Chapter Text
Hermione's fingers tighten around the stem of her champagne glass, observing the group of people in front of her.
Four months. That's all the time it took for Harry to meet Pansy Parkinson again, fall in love, propose, and plan a wedding.
Four. Months.
He hadn’t sought approval from Ron and herself, but mentioned he hoped that they valued his happiness above the rest of it. And she does, but four months? She would've at least liked to have gotten to know Pansy a bit more. But she supposes that they'll have the rest of their lives for that.
Her own personal reservations aside, she is happy for her best friend. Harry’s been on an upswing ever since their reunion, and while she briefly wondered if he had been snuck some amortentia, she knew deep down that wasn’t the case.
Pansy was kinder now, softened from the pick-me bully she had been in school. She often invited Hermione and Ron out for drinks, putting in the effort with not just her beau but his closest friends. Hermione appreciated the gesture then, but even more so when the olive branch grew to include Pansy’s friends as well.
Her initial thought the first time Draco and Theo joined was that they had grown taller and fit. To say that she was shocked is putting it lightly.
The night that changed everything, they’d just come back from work to join an impromptu get-together per Harry and Pansy’s request.
“I know we’re waiting for a few others, but Harry and I have some news to share with you being our closest friends!”
Hermione stares at them then glances over to Draco and Theo, the two of them looking completely knackered from their latest trip. They both comically scrub their hands over their faces as if they know Pansy is up to something. Ron straightens up, looking between her and Harry.
“Last night, I asked Pansy to marry me. And she said yes!” Harry announces with a toothy grin, completely oblivious to the surprised and confused expressions of everyone else around the table. There’s a deafening silence and Hermione shifts awkwardly in her chair.
“You bloody what?” Draco asks with his brow furrowed, the first to break the silence.
“I need a drink,” Theo mutters beside her, though not nearly quietly enough, and Pansy’s face falls. In an attempt to save himself, he plasters on a wide smile. “We all do, to celebrate!”
“I'll help you,” Hermione offers.
They both jump off their chairs and move towards the bar. She orders a round of champagne while he orders shots of Ogden’s finest Firewhisky. Their eyes meet and she raises her eyebrows while he offers a tired shrug.
“Slytherin tradition for those that have gone fucking mental.”
She laughs as they move back to the table, levitating the two trays. Pansy is nervously tapping her nails against the table while Ron and Draco seem to be having a staring contest. Theo clears his throat and passes out the drinks, making the others raise their own eyebrows at the odd choices of poison.
“A toast to the lovely couple. I wish you everlasting happiness as you go absolutely barking mad together.”
Hermione winces, unsure of how Pansy will react and half expecting her to throw a fit, but the woman lets out a laugh and kisses Harry on the cheek as she raises her glass.
Blimey, she’s going to need to figure out how to read these Slytherins soon.
It had turned out that this union would end up bringing more business to her small potions shop at Pansy’s recommendation through her dozen various social circles. Draco and Theo in particular stopped by fairly often, restocking their stores after a case.
Most times that she saw them they’d looked absolutely knackered, but tonight they look refreshed, and dangerously more handsome than they usually do. Until she sees them knocking back their champagne rather quickly while Luna and Ginny are chattering in her ear. She turns the other way, trying to focus on admiring all of the work that Pansy and Daphne have put into the rehearsal dinner, no doubt with a little help from Narcissa.
It still baffles her how they’re all here for a wedding as she takes in her company. The Weasleys and Malfoys getting along without a hint of animosity towards one another (save for the occasional snide joke between Draco and Ron), Neville and Blaise Zabini are having a conversation about herbology, then Luna and Daphne are discussing who knows what.
Part of it really warms her Head Girl heart, to see so many different houses brought together by a rather odd pairing when all she’s ever cared about is Harry’s happiness. The pure look of joy and adoration on his face has her smiling, taking in the view once again.
Until she lands on Draco and Theo, who have started to make their way towards the bar. She may have only started to really know them the past couple of months but she can tell when they’re about to overindulge in spirits. And she’s not about to let them ruin the rehearsal dinner by getting drunk and having a flying contest off the castle’s parapets or something equally asinine.
