Chapter Text
Every surface had been cleared, every tome put back in its place, and the files were neatly stacked and ready to be sent to the office.
The last two cups of tea sat next to them on the windowsill as they stared at the vastness of the inky September sky that loomed over the manor. Its blackness was interrupted only by the clusters of stars that seemed to wink at them conspiratorially, in secret, as if they knew what their hearts desired.
“Do you ever think about how unpoetic it is that stars are nothing more than scorching gas? It’s mundane, isn’t it?”
“If you think about it that way, then I guess it is. But I rather like the idea of things being more than what they’re made of. It’s the sum of all its components that gives a star its poetry. The way it shines, how it adorns the night sky, how it joins others of its kind to create a constellation that tells a story.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Stars are like people; there’s more to them than meets the eye.”
At this, he raised his cup to her and nodded as if toasting her observation.
She responded the same way and sipped her drink for the last time.
One last cup of tea, one last conversation, a silent toast each one secretly gave the other. Bottoms up to one last intoxicating encounter before they went back to their lives.
One for the road.
***
“Well,” Senior Unspeakable Mathews said, pursing his lips as he closed the file on his desk.
“This was a most excellent job. You two should be very proud.”
Draco Malfoy cleared his throat before saying thank you and looked at Hermione Granger, who was sitting next to him, fidgeting in her seat. He figured she was either uncomfortable with the praise or eager to know what was next. The witch was a workhorse, and Draco could not help the smile on his face. If anyone else knew how he felt, that smile would give away his complete and utter admiration for her.
Hermione looked at him and smiled. Then, after realising that she had just smiled at Draco Malfoy, who was, in fact, smiling back at her, she had to hold back a squeak and set her eyes on Senior Unspeakable Mathews, who was looking expectantly at both of them. So Hermione did what she thought was best and widened her smile, hoping it didn’t look like a grimace.
“This is concrete proof of how interdepartmental integration benefits our work and increases our production while promoting camaraderie between colleagues. I hope this will be the first of many collaborations between the Space Chamber and the Time Room. It would be extremely beneficial for both of your careers. What do you say, Unspeakable Malfoy, Unspeakable Granger?”
Draco sat straighter in his chair as if his already perfect posture could be improved.
“I agree that this was an extremely beneficial opportunity for the department. I would be more than willing to work again with Unspeakable Granger in any future projects between our divisions. However—
Hermione, who was trying to casually listen to what Malfoy was saying without giving away that she was hanging onto every word, couldn’t help but perk up at his pause.
“I will be away for the next month,” Draco said.
She blinked.
“A whole month, blimey. Are you going on holiday?” Senior Unspeakable Mathews asked.
Hermione thought the question was a bit rude since Malfoy did not provide the details for his absence in the first place, but she wanted to know, too.
“Yes, my mother is adamant that we travel and visit acquaintances before we get too close to the end of the year.”
“Oh well, then we will wait for your return to decide what other projects you and Unspeakable Granger can tackle. That is if Unspeakable Granger agrees to work with you again, huh? You’ve been awfully quiet.”
Hermione coughed. She was still processing the information Malfoy had just given them and was taken off guard. It was her turn to clear her throat.
“Just as Unspeakable Malfoy said, this was an amazing opportunity. Working with my colleague rendered more results than I could have imagined.” (And not all work-related)
“I look forward to working with him again in the near future,” she said, showing a confidence she did not feel.
“Perfect! Congratulations again to both of you. We will meet again once Unspeakable Malfoy returns and take it from there.”
Both nodded to Senior Unspeakable Mathews, who shook their hands before opening the door to his office and letting them out.
Their eyes met—and lingered on the other. They stood before the closed door, and the 15 seconds of silence between them already felt awkward. Draco, who, with time, had become less and less comfortable with awkwardness, thought he should say something before leaving. After all, they had just spent the last month working together.
“It was great working with you, Granger. I do hope to do so again when I return.”
Draco wished he could say more, something else, words that actually reflected the mess he had become after being close to her at odd hours, at all hours of the day, for the past four weeks, but he did not. Even if he could, none of it was appropriate for the workplace.
He was hopeless.
“I do, too,” said Hermione. “Um—have fun on your holiday.”
“Thank you,” Draco said. And not knowing what else to add, nodded and left.
