A Most Inconvenient Devotion - Chapter 8 | Fanfiction Adaptation + Discussion

0:00Fall never arrives all at once. Verse the air, then the light, and slowly the things you love begin to find each other. A jacket meets a dress, a hoodie slips beneath a blazer. An old cap finds a new scarf, because you don't simply step into the season. You create it layer by layer until it finally feels like fall. Find fall your way at Ross. So good, so good, so good. Nordstrom Rack is celebrating 125 years of Nordstrom with 125 of the best deals up to 65% off in stores and online. They're only here while supplies last. So shop today. Great brands, great prices. That's why you rack. 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.

1:06Chapter 8. Malfoy's Paradox March expired in a chilled drizzle, damp and close and disagreeable, and somewhere in the grey conclusion of the month arrived the evening of the Delequois Fett. Draco might have forgotten it altogether had his afternoon sleep not been interrupted by Henriette, who appeared in his room with the air of someone arriving to correct a preventable disaster. He surfaced slowly from the pillows, stretching and yawning with profound satisfaction, while the house self began an interrogation regarding his wardrobe. This purple would be so becoming on you, Monsieur. Henriette held up a set of richly-colored dress robes, admiring them on his behalf. Like a Roman emperor, Nord? The black ones, please. Her expression suggested he had failed to appreciate the possibilities before him. She exchanged the purple for silver, allowing the fabric to catch the light. Perhaps these, then, with your eyes, they would be very fetching.

2:08The black, Henriette. She was not so easily defeated. The requested robes finally appeared over one arm, but from somewhere she produced a second possibility. Midnight blue, scattered with tiny constellations that shimmered across the fabric. Or perhaps, she ventured, raising them enticingly. Draco narrowed his eyes at her. Did my mother put you up to this? Henriette's enormous ears folded back by a fraction. Madame suggested that perhaps Monsieur might be amenable to trying something different. Madame would prefer that Monsieur not look as though he were attending a funeral. I rather like looking like an undertaker. Leave the black ones on the bed. As you wish, Monsieur. The sigh with which she obeyed contained an extraordinary amount of French disapproval. Henriette laid the black robes neatly across the counter-pain, curtside, and vanished with a crack. For all her impeccable training and polished manners,

3:08Henriette possessed considerably more initiative than the English house elves Draco had known growing up. She had opinions. Worse, she regarded those opinions as useful contributions and seemed to consider sharing them part of her duties. Narcissa adored her. Draco tolerated the impertinence in part because Henriette could cook. Whatever else might be said for the house elves of Britain, their tendency towards Stodgy, heavy fare had never inspired in him the loyalty that a properly prepared French dinner could. He showered, dressed in the black robes for which he had fought so valiantly and devoted appropriate attention to his hair. Then, after putting the finishing touches to the rest of himself, he returned to his hair and improved it a second time. Only when everything was precisely as it should be did he stand before the mirror and conduct a final inspection. The evidence was conclusive. He looked devastating, which was fortunate because Draco Malfoy had every intention of getting laid.

4:11It had been an un reasonably long time. His last encounter, as far as he could recall, had been with some witch at Pansley's birthday party and the intervening weeks had begun to make themselves irritatingly apparent. Enough was enough. Tonight presented the obvious solution. The Delacroix Fett would be full of eligible witches, many of them attractive and most of them already dressed for poor decisions. Rosalie Delacroix herself might even prove amenable, he considered while applying cologne. There were certainly worse possibilities. Satisfied at last with his toilet, Draco made his way downstairs to the flu parlor. Henriette, as my mother gone already, he called, tossing a pinch of flu powder into the hearth. Green flame leapt up at once. We, Eléparti, Henriette answered from somewhere beyond the room. Nearly two hours ago, Monsieur, I believe Madame expected that you would follow shortly. Ah!

5:12Apparently he had elevated fashionable lateness into something more ambitious. The Seneca, Draco announced to the fire and stepped into the flames. He emerged onto the hearth at the Seneca and had scarcely finished brushing suit from his robes before an exceptionally self-important looking young man descended upon him with a charmed feather duster. Draco endured the service just long enough to be rendered presentable again. He had taken perhaps three steps into the hotel before Theodore not intercepted him. There is fashionably late Theo informed him, and then there is whatever you're doing. Half-eight, Malfoy, you've missed the speeches. We're approaching actual rudeness. Tragic, Draco said, smoothing the front of his robes, summarise them. Theo considered. Several very pretty sentiments regarding the true magic of gratitude, followed by the essential message that everyone should give them money. Draco looked genuinely stricken, and I missed it.

6:16A disdainful sniff sounded nearby. Ah! said a familiar voice. The usual black guards. Blaze Zabini had caught sight of them just as Draco and Theo entered the rose room, already crowded with the gleaming, perfumed upper reaches of wizarding society. Waiters circulated through the press with trays of canopies and champagne, while conversation rose beneath the glittering lights in a civilised roar. Didn't realise they admitted riff-riff like You too, Zabini said. His dress robes were offensively well cut. Possibly Draco was forced to concede, even better tailored than his own. They regarded one another with matching severity for several seconds before Blaze broke into a grin. Good to see you. The few, the brave, the apparently last men in Britain who haven't married and begun producing children, Theo answered with an elegant bow. I have come to assist in the evening's debauchery. What's the programme gentlemen? Chaos?

