That Can Be Arranged: A Dramione Fan Fiction

That Can Be Arranged

TAGS: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | Hogwarts Eighth Year | POV Draco Malfoy | Hidden Rooms | Forced Proximity | Mutual Pining | Only One Sofa | Smut | Erotic Eye Contact | Even Hogwarts Ships It

CHAPTER COUNT: One shot

AUTHOR NOTE: Thank you for reading! I post to AO3 first and share visuals on Twitter (xdarkofthemoon) and Tumblr (darkofthemoonfic). Would love if you said hi xx

Draco turned into the north corridor, heading towards the astronomy tower, when he realized he was going the wrong way. Which was impossible. He'd been walking these halls for over seven years now. Spent time as a Prefect, a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, and now, as a repeat seventh year who liked to avoid crowded areas. The younger students called them Eighth Years as an insult. He'd been called worse.

The castle played tricks, particularly with the stairs, but in the last few months it had started to move entire hallways. To lock doors that he intended to open and open doors he'd never seen before. It was late. He'd hoped to sneak up to the telescopes to confirm a few star movements for his essay To take advantage of the empty tower and breathe in the crisp spring air to get over his aversion to that particular location. Instead he was in an unfamiliar, narrow corridor lined with paintings of potions ingredients. Colorful blooms of aconite and lily of the valley in golden frames beside darker still life paintings of jars of boomslang skin and dragon's blood and gillyweed. The floor was stone covered with a rich, green rug running down the hall to a single dark, oak door.

With a sigh, he tore his eyes from the art and approached it. He barely had to turn around to know that the castle had once again shifted, leaving a dead end on the other side. And he'd barely opened said door before he was greeted by curly hair on the other side.

"Wait, Malfoy, don't shut the—" it slammed behind him "—door."

Draco turned back and grasped the knob, turning it with force. There was no give. He tried an alohamora to no avail.

"Don't you think I already tried that?" Granger said, flopping down on a sofa in a huff. The room was circular. About the size of the divination classroom but likely a few floors below it, based on the view of the Black Lake out of the one window not covered in stained glass vines.

There were more paintings of plants on the walls. A large tapestry of the Whomping Willow, shakings its leaves. The oversized sage green sofa that Granger occupied. A pair of desks with green glass lamps and swiveling chairs flush against the windows. The round, ornate rug in the center of the room was faded in places — like there used to be more furniture.

"What is this room?" Draco asked. The thump of his satchel on the desk caught her attention before she looked at him.

"I think it might be some sort of study room that students used to use. There's a ledger on that table there," she pointed near the door. "Has signatures and dates from students but they're all well over twenty years old and quite spaced out."

He nodded and went to inspect the book. Sure enough, there were at least two dozen names, with dates ranging over the last 200 years or so. Oddly, they all seemed to be in pairs.

"What are you doing out so late, then?" He looked back to Granger. The red and gold Gryffindor tie twisted beneath her hands, wrapping around her knuckles. He'd rarely seen her out of uniform and yet she'd removed the silk cloth and even unbuttoned a few buttons of her shirt. Jumper tossed atop her bag.

"I had to return a book to the library."

"That's at the opposite side of the castle."

"No it's not. I turned left, noticed this door and opened it out of curiosity. Been stuck here for about half an hour."