Chapter Text
July 2003
“We don’t ask for too much! We ask only for what is right, what is deserved, what is just . You all know how the government has failed us again and again when we needed them most. Why should we rely on them? Why should we be indebted to this governing body full of people we did not even elect? I say no more! We must take action ourselves! We must move to rid ourselves of the mavericks in our society before they cause another war, before they cause more unnecessary death.”
A tall man in jeans and a simple shirt spoke with passion, his voice ringing and carrying through the street. As he spoke his arms gestured widely, and his eyes moved rapidly. He was drawing a large crowd as he continued to speak from the steps of a building in the city of Chester. Some stopped to hear his words, others stopped to see why the first had stopped, and others congregated and raised their fists in agreement.
Hermione shifted uncomfortably at the amount of attention the man was getting, hand twitching toward her wand. “C’mon Harry, we should stop this. The man could start a riot,” she said out of the side of her mouth. The two were at the edges of the crowd, keeping their heads down. But between the engaging man and the fact that it had been years since the war ended, no one was likely to recognize them, especially so far from London.
“Wait a little longer,” he said softly, eyes trained on the man they were sent to stop.
Hermione huffed but remained by his side. While they were both of equal Auror status and partners on a team, she always deferred to him in the field, just as he always deferred all the paperwork to her desk.
Suddenly the man brandished his wand and with a pop someone else appeared behind him. A woman was bound, hands to her feet, with a gag tightly tied across her face. Her blonde hair fell in riotous curls around her pale face, and somehow she still looked striking. Hermione knew from past reports that this was not a human, but a siren. The creature’s eyes were angry, and she struggled against the restraints. Hermione was sure she saw a touch of fear behind those eyes, but she wasn’t waiting to find out. She wouldn’t lose another one.
“Now,” she said, and without waiting she raised her wand and let a piercing alarm echo over the crowd. The people parted, scattering as she rushed forward, casting a protego charm between the siren and the man. The man cast a spell that bounced off her shield, and she quickly recast it. The man cursed before jumping down the stairs and heading straight for an alley. Hermione rushed up the stairs and fell to her knees beside the siren, hoping Harry caught the man.
She quickly sliced through the restraints with a few muttered words, running her hands up and down the siren’s arms, both to sooth and to prevent her from taking off the gag.
“No one’s going to hurt you,” Hermione said, but the siren only glared back at her, raising her chin. Hermione sighed.
“I can’t take that off here, not with so many people still around,” she said sadly, glancing over her shoulder to see a handful of people still milling about, trying to covertly watch her and the siren on the steps. “I’d like to take you back to the Ministry with us - they will want to question you to try and know more about whoever that man was. They will be able to remove your gag there.”
The siren continued to glare, not moving from her place sitting on the stairs, but shrugging off Hermione’s hands. Disappointed, Hermione continued on.
“Or, I understand you have your own form of magic that can Apparate you away, yes?”
The siren hesitated before nodding quickly.
“I can remove the spell preventing you from doing so, and you can go wherever you feel safe.”
Blonde curls jumped as the siren nodded several times, eyes widening, fear slowly replacing the anger.
“Very well,” Hermione said, reaching into her pocket, “but I want you to take this card with you. That’s information on how to reach me - not the Ministry, just me. You use it if you ever see that man again or if you want to testify against him. Or if you need help. Alright?”
There was no nod this time, but Hermione tucked the card into the siren’s pants pocket all the same. Standing up and taking a step back she raised her wand. “I’m glad we were able to save you,” she said, so quietly she doubted the siren even heard, before casting the countercharms. The moment the spell was lifted the siren vanished without a sound. Turning around she saw some people had stopped to watch.
“Unless you’d like to be taken in for questioning I suggest you leave,” she said coldly, arms crossed over her chest. The street quickly cleared and she sat on the stairs, waiting for word from Harry. As much as she wanted to bury her face in her hands and slump on the stairs, she made herself sit with her back straight, eyes alert, and wand at the ready.
She and Harry had become Aurors right after the war. Stray Death Eaters were running panicked, and the Ministry was in desperate need of official Aurors to combat them. Many Order members were tracking down those they knew of, but their efforts were not as coordinated as the Ministry’s.
