A Most Inconvenient Devotion - Chapter 6 | Fanfiction Adaptation + Discussion

0:00When fall comes back around, there's a sense of a reset. And new pieces from Lululemon's fall drop are an inspiration to push your goals and elevate your routines. As your calendar fills, easy to layer styles meet the demands of your day. And as you challenge yourself to try even more, versatile sets transition with you. The Lululemon fall lineup brings new levels of comfort and confidence, whether you're starting something fresh or starting something over. Check out the latest arrivals in store at on Lululemon.com now. Blurish and Flots is proud to present a most inconvenient devotion, an original adaptation of Draco Malfoy and the mortifying or deal of being in love, written by Is This Self-Care. Chapter 6. Professor Takahashi After their imbalc excursion, Granger all but vanished from Draco's life. He continued to visit her laboratory and cottage once a week to renew the wards, but

1:00their schedules seldom aligned, and over the following weeks he became considerably more familiar with her cat than with her. Every so often his jutter would buzz to inform him that Granger intended to attend some public event at some specified location. As her assigned aura, whether he accompanied her was left to his discretion, although she generally managed to convey that his presence would be unnecessary at best and an active nuisance at worst. Most of the engagements were held in secure magical locations anyway, panels at St. Mungo's or Huntercomb, symposia hosted by magical universities, the sort of gatherings where the principal danger was likely to be death by academic discourse. Draco therefore saw little reason to exert himself. In the improbable event that a research panel somehow deteriorated into a situation, they had the rings. Tonks, observing that his reports on the Granger assignment had become increasingly wrote, and that protecting Britain's foremost irritating researcher occupied very little

2:04of his actual time, gleefully began piling additional missions onto him. Such apparently was the cruel reward for competence. More work. Draco found himself reconsidering Potter and Weasel's lifelong policy of general bumbling. Perhaps they had understood something he had not. Which was how he came to be sharing a dingy Manchester hotel with Buckley while they gathered intelligence on a ring of dark artefact smugglers. Buckley was a good sort, all things considered. He was a relatively new aura, painfully eager and determined to prove himself, qualities that allowed Draco to assume what he preferred to think of as a managerial role and delegate the greater share of the surveillance shifts to the younger man. As Draco nobly explained, this arrangement afforded Buckley invaluable hands-on experience. Buckley had accepted this wisdom with such enthusiastic nodding that Draco was irresistibly reminded of a puppy. Thus, when the three in the morning watch came round, Draco entrusted it to his zealous

3:05young colleague and went to bed. He could not have been asleep for more than a few minutes when his ring burned him awake. Pain. A racing heart. Both reverberating through the enchantment from Cambridgeshire. Draco was upright before he had properly opened his eyes. The clock read half past four, an hour at which nothing good had ever occurred in the history of mankind. He hauled his cloak over his pajamas and was out of the room almost immediately. Chester was too far from Granger's cottage for a safe direct apparition. Draco thundered downstairs, blasted a fire into the hotel foyer's dusty, neglected grate, flued to a pub in Cambridge, and from there, apparated directly to the location of Granger's ring. He materialized in her spare bedroom, the room Draco privately referred to as the ritual chamber, and found Granger contorted on the floor in a sweaty, horrifying knot. Granger's wand was out at once.

4:06Hominum Revello, Fennete in Cantortum. Spell after Spell flew from his wand as he searched for the invisible attacker who was quite obviously subjecting her to the cruciatus curse. Malphoy came Granger's strangled voice from somewhere near the floor. His detection spells revealed absolutely nothing. Draco stared at her. What the bloody hell are you doing? Granger unraveled herself from the appalling configuration and came up onto her knees, breathing hard. Yoga. What the bloody hell are you doing? Draco had seen the mysterious word appearing on her schedule often enough. He had simply never troubled himself to investigate it. That's yoga. What sort of self-inflicted martyrdom? Now that he had established no one was attempting to murder her, the rest of the room began to register. Granger's flickered in one corner, filling the air with the faint smell of warm wax and burnt wick, while some incipitally tranquil muggle music murmured in the background.

5:09Granger was dressed in another set of those absurdly close-fitting muggle exercise clothes, khaki green this time, and her hair had been gathered into a French braid nearly as thick as Draco's wrist. She was staring at him as though he were an absolute bellend. I was trying a Tarak's Vassana. A what? A scorpion handstand. I've been working towards it for weeks, and I almost had it until you came charging in like a bolt from the blue and frightened me out of my wits. Draco was becoming unpleasantly aware of how this must look. He pulled his cloak more firmly around himself in an attempt to conceal the pyjamas beneath it. There was, regrettably, nothing to be done about his bare feet. What prey is the point of yoga? Flexibility. Strength. Balance. Draco's ranger ticked them off with mounting irritation, finding serenity. Draco subjected the final item to considerable scrutiny. Have you found it? No. She rose to her feet, looking distinctly unsurreen.

