Chapter Text
art by ada_kiara
Draco Malfoy cleared his throat, banging heavily on the door once more and nodding awkwardly at the Muggle gentleman passing by on the pavement. The man seemed friendly enough, tipping his hat in return, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been forced into some kind of conversation that surely would’ve required him to know about things like telephones or automobiles.
“Hurry the fuck up, Theo,” he muttered under his breath as he blew hot air into his hands, stamping his feet against the cold. He hadn’t survived a bloody war only to die of a chill in the middle of this little Muggle neighborhood.
He needn’t have worried, however, for it was only a moment later that Theodore Nott threw open the door, relief written all over his face.
“Thank Salazar,” he said, seizing Draco by the arm and pulling him inside. “I was worried you’d gotten lost!”
“I’ve been knocking on your door for the past quarter of an hour,” Draco growled as he removed his coat and scarf, the heat from Theo’s fireplace warming his bones.
“Ah. Right,” Theo replied absently, clapping Draco on the shoulder as he led them both into the small living room off the foyer. “Sorry. They haven’t approved use of my floo yet.”
It was clear he was distracted—he immediately began fussing over the books stacked atop the coffee table, straightening their spines so they lined up perfectly. Draco craned his neck around Theo’s shoulder to read the titles:
Restitution and Reconciliation: How A Wizard Can Change Their Stars
From Dusk to Dawn: A Magical Story of Forgiveness and Redemption
Transfigured: The Very True Biography of a Reformed Dark Magic Practitioner
“Theo,” Draco began, frowning down at the collection as Theo moved to wipe some imaginary dust off of a nearby shelf. “You haven’t actually read these, have you?”
“Read them?” Theo scoffed as he fluffed one of the throw pillows on the sofa. “Of course not. Why? Are they too much? I knew it. I fucking told Blaise they would make me look too desperate—”
“I wouldn’t say they’re too much,” Draco cut in before Theo could continue to spiral the way Draco knew he was capable of. “Though they are a bit… on the nose.”
Theo sighed, running a hand through his mop of brown hair.
“I knew I should’ve consulted you first. Blaise means well, as does Pansy, but neither of them have your eye for subtlety.”
“Yes, well,” Draco muttered as he adjusted his cufflinks, a habit he gave into whenever he felt uncomfortable, “I suppose neither of them have ever needed to lay low the way I have.”
Theo’s head snapped up, and his eyes were apologetic as they met Draco’s.
“Sorry,” he whispered, but Draco only shrugged, smiling softly.
“For what?”
It was what they always said to one another whenever they found themselves in a conversation like this, apologizing for things they couldn’t change—things that were not their fault.
“Now, remind me again why you need me to be here for this.”
Theo took a deep breath.
“Right. As I said in my owl, this is the last test I need to pass before I’m officially cleared to live unsupervised in Muggle London. And, seeing as how you’ve done this before, I could think of no one better to help me than Draco Malfoy—the only Death Eater to escape an Azkaban sentence and subsequently figure out how to charm the entirety of Wizarding Britain into forgetting all about his dark and dangerous past.”
Draco blinked.
“I feel better already, actually, now that you’re here,” Theo went on, his tone taking on a slight hint of hysteria as he began to fuss about the room again. “I may not have your height, or your ability to woo witches into the depths of your ocean-grey eyes, but… I am devastatingly good-looking, in a bookish, unassuming sort of way. And it’s got to count for something, that I never took the Mark myself. I still don’t think it’s very fair that I’m being associated with my father’s sins. Merlin forbid a wizard should want to stretch beyond his horizons and see more of the world. If I was going to harm the Muggles, I would’ve done it back when there was a professional Muggle Harmer with no nose and a penchant for stuffing little pieces of his soul into rubbish running around loose in graveyards and—”
“Theo,” Draco finally cut in, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “What exactly is it that you need my help with?”
Theo paused, a grimace taking over his face.
