Dramione One-Shots (Collection)

The Worst Cup of Tea

Written by TheLastLynx

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22973134

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Draco Malfoy couldn't concentrate on the proper things, so he focused on something that would keep his mind occupied. A perfect cup of tea, for instance. The deep, swirling almost-burgundy of an Assam Boisahabi with tiny bubbles drifting to the surface that were gradually bursting, set off perfectly by the impeccable milk-white of a bone china teacup.

'Hey, Granger!'

'What.'

'Fancy a cuppa? I'm thinking a break and a scone at Brown's?'

Her face appeared behind the large parchment she was studying. 'Not now, I'm busy.' She frowned at the large clock in their office. 'As should be you!'

Draco scowled. He disliked the idea of working for a living in general, but Granger brought the despicability of "work ethic" to a whole other level. The report they were due to hand in was almost done, as it wasn't that difficult a case to begin with -- in his opinion at least. He thought longingly about the perfect morning drink he could be having, sitting in a comfortable leather chair with her--

'It's barely half ten. Maybe later.'

All right, later then.

Noon had come and gone, and Draco was still bored out of his mind. Really, what was the point of writing reports about events which could be documented, perfectly, by handing in memories?

There was so much they could be doing instead, like enjoying a freshly harvested tea from the slopes of the Manjhee Valley. Special Fine Tippy Golden Flowery Pekoe Number One. What a complicated title for something that was, in its essence, beautiful in its simplicity. Then again, if you thought about that variety of Darjeeling, it did almost have a gilded quality to it. It was sun-yellow, and light and fruity and herbal on your tongue. One could easily imagine that it wasn't just "golden" because of its colour but also because of the richness and brightness of its taste.

Just yesterday, he'd been owled a notification that the very first harvesting had been delivered, and he was itching to show Granger what was sorely missing in her life.

Granger, though, would not be swayed.

'We just had lunch, Draco.'

'Yes, yes, but it was just a sandwich, and the tea was basically torture!'

'You poor thing,' she snarked from behind a good dozen scrolls sort of towering on her desk, 'and here I am, almost literally drowning in files just to complete our report on the "Accidental Unicorn Bonding".'

Draco shook his head, and considered his own almost completed report. 'Really, Granger, just do it as I did, and keep it short and sweet. "They were in love, they should have just stayed married." The end.'

She laughed so hard her chestnut curls shook, bouncing against the collar of her perfectly pressed and starched blouse, catching the light of their faux ministry windows and deep red shimmer appeared, a burgundy lustre glimmering all over her head. Draco blinked, but her head had already disappeared behind the wall of parchment, leaving him to daydreaming again. An Assam Boisahabi swirling in his cup. The intense, ever-changing shades of autumn shimmering against pearl white...

It was four o'clock, and Draco had enough. If he'd managed to finish his report, she must have been done for ages. 'Granger, finish up, we're going!'

'Wait a second, I--'

'Or better yet.' He flicked his wand and pointed it at the stack of parchments that had, incredibly, grown over the last few hours. ' Accio Granger's report .'