Draco tries to keep his cringing to a minimum for Pansy's sake but the second that bagpipes flare to life, he nudges Theo's leg, motioning to the bar under the garden pergola. The rehearsal has barely even started but this is already too much. They quickly escape as Hagrid's hound starts to howl alongside him.
“Why did they pick Ireland? There are plenty of castles in England that don't have bagpipes laying around for guests to play.”
Theo chuckles and orders them both some firewhisky. “There are so many questions that I have. The first being, how the fuck are we even here?”
He hums, weighing his answer as he tips the glass to his lips, gaze flitting around to catch on the occasional guest of note. “Inter-house bonding,” he says dryly. “Leave it to Parks and Potter to rope in the lot of us.” It hasn’t escaped his notice that several of their peers are in a similar way, conversations stilted while struggling to broach an appropriate topic. Lucky for them, they were eased into it a bit more than others thanks to being childhood friends with Pansy.
“If only we could have left it with them,” Theo mutters before throwing back his glass in one swig.
The action draws the attention of Hermione mingling a ways away, her eyes cutting in on Theo ordering another. She makes some excuse to some of the dozen Weasleys in attendance before making her way toward them with purpose.
If Draco were feeling kind, he’d label it a graceful stomp.
She marches straight to Theo, pausing to give Draco the briefest nod in greeting, then pokes his companion square in the center of his chest. “We may all be wondering when the happy couple went mad, but do not ruin this by getting sloshed before everyone’s even arrived!”
Draco watches with mild interest as a myriad of emotions move over Theo's face.
“Granger, if you simply wanted to touch me, all you had to do was ask,” Theo drawls, his voice dropping an octave.
He wants to laugh at the way it leaves her flustered - he's seen plenty of women and men strip out of their clothes after hearing that tone - but a brief pang of jealousy flares up when her eyes quickly check Theo out.
“Please. Don't get drunk before dinner.” Her eyes drift to his new glass of firewhisky.
“Only because the way you say please really does something for me.”
“Would you two like to get a room?” Draco interjects before she rolls her eyes at Theo and walks away, probably to chastise someone else into not drinking to the point where this wedding makes sense.
His friend chuckles, leaning against the bar top as Draco watches her walk to a different set of friends. “Her and Weasley broke up months ago. Mate, if you don't act on it then I will. Weddings are the perfect aphrodisiac.”
“What are you playing at, Nott?”
Theo licks his lips, eyes darting back towards Hermione where she's standing next to Potter, her dress hugging her in all the right places. “A friendly fire under your arse is all. That dress is begging to end up on some bloke’s floor - may as well be mine.”
Draco’s jaw clenches, tightening the grip on his glass. “The hell it will if you want to keep all your teeth.”
“There he is!” Theo cheers quietly, clapping him on the shoulder. “I was beginning to think she’d gotten your knickers in such a twist you’d never come out again.”
A few people turn and stare at Theo's clapping, his shoulder paying the price as they start to turn back to their own conversations.
“Fuck you.”
“Now, now, Draco. Think of it as a friendly competition.”
He squeezes the crystal in his hand so hard that he hears it crack. Sliding it away and ordering another, he narrows his eyes and stares at his friend.
“Are you proposing a bet, Theodore?”
He's thrown back to fourth year when Theo, Blaise and himself were trying their hardest to get Pansy as their date to the Yule Ball. He prevailed then, he should be able to do it again now.
Theo hums, giving off his most devious look he can muster before sipping his drink.
Draco glances over to Hermione, her head tossed back as she laughs during a conversation with her ex Weasley and Daphne. Another surge of jealousy flares to life in him and unfortunately, he feels like he will be sloshed by the time dinner rolls around at this rate.
“Name your terms.”
Theo raises a brow, but makes no comment about how easily he acquiesces. “Nothing outlandish to offend the lady. A kiss will do, a prize in and of itself.” He pauses to take a pull from his glass, contemplative smirk on his lips. “Sabotage is encouraged if not expected.”
It may be a horrible idea that ends up destroying the tentative friendship he’s built with Hermione, but the firewhisky thrumming in his veins says the opposite, liquid courage to finally act on his desire. She happens to glance over and meet his gaze - probably to keep a chaperoning eye on them, he recognizes. But rather than a chastising glare at their continued drinking, she smiles.
