29Author's Note: This piece is dedicated to two of my dear friends, LadyKenz347 and NuclearNik, as an offering of love and hope in a dark time. I love you both so much.
This piece was based on a prompt by Frumpologist; mistakes are my own.
Steeling himself, Draco Malfoy pushed open the door to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and strode through, cursing his depleted options all the while. The last thing he wanted to do was to ask Hermione Granger for help, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
And she would certainly see him as desperate.
To his relief, no one noticed as he entered the department and made a beeline approach for the office he sought. After his last visit, when their row had echoed into the corridor and drawn attention from everyone, he was keen on slipping through unnoticed. Draco couldn't even remember what they'd argued about anymore.
Disgruntled, he tapped on the door, folding his arms as he leaned against the door frame to wait.
Several moments later the door swung open, the lone office of the occupant looking frazzled as ever. But when she noticed him her eyes narrowed on instinct.
"I'm not speaking with you," she snipped, closing the door in his face.
Draco levied a sigh, rolling his eyes. It wasn't any less than he'd been expecting, if he was honest. But he knocked once more, and without waiting for her to open it again—he knew he'd be waiting a long time—he pushed the door open and walked in, dropping inelegantly into the seat opposite hers at her desk.
"Granger," he drawled, glancing around the office. "Rather untidy for you, isn't it?"
He wasn't sure whether he enjoyed ribbing her, or whether it had simply become so ingrained at this point that there was no other way for them to interact.
Unless, of course, she ever took him up on his offer for dinner.
Which she had stubbornly refused each of the three times he had asked her in the past two years. It wasn't that he was even that interested in her per se—though he did think she was incredibly fit—he just wanted her to give him a chance to prove he wasn't the greatest prat in Britain.
Her curls had fallen almost entirely free of her messy bun, the fabric of her shirt was wrinkled—along with the top three buttons undone—and she looked more out of sorts than he'd ever seen her.
"I don't have time for your antics today, Malfoy," she muttered under her breath as she swept furiously through a stack of paperwork. "I have an important project due tomorrow and I can't find this bloody—" Cutting herself off mid-tirade with a huff, she fired him a scowl. "What do you want?"
"It seems an inopportune time," Draco began, leaning back in his seat and propping one ankle over his knee, "but unfortunately this is rather time sensitive as well, and it's quite literally a matter of life and death."
At last Granger froze, her eyes snapping up to him as she planted her hands on the desk. "I should have known you needed something. At least you aren't here to string me along again. What is it?"
Draco bristled. It had never been about stringing her along, and the fact that she took it as such stung his ego.
"I need an ingredient for a potion," he began, making his best effort to tread the waters between them carefully. "But it's difficult to come by and I need you to pull some strings."
Her expression softened as she leaned back. "What are you brewing?"
"I'm not brewing it myself," he said softly. "It's—strictly speaking—not an approved potion and it needs to be precise. But it's for a patient of mine who is running out of options and they've authorised me to venture into more experimental methodology."
It was comfortable ground to discuss his work with her. In fact, his career as a healer was probably the only thing about him that she respected.
Even so, Granger sunk into her seat and folded her arms, her eyes shrewd as they locked onto his. "What do you need?"
"Abraxan hair."
"Absolutely not; they're an endangered species."
"Which is why," Draco eased, "I'm here. Trust me Granger, if I had any other options I wouldn't be bothering you over this. None of the apothecaries have any and they've all, in short, told me to stuff myself. You know yourself, the beasts aren't harmed in the extraction."
Granger waved a flippant hand. "Why can't you use Granian hair?"
"It isn't strong enough. We've tried—the brew didn't work." Leaning forward, he sought her stare, imploring her to listen. "It isn't just a patient, Granger. It's my mother."
Years ago after the war, when the trials had been active, Granger and Potter had spoken on behalf of his mother, keeping her free from prison while his father had been given a lengthy stay in Azkaban. It had shifted many of Draco's perceptions—the few that lingered after everything he'd seen and experienced during the war, anyways—and he'd always sought to repay her.
It was another reason he wished she would take him up on his offer.
