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Tales of The Dragon and The Bookworm	By : cpetnm Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 58350 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
A.N. Thanks to everyone continuing to read this collection and to those of you that review. I’ve been fighting off some depression the past few months and that makes it hard for me to do more than the norm. Nonetheless, I still enjoy writing Dramione and will continue to do so, as it is a good outlet for my creativity. So, I apologize for the time it takes to get a chapter out, but, you know, real life.

I got some good feedback urging me to end The View from a Muggle Flat with some more detail, which I have done. Go read it again (if only for some additional limey goodness!).

@hpfanaddict: Don’t know if you’re reading this set of stories, but thank you for your heartfelt review of It’s Not Over. It made my day!

@Missus_G: I started writing a Veela story, but I think it will be a multichapter one. It’s a bit different in that it starts when they are younger children and develops from there. I’m so glad you enjoyed the stories and hope you continue to read. Thank you for the review!

@Victoria: I’m going through all the popular tropes as I write my short stories, hehe. I was reading a short story collection by Curiositykils on ff.net and noticed she sometimes adds a second short story as a continuation. I liked that idea and hadn’t seen it before. Maybe I will do that with some of these stories as well. Thank you so much for the review!

@Trelweny: I always like when Draco can rise above his situation and show how adversity has made him a better man. It was fun to write a Marriage Law story where H got to pick D for a change. Thank you for the review!

@Elettra21: I’m so glad you enjoyed the last story. Thank you for the review!

@General Crow: First off, I’m glad you liked my take on the Marriage Law trope. I always like a humbled D and an awkward H. I’ve been thinking about your GoT-themed HP story and I wondered if you’d like to collaborate with me? Or at least beta read a story? I have only read the first book and don’t watch the show. (Although I did meet George RR since he lives in my neck of the woods!) Let me know. Thank you as always for your kind words. :)

Title: Dating Woes

Words: ~9,850 words
Summary: Hermione dates a slew of unacceptable men until she realizes the right one has been waiting for her to notice him all along. Written from Hermione’s point of view.

13 October, 2001

Tonight was the night I have decided to stop dating. When Ron and Luna broke up, I thought the timing might be right for the two of us, but dear God, was I wrong! Not five minutes into the date, he suggested I spit in my Butterbeer to draw out the Dibblydingers, who apparently cause stomach upset. I began to chuckle, thinking he was making a joke at poor Luna’s expense when he took my bottle and spit into my drink! His saliva bubbled and then sank. I felt myself retching as he handed it back and took a long swig of his own Butterbeer.

During the meal, he kept looking at my hair until I felt as if something was in it. When I inquired, he said he thought it might be infested with Surrish Beatles. All I heard when he said that was “you have bugs in your hair” and felt an overwhelming urge to scratch at my head for the remainder of the night. Surrish Beatles, according to Ron, counter the ability to easily laugh, making the infested person appear more serious. As Ron has known me for the last 12 years, I find it difficult to believe that he thinks I have some great sense of humor that has been hindered by a rubbish bug.

When he walked me to the door of my flat above Flourish and Blotts, he began to lean in to kiss me. I haven’t had a good snog in too bloody long and Ron is quite handsome, so I thought, eh, why not? I closed my eyes and waited and within a few seconds, I heard a sound like the bubbling of water. I opened my eyes to find Ron crying, bleeding tears streaming down the wanker’s face!

“I can’t do it, Mione. I…just...sob…miss…her…so…sob…much!”

I found a tissue in my bag and handed it to him, murmuring things like oh, it’s hard, isn’t it? and maybe she’ll come around. Gods, I always worried that his mum would ruin Ron for other women, but it was Luna who made him into this un-dateable wuss.

I know I am considered young, but I fear the dating pool is only getting smaller. Perhaps I will get another cat.

14 October, 2001

My new office mate, Draco “Ferret” Malfoy, of all people, actually got the bloody Ministry to buy him a new desk and chair. I’ve been in this bleeding job for two years and my furniture is the same old shite they probably purchased when my department was created, those cheap tossers! I came into work in such a crap mood after that God-awful date with Ron and to see Malfoy’s gleaming mahogany desk and buttery leather chair made me want to set Fiendfyre to the stuff. Our idiotic boss actually had the gall to tell me, “Watch out for this one” with a friggin’ wink. Ugh, like Malfoy is so special!

What made the whole thing worse is that he spent the whole damn morning arranging and rearranging his things and smirking in my general direction. Even old Mrs. Butters came into the office to admire his new furniture, the traitor. Why I was the only person in the department infuriated by this unfairness is a mystery to me.

I spent my evening eating through a huge bag of crisps and watching some American show called CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. Gods, Muggles have it so easy. I could totally work as a crime scene investigator.

20 October, 2001

When I arrived at work today, a lovely bouquet of purple freesia had been placed upon my desk. The smell of them was heavenly and the excitement over who may have given me fresh flowers was an excellent start of the day. As I sat drinking my morning tea, Malfoy, who I have been ignoring for quite obvious reasons, asked if I liked freesia flowers.

“Of course. They’re actually my favorite,” I answered tersely, hoping he would get back to his own damn work.

But, it was not to be. He came and sat on the edge of my desk, fingering the delicate petals. I was sorely tempted to swat his hand, but I reminded myself it was better to ignore him.

“They’re from my mother’s garden. You looked like you could use a little pick-me-up, Granger.”

He could have told me he was old Voldy’s son and I would have been less surprised. My ingrained manners took over before I had a chance to respond in the snarky way I usually did when it came to Malfoy.

“Well, thank you. That was very thoughtful.”

He smiled at me and went back to his desk, humming softly to himself. I took the bouquet home with me, so Malfoy wouldn’t catch me smelling it all day long. I’m sure it would only give him the wrong idea.

29 October, 2001

I had a drink after work with Harry’s new Auror partner, Carmichael. Merlin and Morgana, he had such promise! Blond, muscular, face like a Muggle superhero. We went to a new bar in Diagon Alley that I’d wanted to check out for a few months.