When he turns back to Theo - knowing smirk on his face, the prick - he knocks their glasses together. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
As he stands next to Longbottom at the back of the practice processional, Theo knows he should botch the bet and let Draco win. The two of them are paired up in front of him, the height difference a bit comical even with her heels, but they look good together. It's been fucking years since his best friend accidentally told him his darkest secret of having an unrequited crush on one Hermione Granger, and he’s downright fed up with waiting for him to make a move.
In the past four months of this whirlwind of a romance between Potter and Pansy, his friend had become more panicked about it while they were on a mission deep in the Alps. He remembers freezing his bollocks off while looking through some omnioculars with Draco tracking their traced targets on a map, yapping about forced interactions with their former classmate.
He briefly remembers making a raunchy joke involving bringing Hermione along to Liechtenstein and doing some licking of his own.
Theo snorts while looking at the ground, ignoring whatever rehearsal bullshit is going on while he stands in his designated spot behind Draco on Pansy's side of the bridal party and thinking back to that entire trip.
He suddenly feels multiple sets of eyes on him.
Oh. The sound was that loud.
Glancing up, he notices Hermione staring at him with her lips slightly parted and then Pansy's fear-inducing glare from where she's standing next to Daphne, having been deep in conversation. Theo clears his throat and they all return back to the boring nonsense again but Hermione's eyes are now narrowed at him.
As much as Theo wants to tell her that he's technically behaving and not at all drunk - which he's not, thank you very much, just buzzed - he decides to wink at her instead. Her cheeks flush that pretty pink like they did earlier and that's when Theo realizes that he'd actually like a chance to win the bet.
His moral compass has never really pointed true North. He loves Draco more than he does most people on this Earth but fuck if he doesn't want to know how Hermione tastes. All the years of Draco's pining have opened up Theo's eyes, finding her attractive in so many different ways.
Especially with how her dress clings to her curves, Merlin help him. The bet was supposed to be a nudge to get Draco moving in the right direction, but, well. He may as well make the most of it. And on top of that, Theo sincerely hopes Pansy picked the most hideous bridesmaid's dresses known to exist to hide that pert arse from his line of view tomorrow.
***
An hour or so later after the necessary bullshit of being told where he'll need to stand tomorrow, they're finally at dinner. His stomach growls quietly but thankfully there's wine to hold him off.
In the spirit of house unity and bonding of Potter's and Pansy's closest friends, they're seated in a way that promotes it - Hermione is seated between himself and Daphne while Draco is sandwiched between Weasley and Longbottom.
Clearly he's in the more favorable position.
After shooting his sour friend a wink, he leans close to the woman of their shared affection and speaks low enough for only her to hear. “I didn’t get the opportunity to tell you before you were assaulting me, but you look exquisite, Granger. I believe it’s considered an offense to upstage the bride.”
Her flush, though subtle, doesn’t escape his notice and he adds a mark to his side of the tally.
“I don’t know whether I need to take that with a grain of salt seeing as you and Draco have surely split nearly a full bottle of firewhisky by now,” is what she settles on, her earlier admonishment still ringing in his ear.
“I've always known you would like to watch,” Theo says cheekily, surprising a breathy laugh out of her.
Hermione licks her lips, as if in contemplation, and angles herself towards him slightly while conversations continue on around them. “And what, exactly, gives you the idea that I am into voyeurism?”
Theo raises his eyebrows, taking his time to take a healthy sip of his wine, watching as her eyes dart to his mouth then his throat.
A loud scrape against a plate captures their attention, noticing that Draco violently stabbed into his salad. He didn't think it was possible that she could blush even more, but there it is.
Her eyes lock with Draco's before she quickly snags her own wine glass and looks anywhere else in the room besides either of them.
Draco has the gall to send him a cheeky wink and happily takes a bite. Longbottom leans to the side to tell the blonde something, which in turn has Draco slowly sliding the fork away from his mouth. And it seems that he's not the only one affected by the distraction.
Hermione drains her glass and sets it down rather loudly, causing Pansy and Harry to glance over.
“Need a refill, Hermione?” Harry asks.
