The Day Of The Skirt And All That Followed

Draco Malfoy considered himself to be a gentleman. He didn't leer over women, he kept his hands to himself in busy lifts, he treated his female co-workers with the utmost respect. He berated Cormac McLaggen for being a creepy arsehole at the Ministry Christmas party, not letting his behaviour slide or accepting the firewhiskeys he'd had as some sort of excuse for forcing himself on several witches throughout the night. If he found a woman attractive, he'd just be a bit friendlier than he was generally inclined to be, perhaps he'd buy her a coffee in the canteen, ask her if she fancied grabbing dinner one of these days. He'd take rejection in his stride, no harm no foul.

Then Hermione Granger knocked on his office door wearing a very tight pencil skirt and he struggled to have any sort of coherent thoughts at all. They'd found an amicable working relationship over the years, after they'd ended up working on several projects together with their respective departments' jurisdiction overlapping. After the war, it hadn't taken much for Draco to realise blood status and pureblood supremacy was a load of bullshit, but Granger was largely the catalyst for his realisation. He'd seen her blood drip onto the Manor floor, as ruby red as his own, and it couldn't be argued that she wasn't a talented witch, in fact she was arguably the most talented of their generation, so it just felt stupid to try and cling to something that was so obviously meaningless. Once he'd pulled his head out of his arse, he'd realised just how much they had in common. She was funny, more witty than he'd ever realised, and of course, blindingly intelligent. She wiped the floor with everyone in her department, rising to department head within a few short years. Somewhere in his brain, he'd known she was pretty, but it wasn't until The Day Of The Skirt that he realised she was beautiful. He'd fallen hard and fast after that day, and was content to admire her from afar, not daring to imagine she'd ever want anything to do with him, but as it turned out, she liked him back. He would never have known if it hadn't been for his oldest friend, Theo Nott, throwing himself a birthday party. Theo was annoying, arrogant, horrendously sarcastic, and the most loyal friend he'd ever had. He'd hidden himself away during their Hogwarts years, despite knowing each other since they were babies, and hadn't really had much to do with Draco and his gang of elitist bullies. Theo had never really bought into any of it in the same way Draco had, and so had kept to himself, quietly getting on with his studies whilst Draco laid into the Golden Trio. After the war, with so many of his friends and peers dead, he'd reached out to Theo, and they'd more or less picked up where they left off, with Theo ensuring that Draco would never fall back into old habits or ways of thinking. At Theo's party, Granger had been in the same bar by complete coincidence, and he'd jumped at the chance to talk to her. They'd shared a kiss outside of the toilets, which had been more romantic than it sounded, and the rest was history. The only thing about their relationship that caused him slight unease was the fact that they'd kept it a secret from everyone. He had been worried that his past would hold her back, that she would be tarnished if she was publicly linked to him, and whilst she'd told him that she couldn't care less about any of that, she did want to keep it just between them for a while. Her whole life had been plastered across the pages of the Prophet, and she wanted something just for herself for a bit. Draco hadn't been able to argue with that, and so here they were, eight ridiculously happy months later, and they still hadn't told anyone. It was the prospect of moving in together that had them questioning their pact of secrecy. She would struggle to explain away the sudden appearance of another person's belongings in her house, which Draco was moving into rather than her moving into the Manor. He hadn't even raised that as an option. Even if Narcissa didn't live there, he wouldn't make her live in the house she'd been tortured in. She hadn't asked about it either, so he was content to carry on as they were.

He'd had several coded conversations with Theo about this. His friend was also in the early stages of his first serious relationship, but refused to reveal who with, so they often chatted for hours in the pub about their secret romances.