To be fair to Harry, he did warn me that Carmichael was a “hands-on kind of bloke”, but I had thought he’d been referring to work, as Harry seemed to like him just fine. Carmichael bought me a drink and we sat at a little table in a secluded corner of the bar. At the first sip of my beverage, I felt a hand begin a trail up my thigh and it caused me to choke on my drink. But even though all my coughing, the pervert kept pawing at my leg until I pushed back my chair and stood, still coughing. I made my way to the loo to regain my composure.

To make matters worse, when I got out of the loo, Malfoy and a couple of his mates were at a table not far from ours. I ignored him and made my way back to my date, hoping he understood that I didn’t know him well enough to enjoy his hand making its way to my goods.

We talked without incident for a few minutes before Carmichael began shifting his chair closer to mine, which was fine as long as he could keep his mitts to himself. When he was seated beside me, he pushed my hair off my shoulder and leaned in.

“Do you know what feels amazing?” he whispered, his mouth so close I could feel his moist breath on my ear.

“No, what?” I asked as neutrally as possible. I just knew it was going to be bad before the words came out of his mouth. My instincts told me to run as far away as possible, but I would never live it down with Malfoy if he saw me literally running away from a date.

“I love it when a girl licks my arsehole.”

Instead of scoffing or murmuring my assent, I began to giggle. What a bloody bizarre thing to say to someone on a first date! I began to laugh so hard I was crying, tears streaming down my face. I put my head down on the table and my body continued to shake with uncontrollable laughter. When I finally got ahold of myself and looked at Carmichael, I could tell he was upset.

“I don’t think this is going to work out,” he said stiffly, putting on his coat.

I began to giggle again, but finally got out a few words. “No, I imagine it won’t.”

As he walked out, I went into another fit of laughter, shaking my head as the handsome Auror stalked out of the bar. But I stopped laughing when Malfoy came over to my table.

“Yes?” I said, collecting my purse so I could go home and try to catch another episode of that fascinating show, CSI, if I could be so lucky.

“Everything alright over here?”

He genuinely seemed concerned, but it could also be fodder for taking the piss out of me at a later date.

“Par for the course, I suppose. Just another failed attempt at dating,” I said with a grin and walked out of the bar.

I’m not sure why I shared that with him. We’re not friends and generally not even friendly, but I suppose we share a space several hours a day, five days a week and it makes it feel like there’s some camaraderie there. It’s unfortunate Malfoy and I have such a bad history. He’s annoying, but I don’t think he’s doing it maliciously, he just irks me with his perfect looks and charming words that work on most everyone but me.

1 November, 2001

Malfoy was in a bloody horrendous mood today! I got to work just as he had clearly spilled a cup of coffee on his pristine white shirt. It must have burned him as well, because he was cursing like a scorched dragon trainer. I would have offered to help, but it’s unlikely he would have accepted. He’s so conscientious of his appearance that he actually keeps a second set of clothes behind our office door, so he shooed me out of the office so he could change, which annoyed the crap out of me. I would have used the facilities to change if the tables had been turned.

Old Mrs. Butters, our office secretary, was out today and in her place was a witch, probably the same age as my mum, who kept coming into the office and fawning over him, presenting him with her considerable rack. I could hardly hide my glee at his discomfort, which I believe made the situation even worse for him. He kept shooting me death glares every time he heard me stifling a laugh.

By three, I was getting pretty tired of hearing him cursing and grumbling, or sighing with apparent disgust at every paper he touched.

“What’s the problem, Malfoy?” I finally asked.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, not even looking up at me.

“No, seriously. You’ve been out of sorts all day. So, what? You spilled coffee on yourself. It happens to the best of us. And that tacky bint hit on you. Aren’t you used to being hit on? I see witches approach you all the bloody time.”

He peered up at me, straightening slightly. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes. I plan on working at home if you continue with this,” I waved my hand in his direction, “behavior.”

He sighed, looking at me with a sadness I didn’t expect. “Today is the Day of the Dead. Some of the older wizarding families celebrate the lives of their ancestors on this day. My mother asked me to come with her to our family’s plot to visit my father’s grave.”

Oh. Well. Now I felt like an insensitive bitch. I actually knew of other families who believed the Veil was at its thinnest on this day and that their loved ones might visit them. Malfoy was so pragmatic and almost as anti-Divination as I was, so I never thought his family would care about something like the Day of the Dead. But Lucius Malfoy had only been dead about a year, so perhaps Mrs. Malfoy wanted a bit of closure and hoped to get it on this day.


“I’m sorry, Malfoy. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s alright,” he said, getting back to work.

The rest of the day was quiet and I wanted to say something nice to him, but our encounters weren’t usually kind. Maybe it was time that changed. Thank Merlin it was Friday and I would have a chance to recover from my gauche mistake and figure out what I could do to ease the enmity between the two of us.

4 November, 2001

I made an effort to be polite to Malfoy today. It started with greeting him this morning and smiling. He smiled back and I got this weird fluttering in my chest. My cheeks actually started to heat, but I immediately sat at my desk and began to check my inbox. Gods, I must be pretty hard up if Malfoy’s greeting flusters me. Maybe I’ll take up Cormac on his offer for lunch. It couldn’t be as awkward as feeling like the Ferret and I are flirting.

5 November, 2001

It appears I have hit rock bottom in terms of dating. Yesterday I told Cormac McLaggen I would accept his offer of lunch. So, I dressed up a bit for work this morning, spending a bit of effort to make sure my unruly curls spiraled and bounced like a bloody shampoo commercial. I thought I looked nice. No, dammit, I did look nice. Even a bit sexy, truth be told.

Cormac and I met in the lobby of the Ministry, where I had assumed we would depart to a restaurant, perhaps the new Italian place in Diagon Alley. Ha! He guided me to the bloody Ministry cafeteria, where I paid for my own food! For an entire hour, I got to hear him brag about some new filing system he implemented in the Ministry Records Office, where he was apparently an assistant to the director.