She wilted a little in her seat, a furrow knitting the skin between her brows as she dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. "It's bad?"
"She'll not survive the fortnight," Draco clipped in his best effort to keep the situation clinical. "I've run myself ragged tracking down options and this is the only one left."
Blowing out a breath, Granger shook her head. Quietly she said, "Malfoy, I'm not even sure if I can pull the strings with this one. The Abraxans took a serious hit in the war and their keepers are so strict now—" She cut herself off, her eyes locking on his once more. "I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you, Granger," he breathed. "I appreciate this more than I can say."
Her stare faltered, lingering on him for a moment, before she pressed her lips into a thin approximation of a smile. "I'll reach out to some contacts in France and let you know once I hear back."
His heart leapt, adrenaline racing through him at the thought that there was still hope. He nodded, rising to his feet. "I'll look forward to your owl. I need to get back to the hospital, but I won't forget this." Backing towards the door, he cracked a wry smile. "Good luck with your project."
With a bit of a surprised huff, she mused, "Thanks Malfoy. I have a feeling I'm going to need it."
Two days later, Draco glanced up as a Ministry owl tapped on the window of his office and he rose from his desk to let it in. The bird dropped off a scroll and flew off without waiting for an answer so he unrolled the missive without delay.
Malfoy
I've reached out to the Abraxan handlers I know in Bordeaux but they can only meet this afternoon. They want to speak directly with you. Come to my office at lunch; I'll request a Portkey.
Hermione Granger
His mouth felt dry as he glanced at the clock hanging on the wall; it was already half eleven. In a flash he changed out of his green healers' robes, slung on his cloak, and left the hospital.
By the time he arrived at Granger's small, cluttered office, his entire body thrummed with nerves at the thought that they might finally achieve a breakthrough in his mother's care—and not a moment too soon, as her condition had continued to steadily decline.
If the Abraxan handlers were willing to hear him out, he was sure he could persuade them to sell him the three hairs he required. Granger had most assuredly done the hard work in even securing the meeting.
She glanced up when he tapped on the open door frame, looking only moderately less harried than she had the last time he'd been there. Idly, he wondered what Granger was doing wasting her brain pushing papers at a Ministry desk, but it wasn't his place to ask.
She offered him a cautious smile, sweeping a few errant curls out of her face, before slipping into her cloak.
"Thank you, again, Granger," Draco said as she sealed her office and led him towards the Department of Transportation. Shaking his head, he swallowed. "I've been working Mother's case for the better part of a year now, and watching her decline has been…" He shook his head, meeting her eye. "It's been one of the most challenging things I've done."
"I'd come to know your mother a little bit after the war," Granger admitted, slipping her hands into her cloak pockets. "She and I have been on some of the same fundraising boards. I'm sorry to hear she's been in poor health."
Draco hadn't realised that, but he'd always been a little inattentive towards his mother's fundraising projects. Now, in light of nearly losing her, he wished he'd taken more of an interest.
"I'm a little surprised," she went on with a soft titter, "that you haven't been an arse about this."
Rolling his eyes, he barely bit back a scoff as he drawled, "I know you haven't noticed, Granger, but I don't make a habit of being an arse to anyone anymore. One of the reasons I pursued healing was in an effort to try and make up for some of the harm I caused when I was young."
Her eyes slid sidelong to meet his, a sparkle in her chocolate irises as she breathed, "That's admirable of you."
Before he could say anything more, they'd arrived at the Department of Transportation; true to her word their Portkey was already arranged, and within minutes Draco found himself whisked to Bordeaux, France.
Granger peeled a slip of parchment from her pocket with an address on it, and with a bit of a grimace, she offered her hand. Her fingers were smaller than his as he took her hand, his heart jolting in his chest at the innocent contact, but then he felt the lurch of side-along Apparition, and when they landed he felt briefly unsettled as she untangled their hands.
Almost instantly, however, his attention was distracted by the massive stables before them, and in the distance he could see the Abraxans, ethereal and otherworldly in their beauty and size, roaming freely in a seemingly endless pasture.
Two sturdy men with beefy arms strode forward to greet them, and Draco felt dwarfed in comparison as he shook their hands despite that they were both shorter than him. Neither of them appeared altogether friendly.