7:16Mayhem? Drinking, dancing, and finding a lovely woman to cuddle, Blaze said, already surveying the room. Draco followed his gaze. I'll take the same, only with considerably more fucking and considerably less cuddling. Oh-ho, Blaze's eyebrows rose. Fine, leave the brunettes to me. Draco thought briefly of Rosalie and the sort of witches who tended to orbit her. Deal, I'm in the mood for a blonde anyway. Then redheads are mine. Theo intercepted a passing waiter and relieved him of three dirty martinis with such efficiency that the man barely seemed to realise he had been robbed. He distributed the glasses. Drink. Whoever is behind the bar tonight believes vodka is a moral imperative. The martinis were indeed aggressive. They drank their way into the party, separating and reconvening as the evening carried them through knots of old friends, old rivals, and people who occupied the interesting territory

8:18between the two. Somewhere in the course of it, Draco discovered what the fate was actually raising money for. Delacua Sr., whose life had apparently once been saved at St. Mungos, had undergone an improbable flowering of charitable instinct and was helping to fund a new ward at the hospital. So it wasn't orphans after all. Whatever. Eventually the lights lowered. The room softened into flattering shadow, and a wide space opened at its centre for dancing. Draco located Rosalie Delacua and made a respectable attempt at conversation, only to discover that she was in a giggly mood and very firmly attached to the arm of some French pure blood whose name Draco had either never learned or immediately discarded. That settled Rosalie. He moved on. Over the next hour he encountered several witches he knew well enough to approach and poorly enough for the evening to remain uncomplicated. They smiled brilliantly at him, laughed at remarks that were not quite as amusing as their

9:22laughter suggested and deployed their eyelashes with unmistakable purpose. Any one of them, under ordinary circumstances, would have been an entirely satisfactory answer to his problem. And yet nothing. Not a spark. Not even to put the matter in less poetic terms, the faintest sign of enthusiasm below the waste. He extricated himself from them one after another, increasingly conscious that their attention, instead of exciting him, merely irritated him. Their lingering hands and obvious invitations felt clingy. Their persistence became tedious. Miss Luella Clairborn proved particularly difficult to shake. In the end Draco was reduced to claiming that Narcissa had summoned him. He escaped before Luella could suggest accompanying him. But the hell was wrong with him. Luella would almost certainly have been willing to drag him behind a curtain for a quick blow job if he had given the slightest encouragement.

10:22Yet the prospect did nothing for him. He did not want to take her home. He did not want to take her upstairs to one of the Seneca's luxurious rooms. He did not want her at all. Apparently, despite arriving with a very clear objective, Draco had no idea what he was looking for. Apparently that it was none of the women he had found so far. To give his lie some semblance of truth, Draco sought out his mother, who was standing among a cluster of St. Mungo's senior staff. Narcissa acknowledged his arrival with a glance towards Rosalie and the Frenchman attached to her arm, then compressed her lips into a look that required no words at all. There you see, all the good ones are taken, and you, my son, will die alone. Draco had no particular objection to dying alone. At present, his ambitions were considerably less permanent. He wanted to find a witch who stirred some genuine interest in him, sleep with her once or twice, and rid himself of the increasingly inconvenient randomness that had been plaguing

11:25him for weeks. As he resumed his circuit of the room, one possibility kept drawing his attention. She was slender, dressed in something open-backed, and stood among a shift in collection of former hufflepuffs and senior ministry people. Every time Draco managed a proper look, someone moved between them, the subdued lighting did little to help. He caught only fragments, the clean curve of her bare back, the elegant movement of one hand around the stem of a glass, the occasional glimpse of a fine ankle above a delicate strapped shoe. Oi! Zabini appeared beside him as though summoned by territorial instinct. He never arrives all at once. Verse the air, then the light, and slowly the things you love begin to find each other. A jacket meets a dress, a hoodie slips beneath a blazer. An old cap finds a new scarf, because you don't simply step into the season. You create it, layer by layer, until it finally feels like fall.

12:29Find fall your way, at Ross. Nordstrom Rack is celebrating 125 years of Nordstrom with 125 with the best deals up to 65% off. In stores and online, we're talking incredible savings on brands you love, like Vince, Sam Edelman, Rack and Bone, all Saints and more. They're only here while supplies last, so shop today. Go into Nordy Club to unlock exclusive discounts, shop new arrivals first and more. Plus buy online and pick up at your favorite rack store for free. Great brands? Great prices. That's why you rack. I said leave the brunettes to me. My first choice found herself some French ponds. Spoken as though you aren't the greatest French ponds in the room, Draco gave him a poisonous look. Sharing is caring. Fine. Go soften her up for me. Once you've boloxed your way through the introduction, I'll look positively irresistible by comparison. Draco drained the remainder of his drink and deposited the empty glass in Blazer's hand.

13:34Watch me. He set off with studied nonchalance, angling past the woman's group while pausing here and there to greet acquaintances, as though he had no particular destination in mind. Potter received a brief nod in passing. Why Potter was at the Delacroix Fett was another question entirely, something charitable presumably. Orphans perhaps. Ernie McMillan bless him, noticed Draco hovering within range and waved him over with characteristic enthusiasm. The plump boy Draco remembered from Hogwarts had broadened into a solid, wide-shouldered man and somehow risen to head the Department of International Magical Cooperation. McMillan, Draco accepted his hand. How are you? Introduce me to your fur. The woman turned. Draco stopped. It was bloody fucking granger. For one appalling instant, he thought the martini might come back up. But there was no mistake. Her unruly hair had been swept into an elegant shignon

14:35low at the nape of her neck, exposing the line of the back he had spent the past quarter hour admiring from across the room. In place of her usual practical clothes, she wore a long green gown, muggle almost certainly, but beautifully cut and something dark had been smudged artfully around her eyes, sharpening a gaze that hardly required assistance. What are you doing here, Draco demanded? It came out rather more accusingly than he intended. But then he had just discovered that the anonymous woman whose back and arse he had been imagining from several highly interesting angles was granger, literally fucking granger. The question was rude enough that McMillan shifted a little closer to her. For reasons Draco could not begin to justify, this irritated him further. Hermione was personally invited by Monsieur Delacroix, McMillan explained, along with all the healers involved in his treatment, didn't you listen to the speech? Ah, Draco suddenly felt rather stupid.