“Please,” she says tightly and Theo swallows a smirk as he reaches forward to fill her glass. If she’s this easily flustered already, he can’t wait to really make her lose her head later.
“Keep your wits about yourself, we don’t want you to be the one to send the wedding tits up - that’s my job.”
The faux admonishment gets him an eyeroll but her lips curl up in a small grin that she fails to hide behind the rim of her wineglass before setting it back on the table. “Oh, shut it. You can’t blame me for wanting to keep the hedonist under control.”
“Darling, if you want to keep me on a short leash, all you need to do is ask.”
“You don't peg me as a submissive, Nott.”
“I can be anything you want, Granger.”
A clang disrupts their eye contact and Pansy's shrieking stops everyone's conversations. “Draco! Are you pissed right now?”
Theo rubs his thumb against the stem of his wine glass, stifling his laughter, staring at Draco as he fumes and inhales sharply.
“No, Parks, I'm not. But do excuse me.”
At that, he leaves the table with a dramatic toss of his napkin and he can see the wrath in Hermione's eyes from when she threatened them earlier. It looks like she's about to stand to chase after him, most likely to scold him, but he boldly places a hand on her thigh before she can move. Her skin feels like velvet against his palm and Theo holds back a groan in the back of his throat.
“He just needs to cool off. It's a bit warm in here, no?”
Hermione had begun to suspect something during the rehearsal.
They’ve all been friendly enough for the past few months. A round or three at the Leaky after a difficult case, the occasional dinner when they can spare the time and effort.
But Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott glaring daggers at one another if either one spent more than 30 seconds by her side was a decidedly new development.
At first it was easy to brush off, merely Draco complimenting her dress when they were paired for their turn during the processional. The situation took a severe, sharp turn, however, when they reached the top of the aisle and parted, his hand trailing ever so slowly down her spine.
Then the dinner, good Godric.
Theo had spent the entire meal making either salacious innuendos or downright explicit… Suggestions? Requests? She couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that she wasn’t strictly opposed.
But now, as she watches them from the terrace, they seem perfectly fine. Ever the cool natured partners and best mates as they stand with Pansy and Harry away from everyone else.
She's determined more than ever to discover what's going on with the two of them.
Capturing a new glass of champagne, she moves down the steps and struts along the grass, two sets of eyes glancing down towards her legs. But when she reaches them, Hermione is suddenly aware that they're away from everyone due to the curling bits of smoke she sees in everyone's hands, including Harry's.
As if he can read her mind, he shrugs and thumbs the end of it. “I'm more of a social smoker, Hermione. No need to fuss about my health.”
Pansy laughs lightly and leans over, kissing his cheek. “I'm afraid us Slytherins tend to be bad examples. This time, you can blame these two, however” She points her cigarette at Draco and Theo. Hermione notices that she has hers in an ivory and gold holder, probably to avoid any nicotine on her fingers since curse-breaking requires a sensitive touch.
Eyes trailing to the bad influences, she suddenly finds her mouth dry at the sight of them. They've shed their coats, wand holsters over their chests and shirts unbuttoned at their throats while Draco's sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.
“You're hooked on cigarettes, Pans. We like to indulge in kreteks and cigars.” Draco winks towards her.
She barely manages a hum before tipping her glass to her lips now that she's suddenly parched, still looking at the two of them as Harry continues discussing a case they had been working on.
Hermione first glances at Theo and the way he flicks ashes into the wind, rubbing his thumb along the paper. Then she moves towards Draco, his hand coming up so he can take a hit. She swallows roughly when his lips purse to blow out smoke rings, then at the way he runs his tongue over his bottom lip when he's done.
God, their attention has her mind in a whole different place tonight.
“Would you like one?” Theo asks, pulling her from her daydreams.
Hermione scrunches up her nose. “No thanks, I don't particularly care for the taste.”
“Have you ever tried a kretek?" All eyes are on her and she shakes her head. “Draco hand rolls ours and they taste better than your average cigarette.”
“Is that true?”
Draco nods and pulls a case out of his pocket, flicking open the silver embossed top so she can grab one. “Be honest. I promise not to be offended,” he teases.
Harry looks amused and brings his own to his lips. “They are good.”