6:12Kindly recalibrate your ring so that you only appear in the event of an actual crisis. With a flick of her wand, the electric lights came on. Draco wished they had not. Draco's cheeks were flushed from exertion, and a narrow trail of perspiration ran from beneath her hairline down the side of her neck. Her breathing had not yet settled. Her chest rose and fell beneath the fitted green fabric. At this distance, he could smell the salt of sweat on warm skin beneath the lingering trace of extinguished candlewick. His idiot brain received this information, and without consultation or permission, constructed several entirely new neural pathways connecting the concept of granger with the concept of sexy. This was an extremely unwelcome development. Draco wondered whether an immediate self-administered lobotomy might be the sensible course. A gravelly miow rescued him from the thought. Granger's bandy-legged monstrosity wandered into the room, trotted towards her, and then

7:14noticed Draco. The cat stopped and hissed. Draco did not hiss back. It was a near thing. I'll just leave then, shall I? Do said Granger. Goodbye. Draco disapparated. Given that he had burst into her home before dawn dressed in pajamas and behaved like an unhinged maniac, Draco had expected, and rather hoped for, nothing from Granger but offended silence. He was therefore surprised when his jutter buzzed the following day. No surprising still, the message waiting for him was a bona fide apology. Malfoy. I'm sorry about my behavior yesterday. I should have been more appreciative that you arrived so fast when you thought something was the matter. We'll warn you next time I try a tariff's for sauna. Hermione. Apologies had never formed a particularly significant part of Draco's natural lexicon. Neither Malfoy, Manor, nor Hogwarts had provided much encouragement in the practice.

8:16Draco meant admitting one had done something wrong. Admission implied guilt, and guilt was merely weakness, helpfully labeled for one's enemies. Receiving an apology, however, turned out to be rather pleasant. Warming to the soul, really. Draco could not decide which element he enjoyed most. The knowledge that Granger had spent part of the intervening day thinking the matter over. The extraordinary spectacle of Granger conceding that she had been wrong or the even more gratifying discovery that she appreciated what he had done. Rather than dismiss the note from his jottie, he saved it among the backpages. He would have to ask Potter how rare Granger apologies actually were. Depending upon the answer, framing this one might be entirely reasonable. Draco darling, you're distracted. His mother's voice, carrying the faintest thread of reproach, drew him reluctantly back to the room. Draco discovered was considerably less entertaining than his jottie.

9:18It consisted of tea in one of Malfoy Manor's stuffiest parlors, under the combined scrutiny of his mother, her old friend Madame Delphine Delacroix, and Madame Delacroix's daughter, who had evidently been selected as today's offering upon the altar of Narcissia Malfoy's matrimonial ambitions. Rosalie Delacroix was Bobat-Or educated, pure blood, and objectively beautiful. Draco could find no fault with the arrangement of her features whatsoever, which made his complete lack of interest in them mildly inconvenient. He slipped the jottie away. Pardon in why, Madame's. Goodie's Yevue. Was a vean jabbering jottie. Rosalie exclaimed, brightening at once. They've only just begun crossing the channel to us. Everyone in France is desperate for them. Even mother adores hers, and she's terribly traditional. Indeed. Madame Delacroix inclined her head. I could never persuade my husband to answer an owl, not for love nor money, but these make correspondence so easy.

10:20A true innovation. England should be proud of these. She paused, searching for the name. Weaselies was it. These frayers belette. The conversation obligeingly wandered elsewhere, and Draco retrieved the jottie beneath the edge of the table. To advise of future scorpion push-ups, PS, apologies from you may become my new drug of choice. D. He sent it and looked up again wearing the remnants of a smile, only to discover that Rosalie had been speaking for some time about a gala her father intended to host. Draco had missed the premise entirely. Orphans appeared to be involved. Whenever fall comes back around, it always feels like a fresh start. This year I've been layering in some styles from the new Lululemon fall drop, because the weather is shifting and I find I have to be ready for the entire day and not just one part of it. Lululemon's fall line has some really versatile transitional pieces, so I can just wake up, throw on a matching set, add a jacket or a fleece, and head out, knowing that I'll

11:21feel comfortable enough to go wherever the day takes me. Check out the new fall arrivals in store and online now at Lululemon.com. Presumably they were being helped. We would be so delighted to see the two of you there, Rosalie said, clasping her hands together in earnest appeal. It's such a good cause. They helped father so very much, you know. Draco paused. The orphans had helped Augustine Delacroix. He decided almost immediately that he did not care enough to untangle this mystery. His jotta buzzed in his pocket, providing a far more compelling distraction, and he glanced beneath the table. You do realize that I'd have to do bad things that warrant apologizing for. You do a great deal of bad things. I've compiled quite a list of your illicit activities, Draco replied. Composivou Draco would that suit you. His head came up. Madame Delacroix was looking expectantly at him, and from the fragments he had caught,

12:21something had been proposed regarding March and his availability therein. Of course, he said smoothly, I'd be happy to clear my calendar for such a noble cause. His mother positively glowed. She assured the Delacroix ladies that she too would be delighted to attend. The jotta buzzed again. If only illegal extension charms were the worst of my sins. No, Draco wrote. I know the real extent of your depravity. Granger anticipated him. I see that the library visit will haunt me. A grin tugged at Draco's mouth before he could prevent it, and he hid most of it behind his teacup. Narcissa noticed nevertheless. Apparently encouraged by what she mistook for evidence that her son was enjoying the afternoon, she suggested that Madame Delacroix and Rosalie might like to see the gardens. Rosalie declined, pleading the beginnings of a chill. Madame Delacroix, however, accepted with pleasure, and within moments she and Narcissa

