Common Ground

She’d had too many drinks. She knew her limit and was well past it. She blamed it on Ginny.

“Yes,” she thought to herself, “this is all Ginny’s fault. She’s the one who dragged me here. I should be at home, in bed… ugh, and I really shouldn’t have let that guy buy me that last drink! What was I thinking? I let him go get it and bring it to me. He must have put something in it… I don’t feel right.”

Stumbling through the crowded and smoky room, Hermione searched the throngs of people in hopes of finding red hair. A way of dizziness swept over her and just as she fell to the ground, strong arms wrapped around her and hauled her against a firm body. She turned in the arms and had enough time to meet searing gray eyes before passing out.

***

She woke, her head pounding, eyes screwed up tight against the blinding morning sun that seeped through the window coverings. Disoriented, she squinted at the room, not recognizing where she was. Suddenly she realized there was an arm draped over her. She stiffened before quickly scrambling out of the bed. It was then she became aware of her lack of clothing. She was standing there in nothing but her bra and knickers. She grabbed the clothing nearest to her and pulled it on hurriedly. As she slid the tiny buttons through their minuscule holes, she glared at the bed.

He woke nearly as soon as she climbed from the bed. It wasn’t her movement that had woken him so much as it was her sudden absence. He waited a moment then raised his head, propping himself on his elbow to study her.

“You,” she accused.

“Yes, me,” he said agreeably.

“What did you do to me?” Her gaze was fierce and her tone accusational.

“I brought you home, gave you a place to sleep.” His tone changed as his eyes narrowed. “You passed out drunk at the bar. I caught you before you ended up sprawled on the floor. You should be glad I was the one standing there and not someone who would take advantage of the situation.”

“Like you didn’t!” Her voice was shrill as she stared him down. “I woke up in nothing but my under things in your bed and you expect me to believe you didn’t take advantage?”

“I couldn’t very well let you sleep in that thing you were calling a dress, now could I? This flat only has one room and I wasn’t going to take the couch for your sake. It’s my bed. I’ll sleep here no matter who else is in it.”

“You could have found Ginny! She would have made sure I got home alright!”

“You were a handful on your own, but I’ll have you know I looked for Weasley. She had already left with Potter.”

“I don’t believe you. Harry never goes out to bars.”

“Apparently, last night he found a reason to bend his rules. You should be accustom to that. You used to be right by his side when he did his rule breaking. What’s the difference in then and now?”

“Then he was saving the world. Now he’s a grown man, secure in his life and those in it!”

“Yes, well that is debatable.”

Hermione stomped her foot and let out a frustrated growl.

“Where are my clothes?”

“Over there.” Draco gave a vague wave in the direction of the foot of the bed. Hermione stomped over and grabbed up her dress and shoes. Clothing in hand, she turned towards the door; only slightly aware she was wearing one of Draco’s shirts, her knickers, and nothing else. It didn’t slow her down a bit.

“Where are you going?” he asked, rolling over to follow her movements. Hermione glanced back, unable to prevent the blush that washed over her face as she took in his exposed torso. Quickly she turned her head and continued towards the door, grasping its handle the moment she reached it.

“It should be apparent I’m going home.”

“Without so much as a thank you? Really, Granger. Where are your manners?”

Hermione spun around on the spot, furry exploding in white spots before her eyes.

“A thank you? You want a thank you? For what? Bringing me back to your lair and undressing me and sleeping next to me all while knowing it was something I would never permit if I weren’t incapacitated? I don’t think so!”

Draco sat up, his own anger mounting. “You ungrateful wench! I should have just left you in that bar, laid on the floor for whomever to do whatever to you! You nagging bitch, it’s what you deserve!”

“Any of those other men would have been a better choice over your pompous, narcissistic arse! You are still and will forever be nothing more than a cowardly bastard!” Hermione ran from the room, slamming the door behind her and repeating the process with the front door to Draco’s flat. As she ran through she noticed how sparse the décor and how little space there was. None of it registered until later, of course, as she was too busy running away. Pausing two flights down on the stairs, Hermione realized she hadn’t picked up her purse. Her wand was inside her purse. She had to go back.

