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How To Train Your Auror	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 7512 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I will not make a profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Have you got colour in your cheeks?
Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift
The type that sticks around like something in your teeth?
Are there some aces up your sleeve?
Have you no idea that you're in deep?
I dreamt about you nearly every night this week
"Do I Wanna Know?" by Arctic Monkeys
The day of the infamous 'Devious-Diggle-Date', as Draco liked to word it, was finally upon her. Ginny had managed to smooth things over with Harry as best she could, to Hermione's relief. She didn't want to sit angry across from the table with Harry all evening. Especially when the guilt of stealing from him already weighted her stomach. She thought about coming clean half a dozen times, but Draco had discouraged her at every opportunity. "Think of it as a lesson. If you crack, you fail. And we both know how much you detest failing."
And yes, she did very much. But this wasn't a tawdry grade. This was her relationship with Harry on the line, if he were to ever find out she would go behind his back like this. They were already on rocky waters, and she planned to rock the boat even more. She just hoped when it all was done it wouldn't tip over.
"I feel like a teenage girl," she muttered to herself as he tried her best to apply mascara. She gave up about half way through the process and scrubbed her face clean. If Greg couldn't handle her at her most natural, he most certainly didn't deserve to go on a date with her. She was already putting on a mask, about to play the flirtatious woman of Greg Diggle's dreams. Why should she attempt to wear another? She picked the purple satin dress off of its hanger and glared at it. "You are the bane of my existence."
"I thought I was?" said a cool voice from the side. Draco stood at the doorway, arms folded across his chest, that infamous smirk playing handsomely across his face.
"I regret ever giving you access to my floo," she mumbled.
"What are you planning on doing with your hair?"
"I've already done it."
"What?" He tisked. "No. That will never do. You look like your normal self."
"And what's wrong with my normal self?"
"Nothing -but if you really want to sell this to Diggle, you're going to have to play the part. How did you dress for your first date with Weasley?"
"Like I always would. Ron wasn't as shallow as to care about my physical appearance. We can't all be so vain."
"Vanity isn't all terrible. -It usually gets me a free cup of tea anywhere I go."
"That's just British people being British. That has nothing to do with your looks." She ran her eyes over the material of the dress. "You really shouldn't have spent your money on this."
He rolled his eyes. "Put on the dress. I'll be outside this door when you're done. Unless you'd like help…?" A high heel came flying through the air and struck the wall directly next to his head. "Right. Outside then."
As Draco closed the door, Hermione felt a wave of nervousness sweep over her. It had been so very long since she was conflicted about her feelings towards anyone- and her feelings for Malfoy were getting a bit too much for her to control. She wasn't a silly teenage girl -she had never really been one- so why was she fretting over what he would think of her in the strapless evening party dress with gold embroidery? It was just a dress… suck it up.
Seated on the blue and green stripped recliner in Hermione's living room, Draco had never felt so conflicted. He was excited to get down to business- breaking and entering was one of his fortes, if he were being completely honest with himself. There wasn't a Hogwarts broom closet or potion's cabinet he hadn't been able to master, nor a lock in his father's many hidden rooms he couldn't pick when he was a child. He was confident in his abilities this evening.
So why was he so anxious?
Diggle. That's why. Diggle was getting exactly what he wanted through the entirety of his flirting with the brightest witch of the generation. He had to continuously remind himself that this was his idea in the first place. But as the clock ticked by minute by minute, his resolve wavered. He wasn't the jealous type. It wasn't his style. When something was his, he was possessive, yes, but he never felt the need to unceasingly look behind every corner for deception. It wasn't as if Hermione was his. He'd made it very clear that he was in mourning over the loss of his marriage. But every day with her had eased the pain. Each moment with her was played over and over again when he was alone in the darkness of his room, attempting desperately to sleep. But sleep didn't come easily these days. The only real moment he had ever felt truly at peace was a week ago when she had decided to stay. And now… now the time had come for him to let her go.
The door creaked open, and he heard her timidly say through the slats, "I look ridiculous."
