Found | Dramione

1 0 - An Unexpected Invitation

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

-Dark Paradise, Lana Del Rey

Ginny had lied to her.

How could Hermione have ever believed that Draco was remotely interested in her? She had been excited to go back to the Ministry on Monday and chat with her elusive coworker. Five failed attempts at a simple conversation and Draco still hadn't said a single word. Hermione puzzled over possible ways to catch his attention. Nothing else seemed to work—when she asked for a Daily Prophet he had been reading, he merely flicked his wand to float it across the room and make the paper land neatly on her desk.

He hadn't even bothered to look at her. Hermione had to admit that it stung. Their friendship had been slowly building itself up, but when Draco saw Ron at the coffee ship things had come crashing down. Their precariously constructed house of cards, fallen in a split second. She redirected her attention to an article on her desk, chewing on the end of her quill as she began to scheme.

Draco allowed himself one more glance at her. Just one. Then he'd keep researching. Hermione was the only thing that kept him from walking out of the bloody office. The Goyle case seemed hopeless; they were more desperate for clues than the Weasleys were for Galleons. He was tempted to throw down the file in his hands with an exasperated groan, but the masculine desire to keep his strong front up won the battle. Dear Merlin was this case boring. Besides the revelation that Goyle was poisoning Muggle-borns and half-bloods whenever it tickled his fancy, there were no other leads. They didn't even know the name of the toxin the murderous bastard was using.

He was surprised that they hadn't figured it out yet. When the two of them managed to work together without arguing, it was a wonder to behold. Pieces fell into place faster than he would have ever dreamed, every placement precise and meticulously made after excited conversations of brainstorming. Draco felt his heart flutter at the thought. He frowned, dashing out a quick note to himself to see a healer at St. Mungo's and get it checked out. Years of Quidditch had left him healthy and strong, so it was unusual for Draco to come down with an illness of any kind. Draco shrugged off the worry of getting sick; the only thing wrong with him was his mind. The haze of envy made it hard to pay attention during the weekend and he found that Firewhisky wasn't particularly good at dispelling the fog that clouded his brain. In fact, it seemed to only enhance the despair he was feeling.

Bloody hell, something really was wrong if he was jealous of Ron Weasley. He was Draco fucking Malfoy, for goodness' sake. He had everything one could ever desire.

But he wanted her, and she most definitely didn't want him. Although Hermione had tried to converse with him multiple times, Draco knew that it was just her tender heart and Gryffindor kindness talking. She pitied him and he couldn't stand it. He didn't deserve to be the subject of anyone's thoughts, much less worries.

Draco began scanning his notes for what felt like the hundredth time that day, desperate to replace his thoughts of Hermione with mind-numbing charts and articles. He knew it wouldn't work. She was like a drug and he was a man possessed by her gentle smile. A smile that was almost never for him. Hermione was probably saving her best grins for Weasley, he thought bitterly. As if the redhead was worthy of them.

Unbeknownst to the brooding blonde, Hermione was staring at him. She had thrown together a plan to get Draco to talk to her. For Merlin's sake, even if he looked at her she would be content. She nervously twisted her butterfly pendant, then cleared her throat loudly. There was no backing down now. As she expected, he didn't stir from his notes.