up and down the hallway outside, in case she was concealed there and using some charm to magic the words into existence. Returning to the screen, he typed out.
The speed at which she was replying. How was that even possible?
Draco stared at what he'd just written. He willed another message to appear. A quip or returning taunt. Anything.
Perhaps he'd taken that too far. So easy was it to return to childhood jibes. But it was too late now. Was there even a way to recall the messages? He'd have to sort it in the morning. Hopefully conversing in person would be easier.
Hermione pulled her hair into a tight bun, the frizziness of her hair had been one of Malfoy’s constant refrains at school; she resolved to give him no further ammunition today.
She'd meet him as planned. Persuade him to use this location instead of the sacred centaur lands. And then she'd never have to communicate with the bigoted prat again. If he didn't want to spend time with her, she certainly didn't want to spend a moment more than was necessary with him. If he wasn't careful she'd give into her current desire to curse his ridiculously and unfairly handsome face. Only the necessity of securing the future of the centaurs’ home had so far stayed her wand.
Exactly at ten she apparated to Flourish and Blotts, landing next to the towering piles of Gilderoy Lockhart's latest book displayed in the window. She scowled at the gigantic portrait of the smiling celebrity, his one year tenure at Hogwarts had revealed all she needed to know about his fakery. But apparently no one cared about truth as long as one looked the part. Or if you had the galleons backing you as Malfoy did.
Malfoy was already there, facing towards the people striding up and down the main shopping street. His smart deep blue suit gave him an air of confident authority. With one hand he twisted the cufflink of the opposite wrist.
“Granger, I wanted to apologise,” Malfoy rushed out as he turned towards her. His steel grey eyes didn't meet hers.
“Don't bother,” she retorted, determined not to allow herself to be drawn in by his slippery charm. “Let's get this over with.” She offered him her arm to apparate him to the location. He eyed it dubiously. She let out a huff of breath. “Much as I'd like to, I'm far too mature to enact petty revenge. Particularly not in Diagon Alley in broad daylight.”
“But on a moor…”
“I'm prepared to put up with your company in order to get this done. Come on.” She reached out for his arm and Malfoy didn't shy away. The gentle pressure of his fingers around her bare elbow sent lightning racing through her. She clamped her teeth together to prevent even a glimmer of a smile at his nearness. However attractive he may be on her arm, she was not interested in his infuriating personality.
With a twist they hurtled together towards the desolate potential site for his mysterious project.
Draco tapped his finger against the desk, watching the screen on the phone Granger had given him. Granger's demeanor towards him on the moor had been frosty but polite. She shaken off his grip as soon as they'd landed; if he focussed he could still feel the smooth warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips.
Although she had briefly explained a little more of the workings of the phone (apparently unable to fully quell her desire to demonstrate her knowledge), she'd been otherwise unusually silent.
The site she'd taken him to was perfect; just what he'd been looking for. Aconite would flourish there, of that he was certain. It wouldn't be long before he could start his research in earnest. His aunt would be delighted that someone was finally working on a cure for her son-in-law.
The billywigs were hosting a party in his stomach. He picked up the phone. He couldn't leave things between him and Granger like this.
Draco watched and waited for the screen to flash up with a response from Granger. But nothing arrived. Five minutes passed. Then another five. He willed a response, any response. The niffler buried deeper into his abdomen.
He waited once more. The bludger in his chest thumped against his ribs.
He stared at her reply. What did he want? Her to talk to him? Definitely. But what else? He wasn't sure. He just knew he was drawn to her in a way that he hadn't been drawn towards anyone before. Theo was right, although he'd never admit it to anyone. He was attracted by competence.
Draco paused. His fingers had quickly adapted to using the phone, and now he needed time to allow his brain to catch up. How could he prove it? Prove that he was interested in her and not just for verbal sparring, fun though that was. Suddenly, he knew exactly what he should do.
There was a long pause. Seconds dragged into minutes as Draco waited. Hiding behind a phone screen brought with it a measure of courage, to his knowledge it couldn't convey curses. But looking down at what he'd written, he wasn't so sure.
He allowed a smile to spread across his lips.
Hermione wiped her hands on her scarlet skirt. Flirting via text message was one thing, but actually arranging to meet Malfoy for a date was quite another. She half expected it to be a ruse. One where she'd be the butt of the joke. Although the world had changed for the better in many ways, Malfoy still came from a family that saw money as power. She was comfortably off, but by no means rich. And the magic thrumming through her veins was new magic, not rooted in an ancient family line like his.
Still, she was also a Gryffindor. And Ginny had taught her plenty of inventive curses. If Malfoy had set her up for mockery, she would fight back bravely and enact a suitable revenge.
She held her head high and strode towards where he stood waiting by the quaint tea room entrance. As his eyes met hers, his lips quirked up in a nervous smile.
“Malfoy,” Hermione greeted him. She allowed him to brush his lips across her knuckles.
“Hermione,” he responded, his voice a little raspy. “You look lovely.”
“Are we on first name terms now?” she asked, tamping down the shiver that the sound of her first name from his lips had sent through her.
“I thought we should start afresh,” he explained. “Calling you by your name seemed like one way to break with the errors of my past.”
“Lead on then, Draco,” she responded, hooking her arm through his.
His entire face lit up in a gorgeous smile as he escorted her towards the awaiting table.