“So, next time will you be making me dinner?” he asked with a leer, as if we’d had a smashing good time.

Wow. Just…wow.

“I’ll have to check my calendar,” I said, gathering my purse and running/walking away from the Ministry cafeteria, the place where dating dreams go to die.

Cormac is a good-looking bloke, but I remembered why I kept rejecting his offers for lunch: he is boring, cheap, and self-absorbed. Even if he has a ten-inch cock and knows how to use it, I never, ever want to go out with him again. Bloody git.

When I got back to my office, Malfoy asked about my date and laughed when I told him it had been more of a lunch meeting than a date.

“The cafeteria, Granger?” he guffawed.

“Oh, shut it, Malfoy,” I grumbled.

I called my mum later that night and she oh my-ed and oh no-ed in all the right places as I told her the story of my newest shite date.

“And this young man you share an office with? Darko, is it?”

I snorted and imagined sometime in the near future, I would probably slip and call Malfoy my mum’s moniker for Draco. “No, Mum, it’s Draco. What about him?”

“Well, he sounds nice. I like that he brought you flowers from his mother’s garden. That was very thoughtful.”

“I don’t think I’m his type,” I explained.

“Oh? He doesn’t like beautiful, brilliant young ladies?”

“I’m sure he does, Mum, but not me.”

“Hermione Jean, that boy likes you, from everything you’ve told me. You should give him a chance.”

“If he asks me on a date, I’ll be sure to accept,” I said, rolling my eyes at my phone.

12 November, 2001

“What are you doing this weekend?” Malfoy asked after we finished a particularly tough Arithmancy calculation our boss had assigned the two of us.

“Maybe I’ll visit my parents on Saturday. My mum said she wanted to take me shopping.”

“Sounds exciting, Granger,” he said sarcastically.

“And you? Attending the beheading of a baby?”

“What? Merlin, Hermione, you’re so odd. No, no beheadings this weekend. I have a date on Saturday.”

“Oh?” I said, feigning disinterest. Why did I feel slightly betrayed? There was nothing between us. My stomach tightened a bit uncomfortably and those stupid butterflies returned because he called me Hermione. Jesus H. Christ, I’m pathetic.

“You’ll be amused to know my mother set us up. I can hardly wait,” he said acerbically.

The knot in my belly loosened slightly, but if I knew anything about these Malfoys, Narcissa was sure to have set up her son with someone beautiful, accomplished, rich, and pure-blooded.

“Have fun,” I mumbled, pointedly looking at my desk and gathering my things to leave.

He gave me the strangest look as I left the office for the weekend. He really was a weird one.

15 November, 2001

Today I resolved to start the week with a fresh outlook. I’d really thought about my dating problems over the weekend and I was beginning to think the common factor in all those situations was me. I’m an open-minded individual, right? Maybe licking an…oh, Gods, I can’t even finish that sentence. I never want to lick anyone’s arsehole. And Ron is already back with Luna, so it isn’t really my fault that didn’t work out.

Marcus Flint is a friend of Ginny’s and she’s told me he’s asked about me a few times over the past couple of months. I’ll preface what I’m about to say with this: my parents are both dentists. They make people’s teeth healthier and beautiful. You know how some Muggles say “Cleanliness is next to Godliness”? Well, in my house, it was something like “Dental hygiene is next to Godliness”. And after wearing braces for so long, I do place some value on straight teeth. Having beautiful teeth has been something I take a lot of pride in and I find attractive in a man. Even though he’s a git, Malfoy has gorgeous teeth. Okay, back to Marcus…his teeth were always a bit wonky, but after all these years of Quidditch, he’s actually missing a couple of teeth as well. On the plus side, he’s quite fit and has thick hair. Onward and upward: I’m starting with a clean slate and I told Gin I would go out with Marcus if she set us up.

19 November, 2001

I could not get past his teeth. Or the incessant Quidditch monologue. And he smelled a bit like musty laundry. And boiled beef.

20 November, 2001

“So, I hear you went out with Marcus Flint this weekend.”

I looked up, surprised news traveled so quickly in Slytherin circles.

“I did,” I said cryptically.

Malfoy looked at me for a moment, before getting back to his work.

“Couldn’t get past his teeth, eh?”

I was about to protest, but Malfoy seemed to understand me better than I liked to think.

“No,” I said with a sigh.

23 November, 2001

“So, don’t be mad…”

Whenever Mum starts a conversation this way, I just know it’s going to be bad.

“Yes?” I asked cautiously.

“Well, you know the new dentist Dad and I hired, so we could free up our schedules a bit? He’s single, love, and I told him all about you and showed him your picture. Anyway, he’s expecting your call sometime in the next day or so. I’ve emailed you his number.”

“Oh, Mum,” I protested. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“Why? He’s well-educated, has lovely manners, and Dougie is…tall.”

“His name is Dougie?”

“Hermione, don’t be judgmental! I’m sure it’s a childhood nickname that stuck. The girls in the front office are just crazy about him.”

“Mum, you’re his boss. Don’t you think that bullying him into a date with your daughter is a bit much?”

“Just call him, dear. Please. For me.”

“How exactly is this for you?” I asked, my mood beginning to sour.

She harrumphed and I knew she’d never let up until I called the bloke.

“Fine. I’ll call.”

“I really do think you’ll like him once you get to know him,” she said, the smug voice of a mother who’s gotten her way.

28 November, 2001

Hermione Granger: Men who date her want to show off their worst side.