13:23had swept from the parlor together. Draco lowered his cup, his good humour departed with his mother. He was alone with Rosalie. To her credit, the witch made a determined effort. She spoke charmingly about Quidditch, asked intelligent enough questions about his work, and eventually resorted to the weather when those subjects failed to animate him. Draco listened with only half his attention. None of it concerned hags who wished to use his skull as a drinking vessel, and consequently it all seemed rather dull. More irritatingly there was another conversation waiting in his pocket. His jotta had buzzed again. Rosalie moved on to mutual acquaintances, forthcoming dinners, parties, and the harmless debris of society life. Whatever opinion Draco offered, she greeted it with enthusiastic agreement even when he deliberately said something so inane that disagreement ought to have been an act of self-respect. His mildest jokes earned delighted laughter.

14:24His pronouncements were accepted rather than challenged. His arguments admired instead of dismantled. Compliments appeared at regular intervals, and in quantities no man could reasonably deserve. The effect was unexpectedly exhausting. There was no resistance to push against. No sharp counterpoint. Nothing thrown back at him with enough force to make the exchange interesting. It was weak conversation. The comparison arrived in his mind so naturally that Draco did not recognize what he had done until it was already complete. Rosalie had become the lesser half of an invisible contrast, and the witch occupying the other side of it was Granger. He stared at Rosalie for half a moment longer than politeness required. Rosalie's when exactly had Hermione Granger become the standard against which he measured female company. The conversation, if it deserved the name, continued for another 20 minutes. Before Narcissa and Madame Delacroix returned, Rosalie managed to persuade him to create a

15:26page for her in his jotta, ostensibly so that she could forward the gala particulars. Distracted, Draco agreed with a shrug. It was a small and careless decision he would later regret. Rosalie proved exceptionally proficient with a jotta, and once granted access to him through it, wrote incessantly. At last the older witches returned from their tour. Smiles were exchanged, courtesy's performed, farewells prolonged to their proper social length, and Draco released a quiet breath of relief when Henriette appeared to escort the Delacroix ladies to the flu parlor. That evening, Narcissa drifted into his study with the deceptively casual manner she employed whenever she intended to interrogate him. Rosalie is a sweet girl, isn't she? She began. You seem to be getting along. The hope in her voice was so carefully restrained that for a moment Draco considered lying. It might have been kinder in the immediate sense, but kindness now would become expectation

16:29tomorrow, and expectation would eventually have to be disappointed. There seemed little mercy in merely post-poning the wound. I suppose we got along well enough. His mother caught the absence of enthusiasm at once. But Draco leaned back in his chair, rather a milk-toast kind of girl. Narcissa's thin hands closed around one another. Oh. Arguing with his pale, disappointed mother ranked somewhere near the bottom of Draco's preferred evening activities. He moderated his tone accordingly. We've had this conversation before. I don't need you to hand-pick witches for me, mother. Nor do I want you to. I only want to help you. Her fingers tightened together. I want you to find someone educated and lovely. Someone who will be a devoted companion to you. Who will give you children. Who will fill this great empty house with laughter again. She glanced briefly towards the darkened corridor beyond the study, as though the manner

17:31itself had somehow joined her argument. Rosalie could be all of those things. Any number of the witches I've introduced you to could. A voice softened. I only want you to be happy, Draco. I am happy. Narcissa sighed, the sound carrying more sorrow than disbelief. At your age, your father was married, you know. And he had you. You were four or five by then. I am not my father. I had not attended it. His mother regarded him for a moment, seeming to accept that whatever road she had hoped to take through the conversation had closed. Then she turned and glided towards the door. I don't think she exists, she said over her shoulder. Draco frowned. Who? The perfect witch you're apparently waiting for. About a week later, Granger wrote to advise him that she would be speaking at a muggle conference that Thursday.

18:32Where? He wrote. Magdalene College Oxford, Granger replied. Thursday, two to five pm. I'm on at two thirty. I doubt I shall be murdered. But leave your attendance to your expert judgment. Yes, Granger, thank you for the cheek. He would, in fact, employ his expert judgment. Audience? Muggle doctors. How many? A hundred and fifty. Draco's eyebrows rose. He occasionally forgot just how small the wizarding world was. There could not be more than a hundred fully qualified healers in the whole of Britain. Perhaps three or four hundred if one generously included mediwitches and other field medics. A gathering of one hundred and fifty doctors for a single afternoon struck him as faintly extravagant. I'll look in. Spiffy-profess, look, please. Don't embarrass me. Draco did not dain't answer. By the time Thursday arrived, he had apparently resigned himself not merely to attending Granger's

19:33conference, but to doing so according to her exact specifications. He operated a short distance from Magdalene College and walked the remainder of the way to the auditorium she had named, arriving when she had instructed and wearing precisely the sort of clothing she had requested. Bossy sort of witch, Granger. At the registration table, a mild confundment persuaded the volunteer that Draco was a perfectly legitimate participant. He was admitted with a name badge and program, then set about inspecting the premises while everyone else busied themselves with coats and polite professional chatter. Whenever no muggle was looking, he slipped revelation spells into the foyer, cloakroom, toilets, corridors and back rooms. Nothing untoward presented itself. Nor did the handful of mines he discreetly sampled through legitimacy reveal anything more sinister than intelligent muggles who had come to spend an afternoon becoming apparently still more intelligent. Inside the auditorium, Draco found a dim alcove near the front and stationed himself there,