“The Tiny Stranger,” he whispered, fear in his eyes.
Draco stared at Theo, willing his brain to comprehend what his friend had just said.
“The tiny… what?”
“Stranger,” Theo breathed, wringing his hands together. “The Ministry sent me one of those letters that talks to you. You know… kind of like a Howler, but without all the shouting? And let me tell you, Draco—whatever poor, overworked Ministry employee sent it must be days away from putting in his two-week notice, because the man sounded like he was absolutely sloshed, slurring his words and such.”
He shook his head, brow furrowed in sympathy.
“But despite his inebriation, I was able to make out the important bits: that my last probationary meeting is to take place here, in my new Muggle home, at 8 o’clock tonight. And that the interview would be conducted by… by…”
He closed his eyes, and Draco was dangerously close to strangling his friend for his dramatics.
“...by a Tiny Stranger,” Theo finished at last, the words coming out in a soft whimper.
Draco waited the length of several heartbeats, expecting Theo to elaborate. When he did not, Draco cleared his throat.
“Theo—what the fuck are you talking about?”
Theo’s brows drew down in confusion.
“What do you mean, what am I talking about? The Tiny Stranger, Draco! You were interviewed by the Tiny Stranger at your last probationary meeting before being allowed to wander about unsupervised in Muggle London, weren’t you?”
Draco thought back to that meeting, frowning at the memory of the vicious old woman who had signed off on his rehabilitation, releasing him from Ministry oversight. Had she been tiny? Yes. A stranger? Technically, yes. But never once had she been specifically introduced to Draco as a “Tiny Stranger.”
Theo paled as he studied Draco’s bewildered expression.
“Oh no,” he shook his head, voice hoarse with panic. “You’re… you’re telling me not even Draco Malfoy was subjected to the Tiny Stranger?! Fuck. Fucking bloody fuck—”
“I’m going to hex you to within an inch of your life if you don’t calm the fuck down,” Draco said, his tone calm, but dangerous. He rubbed a hand over his face, eyeing his friend dubiously between his fingers, before adjusting his cufflinks again and fixing Theo with the kind of firm, no-nonsense look his father would’ve been begrudgingly proud of.
“I want you to answer me quickly and clearly now,” he began as Theo shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Who the fuck is this… Tiny Stranger, and why the hell are you so bloody terrified of them?”
Theo swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement.
“The talking letter—it said… that the Tiny Stranger is notorious for being a tough crowd. At first, I thought it had said notorious for being a touch loud, his words were so badly slurred. But then I had the letter read itself to me again, and I realized the poor chap was trying to warn me that this Tiny Stranger is known for being impossible to please. And I have to please the Tiny Stranger, Draco! I can’t live with my father’s disgusting legacy any longer. I need to be free of him. I need the Tiny Stranger to sign off on my character, and give me my life back. Please, Draco.”
Theo’s eyes welled with tears.
“Please help me pass this test.”
Draco felt the tension in his shoulders loosen as he softened towards his friend. He opened his mouth to say, Of course I’ll help you, you idiot, but the sound of the doorbell cut him off, startling them both.
“Fuck,” Theo whispered, his pupils dilating in terror.
“Relax,” Draco said, voice low as he quickly adjusted his tie. “Take a breath, for fuck’s sake. This is going to be fine.”
“But–but the Tiny Strang—”
“—is going to sign off on you,” Draco cut in, grasping Theo by the shoulders and shaking him lightly. The movement seemed to ground Theo, who blinked rapidly as if coming back to himself. “I don’t know why the fuck they call themselves the Tiny Stranger, but they can call themselves whatever they like, so long as they give you a fair evaluation. And they will, because if I could pass probation as an actual former Death Eater, then so can Theodore Nott, who wouldn't know an Unforgivable if it hit him in the chest.”
Theo’s eyes darted anxiously between Draco’s for several seconds before he finally took a deep breath, nodding stiffly.