15:35Granger lifted one eyebrow. I wouldn't have expected to see you here either. I didn't realize healthcare featured prominently among your interests. Apparently deciding that active mediation was now required, McMillan moved fractionally towards Draco instead. I understand the Malfoy family is making a rather substantial contribution to the new ward. He gave Draco an officious clap on the shoulder. Good sorts after all these Malfoy's aren't they? Granger bestowed upon him one of those fixed smiles she employed when good manners were engaged in mortal combat with her actual thoughts. Draco meanwhile nodded with the grave assurance of a man fully acquainted with his family's philanthropy. Now that he thought about it, Narcissa might have mentioned the donation once or twice. Only three times, he might even have known about it had he made the tactical error of listening. Of course, McMillan continued oblivious. We still haven't worked out the identity of the anonymous contributor, whoever it is

16:38will be matching tonight's proceeds galleon for galleon. My money's on one of Delacroix's old French associates, L'Ameitre owns half the vineyards in Burgundy and his attention snapped suddenly towards a tall wizard crossing nearby. Ah, there's finbock. Excuse me. I've been meaning to harass him about that legislation he's pushing. Perhaps if I get a few more drinks into him. McMillan disappeared into the crowd, abandoning Draco and Granger at the edge of the larger group. Granger was still watching him with one eyebrow raised. Only then did Draco become aware that he was staring at her like an absolute cretin. Unfortunately, there was no graceful way to explain that he had spent the past 15 minutes fantasizing about taking her from behind. Sorry, Granger. Just adjusting to the fact that I've been imagining your arse in circumstances neither professional nor clothed was unlikely to improve matters. So naturally, he became annoyed instead. You're supposed to tell me when you're attending public events, he said crossly.

17:40Now I can't even enjoy myself. I have to mind you. Her expression sharpened at once. Mind me? Who exactly do you think is going to attack me here? My colleagues, the family of the man I helped drag back from the brink of death. Delacquois has hired the best security money can buy, or have you somehow failed to notice all the other auras? Have you done anything since you arrived except stare at buns? A voice gathered momentum. And I did tell you I was coming, two weeks ago. There were entirely too many accusations contained in that speech, so Draco selected only those he considered worth dignifying. I came here specifically to look at buns. That is the only reason I'm here. And the selection has been frankly disappointing, barring a few. Er, anyway, the entire evening has been a monumental waste of time. He drew himself up. And you absolutely did not tell me you were attending.

18:41I would have remembered, because I would have been annoyed, minding you interferes with looking at buns. Draco's mind is not a stranger folded her arms. I absolutely did tell you. Check your jotta. A small, unwelcome seed of doubt lodged itself in Draco's mind. Under the full force of her glare, he took out the jotta with perhaps less haste than an innocent man might have shown. Granger made an impatient noise, stepped closer, and reached across to turn through the pages herself. Despite the seriousness of the investigation now underway, registered that she smelled good again. Something different tonight. Light, sweet, almost airy. They turned through several pages of Granger-related entries before Draco's fingers stopped. Ah! There it was. Granger had in fact told him about the fate two weeks earlier. Shortly after Draco had stunned the jotta into silence. She snapped it shut.

19:42Her indignation was unmistakable, though she was clearly attempting to contain it beneath the veneer of public composure. See? She hissed, keeping her voice low enough not to draw attention. How dare you scold me as though I were some wayward child. I'm supposed to be here. I'm a guest of honor. Before Draco could formulate anything resembling a dignified defense, Providence intervened in the form of someone calling Granger over to meet a group of French healers. She went, though not before casting a look over her shoulder which made it abundantly clear that their argument had merely been postponed. Draco conducted a tactical retreat towards Theo and Zabini, with rather less swagger than he had possessed earlier in the evening. Blay was delicately working his way through a quail brochette when Draco arrived. That appeared to go exceptionally well. Fuck off. The poor man needs another drink, Theo said, flagging down a waiter and appropriating something potent from the tray. He pressed the glass into Draco's hand.

20:45Here, and stopped staring at Granger like a slack-jawed idiot, I'd rather Potter didn't come over here under the impression that her honor requires defending. I didn't realize it was fucking Granger. Draco said, still profoundly unsettled by the entire business. Neither did I. Blay's glanced across the room towards her. She's grown into something rather nice, hasn't she? I work with her. Draco took a fortifying swallow of Theo's offering and discovered that it burned its way down his throat with considerable enthusiasm. Theo's interest sharpened immediately. Do you? What business have Oras got working with healers? Top secret. So you can fuck off as well. Blay's murmured. He was looking at Draco now and doing so with rather too much attention for comfort. After a moment he redirected that scrutiny towards Granger who had become absorbed in conversation with the visiting healers.

21:47Why isn't she married and producing little Granger offspring by now? Wasn't she engaged to the youngest weasel? I think she was, Theo said. Although we should remember that Granger was already snogging international quidditch players at 14, the poor woman may have reached the summit of Menfolk rather early. Blay's snickered. Everything is downhill after crum and his broomstick. The rest of us oix haven't a fucking ice cubes chance in hell. I enjoy a challenge, Blay's said. And I've always liked Brunette. A Brunette with brains is an entirely different proposition. Draco said nothing. For some reason he found the conversation intensely irritating. This was hardly unfamiliar territory. He had listened to, encouraged, and contributed to a thousand variations of precisely this sort of banter over the years. Yet tonight, with Granger as its subject, every remark seemed to scrape unpleasantly at him.