20:38roughly 20 meters from the stage. The position gave him a clear view of Granger, seated behind a long table with three other experts while the audience filtered into its seats. The four of them chatted among themselves beneath the bright stage lights with the easy preoccupation of people who had temporarily forgotten that anyone else existed. From a risk assessment perspective, Granger could scarcely have arranged herself more inconveniently. She was sitting beneath a literal spotlight, in full view of everyone in the room, without so much as a tasteful marble column between her and potential death. Draco probed the mines of several people in the front row and found nothing except impatience for the conference to begin and a considerable amount of professional admiration directed at the doctors on stage. He widened his inspection to those still lingering along the side aisles, volunteers, students who appeared to have slipped in without proper permission, and one bearded man wearing enormous ear-coverings whose entire purpose seemed to involve tending several blinking boxes sprouting

21:41wires, no witches, no wizards, no hags with ambitions for his skull. Let's get to the point, Draco laid a set of precautionary wards across the front of the stage and settled more comfortably into the shadows. Whenever fall comes back around, it always feels like a fresh start. This year I've been layering in some styles from the new Lululemon fall drop, because the weather is shifting and I find I have to be ready for the entire day and not just one part of it. Lululemon's fall line has some really versatile transitional pieces, so I can just wake up, throw on a matching set, add a jacket or a fleece, and head out, knowing that I'll feel comfortable enough to go wherever the day takes me. Check out the new fall arrivals in store and online now at Lululemon.com. As the conference began, he opened the program and discovered that the afternoon's panel comprised international leaders in immune cell engineering and immunotherapy. This illuminated almost nothing. Cancer was, for all practical purposes, a muggle disease.

22:43Cases were rarely afflicted by it, and on the unusual occasions when they were, healers generally dealt with the matter without undue drama. Muggles however seemed to fare very differently. For them it could be grave, complicated, and in certain forms almost impossible to cure, which apparently was where Granger and her collection of exceptional brains entered the picture. The program promised such exhilarating subjects as FL and CLL, a new care paradigm and Hodgkin's lymphoma, mitigating toxicity while preserving cure. Draco stared at the titles for several seconds before concluding that Granger was perfectly safe with her CLLs. The greatest danger in the auditorium appeared to be death by obscure acronym. He was considering departure, and increasingly, a nap, when the moderator announced that Dr. Granger would be presenting next. Draco remained where he was. She crossed the stage toward the podium, a small figure beside the other panelists, and

23:44easily the shortest among them, yet nothing in the way she carried herself suggested smallness. She smiled at the audience as she approached the muggle voice amplifying contraption and took her place before it, with effortless composure. There were no notes in her hands. Behind her, enormous screens displayed diagrams, bullet points, and several arrangements of colored shapes that Draco assumed meant something profound. Her opening remarks included a joke that passed so completely over his head it might have achieved low orbit. The rest of the auditorium understood it, however, and laughed her rolled through the room. Then Granger began speaking about advances in something called CAR T cell therapies for B cell malignancies. Draco understood perhaps one word in seven, but understanding the medicine turned out not to be necessary to understand her. She held the room without strain. Her gaze moved steadily through the audience, questions came from every direction, and she welcomed them rather than enduring them.

24:46Someone challenged her. She answered, the challenger pressed the point, and Granger counted with one of her own, defending her position without hesitation or any visible need to gather herself. She was confident, she was clever, and here in this room she mattered. Granger in her element was a rather impressive thing. When her presentation ended, she returned to the long table, and the discussion widened to include the other panelists. Before long Draco was no longer entirely convinced that any of them were speaking English. They cross-examined one another about EBV, TNK cell lymphomas, and diagnostic difficulties, then moved with alarming enthusiasm into the architecture of liquid biopsy research. At one point, Granger made a pun involving malt-one degradation, which was apparently so funny that several highly educated adults nearly lost control of themselves. Draco passed the time by performing legilemency on the panelists.

25:46Curiously, not one of them considered Granger an insufferable swat. What he encountered instead was respect, admiration, intellectual fascination, and from the male doctor seated on her left, an unexpected and rather definite crush. As the discussion continued, Draco learned that quantitative radiomics analytics was a thing that existed, and that its predictive values could sustain an astonishing amount of conversation. Yet beneath the incomprehensible terminology, he began to grasp something more interesting. These muggle doctors were extraordinary. They were confronting problems magic had largely spared wizard-kind from having to solve, but rather than accepting those limits, they had devoted their lives to worrying at the impossible until it yielded something useful. How had he ever managed to think muggles base and ignorant? Draco gave a small shake of his head. The movement must have caught Granger's eye, or perhaps the flash of his white blonde hair

26:46did, conspicuous, even in shadow. She glanced toward his alcove, found him there, and gave him the briefest smile of acknowledgement before returning to whatever incomprehensible dissertation currently occupied her attention. Her hands swept through a wide arc as she explained something to the audience. The smile left Draco with a strangely pleasant sensation he declined to examine. Eventually, conclusions were reached, closing remarks delivered, and the conference ended beneath a generous burst of applause. The audience rose and spilled toward the stage, clustering around Granger and the other panelists until they stood at the centre of an animated crowd. Draco's brain, meanwhile, had acquired the approximate texture of porridge from several hours of unfamiliar terminology and rather more legilemency than was probably sensible. Perhaps the keeper would not require such a thick straw after all. He decided his services were no longer required. Draco had nearly reached the exit when Granger intercepted him beside the stage.