"I'm sure it's not that bad. Come on, let's have a look."
She swung the door open and closed her eyes. But if she were to open them, she would have found Draco's face fall into a moment of inspiring awe. The plum coloring contrasted nicely against her creamy skin as it exposed her neckline with a v-shaped swoop between her breasts. It was strapless, accentuating her trim shoulders and heavenly sculpted collar bones. She had legs for miles that led down to her pointed toe high heels doted in a shiny gold film. And she was absolutely breathtaking.
"You're not saying anything. Is it that horrible? I look like a prostitute, don't I? I'm going to go change…"
"Don't you dare," he whispered, rising from his chair. She pried an eye open and shook her head.
"Go ahead then. I've been in the bathroom preparing for one of your quips."
"Hermione." Draco stepped across the room and placed a firm hand on her exposed shoulder. "You look just as stunning as you did at the Yule Ball."
Her open jawed mouth snapped shut, and she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Are you saying my Yule Ball dress looked terrible? Because-"
"I'm saying that you look beautiful," he interrupted her, absently rubbing her silky skin with his thumb. "And I'm saying that if Diggle doesn't appreciate the fine wine that's presented to him, he really should stop drinking all together."
Flush came over her cheeks and spread down her neck. "I-I… Thank you. You'll have to forgive me. Compliments aren't the usual cup of tea coming from you."
"You were correct about your hair as well. It suits you."
"Really, you should just stop paying me compliments."
"What shall I pay you in, then?" He was going to move his hand away from her, he really was, but it had sprung a mind of its own as it slid across her collar bone and moved to cup the side of her alluring neck. "Insults?"
"I'd dare say I'm more used to those."
"Hermione -what's your middle name?"
"Hmm? Oh. It's Jean…?"
What sort of a middle name was that? He had to bit his tongue not to quip about the mere mundane of it. "Hermione Jean Granger, I'm positively insulted that you are wasting such a dress on someone like Auror Diggle, and I hope that your date fails like the Yuan Dynasty."
A smile crept on her lips. "With famine, draught, and bubonic plague?"
"The whole lot." He grinned back. She leaned up on her toes and kissed his cheek. Her perfume was different this time- like lavender with sprinkles of vanilla. She drew out the moment, her cheek brushing against his as she pulled away.
"Thank you." She was beaming.
"Right…" He found himself fidgeting as he pulled his hand away from her. "I… good luck, then." He rubbed the back of his head, noting the warmth his hand procured from being in contact with her. "Do I need to remind you of the different contraceptive spells?"
She shoved him in the chest. "Are you prepared for your outing?"
"Absolutely." He grabbed her arm before it could retract and jerked her close. "I'm more concerned that you'll screw the whole mess up."
"Me?"
"You'll have to sell it." He leaned forward. "It shouldn't be too difficult. I'm sure Diggle's tiny cock won't be too much trouble."
"Can we please stop talking about Greg's… appendage? I don't need to think about that right now."
"Of course. What shall we talk about then?" He found himself drawing her even closer, flesh up against his chest. So many things ran through his mind. All of the things he wanted to say but couldn't. All of the things he wanted to do to her. This was hardly the time to think about them, but here he was. "You know what I could use?"
"A few years of good therapy, I'd imagine."
"A good luck kiss." He smirked, watching her surprised reaction. "What say you, Granger? Think you could spare one?"
"I already gave you a kiss on the cheek."
"You and I both know that's not what I meant."
The doorbell rang.
Hermione's eyes fluttered away from his and to the door. She had a disheartened look as she whispered, "That'll be Greg."
"Another time then." He felt frustrated as he released her from his hold and stepped over to the floo. "Good luck." He stepped into the fireplace, catching one last glance at her revealing dress. "Yuan Dynasty," He reminded her before throwing the powder down and sending himself hurdling towards the Ministry.
Hermione blinked a few times, attempting to shake herself from the contact high of being so close to Draco's perfectly dangerous lips. She hadn't wanted the moment to end. Why couldn't she have been brave and kissed him? What sort of Gryffindor was she if she fell into fears? The kind that knew what falling for Draco Malfoy entailed. This sort of attraction… it was perilous.