While she had been reluctant at first, it turned out she was quite a good Auror once she had training and practice. Her reflexes improved, her panic faded, and her confidence grew. She never intended to stay with the department for very long, but they always seemed to need her. Or Harry needed her. And somehow 5 years had passed.
Harry came jogging out of the alley he had chased the other man down not too long ago. She let her wand fall to her side as she watched him approach, black hair even more wild than before.
“No luck?” She asked, already knowing the answer.
“Nope,” he answered, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. “Turned a corner and vanished. Just like last time. How about you?”
“She was fine this time, so there’s that at least. Let’s get out of here.”
Harry nodded and in unison the two turned and Apparated, arriving a heartbeat later in their office within the Ministry. Hermione took a moment to catch her breath - she never cared for Apparation. Harry seemed unaffected by the journey, dropping into the plush couch shoved against one wall. He’d let his hair grow out, so his scar was completely hidden. While the length might have stopped his hair from sticking straight up in the back, it was still wild with a mind of its own as he carded his hand through it.
He’d changed since school - but she supposed they all had. She, Harry, and Ron had all thrown themselves into Auror training after the war, and it had almost been normal for a while. They were constantly running to one part of Britain or another, catching the bad guys one by one, and spending the evenings with each other at the Leaky Cauldron or one of their flats.
Then Harry and Ginny split, and the entire balance shifted. Neither would say what exactly happened, but Ginny was clearly furious. When Hermione tried to understand what was happening, Ginny accused her of taking Harry’s side and stormed away. Molly also began to shun Harry. And while Hermione and Ron’s relationship had never been very stable, her vehement disapproval of Molly’s actions was the final straw.
So Harry and Hermione found themselves on the outside. Hermione desperately clung to Harry, ecstatic when they were made partners at work, and pretended it didn’t hurt when Ron ignored her or when another holiday passed without word from any of the Weasleys.
But Harry retreated into himself. When she cried over Ron after a bottle of firewhiskey he patted her on the back but didn’t say a word. When they had a good case at work she dragged him to the bar to celebrate, but he always left after one or two drinks, leaving her alone. She usually left soon after he did. When she tried to date, as pathetic as her attempts were, she always asked his opinion and talked to him about whatever issue arose on the date. Meanwhile, Harry found a girlfriend and hadn’t told her about Jazel until months passed.
Despite it all, he remained her best friend. Maybe one of her only friends, but it was the same in the end. She’d seen the change in him as the war ended, his relationship with Ginny ended, and as they faced day after day of chasing down unrepentant Death Eaters. While similar events had spurred her to cling closer to the people who had remained - namely Harry - she could understand his opposite response.
And he did try for her. She saw that he still cared in the way he protected her during missions, or when he randomly showed up at her flat for a drinking night, or how he made sure the soda she liked stayed stocked at his house. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to show her he was trying as much as he was able to. For now, she could pick up his slack to keep their friendship steady.
The office door opened and a tall, thin man strode in with a scowl on his face. Hermione stood up straighter, facing her boss, Carl Gregor.
“Well?” He asked when they didn’t say anything straight away.
“Well he got away,” Harry said from his position on the couch, head back as he stared at the ceiling.
Hermione rushed to cover his disrespectful tone. “The man was similar to the others, sir. Dressed plainly, with nothing besides a wand on him as far as we could tell. We waited until the hostage appeared before moving in. A siren this time, sir. I was able to protect her, but Harry lost the zealot in the chase. The siren elected not to come to the Ministry.”
She kept her hands clasped in front of her as she spoke.
“How many does that make?” Gregor asked, still scowling.
“This would be the ninth instance of a zealot spreading a similar message. That we know of, sir.” She kept her chin lifted as she met his eye. He may never crack a smile or let up on them, but she’d come to respect him over the years. He reminded her of Moody.
“And we still haven’t caught a damn one,” he said, and she kept her mouth firmly shut - it hadn’t been a question.
“Walk with me. The both of you,” he said curtly, then turned on his heel and strode from the office. She followed, Harry right behind her.
Gregor talked as he made his way through the Auror Department. “This assignment has been bumped from a Level 1 priority to a Level 2. Since the time between each occurrence is measured in weeks you may take part in other missions, but this assignment is your priority otherwise. We don’t have another team available to work on a long-term assignment with you, so you will be taking on a third member of your team to train. Utilize him to better catch these zealots.”