"My name is Hermione Granger," she spoke, gesturing towards him, "and this is my colleague Draco Malfoy."
He thought it was quite a loose approximation of what they were to one another, but he nodded all the same, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I'm a healer working in experimental procedures. I have a patient in dire need of a potion that requires Abraxan hair. This is a singular, circumstantial request. I believe Granger's filled you in on the rest?"
"She has," one of the men announced in a gruff accent, exchanging a glance with his cohort before he waved a hand towards a small, nondescript building nearby. "Why don't you come inside and we'll talk this through."
Granger's lips twitched as he caught her stare, feeling a frisson of something akin to hope.
A little over an hour later, Draco felt emotionally buoyed in a way he couldn't remember feeling. Within his chest pocket was a long vial containing three long, silver Abraxan tail hairs.
He didn't even know how to thank Granger; she didn't owe him a thing, yet she'd gone out of her way to help him out. As if the situation were nothing at all, she drew the Portkey from her pocket, tapping it with her wand to reactivate it before offering it to him.
Her eyes landed on his in the instant before he reached for the dented flagon, and he couldn't exactly place what it was that shone there.
But when they landed back in England, she flashed him a brilliant smile. "I'm glad you were able to get what you were after."
"Granger," Draco huffed, weighing his words carefully. "I can't even begin to thank you for this."
She shifted on the spot, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth. "You don't need to thank me, Malfoy. Like I said, I consider your mother an acquaintance at the very least. Although I find, I am quite curious about the potion you're utilising."
A smirk tugged at his lips. "Do you have to go back to work?" She shook her head, her face lighting up. "Come on—I'll show you."
When he brandished a hand, she slipped hers into it without hesitation this time, and when he Apparated them to the apothecary, if he wasn't mistaken, her hand lingered for a moment before she drew it from his.
"Just to forewarn you—" he began, glancing her way as he planted a hand on the door "—the potioneer I'm working with is Theo Nott."
Granger's eyes widened but before she could respond, he pushed open the door; a soft bell tinkled and the proprietor glanced up, a slow grin spreading across his face.
"Thought you weren't coming back—" Theo began, cutting himself off when he realised Draco wasn't alone; he offered a stiff nod. "Granger. I see Draco's finally grown a pair—"
Draco jabbed an elbow into his ribs and Theo fell silent with a scowl; feeling a flare of colour in his cheeks, Draco ignored Granger's stare on the side of his face. Before his friend could make things any more awkward, he withdrew the vial from his pocket and offered it with a flourish.
Theo gaped at the long, shimmering hairs, dragging a hand through his hair. "Merlin, I thought I'd never see these again."
Peering closely at the vial, he strode for the lab at the back of the apothecary without waiting for them. With a flicker of his brows, Draco met Granger's eye and they both followed along in Theo's wake.
The potion had nearly been finished aside from the last, crucial ingredient, and an hour later they left the apothecary, Draco cradling a satchel filled with several large vials of the potion.
"I've got to get back to the hospital," he said, turning towards Granger. Even despite the knowledge that he'd finally be able to help his mother, he was reluctant to leave her. They'd never gotten on even half as much as they had that day, and if anything, the experience had only deepened his fledgling interest in her.
She only offered a small nod. "I'm glad I was able to help."
"Look, Granger," Draco began, sweeping his free hand through his hair. "I know you always think I'm full of shite when I ask if you'd let me take you for dinner but—"
"I'd love to," she breathed, wide eyes seeking his.
Freezing, he stared blankly at several moments. "Honestly?"
A soft smile tugged at her lips, even as confusion flickered across her face. "I'm only curious in what capacity you're referring to dinner." When Draco continued to stare, thrown by her sudden acquiescence, she asked lowly, "Is it a dinner date or just dinner?"
"If you want it to be a date," Draco hedged, mentally cursing himself for seizing up. Clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders, he nodded. "How does Friday sound?"
Granger continued to eye him with that odd, somewhat tentative smile, the look of it churning his stomach into knots as she breathed, "Friday sounds excellent."