She steps closer and plucks one up, smiling a bit when she realizes she can now be just as seductive as they are. Draco pulls out a muggle lighter and clicks it on, a flame bursting from it as she leans forward.
His hand comes up to shelter the flame from the breeze and their eyes meet as she inhales, his finger discreetly moving against her cheek. Draco smirks at the contact and she swears that his pupils dilate a little bit.
Hermione straightens back once it's lit and releases a shaky breath.
“Well?” Draco asks, taking a pull from his own.
“Undecided but I'll let you know how it tastes once I'm finished.” She lifts her eyebrows playfully until he smirks in return, his eyes giving her body a full look over.
Theo cuts in, giving Draco a bit of a side eye that no one else seems to notice. “You have to make sure you savor the flavor, let it really roll around on your tongue. You should taste a little sweetness on the paper.”
Before the two of them can continue glaring at each other much more, a bright and wistful voice fills the terrace.
“Theodore!” They all turn until they see Luna waving at him from the bar. “You have a floo call, it seems urgent.”
Hermione glances back at Theo as Pansy hisses at him about work calls at her wedding. She wants to laugh at the confusion on his face until his eyes cut to Draco who offers him a challenging raise of his eyebrow.
Now she definitely knows something is going on between the two of them.
Theo vanishes his smoke with a snap of his fingers then pushes his crystal glass into Draco's hand.
“Cheers,” Draco says a bit too gleefully, raising the glass.
Suddenly she remembers them clinking their glasses together earlier at the bar and her suspicions become a little less hazy. The childish behavior, sneaking glances and smug smirks when they thought no one was looking. They must have made a bet.
About her.
It’s the only explanation for why they keep alternating who’s attached at her hip at any given moment. She’d probably be furious if she weren’t admittedly enjoying their company.
Bringing the kretek to her lips once more, she takes a long pull, smiling inwardly when Draco’s eyes follow the movement of her chest rising with the breath.
Well, three can play at that game.
Harry and Pansy are called away, leaving him alone with Hermione for the first time this evening. His eyes notice every small thing about her, from the way her lips wrap around the kretek to the way she sips her champagne.
All of it stirs something within him and he's getting slightly uncomfortable in his dress pants.
“So, Granger. How's the potions business coming along?”
She moves closer and licks her lips, her lipstick staying pristine through the motion. “It's going well. Business is a bit hectic but I have noticed you haven't stopped by lately.”
Draco swears her eyelashes flutter coquettishly and he drains the last of Theo's firewhisky before the glass vanishes from his hand.
“I'm due for a rather large restock, actually.” He brings the kretek to his lips, just for something to do rather than assault her with his mouth. “Our last mission ate up a lot of my resources.”
Hermione's glass vanishes before her hand gently rests on his forearm, the heat nearly burning him to his core. He's so fucked.
“Was it dangerous?”
Was she actually concerned for his well being?
“No more than usual, just troublesome. Why, worried about me?”
“Yes,” she admits openly, giving his forearm a gentle squeeze. “Are you still surprised by that?”
He doesn’t believe a time will come where he isn’t surprised by that, no.
“Don’t fret, Theo takes good care.”
“Does he now? He’s too busy licking your wounds that you two can’t pop by and let a girl know you’re still alive every now and again?”
If she only fucking knew, he thinks. Her poor choice of words rocket him back to when their mark had nearly made them in a Muggle club, and they’d narrowly evaded her attention because he’d had just enough sense to press Theo against a wall and snog him like their lives depended on it.
By the time they had come up for air, the target was long gone, he and his best mate were both half-hard, and they’d agreed not to mention it again.
“Point taken,” he settles on eventually, maneuvering his arm in order to take her hand in his. “We’ll be sure to come by more often.”
“You do know that you can also come by alone, right?”
Hermione Granger is going to be the death of him if she continues to purr her concerns out. Fucking Gryffindors and their bleeding hearts.
“Do you want me to come?”
Why do you do this to yourself, Malfoy?
She laces their fingers together then leans closer pulling his kretek to her mouth, hers seeming to have vanished at some point, then takes a long pull from it. If he wasn't hard before, he definitely is now.
“I wouldn't have mentioned it if I didn't want you to.” Licking her lips, she meets his eyes and smiles. “I think I like the taste after all.”