27:49As usual, she saw no reason to waste time on pleasantries. Her gaze travelled over his muggled skies with brisk professional scrutiny, one eyebrow climbing as she took in the result. Passable, she pronounced. Draco glanced down at himself. What's the eyebrow for? Rather than answer, Granger pointed to the name badge some thoroughly confunded conference volunteer had fixed to his lapel. Hello, Professor Takahashi? Ah, Draco looked at the offending badge. Yes, that's me. And how is Tokyo at this time of year? Very nice. Professor Takahashi is from Kyoto. She folded her arms, though the amusement in her eyes rather spoiled the severity of the pose. Rather ballsy, posing as one of Japan's most renowned clinical oncologists. I am nothing if not ballsy. Draco tossed his hair back from his face. Incidentally, did you know that the good Dr. Driesen fancies you?

28:51Her other eyebrow shot up to join the first. What? He's going to ask you out for drinks tonight. No. Yes, he also liked the skirt. Draco gestured toward the high-waisted, close-fitting article in question. He rather liked it himself as it happened. Muggle fashion, with its peculiar enthusiasm for the human backside, was beginning to reveal unsuspected virtues. Ugh, I mean, he's very nice, but Granger broke off abruptly, suspicion overtaking embarrassment. Wait, how do you know that? Her hand flew to her mouth. You did not perform legitimacy on innocent muggles. Part of my risk assessment protocol. Is that allowed? It's a bit of a violation of privacy, isn't it? Orals have privileges. Draco waved this away. Anyway, Shackle Bolt gave me carte blanche to use whatever means necessary to keep you safe, except murder. I have to get permission for that.

29:52There's a form and everything. Granger stared at him. She appeared perhaps 90% certain he was joking, which left a very satisfying 10% in which she regarded him as quite possibly the most unprincipled, depraved aura the ministry had ever produced, and herself as extraordinarily unfortunate to have been assigned him. Who she could decide which possibility she preferred, Dr. Driesen appeared. To Granger's visible dismay, he did precisely what Draco had predicted and asked whether she might like to join him for drinks that evening. Draco had to admire the courage, if not the subtlety, of the attempt. Several things then happened in quick succession. Granger stepped neatly into Draco's side and laid one hand against his chest with an intimacy that was almost convincing and, more practically, concealed the absurd Professor Takahashi badge beneath her palm. With an apologetic smile, she told Driesen that, unfortunately, she was already spoken for that evening, though perhaps another time.

30:55The doctor's eyes lifted to Draco. They took in his hair, which was perfect, his jawline likewise, and his eyes, which were icy and also perfect. After this brief assessment, Driesen appeared to conclude that he had been comprehensively outranked. Smart man. Of course, he said, retreating a fraction and looking flustered. So sorry I didn't realize. Where are you two going? Er, said Granger. The turf tavern, Draco supplied. Classic. Driesen brightened. Then he gave Draco an eyebrow wag of male camaraderie that Draco could frankly have lived without. Just across from the Bodleian, you'll have to keep Hermione on a tight leash. Oh, yes. Draco slid an arm around Granger's waist. I always do. The hand resting against his chest twitched. Well, lovely to see you as always, Hermione. Driesen said.

31:55Goodbye, Johann. Granger's smile had acquired a brittle, fixed quality. Driesen departed, though not without a backward glance. Granger meanwhile had gone rigid against Draco. Every inch of her seemed wound tight, prepared to spring away from him the instant propriety permitted it. Don't jump away like you've been burnt, Draco murmured. He's watching. Act natural. She cleared her throat. Her hand traveled slowly down his chest, taking Professor Takahashi's name badge with it. And then she eased herself away with painstaking casualness. It did not look natural. Draco could not decide whether to be more entertained by her discomfort, or alarmed by the fact that the curve of her hip had felt extraordinarily pleasant, fitted against his side. Nor for that matter was he especially pleased to discover that she smelled good again. Granger peeled the Japanese professor's name from her palm. Whenever fall comes back around, it always feels like a fresh start.

32:58This year I've been layering in some styles from the new Lululemon fall drop, because the weather is shifting and I find I have to be ready for the entire day and not just one part of it. Lululemon's fall line has some really versatile transitional pieces, so I can just wake up, throw on a matching set, add a jacket or a fleece, and head out, knowing that I'll feel comfortable enough to go wherever the day takes me. Check out the new fall arrivals in store and online now at Lululemon.com. She looked distinctly discombobulated. That at least made two of them. Sorry, she said. I had to come up with something, and you were conveniently there. Use me as a prop any time. Draco turned his attention to the dispersing conference crowd, which was much safer than looking at her. This strategy proved temporary. Several of Granger's colleagues descended upon them almost at once, having somehow already learned that she was going to the turf. They were going to, apparently. They would see her there. Their first gin and tonic was on them, pip pip and all the rest of it.

