Remain Nameless

Chapter 40

November 2008

More than a month had passed since the inaugural gala for the Hermione J. Granger Fund for Students of Non-Magical Parents, and Hermione waited for the other shoe to drop. But as time rolled on from their sort-of public debut as a couple, Hermione had yet to experience any fallout from the shocking revelation.

Of course, she didn't rightly care about the public's opinion of her choice in romantic partner, but surely by now someone from the ball would have blabbed to the press? Hiring Dennis Creevey as the photographer had been an inspired choice on Hermione's part; the young man eager to help and a faithful friend. Hermione approved each picture he sold to various publications, none of them of her with Draco.

Hermione had been a bit more worried about Parvati spilling the beans, knowing she had a less-than-kind opinion of Draco, not to mention this sort of gossip exclusive would catapult sales of Witch Weekly. But to her surprise, Parvati's coverage of the event stayed in her lane: the fashion of the attendees with brief mentions of Hermione's opening remarks. She wondered if Padma might be the party responsible for keeping her sister in line.

If anything, Draco was the one doing his best to make their relationship the worst-kept pseudo-secret at Hermione's office. Since telling her, finally, that he loved her (Merlin, but she felt a stupid, giddy smile appear whenever she thought about it), she received some daily token of his affection during working hours. Her coworkers always smirked knowingly when they stopped by her office to see what had arrived each day.

Flowers at least once a week, lunch delivered if he knew she'd have a busy afternoon, luxury quills, stationary embossed with her monogram and new job title, boxes of tea when she'd complained about the Ministry quality, and once even a tub of her favorite strawberry ice cream from Fortescue's because she'd made an offhand comment during their morning coffee about her menstrual cramps.

Heaven forbid Hermione complain about being showered with gifts, because gods, the one time she'd even hinted that all of this was rather unnecessary his face had fallen in such a pathetically adorable way she'd relented and negotiated a hard line of no jewelry for occasions that weren't Christmas. Gifts and words of affirmation, the two love languages of Draco.

I love you.

He said it constantly. For a man completely new to openly sharing his emotions, Draco seemed unable to contain them now. The charmed notebook that sat on one side of her desk glowed so often with a new message from him during the work day that she'd had to shut it in her top drawer lest it distract her every few minutes. With quidditch in the off-season, it kept Draco to his office most days, which meant when his hands weren't rifling through player contracts or statistic reports, they jotted down quick notes to Hermione in his journal:

How was your morning? I love you.

Did the planning meeting go all right? I love you.

I miss you.

Please tell Weasley if he hails me in the street like that again or calls me "mate" in public one more time, I will not be held accountable for my violence. I love you.

Theo and Sasha want to get together this weekend, is that all right with you love? I love you.

Thinking of you.

Mother moved back to her home last night, would you like to come over for dinner so we can sully my dining room table again? I love you.

I cannot concentrate today Granger and it's all your ruddy fault. I cannot get the image of you in that little black number out of my mind and it's most distracting. I love you.