Hermione flinched as he spoke. He may not have intended to insult their abilities, but it felt like a rebuke. Gregor stopped in front of one of the conference rooms and glanced over his shoulder.
“The trainee has been vetted and approved for work both in this department and on this assignment. I don’t expect any trouble.”
She only had a moment to furrow her brow before the door swung open to reveal a blonde haired man leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed and smirk firmly in place.
“Hey there, Potter, ready to have some fun?” Draco Malfoy drawled, eyes flicking to Harry then over to her. Her breath caught for a moment and her lips parted slightly but no words came out.
Their eye contact was broken when Harry moved past her, knocking her shoulder. He took two large steps before plowing his fist into Malfoy’s face. Malfoy didn’t even bother uncrossing his arms.
“Hey! What the actual bloody hell Potter?” An irate Gregor shouted from the door before rushing forward and grabbing him by the collar. A few Aurors gathered at the door, trying to see what was happening.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Gregor muttered to himself, looking between a bleeding Malfoy and a livid Harry who was practically snarling at Malfoy.
“You’re off the case,” he finally said, roughly shoving Harry toward the door. “Go to my office.”
Harry didn’t even look back before leaving, pushing through the handful of spectators crowded around the door.
“What? Nothing to do?” Gregor barked and watched as everyone scattered.
“Is this going to be a problem for you too, Granger?” As much as she wanted to say otherwise, she shook her head and put her hands behind her back, raising her chin a fraction.
“Good,” he said, “fix up his face and catch him up on the assignment. He has the manual already. Looks like you’ll still be a two-man team thanks to Potter, but maybe fresh eyes will still improve your results. I’ll look into whether anyone wants to switch teams with Potter. Don’t hold your breath.”
Then Gregor left, closing the door behind him. Hermione let her shoulders sag for a moment, mind racing over the events of the last few moments, trying to order them properly and figure out her next steps.
“You wanna take a shot too, Granger?” Malfoy said, reaching up and touching a corner of his mouth, lip curling in annoyance when he saw the blood. She rolled her eyes.
“Don’t touch it,” she snapped. She took a step forward and quickly healed his face, even going so far as to clean up the blood.
“You should soak that shirt,” she said after taking a step back, gesturing to his collar where a few drops of blood seeped into the white material. “A spell won’t take that out completely.”
“Maybe not one of your spells,” he drawled. She just rolled her eyes again.
“Sit down. There’s a lot to catch you up on.” She took a seat as she spoke and started pulling the papers and folder scattered on the table closer, organizing them to better explain the assignment.
And over the next hour she explained the assignment. Nine months ago the first zealot showed up. He, and all the others to follow, looked like an average man in muggle clothing. No distinctive features, marks, or clothes. Each time the zealot would show up in the wizarding part of a populated city throughout Britain and spout the same ideas and propaganda - and this alone didn’t concern the ministry, despite its anti-government sentiment. But near the end of the speech, and only after a crowd had formed, the zealot would reveal a creature that represented everything they stood against. A creature that had all the potential and disposition to wreak havoc on the wizarding community - it’d been a mix of vampires and sirens thus far. And then the zealot would kill them in cold blood.
Hermione's voice only shook a little as she told Malfoy that she’d managed to save four. Four out of nine. Even though no Aurors had been dispatched to the first instance, she still counted it as a loss. Each occurrence took place weeks apart and at a different location so it was impossible to predict, but there was a steady trend of the timing between each encounter getting shorter and shorter.
“The real kicker is we can’t figure out how he makes the creatures appear or how he gets away. Ever since the second encounter Harry and I have arrived in time to at least cast a diagnostic on the zealot - and he only ever has a wand. Usually you’d need an object like a Portkey to make another person appear, but he never has one on him. Same with his escape, Harry always has him in sight but the second he turns a corner he disappears.” Hermione huffed out a breath and leaned back in her chair, discouraged all over again.
“I suggest you read all the reports,” she said, sliding a bulging folder towards him. “That has all but today’s report in it. I can get that to you tomorrow when I submit it.”
Hermione organized the rest of the papers, forming a stack, as Malfoy flipped through the folder. He’d stayed quiet throughout her monologue, nodding along but not taking any notes. But she refused to prompt him to do so - if he couldn’t figure out to take notes the first day on a new job then that was on him.