I think that will be my new tag line on all documents, emails, and personal correspondence. I’m convinced I have bad dating karma, although I’m not sure why. Yes, I’m somewhat picky, but I want to be with a man who makes me laugh, enjoys intellectual stimulation, and wets my knickers. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

Dr. Dougie and I went to a decent pub where we talked about politics and Muggle news, and he told me about university and his family. Because he’s a Muggle, I couldn’t tell him much, except generalities, but he didn’t seem to mind as it gave him more opportunities to talk. Honestly, of the dates I’ve recently been on, it wasn’t bad. Until…Gods, there’s always an until or a but with me, isn’t there?

We were talking in his car outside my parents’ house and he leaned in, so I closed my eyes, thinking he was going to kiss me and he grabs my face with his freaking banana hands and pries my mouth open.

“I didn’t want to say anything, but you’ve got a bit of buildup on your lower incisors. You should come into the office and let me take care of that for you.”

Oh. My. God. He continued looking around and poked a fucking finger into my mouth until I was able to wrench my face away. How humiliating!

“I’ll call you,” he said with a friendly grin.

I smiled back with the smile my friends call the “Dementor’s Kiss”.

“Can I give you a piece of advice?” I said, my voice cold, like dry ice.

“Uh, yeah, okay,” he said, looking a tad uncomfortable.

“If you ever want to get shagged, never, ever mention oral hygiene during a first date. It’s not sexy, it’s rude, and it’s unhygienic to put your unwashed finger into someone’s mouth! And I’ll have you know I have excellent brushing and flossing habits!” I yelled, slamming the car door to punctuate my point. What an arse!

As soon as his car sped off, I Apparated to my flat and brushed my teeth for five minutes straight. Bleh.

I am officially done dating.

5 December, 2001

Since I’ve prohibited all future dating activities, I have freed up space to focus on things I haven’t thought about sufficiently. The first thing I’ve decided to do is fix up my flat. I’ve lived here for over a year and haven’t done much more than put down a few of my meager possessions. I am a witch and a damn good Transfigurationist, and further, I actually have time and some money to make my flat a sanctuary.

So I hit the shoppes today and got new posh bedding, lovely curtains, fluffy spa towels…well, the list could go on and on, but my flat is going to be the calmest, most beautiful place in all of London.

When I got home, I quickly Summoned my things from each room, shrunk them and placed them in a box. From there, I painted the walls in a very light grey called “Sea Salt”. What a difference a bit of color makes and it pops against the white crown moulding and dark wood floors.

My 1980s-style bookshelves were Transfigured into white shelves that match the flat’s woodwork. My couch got a color change thanks to a quick Mutatio Umbra, a nifty spell Ginny taught me to mix up my wardrobe. The couch is now a warm mushroom color and I was even able to change the texture to a soft velvety fabric instead of the old, worn fabric it was before. I draped a white merino wool throw over the back and I must say, even I’m impressed with myself.

I looked through my photographs and found a few to Engorgio and frame. I’d bought oversized black frames with crisp white mattes and the pictures made me smile every time I looked at my family and friends’ smiling faces. The photos and my books, colors that soothed me, fabrics that enveloped me like a hug, all of these changes made me feel much more comfortable in the space I’d called home, but never really got comfortable in.

Merlin and Morgana, when I finished, my flat looked gorgeous! And I didn’t spend the day feeling sorry for myself, worrying that I’m not good enough to attract someone I’m mad about. I’ve decided I’m going to be mad about me.

7 December, 2001

“Good weekend?” Malfoy asked me when we got into work today.

I grinned at the blond and nodded. “Yours?”

“Pretty good. I caught the new exhibit at the Tate. Have you seen it?”

“No, I haven’t. I must say, I’m pretty impressed you ventured to a Muggle museum. Was it your first time?”

“Since the war ended, I’ve made it my mission to learn about England’s Muggle treasures and the Tate is one of them. I do something Muggle almost every weekend.”

I felt my good mood bolstered by Malfoy’s newfound appreciation of the deep and intricate history of Muggle England. Most of the wizards I knew stayed in magical areas and tended to ignore all the wonderful resources on the other side of the Leaky.

Even my interactions with Malfoy were more pleasant now that I wasn’t worried about how he sees me as a witch. We are congenial coworkers. He must sense that I’m less stressed, because he’s more relaxed around me, too.


12 December, 2001

I subsidize my rent for my little flat above F&B by working the register two evenings per week. It’s a win-win for me because I get an employee discount as well. I would never say this to anyone, but I much prefer working at the bookstore to my job at the Ministry. I work for the Department of Magical Cooperation, but to be honest, I’m still not sure exactly what it is I’m supposed to be doing. I do calculations, statistical analysis, and research for the department, but the senior members present my work as part of their bigger projects. I have a suspicion that the department made up my job in a bid to have a war heroine on their staff.

When I was working last night, Malfoy came in looking for a present for his mum’s birthday. Apparently, she enjoys fiction of a rather erotic bent.

“Is this any good?” he asked me, pointing to a book about a triad of lesbian witches.

“I haven’t read them, but it’s popular with some witches and a quite a few wizards.”

He pulled a list out of his pocket and handed it to me. “She suggested these authors.”

I really try not to laugh in these situations, but the idea of Draco’s mum getting all hot and bothered while she read about Merlin’s throbbing wand was too much.

“What’s funny?”

I opened the book to the middle, where the good stuff started to happen in most romance stories, found a passage, and handed him the book. His eyes widened comically and he shut the book in a rush.

“Why…what the…great Salazar…” he muttered.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” I said, beginning to walk away, when he grabbed my hand.

“Please, please you have to help me. Just pick a few for me, Granger.”

“Hmm…I don’t think so. Happy pickings!”

I didn’t see him after I slipped back to my post at the register, so I assumed he made his way out of the store, but a couple of minutes before closing, he was at the register, a huge pile of books in his arms.

“Were you here the whole time?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Were you reading the book about the triad of witches?”

“Maybe,” he said, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “I no longer judge my mother for reading this tripe.”

He paid, but didn’t leave, milling around the front display as I cleaned up for the night and balanced the register.

“I’ve got to close up, Malfoy,” I said, ready to cast the wards to scare off intruders.