22:47He had no opportunity to examine why. Narcissa summoned him across the room to meet several particular friends of the Delequard family, an affable patriarch, his elegant wife, and their two daughters, both pretty and conveniently unmarried, age 26 and 28. Draco understood his mother's purpose almost immediately, showing interest in either daughter would please Narcissa, and theoretically it ought to please him as well. He had, after all, come here intending to find a witch to take to bed. Here were two attractive candidates delivered practically into his hands. Unfortunately, their conversation failed to hold his attention. As they spoke, his gaze kept straying beyond them into the shifting crowd, searching almost automatically for occasional flashes of dark green fabric. Once he had established that Granger was present, he told himself, she had reverted in his mind to her proper status as his principal. Keeping an eye on her was therefore professional vigilance and nothing more.

23:50Someone asked whether he enjoyed dancing. Draco answered yes without properly hearing the question, and a few moments later found himself on the dance floor with the younger sister. He remained distracted. Granger was dancing with Potter. I didn't know you were the strong silent sort. The woman in Draco's arms said with a giggle. What the hell was her name? Amandine perhaps. Amandine would do. Draco replied, watching Potter and Granger over her shoulder. Fall never arrives all at once. Verse the air, then the light, and slowly the things you love begin to find each other. A jacket meets a dress, a hoodie slips beneath a blazer. An old cap finds a new scarf, because you don't simply step into the season. You create it layer by layer until it finally feels like fall. And fall your way. At Ross. Nourished from rack is celebrating 125 years of Nordstrom with 125 of the best deals up

24:58to 65% off. In stores and online, we're talking incredible savings on brands you love like Vince, Sam Edelman, Ragnbone, All Saints and More. They're only here while supplies last. So shop today. Join the Nordy Club to unlock exclusive discounts. Shop new arrivals first and more. Just buy online and pick up at your favorite rack store for free. Great brands, great prices. That's why you rack. Amandine followed his gaze. Is that Harry Potter? I have heard a little about him, I think. Only a little, Draco asked. God bless the French and their magnificent indifference to English affairs. I believe he was involved in your last war, Nour, a hero? Yeah. Something like that. And the woman dancing with him was she involved as well? Yes. Across the floor Potter laughed at something Granger had said. She was smiling back at him utterly at ease. They are rather beautiful together. Amandine observed. You can see the connection.

25:59He's married. Draco cut in. They aren't together. Ah. She accepted the correction serenely. Well, friendship can be just as powerful a bond. Draco allowed Amandine to continue developing her philosophy on friendship, love, and the mysterious boundaries between them while the song approached its conclusion. If he intended to determine whether she might be interested in anything less philosophical later that evening, this was the moment. The procedure was hardly complicated. He could let one hand drift lower towards her backside, incline his mouth towards her neck, ask what she was doing after the party. He knew the steps. And from the way Amandine had begun pressing herself closer against him, she was receptive enough. Draco simply did not want to take them. The music faded and a slower number began in its place. He released her waist rather than drawing her nearer. Instead he escorted Amandine back to her parents, supplied the expected pleasantries about

27:01what a lovely evening it had been, and how delighted he was to have met them all, then wandered towards the bar. Theo had established himself there with a collection of former Slytherins and Ravenclaws and looked as though he intended to remain entrenched for some time. Sabini's gone, Theo said when Draco approached. Left with the older sister, said you could have the less experienced one. He glanced past Draco towards the dance floor. Doesn't seem to have gone particularly well for you either. Losing your touchmate? No spark. Draco shrugged. As always, Granger. Theo's mouth twitched. She looks as though she'd quite like to set you on fire. Sparks are plenty. Against his better judgment, Draco glanced towards the knot of healers where Granger now stood. Theo was not entirely wrong. Whenever her eyes found Draco across the room, the looks she sent him were distinctly in sendery. But I suppose you've no desire to die tonight.

28:04Theo continued, shifting aside to make space for him at the bar. She's off limits in approximately a hundred different ways, even if I were inclined towards masochism. Theo considered this over his drink. How does she get on with your mother? Draco turns slowly towards him. No reason. Theo added. Draco's eyes widened. Then he looked over his shoulder. Theo chortled. Across the room, Narcissa's little group was drifting inexorably towards the French healers and towards Granger. Draco could not remember whether his mother and Granger had spoken face to face at any point since the trials 15 years earlier. The proceedings had been tense enough, and Granger's testimony, infuriatingly scrupulous as always, had done Narcissa considerable good. She had described her time at Malfoy Manor without softening what had happened there, but she had also been clear that Narcissa had been largely powerless to intervene, and

29:06that later her choices had helped save Harry Potter's life. Her evidence concerning Lucius had been another matter entirely. On that subject Granger had offered no such mercy, and her depositions had joined the substantial body of evidence that ultimately sent Draco's father to Ascaban. Where precisely this left Granger in Narcissa's private accounting of the war, Draco had never been certain. His mother had endured Lucius' imprisonment, decline, and eventual death, and Draco did not know how much blame she assigned to the people whose testimony had helped put him there. Nor could he guess how she weighed that against the inconvenient fact that Granger's honesty had also helped preserve both Narcissa's freedom and Draco's own. From across the room, he was too far away to hear much of anything. He saw Granger's spine straighten when Narcissa approached, though her face remained carefully neutral. Narcissa's shoulders had acquired a similar rigidity beneath the polished ease of her

30:08posture, while her familiar society smile remained firmly in place. The two women touched fingertips in a brief, formal greeting, and almost immediately afterward, redirected themselves towards other people in the group. Psh! Theo stirred the ice in his glass. I was hoping for something more dramatic. Haven't you got a redhead to pursue? Draco asked, making a dismissive shoeing motion. I have. But first I require courage in liquid form. She's with the French delegation and is almost certainly too good for me. Theo tipped his chin towards the healers. Narcissa had moved on, leaving Granger beside a striking redhead witch. I'm not even convinced she speaks English, he added. I voulé voucou shiaVick moi. Theo repeated the phrase with touching sincerity and an accent so appalling that Draco nearly winst. Bit direct, Theo decided. Still, perhaps I will.