34:02Granger summoned a faint smile and waved them off. This may have been a mistake, she said once they were gone, with the gravity of someone assessing a failed experiment. You can leave. I'll make up an excuse for you. This was an excellent suggestion. There was only one minor difficulty with it. After a meticulous period of reflection lasting approximately eight seconds, Draco had discovered that he rather wanted to go. But I wanted G and T. Granger still muttering through possible explanations and clearly no longer listening to him said, I'll tell them you felt sick or something. Sick? I'm the picture of health. I'll say you ate something funny. I think not. There are hundreds of muggle doctors here. The moment you announce that I'm ill, they'll all descend on me and attempt to cure me. Draco regarded the thinning crowd with suspicion. I don't want anyone sticking a stethoscope up my bum. No one sticks stethoscopes up anyone's bums, Granger exclaimed.

35:05Two conference attendees passing nearby turned to stare at her in open shock. Granger watched them continue on, aghast. Oops, Draco said. Her jaw tightened. You are positively the worst. She turned on her heel and strode briskly away. Draco found himself grinning as he followed. And since the subject of bums had arisen, the record should reflect that Draco absolutely did not look at Grangers. He certainly did not find the view pleasing and under no circumstances did he slow his pace for the express purpose of appreciating it for longer. Entirely separately and for reasons bearing no conceivable relationship to Grangers backside, he arrived at the conclusion that robes were overrated. The turf tavern was absurdly busy. Apparently an Oxford pub was crowded at the best of times and matters were not improved by a medical conference discouraging several hundred thirsty immunologists, oncologists, and miscellaneous specialists into the surrounding streets at once.

36:07Draco managed to claim a table while Granger fought her way to the bar, returning eventually with gin and tonics all round. Before long they were wedged together on a bench amid a dozen of the world's finest immunologists and oncologists. Everyone talking over everyone else, glasses steadily emptying and refilling as the assembled brilliance became progressively, cheerfully drunk. At some point one of the doctors asked Draco what he did for a living. Granger went visibly tense at the question. Honestly, had she no faith. But there was no cause for alarm. Tonks insisted that every aura maintains several convincing muggle identities along with a handful of wizarding alternatives and subjected them to surprise interrogations, often enough that hesitation had long since been beaten out of him. Draco selected his favourite. I'm a pilot. It was an excellent profession to lie about. Most muggles knew very little about the technicalities of flying an aeroplane and the chances

37:09of encountering an actual pilot in the middle of a table full of increasingly tipsy doctors seemed acceptably remote. Better still, Draco genuinely loved flying. Brooms rather than aeroplanes admittedly, but enthusiasm translated remarkably well once once stripped away the inconvenient details. Flying isn't that hard, you know. He told the table with the confidence of a man who had absolutely flown many aeroplanes. Keep the blue side up. The table erupted. The doctor beside him raised his glass. Medicines much the same. Keep the guts in. This produced another round of laughter, and Draco pleased with himself, caught Granger staring at him. There was something almost wondrous in her expression. Pleasant surprise tangled up with an unmistakable, who the fuck are you? He lifted one eyebrow. Granger blinked, apparently unable to reconcile the man beside her with whatever disaster she had expected when he opened his mouth, then turned pointedly back to her drink.

38:11A little later someone asked when Draco had arrived in Oxford. This morning. And what brings you to Oxford? Dr. Granger. Granger inhaled her gin and tonic. The table dissolved into laughter while she coughed furiously into one hand. Draco, exercising admirable restraint, waited several seconds before looking at her again. The expression she returned suggested she was already choosing the lonely alley in which she intended to murder him. Who could possibly have known that tormenting the swat of the century would prove such a glee-filled pastime? Their table grew more crowded when another figure approached and was greeted by a chorus of delighted shouts. Draco recognized him at once, or rather recognized the name when someone called it. Professor Takahashi, the genuine one. Granger shifted closer to Draco along the bench to make room, pressing shoulder to shoulder with him. Draco leaned towards her ear.

39:13Ask him whether he had any trouble with his registration. Her foot connected sharply with his ankle beneath the table. He took that as a no. Granger greeted Professor Takahashi with perfect civility and soon fell into conversation with him. Draco caught fragments about Kyoto, though following the discussion became unexpectedly difficult. Granger's shoulder remained snug against his upper arm in the crowded bench, and beneath the table her leg rested against his. Neither contact ought to have required the slightest portion of his attention. Somehow, both did. Fortunately, food arrived to rescue him from this deeply unprofessional line of thought. A waiter deposited fresh drinks and an enormous platter of cheese toasties in the middle of the table accompanied by a pot of onion chutney. The sandwiches glistened with grease and leaked three distinct varieties of molten cheese onto the plate. Narcissia malfoy would have suffered an aneurysm from looking at them.