“Would you like to go for a drink?” he asked.

I stared at him for a moment. “I actually could really go for a cuppa. My flat is upstairs. I picked up a really good caramel chai the other day.”

He looked shocked at my invitation, probably as shocked as I looked when he offered his.

“Yeah, that would be great. I’ve always wanted to see what the flats above the store looked like.”

“Let me cast the wards and we can go upstairs.”

He followed me up to my flat through the storeroom.

“How long have you lived here,” he asked as I opened my door.

“A little over a year,” I said, casting Lumos on the lamps around the space. I was suddenly very glad I’d taken the time to make my humble abode into something slightly better. “You can look around if you want while I start our tea.”

It was weird, but I trusted him to be respectful of my space. He never touched my desk, except to put something on it. He’d even brought me a muffin a couple of days ago and placed it on my desk before I got to work. But this was the first time we’d spent any time together outside of work and I wasn’t really sure what it meant.

When I came out to the living room with a tea tray and a few gingerbread bicuits I’d made the other day, I found him looking at the black and white photos I’d framed when I’d done my flat decorating.

“Your parents?” He pointed to a photo of my parents off the coast of Greece from last summer.

“They went to Greece for their thirtieth wedding anniversary.”

“You look like your mother,” he observed. “She’s pretty.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, recognizing the indirect compliment to me.

“Is this your brother?” he asked about a picture of my cousin.

“No, I’m an only child. That’s my cousin, Mark. He’s two years older than me.”

“Are you close?”

I sat on a cozy chair across from the sofa where Draco was sitting and took a cup of the fragrant drink. It was nice to sit and have tea with someone. I’d been spending a lot of time alone lately.

“We used to be, when we were children. They lived a few houses away from us and his parents took care of me quite a bit before I was school age.”

“I don’t have any family except my mother,” Draco said, taking a sip of the piping hot beverage.

I don’t know any wealthy pure-bloods like the Malfoys and before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Will your mother try to arrange a marriage for you?”

He started to laugh. “She’d like to, but since I’m the head of the Malfoy family, the decision is up to me. I humor her and take out the witches she sets me up with, but I don’t have anything in common with most of them, except being a pure-blood and rich.”

I smiled at him, happy that he wouldn’t have that part of his future decided for him. I knew Malfoy had towed the line for his family for far too long. At least his marriage could be a genuine love match.

“Care to tell me how Weasley ended up with Lovegood instead of you?”

“We figured out we weren’t good together in a romantic way. It was mutual and I’m glad Ron and Luna have each other. What about you? I heard you dated Astoria Greengrass for a while.”

“Tori really is a lovely witch, but the chemistry wasn’t there. Are you dating anyone now?”

I contemplated telling him no and leaving the conversation at that, but we were actually talking like friends and I wanted to be honest with him.

“No. I’ve actually decided to put off dating for a while. I’ve had bad date after bad date and I think it has something to do with me and the type of men I’m attracting. I think when the time is right, I’ll meet the right man.”

He looked contemplative as he considered my words. “How will you know who the right man is?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. But it feels good to voluntarily take myself out of the dating equation. I feel much more myself than I have in a long time.”

He looked at me and I felt those familiar butterflies flutter in my chest. “I can tell. You’ve seemed lighter…more settled…the past few weeks.”

“You know, I really do feel much more comfortable in my own skin.” I found myself blushing at his words.

He went home after that, taking my Floo back to Malfoy Manor. That night I found myself dreaming of an indistinct man with light hair and a wicked smile.

20 December, 2001

I was a shopping with Mum today, looking for a gift for Dad. We were at the bookstore, because it wouldn’t be Christmas without books under the tree, and I found Anne Rice’s Sleeping Beauty Trilogy. I haven’t read the books, but I’ve always liked her vampire stories and even her witch stories, although some of the stuff is impossible even in the magical world. Even so, good fiction is good fiction, right?

23 December, 2001

Merlin, Merlin, Merlin!

I ran home at lunch because I forgot Malfoy’s gift and when I came back to the office, I overheard Malfoy, who I later learned was with Gregory Goyle, talking about me! And I listened, like an absolute creeper, at the door, even going so far as to Disillusion myself. Nothing good ever comes from listening in on a conversation…well, except that I learned some things about Malfoy I didn’t know before.

“Have you talked to her yet?” Goyle asked him.

“One step forward, two steps back,” Draco said with a sigh.

Greg chuckled. “She’s the only bird seems to be immune to your charms.”

“Gods, with any other witch, I’d be fending off non-stop engagement hints, but Hermione will flirt with the maintenance wizards before she’d even think of flirting with me.”

I’d invited him to my flat, so I didn’t think I was totally immune to his charms, but I’m on a dating hiatus. It wouldn’t be a hiatus if I threw myself at him, now would it?

“Those Gryffindors aren’t like us, mate. You need to be upfront with her. You were a right prick with her when we were younger, so she’s probably wand-shy with you, too.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But you should see the blokes she dates. They’re bloody awful.”

“Aye, she’s one of those witches that started out kinda odd, but she’s a looker now, for sure. She probably doesn’t realize she could do better.”

“I just don’t know if she thinks I’m any better than those losers.”

“You switched departments to be near her, mate. Come on, don’t puss out now. You’ve gotta buck up and tell her how you feel. She’ll see you’re not that arsehole-y little chap you were in school.”

He’d moved departments to be near me? But…but, we hadn’t even spoken more than two words to each other in years. I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I ran to the loo and cast a Finite, my body appearing once again. Taking a deep breath, I walked to my office, head high and stride purposeful. It was a shock to find out Malfoy liked me in that way, but the knowledge wasn’t unwelcome.