31:08When it goes disastrously wrong, I'll blame you. Teller you assured me at meant she had lovely hair. Do not say my name anywhere near Granger. I would prefer that she forget I exist. Far too late for that. Theo pushed away from the bar, looking increasingly pleased with himself. Actually, I rather like this plan. It makes me look sweet and innocent, and you look like a dickhead. Draco reached for his sleeve, but the fabric slipped neatly through his fingers. Which is, of course, the natural order of things, Theo called over his shoulder. Draco considered the moral implications of firing a quick, tongue-tying jinx into the back of Theo's head. The trouble with morals was that they wasted valuable time. By the time Draco had finished considering them, Theo had already reached the red-haired witch, and by some slight of hand, acquired two glasses of wine. One he offered to her, the other he extended towards Granger, who declined and lifted her

32:10half-finished champagne instead. Theo said something. Both women laughed. One he adopted a look of theatrical dismay, turned and pointed across the room at Draco with shameless exaggeration. The red-haired witch shook her head, amused. Granger merely looked unimpressed. That was enough. His honor, such as it was, required intervention. Draco snatched up his drink and stalked over. Do not believe a word that comes out of this man's mouth. Theo pressed a hand solemnly to his chest. Draco assured me the phrase meant that I admired your lovely hair. I would never knowingly say anything so ungentlemanly, Mademoiselle. The red-head's amusement deepened. Granger at least regarded Theo with the proper amount of skepticism. She could apparently see straight through his performance. How do I say, would you like to dance, Theo asked? Voulivoudoncy of Ecmoire, Draco and Granger said at exactly the same time.

33:14Theo looked between them. What they said. The red-haired witch studied him for a long moment. At last, she said. Decauld. Theo immediately offered his arm with courtly flourish, supplied some smooth nonsense about strangers in strange lands, and swept her away towards the dance floor. Swav-fuck, Draco muttered. Unctuous, rather, Granger said with a sniff. I can't believe that worked on Salange. Perhaps Salange fancied a bit of English beef for a change. I shall ask her to provide a review of the quality of the beef tomorrow morning. Granger watched Theo's retreating back with a distinctly cynical expression. You must tell me if it was mediocre. She looked at him. Why? Ammunition. You are appalling friends to one another. Granger studied him over the rim of her glass for a moment, then seemed abruptly to remember something important. I'm still angry with you.

34:15Go away. Fine. There were at least a dozen witches in the room who seemed perfectly pleased to have Draco's company. He saw no reason to remain with the single one who apparently regarded it as an imposition. He had barely turned towards the crowd when Granger spoke again this time in French. Since when do you speak French? Her tone made the question sound peculiarly accusatory, as though Draco had concealed the skill specifically to inconvenience her. He turned back and answered in French as well. Since when do you speak French? If anyone was owed an explanation here, it was plainly him. I have family in Houghts-Savoir. The malfoys are from the Loir. Hmm. Granger took a measured sip of champagne and examined him through narrowed eyes. What? Draco demanded. It explains so much. He had switched back to English. So much what? Just.

35:16Granger gestured vaguely at all of him. Everything. Draco had no idea what precisely she was suggesting, but he was quite certain none of it was flattering. Well, Houghts-Savoir explains quite a lot about you. Her expression bristled at once. What is that supposed to mean? Draco returned her gesture, indicating Granger in her entirety as though she were constructed primarily from raclette and an injudicious quantity of vermouth. She planted one hand on her hip. Do you own a chateau? Yes. There. Granger looked triumphantly satisfied as though this answer settled every question she had ever had about his character. Draco scoffed. Psh. You probably do that muggle thing. The one with those long paddles strapped to your feet. Granger regarded him with an expression of exquisitely artificial blankness. Stop pretending to be stupid. It doesn't suit you. Granger widened her eyes with infuriating innocence.

36:18But I genuinely have no idea what you mean. You know exactly what I mean. Xieying. Sying. She maintained the blank expression, though badly. Uncomprehending was clearly not a face Granger had much occasion to practice. Granger never arrives all at once. Verse the air. Then the light. And slowly the things you love begin to find each other. A jacket meets a dress. A hoodie slips beneath a blazer. An old cap finds a new scarf. Because you don't simply step into the season. You create it, layer by layer, until it finally feels like fall. Find fall your way at Ross. Nourished from rack is celebrating 125 years of Nordstrom with 125 of the best deals up to 65% off. In stores and online, we're talking incredible savings on brands you love like Vince, Sam Edelman, Ragnbonne, All Saints and more.

37:18They're only here while supplies last. So shop today. Go into Nourity Club to unlock exclusive discounts. Shop new arrivals first and more. Plus buy online and pick up at your favorite rack store for free. Great brands, great prices. That's why you rack. Skiing, Draco said at last, stabbing a finger in her direction. Granger found her champagne suddenly fascinating. I knew it. He was preparing to interrogate her about alpine geats and whether she spent her holidays getting comprehensively gutted on Geno P when a languid hand settled against his forearm. Luella. Draco, she said, all lashes and soft reproach. You've hardly danced at all. The invitation could scarcely have been clearer. Any properly manned wizard ought to have answered by offering her his arm and leading her onto the floor. Instead, the light drag of Luella's fingers over his sleeve irritated him, as did the hopeful moonlight expression with which she gazed up at him. He simply did not want to.