40:13Granger passed the platter to Draco with a peculiar hesitation, as though bracing herself for some aristocratic pronouncement upon the indignity of muggle pub food. He took one. It was the best filth he had ever eaten. Somewhere near the bar, someone began striking a triangular metal instrument with enthusiasm. Once sufficient attention had been secured, a voice announced that the evening's pub quiz was about to begin and invited interested patrons to form teams. Several of the doctors took this as their cue to leave. The rest brightened immediately. "'I love pub quizzes,' said the grey-haired woman sitting to Draco's right. Half the fun is discovering you're a colossal moron.' "'Bet we get trounced by some freshers,' said the doctor opposite them. And nonsense,' another said. With Hermione here, this will be a doodle. He turned to Granger. You are staying, aren't you Hermione?' Granger looked at Draco before answering. "'What do you think?

41:13If you're tired, you can go back to,' she caught herself. Back to our hotel.' Draco recognized the escape route she was offering him and declined it at once. He had acquired a rather excellent buzz. He had never participated in a muggle pub quiz and found himself curious about the concept. And there was a warm woman fitted closely against his side. All together things were rather nice. "'Pish, Tosh. Of course I'll be staying.' Brilliant. The declaration set off a general kerfuffle while people hunted for pens, commandeered scraps of paper and argued about who possessed legible handwriting. Draco contributed absolutely nothing to the opening questions, which concerned muggle politics and sport, and might as well have been asked in Gobble-de-Gook. He recovered some dignity when the categories improved. A baby grand piano had 88 keys. Cessna had been founded in 1927, and Greece possessed a national anthem consisting of 158 verses.

42:15That last answer he knew because all 158 had been performed at the previous Quidditch World Cup. The science and biology questions scarcely required a quiz at all. The doctors demolished them, and usually supplying far more information than anyone had requested. Draco learned against his will that something called pickalax was used to prepare muggles for a colonoscopy. One of the doctors nodded grimly. Night of a thousand waterfalls. Draco decided there were some forms of knowledge a man was better off without. A dispute later arose over the precise definition of subcutaneous. Several members of their team challenged the quizmaster with such professional intensity that the poor lad visibly lost confidence in his own question and eventually awarded them the point. History and art would have flattened the rest of them if not for granger, who dragged the team safely through both categories. Mathematics, however, provoked a communal groan.

43:15At the neighbouring table, a team of young people tore through the problems at horrifying speed while the doctors stared at their papers and began to perspire. Engineers, one of them said darkly, we never stood a chance. Even Granger had stalled over one of the problems. She frowned down at the page with the deeply offended look of someone who regarded unsolved mathematics as a personal insult. Geography followed, then music, then zoology. Granger handled most of those competently enough with occasional assistance from the others. Whenever fall comes back around, it always feels like a fresh start. This year, I've been layering in some styles from the new Lulelemon fall drop because the weather is shifting and I find I have to be ready for the entire day and not just one part of it. Lulelemon's fall line has some really versatile transitional pieces so I can just wake up, throw on a matching set, add a jacket or a fleece, and head out, knowing that I'll feel comfortable enough to go wherever the day takes me. Check out the new fall arrivals in store and online now at Lulelemon.com.

44:20Andreyco ceased pretending he might be useful. He had reached his fourth drink and the question of precisely what constituted a monotreme struck him as a philosophical depth into which he was not presently equipped to descend. Despite the mathematics, their team won. This was by general agreement, largely Granger's fault. We'll have Hermione registered with English heritage as a national treasure, one of the doctors announced, patting her approvingly on the shoulder. Granger smiled, accepted the praise, and almost immediately returned her attention to the mathematics problem that had defeated her. It had migrated onto a napkin now, where her calculations marched across the paper in increasingly determined ranks. The prize consisted of vouchers possessing some sort of monetary value. After a brief conference, the doctors handed theirs over to the young engineers who had finished second, arguing that the contest had hardly been fair when their combined years at university exceeded the engineers combined years of being alive.

45:23By then the evening had begun to thin out. Most of the post-quiz crowd drifted away, conversation dwindled from a roar to a murmur, and patches of empty table appeared throughout the pub. Draco remained where he was, still quite content with his drinks. Granger remained too, bent over her napkin, still waging war against the mathematics. Eventually Granger surrendered enough pride to lean across and poke one of the young men at the neighboring table. Explain this to me. He glanced at the napkin. It's Burrell's paradox. Granger stared at him, then comprehension broke across her face. Oh, obviously. Apparently that was all she had needed. She bent over the table again and attacked the napkin with renewed purpose, her pen racing through the calculations until the whole thing resolved itself beneath her hand. Satisfied at last, she struck a final mark beneath the solution, dropped the pen as though

46:24concluding hostilities, and stood. Let's go. Draco got carefully to his feet and remained there for a moment, waiting to discover precisely how much the evenings drinking intended to punish him for the change in altitude. The room shifted only slightly. Not bad, considering. He gave silent credit to the cheese toasties, which had evidently possessed remarkable absorbent qualities. Have a nice night, you too, the barkeep called after them, accompanying the words with a wink in Granger's direction. Her answering smile looked faintly stricken. She was through the door almost before Draco had finished putting on his coat. Outside, Oxford had settled into its quieter night time self. The old buildings and narrow streets washed in lamp light. Neither of them was navigating those streets with quite the precision sobriety ordinarily provided, though Granger was plainly managing the situation better than Draco. He was contemplating this injustice when she abruptly caught hold of him and hauled him

47:28sideways. A lamp post passed very close to his shoulder. "'You're meant to be watching over me,' she said. Not the other way round. That pole came out of bloody nowhere. Draco informed her. His face momentarily buried in her hair. Granger immediately disentangled herself and retreated until a safe arm's length lay between them. How are you getting home? And don't say apparition. I'll stun you if you try. Even pleasantly drunk and perilously inclined to giggle, Draco was fairly certain he could draw his wand faster than she could. Still, there seemed little profit in testing the matter. Who, I suppose? There's a connected hearth at my hotel, this way. He followed her through Oxford's storied streets, past darkened windows and ancient stone, while the alcohol settled into that agreeable stage at which the world seemed unusually benign and certain observations demanded to be shared.