Catching her breath, she tried to fight off the headache that seized her brain and rationalize the situation. She would have to figure out where she was and then decide who’s flat was closer, Ron’s or Harry’s. Then she could have them come back with her to get her wand… but that would mean admitting she had spent the night at Draco’s flat, in his bed, in his arms no less. No, that wouldn’t do. She came to the conclusion that she would have to go back on her own. There was no time like the present. Dreading each step she took, Hermione climbed back up the stairs.

Hoping Draco was still in bed, she pushed the front door open as quietly as she could and snuck back into the flat. Standing flush with the wall she scanned the room. There! Her purse was laying on an end table next to the couch. With determination she crossed the space, not noticing the odd sound that filled the room till she was clutching her purse in her hands. She turned her head towards the noise and nearly fell over in shock. Draco was seated on the couch, his head cradled in his hands, crying. Crying!

“Malfoy?” she questioned softly. His head jerked up and he leaped to his feet.

“Get out,” he growled, not bothering to wipe away the tears staining his face.

She stood there, her mouth opening and shutting like a fish out of water, gasping for air.

“GET OUT!” his cried echoed off the bare walls and sent Hermione running once again for the door. She flung it open and didn’t stop running till she was out of the building. The sound of a crash and shattering glass tinkled through the air, chasing her. Without so much as glancing around, she grabbed her wand from her purse and Apparated straight home.

***

She knew it made no sense and yet she couldn’t banish the thoughts from her head. The images flashed through her mind’s eye over and over like laundry in a muggle washing machine. Draco’s arm around her, the heat of his body next to hers. Draco propped up on his elbow, staring definitely at her, defending his actions of ‘saving’ her. Draco’s naked torso, lean and defined, sitting in bed, anger contorting his aristocratic face. Draco slumped over on himself, face buried in his hands. Draco standing, rage radiating from his every pour, tears staining his pale cheeks…

Hermione shook her head and turned back to her work. Her ‘in’ box was nearly overflowing. For the past two weeks her work had suffered as she battled her inner turmoil. What should it matter how Draco Malfoy looked – then or now or at any other time for that matter? She pulled a stack of papers to her and began to meticulously work through them. However, when a knock sounded on her door she was grateful for the distraction.

“Come in!”

Susan Bones, Hermione’s assistant in the Department of Mysteries, Experimental Spells sector walked in. She looked nervous.

“Hi, Susan. What’s up?”

“Um,” Susan stuffed a nail between her teeth and began to gnaw on it, a sure sign that something unpleasant was to follow. “Well, you know how Jeremy transferred out to Scotland, right? And how we’ve been awaiting his replacement?”

Jeremy had been the third wheel to the Experimental Spells trio, their mentor for the first three years at the job. He had been with the Ministry for ten years prior to Hermione and Susan’s appearance. Hermione nodded and waved her hand, hoping to hurry Susan along with whatever she had to say.

“His replacement’s here. He’s demanding a meeting, so we can all get acquainted. He doesn’t even know you are the third person of the department…” Her voice trailed off and Susan ripped the nail tip from her finger with enough vigor to cause Hermione to wince.

“Well who is it, Susan?” Hermione was getting irritated.

“Draco Malfoy.”

***

Once they had gotten past their blushing faces, awkward co-existence, and icy exteriors, Draco and Hermione formed a business relationship with each other. Every day they gave each other wide berth and heavily relied on inner office notes to correspond. They came face to face as little as possible. Susan’s nerves were shot after the first month. While Draco seemed to accept Susan would take Hermione’s side during any disagreements they had, he also relied on her to play messenger whenever office notes weren’t enough – something Hermione had also become accustom to.

After two months of playing owl, Susan was about to have a nervous break down. She had only used one of her sick days since she had started working for the Ministry three years prior. Therefore, when Susan called in saying she was sick and was taking a week to recover, Hermione felt reasonably shell-shocked. The three had a major presentation coming up which they were to present to the Minister and all of the office heads at the end of the week. Susan’s timing couldn’t be worse.

On Monday Hermione and Draco shared a total of thirteen howlers each from the other.

On Tuesday Hermione came prepared and sent a Stink Sap Bomb with her third howler (thanks to Ron’s never ending stock of his brother’s gadgets). Draco stumbled into the outer office, gasping for breath and cursing.

On Wednesday Draco left a rose on Hermione’s desk. When she picked it up to see who had sent it to her, pleasant surprise that it was, it exploded in her hands. She was covered in soot from the top of her head to the bottom of her work robes. She screamed loud enough to raise the dead and shot looks to kill as she caught Draco smirking at her through her office door.