“You’re right. I can do this.”
“You can do this,” Draco agreed, squeezing Theo’s shoulders and trying to communicate total confidence through his eyes. “Just… get a hold of yourself, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Theo breathed, nodding again. “Yeah.”
Draco clapped a hand to Theo’s cheek before releasing him and turning towards the foyer.
“I’ll get the door. You stay here, and… just try not to panic.”
“Right. Absolutely no panicking.”
Draco huffed an exasperated laugh as he walked back into the foyer, leaving Theo to panic in peace. The doorbell rang again, and Draco grunted as he adjusted his cufflinks once more. Fucking impatient Ministry bastards.
As he reached the door, Draco paused as a familiar sensation twisted in his stomach. It was something he’d felt many times in the years after his acquittal, when he’d had to prove over and over again to countless people that he’d changed. He’d done it, of course. He’d proven himself. Said the right things, shook the right hands, donated the right amount of money to the right kinds of charities. He’d even managed to convince himself, somewhere along the way, that it really was true.
That, perhaps, he really had changed.
So, as you can imagine, it was extremely disconcerting to feel the recognizable tug of doubt, low in his belly.
The bell rang, again, and Draco shook his head, willing the troublesome thoughts away.
“Yeah, yeah. Hold your hippogriffs,” he muttered, before grasping the handle and wrenching the door open.
Draco froze at the sight of the person standing out in the cold on the porch of Theo’s modest Muggle townhome. He didn’t know what he’d expected the Tiny Stranger to look like, but it certainly wasn’t this.
Was she tiny? Yes, in a vertical sense.
But was she a stranger? Not even close.
“Malfoy?” the woman said, her brows shooting up in surprise at the sight of him.
Draco felt dumbfounded for all of two seconds before it hit him:
The talking letter, sent by a drunk Ministry worker, slurring his words incoherently.
Dear, sweet, stupid, without-a-lick-of-sense Theo, trying to interpret them, and who had, Draco now realized, completely misheard the man.
“I was able to make out the important bits:” Theo had said, the fool. “That my last probationary meeting is to take place here, in my new Muggle home, at 8 o’clock tonight. And that the interview would be conducted by… a Tiny Stranger.”
Draco had never wanted to strangle Theo more than he did in that moment. A tiny fucking stranger, indeed.
He forced a pained smile onto his face as he met her shocked gaze.
“Merlin—if it isn’t Hermione Granger.”
“What in Salazar’s name are you doing here?”
Granger’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“What am I doing here? What are you doing here? Is this not the updated residence of Theodore Nott?”
“Er… yes. Yes, it is.”
“Then I repeat: what are you doing here?” she asked, her shock quickly morphing into irritation.
The look on her face, along with the exasperated tone of her voice, enveloped him in a wave of nostalgia so intense, he nearly laughed out loud. He bit the inside of his cheek and cleared his throat in an attempt to pull himself together.
“Theo… asked me to be here for his last probationary meeting,” he answered, schooling his face into an expression he hoped communicated a lack of hostility. The two little lines between her furrowed brows deepened. Not a promising sign.
“All persons in attendance are meant to be approved in advance of official Ministry appointments,” she declared, as though she were reciting from a script. She pulled a quill and parchment out of the bag she had slung over one shoulder, scribbling something in a hurried hand. “Strike one.”
“Strike—now hang on a minute,” Draco began, indignant. “You can’t give him a strike when you haven’t even met with him yet!”
She didn’t answer, merely tucking the quill and parchment away again, and clasping her hands in front of her as she looked up into his face.
“Are you going to let me in? Or must I stand out in the cold all night?” she asked matter-of-factly.
Draco found himself unable to respond as he finally took her in: dark brown curls, wrangled into a thick braid that rested prettily over one shoulder; a slight glow to her cheeks, courtesy of the cold; her eyes, fierce and familiar, a memory he’d almost forgotten.