“Potter doesn’t submit any reports?” Malfoy asked, eyes still on the papers he was leafing through. Hermione was already shaking her head.
“No, he’s shite at it.”
Malfoy just looked at her and raised one eyebrow.
“Well,” she huffed, “we are both supposed to submit mission reports. His were always sloppy and incomplete, and I got sick of Gregor tearing into both of us for his work. I started just submitting my report and including all the extra details I needed from Harry, and Gregor finally stopped complaining.”
She shrugged, refusing to feel guilty. It wasn’t the correct way to do the paperwork, but it’d been working for the past few years and her boss didn’t seem to mind. So Malfoy could shove it.
“And this is everything you know about the assignment?” Malfoy asked lightly, gesturing to the pile of papers she had stacked in front of her.
“Yes,” she said slowly, folding her arms in front of her. “I know we don’t have a ton of leads but we also don’t have a lot to go off of. We just got the go ahead today to make this a priority so I’ll have more time for research going forward,” she defended.
He just nodded slowly and closed the folder in front of him. Taking a breath he looked at her again, mouth pulled down and eyes serious.
“And you have to stay here tonight, I presume, to submit that report?”
She nodded tightly.
“Very well. Instead of reporting here tomorrow morning I’ll need you to Apparate to the Manor. I have an office there and we can discuss this assignment further.” He stood up as if it was all set in stone.
She sputtered for a moment before finding her voice. “Excuse me?” She said, standing up and kicking her chair backwards. “I’m the lead on this case now, Malfoy, since you are just a trainee here. You do not get to dictate when and where we do our work.”
Her voice rose at the end and her hands were clenched at her sides. She wished desperately to have her wand in hand but wisely kept it stored in her sleeve holster.
“Actually, we are sharing this case,” he said, one hand braced on his chair as he smirked at her. Her lips pressed together in a thin line even as her nostrils flared. But he spoke again before she could start yelling.
“Before you go into some tirade I’m sure you already have all spelled out in that head of yours,” he said, raising both hands, “I’m just going to tell you to trust me for a day. Then you’ll understand.”
“And why should I trust you?” She lashed out, flushing even as she saw him flinch from her words. But he never broke eye contact.
“All I can say here is that Kingsley approves of your reporting to the Manor tomorrow,” he said curtly, and she saw his knuckles turn white where he’d grabbed the chair once more.
She hesitated for only a moment. “Fine.”
“Good,” he said, turning to leave the room.
“Wait,” she called, grabbing the folder and thrusting it toward him as he turned around. “You need to look these over.”
“No I don’t.” And with one final smirk he was gone, and she was left with her mouth agape and her anger returning full force.
She threw the folder onto the table, uncaring when several reports slid out in a heap, and thrust both hands into her hair. Managing only barely to contain a frustrated scream, she snarled at the paperwork instead and cast a charm that sent all the papers whizzing away to their respective filing cabinets. She heard a few curses in the hall as the papers flew by much too quickly. And then she stormed out after them. Several Aurors in the hallways moved out of her way, and she slammed the door to her office.
Sitting in her expensive office chair - one of her few indulgences - she closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the leather in utter defeat.
“Fuck,” she whispered.
.
.
By the time she finished her report and got out of the office it was past dark. She was in no mood to deal with an irate Harry, so she headed straight for her flat. Luckily, she’d happened upon a flat within a few blocks of the Ministry’s side entrance. It let her avoid Apparating twice a day to work, and she also counted the walk as her exercise so she never felt guilty about not going to the gym.
She let herself into her third floor flat and, too tired to do it the muggle way that she preferred, she cast a quick spell to heat up the kettle for tea and called in an order for takeout.
Without letting herself think too much, she changed into her comfiest pajamas - flannel pants with holes at the bottom and a faded Aerosmith tank top - made herself a hot cup of tea, and paid the delivery guy before spreading out the excessive amount of food she’d ordered.
And she set the box in the middle of the table. It was an unassuming shoe box that she usually kept under her bed, covered with an old towel, and hidden with a notice-me-not charm.
After carefully dipping a dumpling in soy sauce she popped it into her mouth and nearly groaned aloud. The local Chinese place really made the best food.
Finally she couldn’t put it off any more, and she opened the box.
Newspaper clippings filled the box, each carefully folded and organized in chronological order going back years. And each article featured none other than Draco Malfoy.