Hermione let out a sigh as she walked to her office. A whole month...he would be gone for an entire month. After working side by side with Draco Malfoy for a month, she was supposed to stop and go cold turkey to her life from before as if she had not spent every waking hour looking forward to being close to him. This was not how she expected to end her work week, not at all.
***
The month before, Draco and Hermione had been called to the office of Senior Unspeakable Mathews. As he explained, the Ministry needed them to find a solution and had given them a month to work on the problem, even though, as Senior Unspeakable Mathews explained, they did not have the means to accomplish what they expected Draco and Hermione to do.
The audacity was not lost on Hermione. The Ministry did not have the resources for her and her colleague to conduct their research properly. Thus, when Unspeakable Malfoy put his library and resources at the disposal of the Department of Mysteries, Hermione decided it was the best possible option. It was a marvellous idea and would increase their chances of succeeding exponentially.
Neither of them had factored in the consequences of this collaboration.
Granting access to each other’s Floo connection had been logical since Hermione would be spending a month coming and going from her flat and working alongside Malfoy at the library. Yes, it was logical and completely practical, and she should have closed the connection as soon as their project was finished.
What was not practical was getting used to his company, to their arms touching as they worked side by side.
There had been no practicality in learning how he took his tea or noticing how he drummed his fingers while he worked on solving an equation or how he bit his lip as he wrote down a calculation. No logical reason could be found for their lengthy conversations and debates after the workday had been finished, but they indulged in them anyway.
A complete lack of pragmatism had been present as she observed how his fingers wrapped around his quill and admired the neatness and elegance of his handwriting. Yet, Hermione had done all those things while failing to put up her wards and closing her Floo Network to the one at Malfoy Manor once their work was completed.
Not a whole week had passed since their research project started when Hermione understood she had made a grave mistake. She had thought herself immune to Malfoy, completely over her silly schoolgirl crush, but after four days of working around him, with him, well, her resolve had crumbled.
Suddenly, she was 16 again, back in the Potions classroom, sitting tables across from him at the Great Hall, observing everything he did. Whatever she felt, it could no longer be called a crush.
After a month, she was done for.
Hermione Granger had been a fool, and now she had gone completely mental. Crookshanks would sometimes join her as she sat every night and stared into the flames, willing them to turn green, forgetting everything she knew about Gamp’s Law and wanting her magic to conjure Draco Malfoy.
It had been her ritual since he announced he’d be taking a month off from work. There were things his mother and he needed to do, places to travel, and acquaintances to visit. He was not home; there was no one at the other side of her fireplace, and still, she sat and waited for him like the mad woman she had become.
She would have to spend a month without him after a month full of him. Had it been that that made her crack? Something had broken in her head. It was not normal behaviour; she knew it, but what was normal anymore?
During the day, she would wake up, get dressed, go to work, interact, and go through the motions. Then, at home, as soon as night fell, she would light the fireplace and just sit there, performing her little spells that did not amount to anything because it was not physically possible to get what she wanted, and still she wished, she willed, she dreamed.
***
It was a fine day to have lunch in the courtyard; his mother insisted that sunshine did them both good, and Draco complied with her wishes, even if he did not care that much for whatever the benefits of this were. These days, whatever fight was left in him was not used in meaningless battles. He had learned his lesson, one of many. In reality, it was another forced interaction his mother had imposed on him to talk about his future.
They were home at last after the first two weeks since his holiday had started were spent abroad. Narcissa had insisted on visiting acquaintances and putting matters of Malfoy Manor in order in preparation for when Draco decided to fulfill his duty and become the official head of the family. It was a recurring conversation, one he was, in all honesty, very tired of. If his mother had cared to listen to him, she would know that he was in no rush to marry, at least not any of the women he was sure his mother had in mind, but she was relentless in her pursuit.
“Draco, dear, you’re 27—
“I've no money and no prospects. I'm already a burden to my parents,” he quoted internally but failed to hide his outward scoff.
“Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?”
“Sorry, I was reminded of a quote from a film.”
Narcissa stared at him.
“It’s a Muggle—I apologize, Mother. Please continue.”
“You are not taking this seriously,” she said, shaking her head.
“I will. Proceed.”
Narcissa sighed. “You are 27 years old. One day, I will not be here—
“Mother—
“And I don’t want you to be alone.”