I went about the rest of my day no different than before, but when it was time to go, I murmured a happy Christmas to Malfoy and left my gift on his desk. Not exactly my most courageous moment, but what was I going to tell him? That I listened to him and his friend for a good three minutes? No way. If he wanted me, he was going to have to work for it. I had decided over my little dating moratorium that one of my problems was giving in too easily to “losers”, as Malfoy had described my former dates. I knew he wasn’t necessarily one of those wizards, but my affections came at a higher price these days.



December 25, 2001

Mum, Dad, and I celebrated Christmas this morning with presents and a big noontime meal, but after luncheon I decided to go back to my flat and enjoy my new books and put away the gorgeous new clothes my mum had gifted me. The family time really was nice, but I couldn’t wait to get into my jammies, bust out the raspberry and chocolate trifle Molly had sent me home with the previous evening, and get started on a CSI marathon on the telly.

Six hours later, my belly was full to bursting with custardy goodness and a bit (okay, more than a bit) of wine and I was cuddled into an old quilt watching my show when the Floo alerted me to a call.

“Granger?” a male voice called. The only male I knew who called me by my surname was Malfoy.

Fuck! I was a mess and no doubt he was looking his smooth, debonaire self.

“Yes?” I called, refusing to get anywhere near the Floo where he’d be able to see me.

“It’s Draco. May I come through?”

“Um, now’s not a good time.”

“Oh, okay. I have a Christmas gift for you, but I can owl it to you—“

“No! Just give me ten minutes.”

“See you in ten,” he called out and then the flames died down and I fled to my bedroom, tearing off my jammies and putting on the jeans and sweater I had worn earlier that day.

I ran to the loo and was pleased to see I didn’t look as slovenly as I felt. My hair was still moderately frizz-free, so I ran back to the sitting room and cleaned up the evidence of my binging. Just as I was turning off the telly, Malfoy Floo’d into the flat.

“Hey,” he said, looking a bit shy. “Did you have a good Christmas day?”

“I spent the morning and early afternoon with my parents, which was nice. Can I get you some wine? Or tea?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

He followed me to the kitchen and I poured us each a glass of wine.

“Did you spend the day with your mother?” I asked.

Since finding out about his interest in me, I had thought about it on and off incessantly for the past few days. Even in the face of my hostility when he began working in my department, he had been amused rather than retaliatory. All the kind gestures he’d showed me had been interpreted as his way of burying the hatchet so we could work together rather than his way of showing me his interest. Honestly, after our childhood enmity, it was hard to believe he would ever see me as more than an interloper in the magical world. I hadn’t given him the chance to share much more than cursory information with me.

He sighed. “That was the plan, but she ended up claiming illness this morning before breakfast.”

“Oh. So, what did you do?”

“Well, I had some free time and I received a set of books from my office mate, so I read the first one.” He smirked at me then and I blushed. I actually hadn’t read those particular books, although I loved Interview With A Vampire and Taltos.

“I like that author,” and at that, he raised one eyebrow at me and smirked again. “What? Were the books not to your liking?”

“They were very much to my liking, I’m just not sure what to make of the message.”

I shrugged since I wasn’t sure exactly why I got him that gift. It was probably time to get myself to a Muggle bookstore post haste and find out what I had given him.

I took us back to the sitting room and we sat on the couch.

“How’s the no-dating thing going?” he asked.

“Easier than I expected, since no one has asked me out in a while. Well, that’s not true. One of the witches from the Transportation Department asked me out for a drink,” I explained with a grin.

“Ah, those Transportation witches must have good taste. It’s too bad you couldn’t go out with her.”

“Indeed,” I said with a giggle. It was nice to be silly with Malfoy, since I was generally considered the serious one in most situations. “How about you? Has your mum set you up with anyone else recently?”

“Well, no. I told her I was interested in someone, so she stopped her harassment, at least for the time being.”

I nodded, not quite ready to delve into his statement.

“That’s good,” I murmured.

“Do you want to open my gift?”

I perked up, excited to see what kind of gift Malfoy could have possibly found for me.

The gift was an envelope-sized thin box wrapped in iridescent pink paper and tied with a silver ribbon. I opened the beautifully wrapped gift carefully and found a certificate for a set of four lessons on magical book restoration. It was easily the nicest gift I’d received in years. I met his eyes to find him watching me with a softness foreign to the Draco Malfoy I’d known most of my life.

“Do you like it?”

I scooted a bit closer to him and kissed his cheek.

“It’s the nicest gift I got this year.”

He smiled and it made my heart skip a beat to see his pleasure at my happiness. It was an unexpected, sweet moment, probably the best moment I’d had with a man in God knows how long. He left not long after that and I couldn’t help but replay the visit and his kindness.

December 29, 2001

I was reading at the new tea shoppe in Diagon Alley and lo and behold, Malfoy walked in. He joined me and we ended up talking for three hours. He said his mum had borrowed the book I gave him for Christmas, which he seemed to find quite hilarious. I do hope she likes it.

January 1, 2002

Too. Much. Champagne. Oh, Gods, my head.

George throws a great New Year’s bash, but Merlin, he must have added something extra to the champagne. Gin, Luna, and I danced like strippers to Led Zeppelin, which made the boys howl with laughter. When the couples headed out after midnight, their arms wrapped around each other and eyes shining with lust and happiness, I found myself thinking it might be time to end my moratorium on dating. I’d taken several weeks to reassess my attempts at dating and part of my problem was that before the date even began, I found myself imagining a life with the wizard in question, complete with a sweet cottage, two beautiful children, and a loving relationship that made me feel complete. But romantic relationships are built, just like I’ve built my career or my relationship with my friends. There are no shortcuts, especially with love.

January 8, 2002

After a bloody horrendous dressing down by our boss for failing to tell him some of the statistical review we’d done had been more theoretical than actual (which he should have figured out for himself, the idiot), I decided to take myself out for lunch in Muggle London. Malfoy followed me out of the office as I trudged away from the bland walls and dingy floors.

When we hit the Muggle street outside of the Ministry, I turned to him and let out a groan of frustration.