He barely manages to stifle a groan. “Then by all means, you know where to find me when you’re after more.”
“About that…” Hermione releases a breath and takes a step closer. “I was wondering if, after we’re all finished tonight, you’d like to meet me in my room?”
Her request is a shock and Draco tightens his grip on her hand. If he tries to speak, he knows that an embarrassing sound is likely to come out instead of a seductive tone like Theo’s or the one he was just using. He's wanted this for years and all he's reduced to is a nod.
“Room 307,” she says with a smile before leaning forward to take another puff from his kretek.
Theo is heading down the hall to meet Draco back out on the terrace, irritated by the floo call and in desperate need of a night cap.
He feels like he's lost ground in their little bet, considering the way she was watching the two of them smoking and Theo knows that they're both damn good with their hands.
Reaching up, he undoes another button on his shirt. The castle feels stifling as he grumbles to himself, oblivious to those passing him by. Theo turns around the corner onto the patio, looking through the small groups of people for the platinum blonde that he’s known all his life. After a few minutes of searching, he spies Draco and Hermione where he left them but now they’re completely alone.
As soon as he takes a step in their direction, she leans forward and Theo’s heart clenches just a tiny bit. He should’ve known that his friend would make a move while they’re totally alone and he’s happy that the man finally got her attention.
He moves back inside towards the bar and sits in the corner, wondering why he feels like someone kicked a kneazle in the face after seeing them together.
Seemingly impervious to alcohol, today of all days when he’s needed it most, he orders one last serving of firewhisky. Tapping his signet ring against the glass, he thinks back to the floo call about his father in Azkaban and glares at the bar top. He doesn’t notice a pair of eyes finding him from across the room until someone sits next to him and he turns away, wanting some alone time to sulk in his feelings.
“Theo, there you are.” He barely notices that it’s Hermione but then a dainty hand settles onto his arm. “Are you okay?”
Glancing over, he puts on his best smile and shrugs. “Well, now I am. What can I do for you, Granger?” He motions to the bartender and orders a glass of ridiculously expensive vintage white wine for her.
She murmurs her thanks to the man and swirls the glass, taking a sniff afterwards. “I was just wanting to tell you my thoughts on the kretek.”
This captures his attention. Hermione turns towards him and crosses her legs, her calf caressing the side of his.
“Do tell.”
Hermione takes a sip of the wine, humming in approval. “You were right. After savoring the flavor and letting it roll around on my tongue, I did quite enjoy it.”
He smirks and takes a long sip of his own drink, admiring her lips.
Fuck. No. Stop that.
“I quite enjoy being told that I'm right. Doesn't happen often.”
She smiles and fingers the stem of her glass, a hint of pink popping up on her cheeks. Hermione shifts in her seat, almost as if she's uncomfortable.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like I'm the most beautiful woman in this room.”
“Because you are the most extraordinarily beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on.”
He really needs to get a grip. This woman was literally within range of Draco's lips not that long ago. That thought alone is equal to a bucket of ice water being thrown in his face.
Her lips part as she shakes her head, fingers grasping the wine glass. “You are quite the smooth talker, Theo.”
It makes him snort and he throws back the rest of his drink. “Alas, another moment where no one believes anything I say.” He stands and motions for the check, ready to sign off their drinks to his room.
Hermione looks alarmed and sits up straighter. “Are you heading up already?”
Theo hums, signing his name with a flourish. He knows he's being incredibly rude and that he'd receive a smack to the back of his head by Narcissa and Pansy if they saw his behavior towards Hermione, but it's painful trying to keep his flirty comments to himself.
“Big day tomorrow. I need my beauty sleep.” He turns and smiles at her then leans down to kiss her cheek, his brain finally remembering his etiquette training.
“I was hoping to invite you back to mine after I finished this glass,” she murmurs in his ear.
Pulling back, he looks down into her eyes and the way she smiles before digging her teeth into her bottom lip.
“You and Draco…” he lets it trail off into a question to which Hermione shakes her head, and a foolish hopefulness fades back into view. "You're sure?”
She drains her glass of its contents and stands, her chest brushing up against his. “Absolutely.”