She idly flipped through the largest pile - the one dedicated to his professional endeavors. Every headline she recognized at a glance as it went through Malfoy’s imprisonment in Azkaban days after the war ended, the entire family’s lengthy trial, and his eventual release 6 months later. That picture was her least favorite, but she made herself unfold it this time and look at the gaunt man hunched against the wind, wearing only a thin shirt to ward off the cold. He was much too thin and chalky pale - but it was his eyes that did her in. For a moment his eyes flicked up and showed a rawness as he finally left that damned island, and then the loop restarted.
Then began his slow climb up the ladder at the Ministry. It began with a mandated, year long position in the Magical Creatures department. But to everyone’s surprise, he remained after the year had passed. He spent a few years moving positions among the different departments, and each article about it grew shorter than the last, until the shocking news came out that he was working as the assistant to Minister of Magic Shacklebolt.
This last article was accompanied by a photo as well - and this time Malfoy looked much different. His hair was cut and styled perfectly (though no longer slicked back with gel like at Hogwarts), his shoulders were just a tad broader, and he held himself tall and straight. Wearing an elegant tailored suit, he looked perfectly in place as he shook the Minister’s hand and at the last moment before the clip restarted, he smirked right at the camera.
Hermione paused with this article in her hand - that image had made her heart skip a beat the first time she’d seen it with his momentary smirk. She let it run through a few times before she set the pile aside.
Another, smaller, pile she removed from the box but didn’t bother to flip through. She already knew the contents as the clippings spelled out his family’s progression over the years. Narcissa was released from Azkaban at the same time as her son, and the two now lived at the Manor and controlled all of the Malfoy accounts. Even after Lucius eventually served his 10 year sentence, all of his control and holdings would remain in Narcissa’s name. Narcissa was quite the social butterfly, donating to all types of charities and holding more than one grand event herself. Malfoy was always on the fringes of those events - an equal partner but clearly not a participant. Both mother and son visited Lucius every other month.
The last of the newspaper pieces, and the smallest pile in the box, she took out with a heavy heart. Each article was written by none other than Rita Skeeter as they all came from the gossip column. And in each story a large picture was included to show any snapshot they could get of Malfoy with his date. There were only 6 clippings in total, and each featured a different woman. She made herself read through every article again - reacquainting herself with the perfect, high society women he always chose. The only thing all the women had in common was a raised social position and a Gringott’s vault to match.
Finally only two objects remained in the box. She distracted herself with her food for a few minutes, finishing her plate of lo mein and not looking into the box. Then she sighed, set aside the food, and reached in for the two mementos.
The first: a scrap of parchment with random lines, squiggles, and a few careless doodles scratched onto it. And with “Draco Malfoy” smoothly signed a half a dozen times in his own hand. This had been her first shameful addition to the box, taken at the end of 6th year when he left it behind after History of Magic, before all hell broke loose.
The second: a silk green tie. Picking it up gingerly, she recalled the night two years ago when she’d taken it.
Her dress felt much too tight and she couldn’t help but pull at the hem again. It seemed like the old man giving the speech at the charity event had been droning on for ages. She saw Harry seated across the room, with his new girlfriend seated beside him. He had waited until tonight to even mention he had a date, let alone that he’d been seeing her for months. It still stung that he’d kept that from her.
It’d already been hours of eating, drinking, and socializing. She’d focused on the drinking. The food was mediocre and everytime she tried to join a conversation it felt like she was butting into a private group. Or if she did manage to assert herself, she often had nothing to add to the topic after a few minutes and she’d quietly excuse herself.
She tossed back the rest of her drink just as the old man finished his speech and applause echoed through the hall. She clapped along with them even as she wove her wave through the back of the crowd before escaping into a hallway. Some air would help, or maybe she’d find a Floo and go home early. Hearing the door behind her and not wanting to deal with company, she quickly ducked into the coat closet she knew would be empty during the summer event.
Closing her eyes, she leaned against the opposite wall and let herself finally breath. She shifted her bra, scratching where the underwire was cutting into her. The pleasant buzz at the base of her skull was turning into a droning that was hard to ignore, and she knew with certainty she did not want to rejoin the party. But the door across from her swung open, and it seemed like she didn’t have a choice.
Opening her eyes, she glared at whoever was intent on disturbing her peace. But she froze when she saw Malfoy standing in front of her in a perfectly pressed muggle suit. Her heart sped up, and she wished desperately that she hadn’t drank so much.