The doorbell rang again.
"Coming!" she called, her shoes clopping as she made her way to the door. She pulled it open, cheeks still flushed, which worked perfectly in her case because Greg stood before her in a handsome pair of nice dress slacks and a tight fit button up with the sleeves rolled up to his forearm. In his hands were three white roses.
"Wow." He blinked a few times. "You look… gorgeous."
"Thank you." She put on her best smile. "Are those flowers for me?"
"Well, I should hope so. Otherwise I've just bought flowers for myself, and that's rather conceited of me." Diggle grinned at his own joke and set the flowers in her hand with a quick kiss to her cheek. "Are you ready to go?" He gestured to a vintage Austin Cambridge car parked at the end of her driveway.
"Is that yours?" Hermione forgot that she was supposed to be acting, completely enthralled by the older model. "I just assumed we were apparating."
"Nonsense. Where would we find the time to talk? I believe you had some things you wanted to discuss with me." He offered out his arm, to which Hermione took, having been used to the idea by Draco that taking one's arm didn't mean she was degrading herself as a woman. It was courting. "Besides, you and I both come from muggle parents. I thought you'd enjoy the simplicity of a car."
"It's lovely." She lost her resolve to put on, and simply aimed to be herself for a while. It was much easier to talk to Diggle if they shared a common interest. It most certainly took the sting off. Diggle opened her side door, helped her inside, and went around to his own side before climbing in. "You've restored it," she mused, looking at the newly sewn leather and wooden steering wheel.
"My father always taught me to take care of the things that are precious." Diggle smiled, strumming his fingers along the dash. "This car was his. When he passed, I thought it prudent to give it new life."
"Your father died?"
"Yes. About ten years ago. But best not to dwell on the past, yes?" Greg turned the key into the ignition, and the engine roared to life. "Truth be told, Hermione, I was a little on the fence about if you really fancied me."
"Oh?" She felt her heart begin to slam in her ears, but she forced her breathing to settle as to not give herself away.
"Yes. I'm not completely inept to understanding the pain you must have gone through this last year." Diggle pulled out of the driveway, both hands on the wheels; a perfect gentleman. Hermione tucked her roses on her lap and concentrated on the foggy street as he spoke. "Losing a spouse couldn't have been easy. I won't pretend I know what that's like. Always been a sort of loner myself. But I have lost family, so I can say honestly that I know that this kind of pain never really goes away." He chanced a sideways smile to her. "But I know you can overcome it."
Hermione felt relief. Diggle didn't believe her distance had been due to her lack of liking him- only that she was still mourning the death of Ron. And she was. "You told me the last time we were out that your parents were muggles too…" She decided it wouldn't hurt to get to know him. "Were they both?"
"Yes."
"What were their professions?"
Greg chuckled. "Mum was a baker. Had her own cake shop below our flat. It was really nice a young boy to be awoken to the smell of cupcakes. -My father was an ambassador for the liaison between the Wizarding world and the Muggles."
"Oh? So he grew up knowing about magic?"
"My grandfather was a wizard. He married a muggle stewardess. Thus, my father."
"Wouldn't that make him a squib?"
She saw Greg's face tense. "It's such a nasty word, don't you think?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult him. Squibs have nothing to be ashamed of." She reached out and patted him on the arm. "Besides, there are worse things you can be called…"
Glancing down to her arm, Diggle grew pensive. "I cannot believe someone would have the audacity to do something so heinous to you."
"I know there are others who had it worse during the war," said Hermione, her thoughts turning to Draco. "One set of scars is hardly a price to pay."
"But it's the word," Greg said, turning down a wiry road. "As if being two halves of two extraordinary races was anything to be ashamed of. We're all human, you know?"
Despite her earliest assumptions of Greg Diggle, Hermione found herself actually drawn in by his conversation. "Yes. I quite agree."
"I'm sorry to go on about it. I'm just very passionate on this sort of subject," he told her. "But enough about me. What about you? Your parents?"