“Come on,” he said, taking my arm and leading me to quiet little sandwich restaurant.

In all my years, I had been admonished for poor performance a tiny handful of times. This was by far the worst, since our work was not the problem, but that we were surrounded by intellectually lazy people who needed every blasted thing explained.

I ordered a cup of soup and Malfoy ordered a sandwich. We sat at a little table in a secluded corner.

“Can I ask you a question?”

No doubt he was irritated, but he seemed much less upset than I was.

“Sure,” I said, slumping in my chair and trying not to give into tears, which sometimes happened when I was feeling frustrated.

“Why are you doing this job? Don’t get me wrong, you’re very good at it, but you hardly seem passionate about it.”

The waitress brought out our food and we began to eat. Finally, I worked up the courage to admit what Draco so obviously saw.

“I’m not happy in this job. Honestly, I don’t even know what the purpose is of half the assignments I do.”

“Why don’t you look for a new job?”

I took a spoonful of the tangy soup and shook my head. “I guess I keep thinking it will get better.”

“It’ll never get better if the work isn’t meaningful to you.” His insight was the tipping point and my eyes beginning to well with tears.

“You’re right,” I murmured, wiping my eyes as quickly as I could. He handed me a silky handkerchief, which I took gratefully.

“Any career ideas?” he asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“I’ve got plenty of ideas, but when it comes to narrowing them down, I find myself in the throes of analysis paralysis.”

“Analysis what?”

“Analysis paralysis. Means you overthink your options and are unable to make a decision. There are so many career choices I’d consider, but the idea of making a change and then finding out I don’t like it…that scares me.”

“So instead of moving into a job you might like more, you stay in one you don’t like? Doesn’t sound reasonable to me.”

“Some Gryffindor I am,” I said with a watery chuckle. “What if it turns out I’m one of those people who are very good at school and very bad at life?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Have you met me, Malfoy? I’m kind of a disaster.”

“No, not a disaster, not at all. Do you think you’re exempt from trying to find your way?”

He was absolutely right.

“Of course not.”

“I wonder if some of your personal frustrations stem from you not heeding your intuition,” he said pensively.

“What do you mean?”

“Certain things don’t feel right to you, but you do them anyway. Is there anything that you enjoy that you’d like to do more of, but you worry that it’s not the ‘right’ thing to do?”

“I like working at the bookstore,” I admitted.

“You think your talents would be wasted there.”

I nodded and took a spoonful of soup. Working in a bookstore wasn’t impressive, not like working in a high profile department for the Ministry. Gods, was I this shallow?

“When you start to do what’s right for you, other things will fall into place.”

“Do you really think so?” I asked.

“Yeah, I do, Granger.”

We walked back to the Ministry and the defeat I’d felt earlier had given way to a sense of possibility. Malfoy was too right. I was a round peg in a square hole: in my job, with the men I’d been dating, even in the way I brushed my poor hair into submission. I began percolating a plan for the future.

January 20, 2002

“Why don’t you invite Darko to the dinner party?” Mum asked.

I groaned. “Draco, Mum. Is there a reason I need to have a date? Do I even have to go to your dinner party?”

“Dad and I are always telling everybody about our brilliant daughter and our friends haven’t seen you in ages. Let me know who you decide to invite. Talk soon!”

She gets craftier the older she gets, I’ll give her that. Granted, I enjoy Draco’s company and I know he’s acclimated to the Muggle world, but to have him come to my parents’ home? I’d have to think about it.

January 22, 2002

Oh, God. I just finished the first Anne Rice Sleeping Beauty book. Dear Merlin! Good Godric! What have I done? I don’t think I will ever be able to eye contact with Malfoy ever again.

January 27, 2002

“Are you alright?” Draco asked.

“Fine, fine,” I said, keeping my eyes on the parchment in front of me.

“Did I say something offensive? I know I can be a bit awkward at times.”

Courage! Bravery! I chanted to myself.

“No, actually, it’s…well, the books I gave you for Christmas…um…I didn’t know exactly what they were about. I really like her other books and…Merlin… I’m just so embarrassed!” I couldn’t even look at him and covered my face with my hands.

It was quiet for a moment and then he began to laugh. I peeked through my fingers to find him looking at me and shaking his head.

“I knew you hadn’t read them, Hermione. It was still a fun set of books to read. Mother loved them.”

“She must think I’m some kind of…of…deviant!”

He snorted. “Hardly. She saw the books as an allegory for a woman’s place in the upper echelons of society.”

“Really? Oh, thank Merlin.”

“So, are we okay?”

His expression was so sincere, I suddenly felt awful for having ignored him all week.

“I think so. What can I do to make it up to you?” I asked.

“Hmm. Maybe take me to a Muggle activity?”

Maybe I could kill two birds with one stone.

“Well, my parents are having a dinner party this weekend. Have you been in a Muggle home?”

“No, I haven’t. Your parents won’t mind?”

If only you knew, I thought.

“They won’t mind.”

His answering grin caused me to smile back at him. My mother was going to be so pleased.

January 31, 2002

My parents’ Floo connection was rarely used, but I’d granted Malfoy Floo access. My mother was beside herself to meet Draco. My dad didn’t seem to care about my love life, although I do think he would like to see me with a nice young man.

I wore a very cool sheath dress in a royal blue and gold sari print. It was one of the items my parents had gifted me for Christmas and my mum was thrilled at seeing me dressed up. She pulled me into her bedroom and put siren red lipstick on me.

“Perfect. Your Draco won’t know what hit him,” she said with a smile.

I was suddenly nervous. I looked good, I knew Malfoy liked me, but my fear that this would be another disaster of a date had crept up on me.

“I really like him,” I admitted to my mum.

She smoothed my hair and gave me a knowing gaze. “I know you do. From everything you’ve told me, he reciprocates your feelings.”

I let took a deep breath. “You’re right. It’ll be fine.”

“It’ll be better than fine, love.”