Fuck it all—Granger was gorgeous.
“Well?” she demanded impatiently.
Draco glowered as he stepped back into the hall, gesturing with one hand for her to come inside. This was an extremely inconvenient time to be suddenly confronted with the realization that a woman with whom he had a complicated history was also inexplicably beautiful. How had he never noticed before?
Oh. Right.
She nodded once, all business as she brushed past him. The scent of her shampoo hit him unexpectedly—vanilla and jasmine. Draco shook his head, blinking rapidly as he closed the door firmly behind them.
“Good evening! Theodore Nott, at your service. And you must be the Tiny Strang—”
He had begun speaking before they’d even entered the room, so it was no surprise to Draco when they rounded the corner and Theo’s jaw dropped at the sight of Granger standing in his living room.
“Her-Hermione Granger?” he said in bewilderment, and Draco saw the exact moment it clicked in his mind. The colour seemed to drain from Theo’s cheeks all at once as he silently mouthed the words a tiny stranger and Hermione Granger one after the other, realization setting in.
“You? You’re the Tiny Stranger?”
“I beg your pardon?” Hermione bristled, and Draco could’ve sworn the end of her braid glowed slightly, a sudden current of unbridled magic evident in the air around her. “What did you just call me?”
“Er—nothing!” Draco intervened, moving past Granger into the room. He shot Theo a wide-eyed look meant to communicate something along the lines of shutthefuckupyouareruiningeverything before turning to face her, the practiced, media-trained smile he’d learnt to wear like armour gracing his face. Her eyes—brown, with a ring of green around each center that Draco couldn’t remember ever noticing before—narrowed at the sight of it.
“It was merely a misunderstanding,” he went on, sliding his hands into his pockets. Better to appear relaxed. Casual. Unthreatening.
“A misunderstanding,” she repeated, one eyebrow quirking up skeptically. Draco couldn’t help but lift a brow of his own as he met her stern gaze, determined not to lose this battle of wills they seemed to be waging.
“Exactly.”
They stared at one another for several moments, the silence growing thicker and heavier, until the sound of Theo clearing his throat finally pulled their attention.
“Draco’s right, Granger,” he said with a nervous laugh. “I just thought—well, you see I was… expecting someone else.”
“Someone else,” she echoed again, turning towards him. Theo paled.
“Yes,” he squeaked pathetically.
Granger hummed, her arms folded tightly across her chest as she tapped a foot against Theo’s polished oak floors.
“I see. Well. Perhaps you would’ve been better off with someone else, because let me be clear, Theodore: we are not off to a good start this evening. For example—Mr. Malfoy is not on the approved attendee list for this meeting. Yet, here he stands.”
Her eyes traveled the entire length of him, and Draco could’ve sworn they lingered a fraction of a second longer on his mouth before snapping back up to meet his gaze. A thrill shot through his chest (because surely not?!), but there was no time for further analysis because she had begun to speak again, her attention now fixed on Theo.
“Secondly: while I can admit that we are, essentially, strangers, despite our years at school together—I must object to the casual way you referenced my size. My presence may not fill a room, to be sure. But as you have so singularly pointed out, we are strangers to one another, and such comments are not appropriate in this strictly professional setting.”
She shook her head at him as though she were very disappointed.
“Tiny? Really? I was under the impression that members of ancient wizarding families such as yours were raised with a better sense of decorum and respect.”
Draco scoffed before he could stop himself. Granger paused, slowly turning to look at him.
“Something to say, Malfoy?”
Draco cleared his throat, cursing himself internally. He shrugged, attempting to maintain his air of indifference.
“It’s nothing. I only… find it surprising.”
She huffed, her expression unamused.
“Do elaborate.”
He stared at her, unsure if she was serious. When she only looked at him expectantly, he shrugged again, slowly this time.
“I suppose I… find it surprising that you, a Muggleborn witch, would claim to be under the impression that families like mine and Theo’s have raised us to be anything even remotely resembling respectful. Considering our history, I mean.”