Draco forced a smirk and nodded again. "Great—owl me your address and I'll pick you up at seven?" When she nodded, her eyes sparkling, he brandished his satchel of potions. "I'd better get back. See you then?"
He hated the way his inflection shifted into a question, as if he still wasn't quite certain she had agreed to go on a date with him. So before she could quite respond, he Apparated to St Mungo's.
Landing, he muttered to himself, "Smooth, Draco."
Although a part of him had expected Granger to cancel their dinner plans last minute, he still felt moderately uncomfortable across the table from her in a posh restaurant in Diagon Alley.
Despite that it had been many years since the war, a lot of old animosity still lingered and he could feel eyes on them as he sipped his drink. All through dinner the conversation had been pleasant if a bit stilted, and he couldn't help the creeping suspicion that he hadn't been particularly good company.
Granger was lovely in a beautiful dress, her hair tamed from the way he usually saw it and a warmth in her stare as she smiled at him. "How's your mother feeling?"
Draco sunk into his seat in relief, latching onto the olive branch through the tension that hung somewhat awkwardly between them. "She's showing early signs of recovery. I think the potion is really helping." He met her stare, ducking his chin. "Thanks again for your help. I owe you one, Granger."
"You don't owe me anything," she returned softly. "I'm only glad your mother is doing better."
Even though he wasn't sure he wanted to know, he felt the words bubbling past his lips. "Why did you agree to go out with me?"
Granger averted her eyes, offering a bit of a shrug. "I suppose I just realised, having spent some time with you recently, that maybe you weren't having a laugh at my expense when you'd asked before."
Despite himself, he rolled his eyes with a bit of a snicker. "It was never like that. The war was a long time ago, and I've only wanted a chance to prove to you that I've been making an effort to do better."
"I see it," Granger returned softly, and he started as she laid her hand atop his on the table. "Now that I'm looking closer."
Swallowing, he sought the warmth of her stare as he rolled his wrist, entwining her fingers with his. He dragged his thumb across the back of her knuckles with a murmured, "I appreciate that."
On some level, even at Hogwarts, Draco had always recognised that Granger was attractive, but he'd never anticipated the way it would feel to have her look at him as if he mattered. His heart thudded aggressively in his chest, heat creeping up his throat when she gave his hand a squeeze.
He finished the last of his drink, stacking a few galleons on the table as he measured his words before turning back to her. "I had a nice time tonight."
"As did I," Granger returned, "thank you for dinner."
She extracted her hand from his, rising to her feet as they made for the exit. The sun had nearly set but the air was still warm. Not quite ready for the evening to end, Draco asked, "May I walk you home?"
Granger eyed him for a long moment before she nodded. "That would be nice."
As they began to walk—she lived in wizarding London, not too far from Diagon Alley—Draco blew out a breath, feeling nerves creep in once more as he took her hand in his again. If his lingering unease was obvious she didn't show it, launching into idle chatter about her work, and Draco was thankful, once again, for the way they were able to fall into easy conversation, despite not knowing one another all that well yet.
Her home was modest but well kept from what he could see from the outside when they arrived. A chill had lifted into the air with the last vestiges of light in the sky, and Granger wrapped her arms around her front as she turned to him with a smile on the front step.
With a breath for courage, Draco asked, "Can I see you again?"
She only eyed him for a moment, gaze bright in the light of the moon, before easing a step closer and pressing up onto her toes, her lips brushing his as her fingers curled in the collar of his shirt.
The feel of her mouth on his sent heat coursing through Draco and he wound an arm around her back, dragging her closer as he trailed his other hand along the curve of her jaw and into her curls.
Briefly she deepened the kiss, her tongue grazing his before she drew back with a smile.
A slow grin spread across Draco's face and he mused, "I'm going to take that as a yes."
"That's a yes." Granger held his gaze for another long moment and he couldn't resist stealing another kiss before stepping away. Dragging her bottom lip between her teeth, she breathed, "Good night, Draco," before ducking into the house.
He stared at the door for a moment before turning back down the walk, feeling a bit of a spring in his step.
It appeared as if things were starting to look up.