48:29Draco found himself possessed of a broad generosity towards mankind. As muggles today, he said, they were all rather clever. Yes, Granger replied. Your rather clever too. He frowned, attempting to marshal the relevant evidence. This seemed important. With all the, the diagrams and the malts and carts and things, she turned her head and regarded him side-long through the dark. Thank you. And please stop. You're frightening when you're nice. Draco looked genuinely affronted. I'm frightening. Go back to making fun of my hair. Fine. He considered it. It's horrid. You should shave it off. Better. Don't actually, though. Granger's mouth twitched. Are you sure? Yes. Here we are. She stopped before a small wizarding in and pushed open the door. They stepped into a dim reception room with no one behind the desk and only a faint red

49:29glow surviving in the hearth. Draco crossed to it, drew her wand, and gave the embers an almost casual flick. The fire sprang up with such enthusiasm that Draco blinked. Are you a dab hand at fires as well then, on top of the extension charms? A bit, Granger said, with a display of modesty so transparently false that it scarcely deserved the name. Draco narrowed his eyes at her, a memory surfaced through the whiskey. I heard you set fire to Snape in first year. Her expression altered by the smallest degree. But I didn't believe it. He added, good. That's utter bollocks. She said this without looking at him. Draco smiled. You're a bad liar. Off you go. Granger stepped neatly around the accusation and motion towards the fireplace. I'm shattered and need my bed. But I want the story about setting fire to Snape. Go home, Malfoy.

50:30There was unmistakably no progress to be made on that front. With considerable reluctance, Draco took a handful of flu powder and tossed it into the grate. You're positively no fun. Malfoy manner. Green flames surged through the hearth. Before stepping into it, Draco looked back. Granger stood where he had left her. Arms folded. One hip angled slightly to the side. He was watching him with an expression he knew too well. Dark eyes narrowed in quiet concentration, as though he had become another problem set before her. Some fresh theorem whose hidden structure she meant to uncover. Part of him found the attention gratifying. There were worse things, certainly, than intriguing the great brain. Another part of him was considerably less pleased. Granger had an alarming habit of solving things. He did not particularly want to be solved. Night Malfoy. Draco stepped into the fire.

51:35Draco calling Rosalie milk toast is funny, but the reason he dislikes her is much more interesting than the insult. She's beautiful, agreeable, well connected, exactly the sort of which his mother thinks ought to suit him, and Draco is bored out of his skull. She laughs at his jokes. He agrees with his opinions. She compliments him. There's nothing for him to push against. And that bothers him. Apparently Draco does not want to be admired nearly as much as he wants to be challenged, which is inconvenient because the person who has been training him to expect that kind of resistance is Hermione Granger. He doesn't even notice himself making the comparison at first. That's the best part. Hermione has somehow become his standard without his permission. He expects conversation to have teeth now. He expects someone to argue back, catch him being ridiculous, force him to defend whatever nonsense has just come out of his mouth. Rosalie offers him the version of himself that Draco was probably raised to expect.

52:38Handsome, impressive, automatically deferred to, and instead of enjoying it, he finds it exhausting. Then he watches Hermione at the conference, and something shifts again. Draco doesn't understand most of what she's saying. He barely understands what field of medicine they're discussing, but he understands competence. He understands somebody walking into a room and owning it without needing anybody's approval. And he sees other people treating Hermione with the same seriousness he's slowly been forced to give her himself. That seems to crack open something larger, too. Draco spends the afternoon surrounded by muggles doing difficult, brilliant work against diseases magic has allowed his own world largely to ignore, and he has this almost embarrassingly simple realization. These people are clever, really clever. His old assumptions about muggles suddenly look flimsy when placed next to actual evidence. There's something very Draco about the fact that this genuine expansion of his world view

53:39happens alongside several hours of flirting badly, abusing legitimacy, impersonating a Japanese oncologist, eating cheese toasties, getting drunk, and making Hermione shout about stethoscopes and bums in public. And underneath all of that comedy, he's getting comfortable. That may be the part he understands least. By the end of the night he isn't merely tolerating Hermione's world, he wants to stay in it. He chooses the pub, he chooses the quiz, he chooses another drink, he chooses the crowded bench beside her. One of that is required by his assignment. Then walking through Oxford drunk, he finally tells her she's clever, and immediately has to insult her hair because apparently sincerity has a very short half-life in Draco Malfoy. Hermione notices the change anyway, and that final image of her studying him like a problem feels almost unfair, because Draco is beginning to realize something she hasn't quite said allowed yet. If she keeps looking closely enough, she may eventually notice that he's already changing.