"Dentists," she answered.
"Ah. Oral hygiene is very important. I suppose if I had been born with crooked teeth-?"
"-We wouldn't be on this date together, for sure." Hermione found herself giggling. She felt guilty for it-Draco was off performing dangerous acts in her honor, and here she was, enjoying the Yuan Dynasty as it charmed. She decided to turn the subject. "Listen, Greg. I've been meaning to talk to you."
"About Auror Malfoy?" He slowed down his acceleration as he took a tight curve in the road.
"Yes." Hermione chewed on her lower lip, yet again. It was her go to when she was thinking how to say something. "You told me that the reason you wanted me to get to know him was to ascertain if he was a danger to the Ministry."
"And you told me the other day you believe he isn't." He pulled off on the side of the road and parked the car. Greg turned his body towards her, leaning up against the wheel. "Care to share with the class, Miss Granger?"
His green eyes danced playfully in the moonlight.
"Draco-–Auror Malfoy," she corrected herself, "and I have grown to be friends, Greg. You sent me to watch him because I knew him best. Well, I'm giving you my full report. He's not a dishonest man. He's not out to take down the Ministry. If anything, I'd say his intentions are justified. And I think you've been too harsh on him."
Greg's face scrunched up like a leaf burning in the sun, but he caught himself and sighed. "I'll be the first to admit my prejudice nature makes me untrusting of his kind." He reached over the console between them and took her hand in his. Hermione wanted to jerk away, but told herself to stay put. "Perhaps… if you shared some of your experiences with me, I'd be better to understand your point of view." He drew her fingers up to his lips and kissed them lightly. "For all I know he could have used an imperio curse on you to make him believe his ways are good."
Hermione scowled. She didn't like what she was hearing, and she withdrew her hand.
"I was only joshing you," he offered, apologetic. "Sometimes my humor goes a bit too far. I'm sorry, Hermione."
"Yes… well…" She glanced down to the flowers in her lap and back up to him. "Harry and Ginny will be waiting for us, won't they?"
"Indeed." Greg stayed still, his thick lips pursing together nervously. "I'm very sorry if I've troubled you."
"It's alright." But it really wasn't. "I just don't take well to someone saying things about my friends."
"Then I'll remember not to do it again." He reached over the console again, this time slipping his hand over her cheek. Despite herself, she blushed. Though it wasn't from the enjoyment. It felt nearly perverse. "I really like you, Miss Granger. I know I come on a bit strong at times. I know that I act a fool and break protocol in the sake of wanting to care for you. My feelings are strong. I just want you to know that. And I want you to know that when you're ready to move on from your husband, I'm here."
She gulped. "T-Thank you, Greg."
"I'd like to kiss you now, if it's alright with you."
Hermione blanched, faked a very bad cough, slid out from the grip of his hand, opened the door, and pretended to hack up a lung until her chest hurt. She feigned a chagrined embarrassment and climbed back in the car. "So sorry, Greg. I've felt like I've been coming down with something for a few days. Best not to kiss me right now, unless you want to get it too."
Auror Diggle raised an eyebrow, climbed back into his seat, and turned the key. "My apologies, Hermione. Remind me to make you a cup of tea when we get to Harry's. My mother had this amazing recipe to cure coughs in a night." The car stuttered back to life, and to her relief Greg left the kiss alone, bringing the car back onto the road.
Draco landed in one of the many floos located in the Entrance Hall to the Ministry of Magic, thankful that the hustle and bustle that normally went on through the week was replaced with the weekend lull. A few Ministry employees worked over the weekends, so he wouldn't appear out of place coming in so late in the evening. He approached the check in desk, making eyes with the elderly receptionist.
"Hello, Aeris."
"Mr. Malfoy…" she drawled. "To what do I have the pleasure at such a late hour?"
"Forgot some training notes up in the Auror Division." He leaned on the counter, smirking. "Auror Diggle said I could just pop right up and get them."
"Did he…?"
"Aeris." He obviously pretended to feign surprise. "Do you doubt me?"