He stepped inside and the door swung shut behind him, leaving them only a step apart. She could smell his cologne.
It took half a minute before she found her tongue. “What do you want, Malfoy,” she bit out.
“Came to check on you,” he said slowly, head cocking to the side. “McGonnagall said you looked unwell, but she couldn’t leave and sent me instead.”
“I’m fine,” she said shortly, pushing herself off the wall. “I don’t need you to come check up on me,” she said, voice harsh as she glared at him, unreasonably angry all at once. The night had been frustrating from start to finish, and the alcohol did nothing to temper her emotions as they bubbled to the surface.
“I never said you did,” he said with a roll of his eyes, and moved to turn around. But she shoved his shoulder first and he stumbled into the door.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me!” She seethed, stepping into his space. “I’m not some weak little girl who needs you to help me.”
“Alright!” He growled back, and she saw her anger reflected in his eyes now.
“I said I don’t need you, okay!” She said again, louder, and raised both hands to shove at his shoulder again.
“Don’t.” He said sharply, catching her wrists before they made contact with his suit. “Don’t push me again.”
She glared at him, seeing the silver flecks in his grey eyes as he glared back. Her eyes fell to his mouth, where his lips were pressed together.
Then her mouth was on his, and she peppered kisses across his mouth until he seemed to snap out of his shock.
But he didn’t push her away. He dropped her wrists but grabbed her waist instead, and he kissed her back, opening his mouth to suck at her bottom lip. She nipped at his tongue and he growled, pushing her back against the wall as he kissed her deeply, their mouths vying for control.
Her hand found his collar. She ripped open the first button and then loosened his tie. They broke their kiss for half a second so she could remove it, throwing it to the ground as he snaked his arm around her, grabbing her arse and pulling her against him.
She moaned into his mouth and his grip tightened. Her hands moved beneath the collar of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. And her leg hooked up around his hip of its own accord. Her skin sang as his hand gripped her thigh, touching her skin and holding her in place as he pushed himself against her so she could feel him pushing against her core through all the blasted layers separating them.
His lips broke from hers and he trailed a path down her jaw and to the side of her neck. She sighed as he sucked lightly, and she was content to stay in this little room forever.
Then the door rattled as someone stumbled into it on their way out of the party. They both jumped, separating their bodies by a hair's breadth, and paused, with her hand down his shirt collar and his mouth against her neck.
And she came to her senses - the reality of her throwing herself at a man who did not want her sent a flush of embarrassment to her face. She’d let her fantasy of the man get so carried away she’d jumped him the moment they were alone.
Pushing him away she knew her eyes were wide even as her breaths came fast. He was also panting, now a step away from her, and he was looking at her with unveiled curiosity. And she did the only thing she knew to do.
“Get out,” she said quietly. And when he didn’t move right away she raised her voice. “Out. Now! This never happened, you hear me?”
And she saw the anger fall like a curtain over his eyes again and he turned and left without a word. She flinched as the door slammed shut, leaving her with her face in her hands as she sank to the floor, landing on the green tie he’d left behind.
The tie was still smooth as she ran it through her hands. To this day she didn’t know if she hated herself more for kissing him in the first place, or for pushing him away. She knew that night was the consequence of her slight obsession that began back in school. But she’d never bothered to temper it because…well because it comforted her. Having a silly crush on Malfoy was a guilty pleasure. She only wished her crush was superficial - that would make the next months working with him easier to bear.
But no - her crush began out of concern for him in 6th year when she saw his grades falling way behind her own. Then she began to notice the rare instances where he laughed with his friends, smile pulled wide. And the way he’d practically nod off to sleep over his cup of tea in the morning. And the meticulous care he took when working with potions.
And now she admired the damn man. Admired the way he took care of his estate, bringing it back to its former glory without the supporters his father had, and the way he worked relentlessly through every position at the Ministry, garnering only praise from each department head. Seeing him take care of his mother, attending all her functions and escorting her to others, well that certainly didn’t hurt either.
No man she’d dated had lived up to the expectations set by an unknowing Draco Malfoy. Now instead of burying those feelings or trying to shy away from them like she should have been doing over the years, she would be forced into his company every day.
The thought was as thrilling as it was terrifying.