38:20His hesitation lasted long enough for Luella to notice. She glanced past his shoulder and found Granger standing there. Granger in turn subjected Luella to one of her coolly analytical looks. Oh, Luella said with a small polite gasp. Unless you were already? No, Granger said. Yes, Draco said at exactly the same time. We were just about to. Granger stared at him, then immediately began backing away. Oh no, you two dance, please, enjoy yourselves. Oh, but I couldn't possibly steal your partner. Luella's smile had gone thin and colourless. I'm so sorry to have interrupted. How silly of me. I hadn't seen you. But Luella dismissed Granger's protest with a delicate wave and minced off towards the bar. What are you doing, Granger hissed? Draco took her arm before she could escape, settled it over his own, then removed the half-finished champagne from her hand and deposited it neatly onto a passing floating tray.

39:25You owe me. For what? Have you forgotten me rescuing you from Dr. Watsit? If I'd known this was the price I would have had the drink with Dr. Watsit. Draco ignored that and guided her towards the dance floor. One dance, that's all, keep me out of her clutches. Granger looked around with immediate unease. Your mother is here. And I'm supposed to do good will things, build bridges, improve relations, all that rubbish. But we barely speak under normal circumstances. Does she even know you're working with me? No. Draco glanced at her. And you are working with me. You were assigned to me. Exactly. Granger made an exasperated sound, evidently under the delusion that Draco was the most aggravating creature alive. She was mistaken, of course. That distinction belonged firmly to her. Harry is here.

40:26She tried next as they reached the edge of the dance floor. Excellent. I'll tell Potter I wanted you where I could keep a closer eye on you. Someone was behaving suspiciously. Who? Naturally, she required a full evidentiary basis for a lie he had invented three seconds earlier. Theo. A few meters away, Theo was currently engaged in enthusiastically snogging the red-haired witch. Granger watched them for a moment. And what exactly is not doing that suspicious? That is clearly a diversion tactic, Draco said. You mustn't underestimate him. The only thing I underestimated was Solange's enthusiasm for Lincoln's sausage. Solange's hand had disappeared very decisively towards Theo's crotch. Will you stop gawping and dance? Draco placed both hands at Granger's waist and gave her a small squeeze by way of reminder. After a moment of evident reluctance, she set her hands on his shoulders.

41:29Put some sincerity into it, Granger. He muttered. I spent six hours pretending to be a pilot for you in that pub. This is one bloody dance. You enjoyed pretending to be a pilot. She whispered furiously. I am not enjoying pretending to be whatever it is I'm supposed to be pretending to be for your friend and whatever ridiculous game you're playing with her. To her credit, she did make an effort. Some of the tension left her posture, though Draco could still feel the stiffness held through her hips. Can't you relax? No. I'm dancing with Draco Malfoy, Granger snarled. There is nothing remotely relaxing about this. Draco released a long theatrical sigh. And it isn't a game. Make it look convincing. If my mother notices that I refuse to dance with a very eligible witch only to have a fictitious one with you, I shall never hear the end of it. That argument at least appeared to have some effect. Granger steered them gradually towards the back of the dance floor nearer the wall, letting

42:33other couples move between them and the rest of the room. Why did you turn her down? She asked once they were partially screened from view. She seemed exactly your type. Draco looked at her. That was rather presumptuous. And what precisely is my type, Granger? She considered him with irritating confidence. Well-thee, I assume. Pure blood. Also an assumption. Blonde. Stunningly beautiful. Her mouth twitched. She had to be able to understand the truth. What was especially offensive was that the list was more or less correct. She had omitted certain additional physical qualities Draco usually considered important, though Granger was rarely vulgar enough to mention such things aloud. When he failed to answer, she tilted her head. Am I wrong? Aren't you going to accuse me of making dreadful assumptions? No. Then why? None of your bloody business. He owed her no explanation. More inconveniently, he did not have one.

43:35Hmm. There it was again. That assessing stare. Granger looked at him the way she looked at some particularly obstinate intellectual problem, as though sufficient concentration might eventually force him to yield a useful answer. Stop looking at me as though I'm a maths theorem. To Draco's surprise, she smiled. She changed her face at once, brightening her eyes and pressing a small dimple into her left cheek. The expression vanished almost immediately, but not before it struck him with the brief, startling warmth of sunlight. Malfoy's paradox, she murmured, almost to herself. Draco blinked. I beg your pardon? Nothing. The witch in his arms fell quiet. Basically, Granger remained exactly where she was. The silk at her waist, warm beneath Draco's hands, the slight pressure of her wrists resting against his shoulders. But her attention had gone elsewhere.

44:36Her eyes had taken on that distant inward look, he recognized all too well. Granger was thinking about him. That was alarming. There was, however, one beneficial consequence. With her mind occupied by whatever troublesome line of reasoning she had embarked upon, some of the stiffness left her body. She settled into the rhythm of the dance, almost unconsciously, and Draco no longer felt as though he were attempting to maneuver a plank around the floor. He was, suddenly and inconveniently, dancing with a woman. That proved alarming for entirely different reasons. Granger fit beneath his hands more pleasantly than anyone else he had touched that evening. Granger's return brought another faint trace of her scent, something light and sweet, far subtler than the aggressive clouds of perfumes surrounding Luella and her ilk. The whole thing was unexpectedly agreeable, which would have been perfectly fine if the woman in question had not been Granger for fuck's sake.