My dad popped his head into the bedroom. “Your friend is here, Hermi.”

Mum and I made our way to the fireplace to find Draco looking at the stereo system with interest.

“Hello, Mrs. Granger,” he said cordially. “Thank you so much for having me in your home.”

“We’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Draco,” she said. “I’ll let Hermione help you settle in while I finish my party preparations.”

She winked at me and made her way to the kitchen.

“You look lovely,” Draco said, his eyes travelling my form.

“Thank you,” I said, blushing. “Can I show you the house?”

After the tour, guests began to arrive and we sat for dinner. I sat beside Malfoy and the other guests ignored us after asking us questions for a few minutes. My parents had told their friends I worked for the government, and I usually told Muggles I analyzed data, which had the desired effect of making people’s eyes glaze over and quickly change the subject. Malfoy and I spent the meal chatting with each other as my parents served course after course. Mum kept sneaking glances at me and I could tell she was delighted with Draco. He was courteous, handsome, and most importantly, interested in me.

Though it was cold, we excused ourselves and headed to the back garden with our steaming cups of coffee. Something I admired about Malfoy was his ability to know how to act in a myriad of situations. He might think he was awkward at times, but usually he had impeccable manners.

“Oh, I took my first book restoration lesson,” I said and excitedly told him about learning to check for book enchantments. “Mr. Seger said I was a natural.”

“No doubt you are,” he said, inching closer to me for a bit of extra warmth. I wandlessly cast a warming charm and we both relaxed a bit against the chill of the night air. “So, Mother wanted me to extend an invitation to you for tea next Saturday.”

“Your mother?” I said stupidly, which made him chuckle.

“Yes, Granger, my mother, Narcissa Malfoy.”

“But…why? It’s about those books, isn’t it?” I groaned.

“No, not exactly,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I fancy you. A lot, actually. I know you’ve had quite a few horrid dates the past few months, but—“

I pressed my lips to his in answer. We’d been hanging out consistently for weeks and I realized early on this was exactly the type of dating I’d needed. We’d gotten to know each other, flirted like mad sometimes, other times we talked about everything and nothing. We worked together, ate breakfast and lunch together most days, and spent time at my flat on a fairly regular basis. I knew how he took his tea and coffee, he knew what my favorite flowers were and that I needed a new job even before I was willing to admit to that. These were the thoughts that ran through my head as he gathered me in his arms and massaged my lips with his until I opened up to him.

And then the thoughts stopped and all I knew was Draco and how I’d never been kissed like this before.

3 March, 2003

It’s been so long since I’ve written in my journal! I’ve spent the last two hours reading through the entries and it amazes me how much my life has changed in the last thirteen months.

After the night I like to think of as the beginning of my relationship with Draco, other things in my life began to fall into place. I talked to Minerva and she told me Madam Pince was planning on retiring in the next few years and offered to ask the old librarian if I might apprentice with her. Within a day, Minerva sent word that Madam Pince was absolutely delighted to hear that her beloved Hogwarts Library would possibly be left in my hands. I began to work with her on the weekends and within a few weeks of my apprenticeship, she began leaving the library to me a few nights of the week. By the end of the spring term, Irma decided to retire and I had a new position at Hogwarts. All this time I continued to work at The Office of Magical Cooperation, and though I was busy, I was happy to have the possibility of a meaningful position in my future.

Draco and I took a much-needed vacation before the Hogwarts school year began and he shocked me by asking me to move in with him. He’d purchased a cottage just outside Hogsmeade with the hope that even though we would no longer be working together, we could be together at a shared home. When we got back to England, we began packing my things and transporting them to our new abode.

We both work long hours, but our cottage has become a haven from the pressures of our jobs. Draco took a promotion and will lead his own team in the next year. And my job is like coming home after a long, hard journey and being surrounded by loved ones: my dear, dear books. The library is fuller than ever with students running study groups in the new study rooms and easily accessing information via an updated system I have put into place. Minerva has granted Draco access to my office Floo and he brings me dinner when I have to work in the evening. I notice the sixth and seventh year girls sighing over his romantic gestures and it brings me unending joy that I have this lovely wizard to share my time with.

Over the Christmas hols, Draco and I invited our parents to join us at the cottage for brunch. Our meal was delicious thanks to the two Hogwarts elves I hired to assist me. Draco tapped his wine glass as if to make a toast and I smiled at him, a tiny bit tipsy from the champagne, and noticed my mum and Narcissa beginning to get misty-eyed. I focused my attention on Draco and he took my hand and kneeled beside me.

“Hermione, will you marry me?” he asked.

I could hear my mum sniffling and I looked at his handsome face, his beautiful smile, his angelic hair and for the life of me, I could not imagine a better connection with anyone else in the entire world. I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face in the crook of his neck.

“Yes,” I answered, tightly hugging him for a moment before he found my lips and snogged the daylights out of me in front of all and sundry. He slipped a ring on my finger, its magic zinging me lightly before it merged with my own magic. The ring was fit for a Malfoy bride and I still find myself shocked to see it glistening on my finger, a tapestry of diamonds and emeralds set in platinum.

We plan to get married this summer, surrounded by friends and family. Draco is trying to convince me to consider a location wedding in Italy. Although I don’t think our parents would be all too pleased with this choice, Draco knows I want to get married near the beach where we vacationed last summer. And what is so wonderful about Draco is that he always pushes me to be true to myself; to do what is right for me.

As I read through my past journal entries, I realized that all those awful dates taught me what I did and didn’t want in a man. And even though my Draco realized there could be something between us long before I did, he gave me a chance to get to know him without the monumental pressure I normally subjected myself to before a first date. We slid into dating with an ease unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced. Sometimes we bicker or get on each other’s nerves, but I’ve learned those ideals I had imagined are ridiculous compared to the amazing life we’re building together.

So, I think I can lay this particular journal to rest. I’ve already started a new chapter in my life.
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Tales of The Dragon and The Bookworm