On Thursday Hermione filled Draco’s office with Decoy Detonators so that from the second he entered his office he was surrounded by a chaotic world of noise and smoke. She had also hidden just around the corner from his door and had pulled it shut, sealing him inside.

That afternoon, after returning from a triumphant lunch with Harry and Ron, she opened the door to her office, smile on her face. Cold, wet, gooey liquid soon crashed over her head, slid inside her robes, and worked its way over every inch of her. She desperately clawed at it, trying to wipe it away. It seemed to multiply every time she touched it. She aimed her wand at herself muttering the first cleansing charm that came to mind. The liquid doubled so fast that it pooled around her ankles on the floor, threatening to drown her in her own office if she didn’t act fast. Beyond furious, she turned on the spot and marched to Draco’s office. She flung the door open without knocking and stood in its frame, fuming.

Draco looked up, smirk in place. “Ah, I see you got my present.”

His tone was so calm, his pleasure so evident in his eyes that Hermione faltered for half a second. His smirk had slid from his normal quirk and had settled into an actual smile. Her stomach flipped as a glob of the goo splashed onto her shoe, reminding her of her purpose.

“Get rid of this shite right this second, Malfoy,” she growled.

Draco leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on his desk, crossing his ankles and hooking his arms behind his head.

“Nah, I think I’ll leave it. You look rather fetching that way. Can’t really see much of your face. An improvement, I’ll say.”

Their presentation was due the next day and was three days behind in being prepared. Susan had been gone all week. Draco had been tormenting her inside the office while running amuck in her head at all other times. His comment was the last straw and Hermione broke to the pressure. She went limp against the door jam and slid to the floor, tears clearing a path on her green, slim covered cheeks.

“Granger?” Draco sat up abruptly. His hands clutched at his desk’s edge as he leaned over the wide surface to look at the girl crumpled in his floor. Ah…damn.

He maneuvered his way around the solid wood structure and knelt by Hermione’s side. Hesitantly, he reached a hand out and touched her shoulder. He grimaced at the feel of the mess covering her. Pulling his wand out from his robes he muttered the reverse incantation and the glob disappeared.

“What’d you do that for? Now you’ll have to see my horrible face as it is!” Her voice dripped with misery and for the life of him, Draco couldn’t make sense of the situation. He had never seen Hermione Granger cry. Nor had he even heard of such a thing. She had always been the one female who seemed impenetrable. And now he had broken through her exterior walls and reduced her to a simpering lump of hair and robes.

“Granger,” Draco’s voice sounded rough, unfamiliar to even his own ears. He cleared his throat and tried again, this time his voice much softer.

“Hermione.” He touched a finger under her chin and guided her face to look into his own. Her eyes sparkled with the tears she had yet to shed and they glowed like warm embers. He felt his breath catch, his throat tighten. Her normally controlled hair (that had two years prior finally settled down with its weight as it fell to her waist) was a mess of flyaway strands. Her cheeks were tinted a ruddy color and her lower lip trembled with the effort to calm herself. She searched his eyes, her heart beginning a slow climb up inside her chest. A moment before his lips fell over hers she knew it was coming – and did nothing to stop it.

She surrendered to the kiss. He moved expertly over her. Teasing the contours of her lips with his tongue, pulling back and nipping at the corners of her mouth. All before pressing in again, seeking acceptance. She sighed as she parted her lips, welcoming him in. Their tongues bantered and dueled. His arms fell around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she worked for the same goal. Time became irrelevant. Finally, a soft cough sent the two jumping from one another, startling them all the same.

Arthur Weasley stood in the outer office, a bemused smile upon his lips. “Sorry to… interrupt… but I just came to see if you had the itinerary for tomorrow’s meeting ready. Minister Shacklebolt was requesting a copy and I wanted to speak with Luna next door anyway so I offered to stop by and ask in person…”

Hermione had never blushed such crimson red before in her life. It felt to her as though even her hair roots were blushing. She jumped to her feet and hurried to the long table Arthur stood next to.

“It’s… it’s not ready yet. Could you let the Minister know I’ll have it to him by the end of the day?”

“Of course, Hermione. I’ll just leave you to your… uh… yes. Well, I’ll just leave then. See you tomorrow.” Arthur stepped out of the room and Hermione collapsed into a chair, hiding her face in her hands.