Granger was silent as she considered this, and Draco felt transfixed by the sudden intensity in her gaze.
“Of course, things are different now,” he went on, unable to look away. “You know—breaking cycles… ending generational trauma, and all that.”
A small smirk appeared at the corner of her mouth. Draco’s hand twitched as he felt an unexplainable (and unacceptable, for Merlin’s sake) urge to brush his thumb over it.
“Funny,” she said, her voice quiet, but somehow resonating through him all the same. “Sounds like things one might repeat after hearing someone else say them, and deciding they sound clever.”
Draco’s attempt at suppressing his own smirk was unsuccessful.
“Funny. Sounds like something one might say if they were actively studying up on how to ace Witch Weekly’s STAY CYNICAL: HOW TO TELL IF HE’S A LYING LITTLE SHIT quiz.”
Her eyes flashed; if Draco didn’t know any better, he’d say she might be enjoying this exchange almost as much as he was.
“And are you?” she asked, tilting her head as she surveyed him. “Are you still a lying little shit, Mr. Malfoy?”
Something about the way she said “Mr. Malfoy” was making him feel things he had no business feeling just now. Draco mirrored her, tilting his own head as he pretended to consider.
“A liar? Not anymore. And as for being a little shit…”
He paused, allowing a slow smile to slide onto his face.
“…I don’t believe anyone’s ever been able to confidently describe me as little.”
She flushed. Draco’s smile widened. Theo let out a high-pitched, nervous giggle, the sound of which seemed to bring them both back to their senses.
Granger smoothed the front of the blush-coloured blouse beneath her coat, allowing her hands to run down the length of her dark pencil skirt. Draco tracked the movement diligently. Then, she stepped forward until she was inches away from him, looking up into his face.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Malfoy,” she said, close enough for him to note tiny flecks of gold scattered through the green and brown of her irises. “Over the last several years, you may have managed to convince the world that you are now a trustworthy man, repentant and atoning for his many sins. And honestly, good on you.”
She chuckled, low and deadly. Draco couldn’t decide if he was terrified, or desperate to hear her make that sound again.
“But know this,” she went on, and it took everything in him to keep his eyes trained on hers instead of dropping them to her mouth. “Wizarding Britain has proven, time and again, that an alarming number of its population is made up of tragically gullible fools. Do not make the mistake of counting me among them, Malfoy. I am no fool. And I see right through you.”
As she stepped back, putting a bit of distance between them once more, Draco realized he hadn’t breathed the entire time she was near.
“Do you have a desk, or a dining table I can spread my things on?” Granger asked Theo in a crisp, business-like tone?
Theo was looking at Draco with a curious tilt to his head when she addressed him. He jumped, clearing his throat apprehensively.
“Sorry? Spread your… things?”
He flushed, glancing down at her legs. Draco closed his eyes, grimacing.
“Yes,” she nearly growled, glaring at the two of them. “We have quite a few documents to look over this evening, and this coffee table won’t do. Especially not with those ridiculous books in the way.”
She lifted a brow at Theo’s collection of wizarding self-help. He looked mildly offended at her characterization of them as he nodded glumly.
“Yes—the dining room is just there.”
He held out a hand, indicating a room on the other side of the foyer. Granger nodded briskly and adjusted her bag over her shoulder. As she exited, Theo gave Draco a look that seemed to say this is not fucking going well before straightening his tie and following her out.
Draco took a deep breath, in through his nose, and out through his mouth.
Right.
New plan.
Well, not altogether new.
The plan was still: get Theo approved to travel and live like a normal fucking wizard wherever he pleased.
There was just a second plan now. A side quest. An addendum, one might say.
Nothing major.
Just a plan he’d never thought he’d make. A collection of words he never imagined he’d string together, let alone actually mean:
Secondary objective—seduce Hermione fucking Granger.