TrinaBad

#dramionemonth Day 12: Fake Dating

“May I have this dance Granger”

There isn’t anyone around we don’t have to..”

“I want to”

Fake dating sureee definitely not in love that would be ridiculous!!

“It’s nothing,” she said as his gaze lingered on the left side of her face. An inmate had hit her simply because she could, leaving an ugly crescent-moon bruise around Hermione’s eye. Part of her cheekbone was swollen. She twisted her hands together, handcuffs dragging loudly on the steel table bolted to the ground.

Draco stared at her weeping wrists in horror. “How did this happen?”

“I angered the wrong people,” she said vaguely. Then in a no-nonsense tone asked, “Will you represent me?”

“Why me, Granger?” He was clean-cut in his suit and tie, his expression glacial. “There are more suitable barristers willing to take your case.”

“I trust you,” she reasoned. “You know the bastards who are after me better than anyone. I need a pure-blood on my side, and you’re the most notorious one.”

“Wouldn’t hiring me go against everything you stand for?”

“Who cares what I stand for if I’m incarcerated and soulless?”

He scrutinized her, a grave expression on his face. Lowering his voice he said, “And if they find out about us?”

“They won’t.”

“It could negatively affect your trial.”

“It was a stupid teenage fling. Nobody even knew about it.”

The way he was looking at her confirmed that it was more than a ‘stupid teenage fling’ to him. If she hadn’t been through hell and back in the last few days, she might have mirrored his sentiments. But she was tired and in pain and desperate.

“Draco, please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Don’t let me die in here.”

Her plea seemed to spark something in him because he sat taller and gave her a nod, his cool grey eyes meeting hers with steely determination. He clicked his monogrammed briefcase open and withdrew a blank scroll and self-inking quill. She was relieved to find that familiar look of ambition on his face. If anyone could outsmart the corrupt pure-bloods who wanted her out of politics, it was Draco Malfoy.

It wasn’t just that Draco was intelligent and crafty, but he would go to war for her. A stupid teenage fling was putting it lightly. If it weren’t for Hermione’s plans to move to Australia after graduation, and Draco’s acceptance to the American Law Mastery he’d coveted, they might still be together. Sometimes she wished to go back to the start and tell her younger self not to let him go. That people like Draco didn’t enter her life as often as she’d think. Never at all, really.

She stared at his naked ring finger. Seven years later, he still hadn’t settled down. Neither had she. But Draco had familial obligations.

“I was waiting for you,” he said in a low voice, noticing the direction of her gaze. He formed a fist with his left hand and released. “Came as a shock when I found out my future wife was in Azkaban.”

Warmth bloomed beneath her skin for the first time since she’d arrived, fuelling her need for freedom. “If you get me out of here, I’ll marry you.”

For a second, he smiled, and his eyes turned into the same liquid heat she’d fallen for when she was eighteen. And then he schooled himself, pressing his quill on parchment and giving her a pensive look. “Tell me about the morning of your arrest, Miss Granger,” he began in a level-headed, professional voice, and she knew he wouldn’t let his emotions slip again. Not until she was free.

// blood, mcd, angst

“Granger, please wake up.”

I just finished my 3rd reread and I drew this while I listened to it. Lovely fic, I learned so many things, and each time I reread it I notice more little details and learn new things. 10/10 recommend.

Hermione turned her attention to Malfoy, her stomach fluttering in anxious anticipation. But then she noticed the obvious discomfort on his face and her excitement fizzled. Weeks of studying together, late-night lab sessions—their prize-winning Potions project!—and he couldn’t even stomach the thought of one measly little kiss?

The common room fell silent when Malfoy didn’t budge. A dozen seventh and eighth-years sat around an empty Firewhisky bottle, its neck pointed in Malfoy’s direction like an accusation.

She wished the ground would swallow her whole.

Seconds later, Theo re-entered the room, donning a Slytherin jumper and a lumpy knit scarf, cheeks red after flying a lap around the castle starkers to fulfill his dare.

He looked around, confused. “What’s up?”

Hermione felt a sharp stab of betrayal seeing Theo in the scarf she’d knit Malfoy for Christmas. It wasn’t the cashmere or spider silk fabric he was used to, but Malfoy had seemed genuinely touched by the gesture, immediately replacing his Slytherin scarf with the one Hermione had made for him. In turn, Malfoy had tied his Slytherin scarf around her neck, stepping back to admire her with an affectionate look. The scarf had smelled like him, so naturally Hermione had kept it on all day. Even inside.

And now here was her gift, draped haphazardly around Theo’s neck like he’d grabbed the first thing he’d found on the floor to warm himself up. Message received.

Glaring daggers in Malfoy’s direction, Ginny replied coldly, “Nothing. Malfoy just thinks he’s too good to kiss Hermione on a dare.”

“Oh?” Theo eyed his best mate curiously.

Malfoy opened his mouth to reply, but then his gaze flicked down to Theo’s neck and whatever he’d wanted to say died on his lips as his eyes narrowed.

“I’ll kiss her.” Theo walked up to Hermione and cupped her cheeks. His hands were like slabs of ice, and she shivered, but then his lips, cold and hard, met hers and approximately five seconds later it was over and Hermione felt like crying.

The room seemed to heave a sigh of relief as Theo settled at the foot of Hermione’s armchair and spun the bottle again.

Hermione jumped off her seat and bolted for the dorms, not slowing even as footsteps followed her up the stairs.

“Granger, wait!”

“I just want to be alone right now,” she cried, nearly at her bedroom door.

A hand grabbed her arm.

She glanced down at his pale knuckles and the expanse of blond hair that disappeared beneath a bunched-up sleeve. She recalled the way he'd trembled when she’d traced the protruding veins of his forearm last week, waiting for their potion to boil. His gaze following her touch intricately.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked quickly.

She yanked her arm back, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m humiliated. You made it seem like I was diseased!”

He made a painstaking groan. “I just didn’t want to kiss you like that. In front of everyone.”

“Right. Heavens forbid they catch you snogging a Mudblood.”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s not that. Not at all.”

“What is it then?” She looked up, catching the familiar warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. Even mid-argument they held that affectionate sparkle. Seeing her.

He stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s just that—when I kiss you, I want you to know it’s because I’ve thought of nothing else for weeks.”

Her mind snagged on how he’d said ‘when’ and not ‘if’.

Smiling nervously, he touched her hand, stroking his thumb over the swell of her palm. Because of course, on top of his boyish good looks, astute ambition, and effortless sense of humour, the boy had to be sentimental, too. Gods.

He tugged her forward until their legs touched, eyes never leaving her face.

Heart hammering against her ribcage, Hermione lifted her head as Draco descended.

-

The next morning, he was waiting for her at the foot of the dormitory stairs. His scarf twisted delicately around his neck and tucked into his coat. When she reached the last step, he captured her chin between his fingers and kissed her with breathtaking confidence.

A stunned silence filled the common room as everyone watched Hermione and Draco leave together, their hands firmly intertwined.

(736 words, loosely inspired by a scene from 'Every Summer After' by Carley Fortune)

Auror Malfoy just got home to his wife

Apple Orchard! 🍏💚