“Hermione?” Draco had stepped out of his office and was waiting for her response two chairs away from where she sat. Slowly she dropped her hands and looked up at him.

Shoving the experience of kissing Draco aside, she stiffened her back and set her resolve.

“We have work to do. And a lot of it.”

***

Draco worked steadily by her side. He ordered food and had it delivered to the department doors where he met the carrier and paid him for the meal. Returning to Hermione he handed her a container of sesame chicken, a fork, and slid a bottle of pumpkin juice to her side.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, concentrating on the papers spread before her. Draco nodded, unseen, before resuming his place across the table from her. They got the itinerary to the Minister an hour before he left his office. Their presentation was slowly coming together and by midnight they were both pleased with the results.

“You know,” Draco said, speaking to Hermione for the first time in hours, “we work well together when we aren’t after blood.”

A light flush worked its way over her cheeks.

“I suppose we do,” she agreed.

“I guess we should head home then. Get rested up before we go in front of the bigwigs tomorrow.”

Hermione nodded then tilted her head to the side. “Why are you working here?”

The question caught Draco off guard and he turned his back to her, making a show of pulling on his cloak and gathering her things for her. As he handed her the few items from his hands his gaze remained trained on the ground.

“A wizard’s got to support himself, hasn’t he?”

“What about your father’s money? The Malfoy estate and all that?”

Draco still refused to look at her and began edging towards the door. “It’s late you know…”

“Draco.” His name from her lips was like a punch to the gut and a tug to his sternum in one motion. He stood frozen to the spot.

“Draco,” she repeated softly, walking toward him. She stopped in front of him, her body an inch or two from his. “What happened?”

“Father didn’t… see the light, I suppose, the same why I did. He disowned me. Kicked me out. Sent me packing.” He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Mother didn’t stop him.”

“Oh, Draco.” Her words rode on a sigh and she lifted a hand to touch his cheek. Before she could touch him, however, his head snapped up, eyes blazing.

“I don’t need pity from the likes of you, thanks.”

Hermione took a step back, shocked at the sudden change. She felt her own temper set to rise and squared her shoulders.

“I wasn’t offering sympathy, you git. The way I was looking at it was that we were on common ground. But you don’t have the patience to wait and find that out, now do you?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed, unwilling to back down. “What do you mean? How are we on common ground?”

Hermione’s eyes shifted till she was staring at a spot on the wall over Draco’s shoulder.

“My parents told me they couldn’t deal with having a daughter they barely knew. It was their opinion that I spent too much time in this world and not enough in theirs. They gave me an ultimatum. Them or this. You can see where I am, can you not?”

Her voice threatened to crack and she bit down on her lip in effort to control herself. Draco didn’t move or say anything for a long moment. He mulled over his thoughts silently. She had seen him cry, he had seen her cry; they had bested each other with juvenile pranks and been abandoned by their parents – parents they had both thought would always be there for them no matter what.

Finally he took a slow step forward. Then another. He didn’t stop his advance until he had Hermione in his arms and she gave into the surprising comfort of his embrace. She rested her head on his shoulder, taken back at how well they fit together.

The brief while she dated Ron she was always awkward in his arms. He was far too tall. Later, when she dated Harry (disaster it was), she could never rest against him like this. They were too close in height. Ages ago at the Yule Ball, Viktor had been so bulky that she felt out of place and odd whenever he got too close. But Draco… he was just tall enough for her to fit under the crook of his arm. His body was lean, wide across the shoulders, tapered in at the waist, and solid. She sighed, her breath teasing across his neck. On an impulse she brushed her lips against his skin. Immediately she was rewarded by the obvious uptake tempo of his pulse.

“What was that for?” he asked quietly. She shrugged and let her head fall back against his shoulder once more.

Feeling brazen, she gathered her famous Gryffindor courage and took in a deep breath.

“Feel like rescuing me tonight?”

“What do you mean?” His expression was confused as he pulled back enough to look down into her face.

“Well,” she hedged, courage quickly failing her, “you were so insistent that you saved me that night at the bar…”

“You just had to throw that in my face didn’t you?” His tone was light, joking. Hermione’s nerves settled as she smiled and fell into easy banter with him.