Aeris Trudle pursed her wrinkled lips and rolled her eyes. "Whatever it is you're doing, I didn't see it."
"Sweet, sweet Aeris. I knew that our constant sexual tension would pay off one day." He gave her a sly wink. "Did you get the sweets I sent you yesterday?"
"Just get going, Mr. Malfoy. Before I change my mind."
"Thank you. -Whatever it is you're doing with your hair, it really is working. I bet Mr. Trudle is all over you in the night sack-"
"-GO."
"Yes, ma'am." Draco waved her off, taking his afterhours pass, and headed towards the elevators. As he climbed in, he wondered what Hermione was doing right this moment. Did Diggle already have his tongue down her throat? He didn't like to think of the idea, but it kept popping up like an unwanted erection during classes. What if he used his charms to reel Granger in like a fish? She wasn't that daft… no. She was intelligent. She would surely think of a way out of kissing him. Unless she truly wanted to act the part? She wasn't the best actress…
The elevator rolled to a stop, and Draco smirked as he twirled his wand intricately around his body and cast a Disillusionment charm. His entire body blended in with the scenery, and with light footing he took step after careful step into the Auror Division. There were a few Aurors scattered around their cubicles, half of them staring intently down at their paperwork, the other half falling asleep into their cups of coffee. Potter's desk was in the very back of the room, and Draco had made plans early on that this would be the first stop. As much as he wanted to get Weasley's information from Diggle, he knew that Potter's desk would be the harder one to crack. He didn't want to waste any time juggling around paperwork. Carefully, he crept through the room, avoiding a trashcan here or there and having to jut out of the way to avoid a leg that stuck out of a cubicle. Potter's desk was the largest, and most certainly the farthest away from all the others. It made it easier to work his magic as he tried spell after careful spell, peeling away the layers of barriers preventing him from opening the drawers. When he ascertained there were no more barriers to get through, he reached down to pull the drawer open -but it stuck. The drawer made a thumping sound, and he stood very still as he waited for any of the Aurors to take notice.
When they didn't, he rolled his eyes in realization; it was a simple lock. From a key. Of course Potter would use a muggle way of doing things. He spelled it open with alohomora. This felt almost too easy -like taking candy from a grubby, sticky fingered child. Surely the Ministry had better regulations for such things? Or was he just that good? He decided that it must have been the latter as he opened the drawers quietly and began to sift through the lot.
Come on… he thought. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a jumbled mess of scrolls in a manila folder marked 'Cane'. Jackpot. He slipped the manila envelope into the book bag that he had draped over his shoulder, and continued to look to make sure he wasn't missing anything else. His eyes stopped suddenly when he saw the words 'Diggle' on a folder. Oh, yes. Just like candy. He slipped that one in too, and finally came across something even more interesting than the last two. There were a few scribbled notes on a piece of lined paper, but the top was the part that caught his eye. Scribbled on it, it said, 'MAGICAL RESIDUE IN RON'S DEATH, RESULTS' in Potter's scribbly handwriting.
"Hey Jo!" said an Auror a few desks down, catching the attention of a dark skinned man wearing a fedora. "Want to go grab a coffee? If I don't get something in my system I'm gonna fall asleep working overtime for Diggle again."
"I hear you," Jo said, rubbing his scruffy chin. "Where does he go all the time? I get it, he's working those trainees to the bone, but that doesn't give him an excuse to dart out on his duties. Remember last weekend?"
"How could I forget? My wife gave me so much shite for missing our anniversary."
They stood up from their respective desks and left… hand in hand. Well, wasn't that interesting? Draco shrugged, strolled over to Diggle's desk, and pulled the drawer to test it.
It opened.
"That is definitely too easy."
He let go and ran his wand over the desk to detect any kind of traps. Nothing. "Hmm." He stowed his wand and reached into the drawer, pulling out a few envelopes, sifting until he found Weasley's file. Would anyone notice if he read over it here? He doubted it. He opened the file, anxiously praying to the God he didn't believe in that he wasn't responsible for any of it.
- 13
- 14
- 15
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How To Train Your Auror