45:38Draco promptly straightened his arms and restored a proper distance between them. Granger returned to the present with a faint frown as though whatever thought she had been pursuing had led somewhere unsettling. Hi, said Potter. Both of them jumped. A moment later, Potter's untidy head appeared in the space between them. Excuse me, but what the hell is going on here? Draco answered before Granger had the opportunity. Fuck off and let me do my job, Potter. Potter predictably did not fuck off. Instead he appeared around Draco with renewed suspicion. Why are you keeping her so close? Did you see something? It's not. Granger began. Exactly. Draco said with perfect confidence. He jerked his chin towards Theo. It's not acting suspicious, sniffing around. Potter turned at once. Theo currently had his face buried somewhere in the red haired witch's neck. Potter frowned. I'll take care of him. Harry, it's not.

46:39Granger tried again. Frustration sharpening her voice. It's not. Yes. He interrupted benevolently. I'm on it, Hermione. Potter withdrew to what he presumably imagined was an inconspicuous position within easy striking distance of Theo. Granger's hands shifted on Draco's shoulders until they were considerably nearer his throat. You are the worst. She whispered. Quiet. I want to watch this. Draco repositioned them until they had a satisfactory view of Potter's surveillance. Why not? Why not indeed? I am going to murder you. That's fine. But let me enjoy my revenge first. The next five minutes were among the more gratifying of Draco's evening. Potter shadowed Theo with all the subtlety of an executioner. He glared. He drifted into Theo's path. He managed, with spectacularly implausible accident, to collide with him and spill a drink down the front of his robes.

47:41Whenever Theo relocated, Potter somehow materialized again within a few feet, radiating the sort of hostility one might reasonably associate with a famously accomplished war hero and aura. It did not take long for Theo to notice. At first his confusion was merely visible. Then Potter appeared behind him yet again, and Theo's expression took on the damp, hunted quality of a man beginning to question several recent life choices. Eventually, he released Salange and muttered some excuse to her before staggering across the room towards Draco. Be honest with me, Theo said, speaking with the sole emergency of a man who had consumed far too much alcohol. Because I have had a lot to drink, am I actually snogging a French redhead? Draco regarded him gravely. Or Theo continued lowering his voice. Have I accidentally been getting off with Potter's wife, the Weasley girl? Draco bit the inside of his cheek. Theo glanced nervously over his shoulder.

48:42And is Potter the sort of man who curses someone from behind? Or am I likely to leave this party alive? Fall never arrives all at once. Verse the air, then the light, and slowly the things you love begin to find each other. A jacket meets a dress. A hoodie slips beneath a blazer. An old cap finds a new scarf. Because you don't simply step into the season. You create it, layer by layer, until it finally feels like fall. Find fall your way, at Ross. Nordstrom Rack is celebrating 125 years of Nordstrom with 125 of the best deals up to 65% off in stores and online. We're talking incredible savings on brands you love, like Vince, Sam Edelman, Rack and Bone, all Saints and more. They're only here while supplies last. So shop today. Go into Nordy Club to unlock exclusive discounts. Shop new arrivals first and more. Plus buy online and pick up at your favorite rack store for free.

49:45Great brands, great prices. That's why you rack. With extraordinary magnanimity, Draco pointed him towards the exit. Go. I'll deal with Potter. You're under my protection old chap. Theo gave him a look of drunken gratitude and made for safety. By the time it was over, he had departed alone, bereft of salange and undoubtedly suffering a severe case of blue balls. You are dreadful, Granger said. Draco caught Potter's eye across the room and gave him an approving nod. Job well done. Potter returned a thumbs up and vanished into the crowd. Draco sighed happily. I love Potter. You wind him up, point him at something, and I do hope, Granger cut in, that you find me somewhat harder to manipulate. Draco judged that particular question better left unanswered. Instead, he guided her hips one way than the other, evaluating her dancing with grave attention.

50:46Not terrible, a little stiff, perhaps another champagne would help. I meant metaphorically, and you know perfectly well that I did. If anything, she became even more rigid beneath his hands. I don't think you're quite as gung-ho as Potter. Draco allowed. More was the pity. But still over zealous. High strung, perhaps. I am not high strung, Granger said, in a voice of remarkable intensity. There was a pause. You make me high strung, she amended. You are infuriating. Absolute tosh. I'm charming. Debener. Magnetic. Draco drew himself up slightly. I can't cross a room without witches practically falling into my lap. Tis. It's true. Look around. Granger did. Unfortunately for her argument, the evidence was abundant. Amandine, Rosalie, Luella, and several other witches dancing nearby were all casting long,

51:48unmistakable glances in Draco's direction. Granger regarded the display with skepticism. Do they want your name, your money, or the inexpressible delight of your company? All three. I'm a triple threat. You certainly are. Draco was preparing to accept this rare compliment when Granger lifted one hand and began counting off on her fingers. Tension headaches, heart palpitations, general chaos. Draco scoffed. If you didn't wander around carrying awful in your pockets so you could negotiate with hags, I wouldn't have to be such an imposition. You give me tension headaches. Why can't your galavanting ever involve safe little teas and meetings about orphans? Granger scoffed in return. Safe little teas. You fled your mother's last tea unless you've forgotten. I remember perfectly well. Draco grimaced. Straight from one cover of hags into another. Granger's expression turned thoughtful.

52:49Still, she said, if my next bit of galavanting involved tea and ladies, your absence would be practically guaranteed. I could avoid you altogether. Draco looked at her. When. Belten. Where? Malphoy Manor. The tea parlour. There is no tea parlour at the manor. No? No. Granger waved the objection away. Fine. Wherever the ladies congregate in the greatest numbers with the greatest quantity of orphans, her mouth twitched. Do you think I should patent this? Patent what? My recipe for Malphoy repellent. I think there might be a market for it. That market would consist entirely of you. Draco glanced around the room with satisfaction. There's considerably more demand for Malphoy attractant, I should think, though good luck working out the formula. Granger followed his gaze towards the assortment of witches who continued to cast him lingering looks.