“Well it’s not every day I get to be a damsel in distress.” She batted her eyelashes at him exaggeratedly. “And while there aren’t intoxicated men around to do me harm, I am quite a bit worried about that presentation over there. If left to my own devices I might find myself attacked by the hee-bee-gee-bees and you’d have to present all on your lonesome tomorrow on account of them wheeling me off to St. Mungo’s.”

“Well I couldn’t go for that!” Draco readily agreed, mock horror on his face. He slid his arm up her back and over her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

She was quick to comply.

***

Hermione paused at the bedroom door. Draco noticed her hesitation. He turned, fingers stilling on the buttons he was loosening on his shirt.

“I… I, uh, don’t have anything to sleep in,” she offered lamely.

He gave her a lazy grin. “If I remember correctly, you look pretty good in my shirts. Just borrow one.”

He motioned to a dresser to the left of the door. Hermione stepped into the room and walked to the dresser. She pulled out a soft gray tee shirt and let it unravel from its tidy folding in her hands. Again, she hesitated.

“Getting shy on me now, luv?” Draco teased. “I’ve seen you in just your under things, remember? No need to be modest.”

Hermione’s mouth went dry as her eyes settled on Draco. He was wearing a pair of light blue cotton sleep pants, riding low on his defined hips, and nothing else. He crossed the room to her, his eyes never leaving her face.

Dropping a kiss to her temple, he whispered into her ear. “Let me help.”

Compliant, Hermione let him take hold of the hem of her shirt, his fingers skimming over the flesh of her belly, kindling a desire within. Gently he drew the material up. She let the shirt she held fall to the floor as she raised her arms, her eyes seeking his just before the garment passed between them. Her shirt joined his on the floor and Draco’s hands went gently to frame her face.

His eyes drank her in like a thirsting man having finally been presented with a cool drink. Everywhere his gaze caressed her, Hermione could feel the aching grow. His fingertips traced down her neck and out over her shoulders… down her arms to capture her hands which he raised to his mouth. His lips paid tribute to each soft pad of all ten of her digits before his hands released hers and he traced the path back up her arms. His fingers skimmed over her collarbone and met at the dip in her throat. He bent and placed kissed her shimmying pulse. Fingers still leading he moved down to the valley between her breasts. Her breath came in quick gasps as she fought to remain upright. Sensing her heightened state of arousal, Draco abandoned his explorations and swept Hermione into his arms. He carried her to the bed and laid her down gently, following and resuming his task.

His hands worked magic she had never before known, his lips coaxing soft moans from her at every turn. She became putty in his hands, arching into him, abandoning all logic as she whispered his name, begging for release. After what seemed like years of torture he was braced above her, his lips again claiming hers. She gave herself willingly. As he filled her she gasped and grasped his shoulders. No lover had ever sent her careening over the edge with just one thrust, yet here she was – lost and not caring to be found.

Draco kissed her time and again, bringing her down from her peak before building her up again. His fingers worked her body, his mouth tempted reasoning to stay at bay, and Hermione wrapped herself around him, nothing more than a body of sensations.

When she exploded for the second time, Draco went with her. He collapsed atop her and rolled sluggishly to her side, trapped in his own world of wonder. Never, despite his vivid imagination, had he even speculated making love to Hermione Granger would have been anything like the actual act. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She snuggled into him, pressing small kisses to his chest and sighing with contentment. As it turned out, Hermione hadn’t needed anything to sleep in at all.

***

“So the presentation was a smash. We got thirty new spells accepted and they were added to the Hogwarts curriculum as well as made available to the general public. Draco and I also got a start on the next project and have made a lot of headway.” Hermione took a deep breath and smiled. “How was your vacation?”

Susan was back at the office after rethinking her ‘sick leave’ and taking a month of vacation. Hermione was catching her up on everything she missed, including her personal life.

“Oh, it was lovely. But I think you’re forgetting to tell me about a little something that’s more important that what I did in Finland.”

“Really? What’s that?” Hermione asked, confusion clouding her eyes.

Susan gave a small tilt of her head in the direction of Hermione’s hand. Hermione’s eyes widened before flooding with happiness. She studied the modest diamond ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.

“Oh, this? Yes, well, it seems Draco and I really do make excellent partners and we figured why keep it confined to office work?” Hermione winked at her shocked friend. “Life really shouldn’t be all work and no play. Besides, we found we stood on common ground.”