Draco couldn’t help rolling his eyes, internally, of course. He loved his mother but could not stand the drama and blatant manipulation. Some days, he found it endearing, but at that moment, he was annoyed by it.
“Mum, please, I don’t want to think about that.”
“Me either, love, but I want to see you happy,” she said, taking one of his hands in hers.
“I am happy.”
“Draco…” She was not convinced.
“Somewhat,” he said, slumping in his chair.
Narcissa let go of his hand and straightened in her chair. The witch meant business, and Draco was the sole target of her efforts and attention. Being an only child was awfully overrated.
She cocked her head to the right. “Is there a witch that you may be interested in?”
“Is there?” He thought.
As it happened, there was, in fact, a witch he was interested in. But he could not tell his mother that, not because she would disapprove, but because Draco could not have that witch. Oh, he would do anything to win her, to show the world he had changed enough even to dream he deserved her, but he was sure she wouldn’t have him.
It didn’t matter how much his skin tingled when their arms brushed, or how his heart beat like a war drum every time she was near, or how her curls had brushed on his shoulder one too many times to the point that he had committed to memory the scent of her hair.
No, none of it mattered because Hermione Granger was untouchable, out of bounds, as far away from him as the moon, or Venus or Saturn—he was a space traveller with no oxygen, and she was light years away, unreachable. She was simply not for him.
“Draco?”
He had been lost in thought, as he often was when it came to her.
“No, there is not”, he finally said.
Narcissa was silent. She was an intelligent woman; Draco knew it, and she could either analyze his silence or let it go. He hoped she chose the latter.
Neither one spoke, and Draco’s brow started to sweat.
“In that case, I have several young ladies in mind that are suitable for you, but there’s one in particular I think would be a great fit, but I would like your input first. What about Astoria Greengrass?”
“What about her?” He said in a drawl without missing a beat.
Narcissa observed him. Neither one said anything. Draco was starting to feel claustrophobic when his mother finally broke the silence.
“She’s a formidable witch, is she not?”
“She is.”
“And very pretty.”
“Very pretty,” he said, pursing his lips.
“Would you agree to get to know her?”
It was his turn to observe her.
“Would I agree to court her, Mother? Is that what you’re asking?”
“Yes, that is the general idea.”
More silence.
Draco’s face was expressionless; his mouth was a line. It could be Astoria; it could be anyone; the name was irrelevant, and whomever his mother mentioned or chose was pointless because none of them were Granger.
“Fine.”
“Very, well. I’ll owl her parents later today.”
Narcissa looked into his eyes before standing up, searching for something there. What, Draco could not tell, then she kissed his temple and walked away.
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.
Perhaps this was for the best. Perhaps this was what he needed in order to move on after being subjected to Granger’s presence next to him for a month, in the same room, in his home, distracting him from his research and haunting his thoughts.
For several years, they had worked for the same department at the Ministry and were used to the constant presence of the other around their space, in the surroundings, like two moons sharing the same orbit, but moving so fast they would only catch fleeting glimpses of the other. It was a proximity hidden in distance; it was awareness, a constant. Always there, but rarely in the same line of sight.
When the opportunity to be in the same space at the same time presented itself, Draco jumped on it without hesitation. He even came up with the idea of joining their Floos.
He had dug his own grave.
Conducting research at the manor had been a mistake. Connecting their Floos had been foolish, practical for their project, impractical for his want. She was, after all, a Floo away, still distant, but closer than before. Not that he planned to visit her or for her to arrive at the manor unannounced when no work was involved, but just thinking about the possibility was enough to sustain his ridiculous daydream.
On more than one occasion, he had stared at the fire and could almost see her there. More than once, he had grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and let it fall between his fingers as he whispered her name in his head. Knowing she was somewhere on the other side was a torture he had brought on himself.
Their project had ended, and he had told their superior he was taking a month off. There was no decision yet if they would work together again when he returned, but he needed space. He needed to be away from her.
And yet he had failed to sever the connection. Draco was sure Granger had already done so; she was nothing if not practical, and there was no reason for her to keep her wards down or have access to the fireplace at the manor.
But he could not do it. It was one thing if she had disconnected her fireplace from his; he had expected it, and once she’d done it, there would be no way for him to get to her through the Floo Network, but Draco was not ready to let go.
Maybe his mother’s idea had some merit after all. Maybe after Astoria, after someone, anyone, he would be able to give up Hermione Granger.