How to Fail Spectacularly at Seducing Draco Malfoy

How to Fail Spectacularly at Seducing Draco Malfoy

A Guide by Hermione Granger

Today

She was desperate.

Probably hormone-driven. A bit delusional. Unusually reckless. And with almost absolute certainty completely mental.

But mainly desperate.

The latter was the reason her steps quickened even more, although she was already hurrying through the corridors of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at a fairly rapid pace. Her heels clicked staccato-like against the dark marble.

Reaching the office she had been heading for so purposefully, she drew her wand. With a quick flick of her wrist, she transfigured the bronze nameplate by the door into a mirror and checked her reflection. She thought she could see a hint of the aforementioned desperation on her face, but apart from that everything was fine. Both her hair and makeup were impeccable.

She looked good, she thought. Maybe a little too pale? She pinched her cheeks to create an appealing blush, then took a deep breath.

It was a bold move, no question. The responsible person? Ginny. Obviously. However, she had resolved not to blame her friend if the whole thing backfired. Why should she? She had nothing left to lose. This was her last try. If she failed again tonight, it was fate.

With this thought, she resolutely tore herself out of her rigid state, announced herself with a short knock and slipped into the room.

He was still there. As expected. Even after almost five years in the service of the Ministry of Magic, he was still one of the most dedicated Aurors. As if he had to keep proving to himself and the world that he was one of the good ones these days.

Malfoy was hunched over his desk, scribbling in an open file. He had already undone two buttons on the collar of his shirt, but his shoulder holster was still in place. Propitious. Not only did it suit him exceptionally well, it would (hopefully) prove handy.

"Just a sec," he murmured without looking up before dipping the tip of his quill into the inkpot once more.

Aside from closing the door, she didn't make a sound so he could finish whatever he was doing undisturbed. She smoothed down her tight pencil skirt with unsteady hands, then put them on her hips and waited patiently.

Malfoy added his elegant signature to the text, which presumably represented an interrogation record of which he had made a fair copy, before rolling back in his desk chair and tossing the file into his outbox, where it disappeared with a faint flurp. Only then did he look up and shift his gaze to her.

"Oh," he said in surprise. "It's you."

A blond, well-shaped eyebrow shot up.

"Malfoy," she replied with a slight nod. In contrast to her confident and serene façade, her heart immediately began a fluttering dance in her chest.

"It's," Malfoy glanced at the clock on the wall, "already half past eight. What are you still doing here?"

That was a perfectly legitimate question, because it was Friday and therefore pub night. Harry had established the tradition years ago, and what had started as a small get-together of a few junior Aurors had quickly grown into a large group as more and more spouses, partners and close friends had joined. Usually she was a part of it. Just like Malfoy, who was always late, which was why she had been so sure that he would still be here. Alone.