53:49You may have a point. I always have a point. Bums, she said. Draco frowned. I beg your pardon. For the attractant formula. He considered this. Yes. Bums and failing to invite you anywhere. Those seem to be the two essential ingredients if one wishes to guarantee your appearance. Having tracking devices probably helps as well. Telling you to go away certainly does. Granger gave him a look. You are a contrarian of the highest order, and I still want to know how you tracked me to Uffington without the ring by the way. Dousing rods. It pleased Draco enormously that she did not reject this outright. Her brow furrowed for several seconds while she genuinely considered the possibility. Then her eyes narrowed. Fire. Tell me about Beltane. Granger's expression shifted as she enthusiastically put her newly developed theory of reverse psychology

54:50into practice. You are very extremely intensely invited. I would give worlds for you to attend. Nothing could possibly make me happier. Excellent. I shall also remove my ring just to ensure your presence. Draco went still. The sparkle in Granger's eyes gave her away. You think you're funny, he said. If you break the one-way spell work again, I shall be cross, and this time I won't fix it. She looked at him curiously. You say that as though it's some dreadful threat. It is. How? Do you really want that ring transmitting every variation in my heart rate directly to you? I thought you calibrated it so you only received dangerous extremes. I did. Do you know how to calibrate it from your end? No. Exactly. Draco gave her a pointed look. You don't want to feel every exertion I make and spend your time wondering what the fuck

55:51I'm doing. Or who? Er. Granger recoiled from him slightly. Noted. The music they had only approximately been dancing to faded away. A moment later Augustine De La Quaz magically amplified voice carried across the rose room, thanking his guests for their attendance. Draco glanced towards the center of the room. What did you cure the bloke of anyway? Healer patient confidentiality, Granger said with a reproving tut. I can't tell you. He had asked only from idle curiosity, but something in her answer caught his attention. The mirth had vanished from her eyes. Whatever lay behind them had shuttered itself away with familiar efficiency. She was occluding again. Before Draco could give the change much consideration, De La Quaz continued. To increasingly enthusiastic applause, he announced that between the family's own contribution and the money raised that evening, they had doubled their original target.

56:55The De La Quaz ward would become a reality. A great cheer swept the room. Hundreds of champagne glasses materialized at head height, hovering within easy reach as guests plucked them from the air. Crys of cheers and santae rose over the applause. Granger happened to be beside him, so Draco caught one of the floating glasses and touched it lightly against hers. The next moment a surge of healers engulfed them both. There was clapping, excited embraces, kisses exchanged from cheek to cheek, and enough enthusiastic chinking of glasses to make the room sound momentarily crystalline. Granger was drawn at once into the celebration, exclaiming along with her colleagues over how wonderful the news was, how extraordinary the ward would be, how many people it would help, how many lives might be changed. Draco gradually allowed himself to drift out of the group. This belonged to Granger and the healers, not to him. As he slipped away, he looked back once.

57:56Granger had caught both hands of another healer and was spinning with her beneath the softened lights, laughing as they celebrated. Her eyes were bright, her whole face open with uncomplicated joy. She looked lovely. Draco spends an extraordinary amount of effort in this chapter explaining Draco to Draco. He knows what he wants, he knows his type, he knows why he came to the party. He even has a fairly efficient plan for the evening, find an attractive witch, see whether there's any chemistry, solve the problem he's been complaining about, go home happy, and then the actual evidence begins refusing to cooperate. That's what makes his reaction to Granger so funny. He doesn't suddenly become romantic or even particularly self-aware, quite the opposite. He gets annoyed, she's distracting him so he calls it professional vigilance. He keeps watching her. So obviously that's because she's his principal.

58:58He doesn't want to dance with Luella, but somehow dancing with Granger is perfectly sensible because it gets him out of an awkward situation. Every explanation is technically available to him, and he grabs each one before he has to consider the much simpler possibility sitting underneath all of them. Granger naming it Malfoy's paradox is almost cruelly accurate, because she's noticed the contradiction before he has. Here is a man surrounded by women who fit the description of what he supposedly wants, and he's bored. Then Granger asks him what his type is and more or less gets it right. Well-thee, beautiful, blonde, pure blood, the expected answer. Draco can't even argue with her. What he also can't explain is why none of those things seem to matter tonight. And then there's that tiny shift during the dance. Granger stops fighting the situation for a moment because she's thinking, and Draco immediately notices how she feels in his hands. He notices her perfume.

59:58He notices that dancing with her is suddenly different from dancing with everyone else. His response is to physically move her farther away. That may be my favorite reaction in the chapter. Not leaning closer, not doing something dramatic. Just absolutely not. This is Granger. Increase the distance. There's also something pleasantly messy about the fact that neither of them behaves particularly gracefully around the other. They irritate each other into honesty. Granger can puncture Draco's vanity in about three words, and Draco can drag her from composed professionalism into bickering almost instantly. Yet underneath all of that, they're paying very close attention to one another. By the end, Draco quietly leaves Granger to celebrate with the other healers, but he looks back. And after an entire evening spent trying to find a woman he wanted, the last thing he notices is simply that Granger looks lovely. Fall never arrives all at once.

1:01:01Verse the air. Then the light. And slowly the things you love begin to find each other. A jacket meets a dress. A hoodie slips beneath a blazer. An old cap finds a new scarf. Because you don't simply step into the season. You create it layer by layer until it finally feels like fall. Find fall your way at Ross.