Flirtatious

♥️

I hear a groan from the office next to mine, followed by a frustrated sigh and the sound of something crashing against the shared wall. Concerned, I don't even bother closing the Muggle contraption (the campoter? I have no idea) before I stride over to the connecting door to see Hermione, head in her hands, and a shattered vase lying on the floor; its former contents, a white rose, sitting on her desk.

She looks up as I enter.

While her cheeks are dry, it's clear in her eyes that she's distressed. Rather awkwardly, I debate silently on how to approach this, before conjuring a comfortable armchair next to her and asking what's wrong. She replies by handing me a couple of pieces of parchment.

More than a little confused at this point, I read both, and it soon becomes all too clear as to the source of her frustration. The letters are written by one cheating douchebag, also known as the Weasel. The first talks of how he wants redemption (as if!) and the second isn't longer than a single sentence that describes how desperate he is to have her back.

In an instant, all I feel is fiery rage at what an insensitive prick he's being. I have to forcibly remember that Hermione is there. Before I decide what course of action I take, though, she does it for me by letting out a dry wail.

"Why? Why does he bother me? Just when I've finally settled down good and proper- settled down into my job, my new apartment, I'm out of my coma, I've got a new romant-" Hermione stopped herself before she could say too much; she had nearly told him! How embarrassing that would've been.

"Why? Why does he bother me? Just when I've finally settled down good and proper- settled down into my job, my new apartment, I'm out of my coma, I've got a new romant-"

Her voice cracks as she stops, mid-sentence. If I were to guess, I'd say she was about to divulge that she had a new romantic interest. I wonder who it is. Perhaps she's taken it back up with Krum; I know she went to the ball with him.

Mostly because I could barely take my eyes off her; with her hair in its complicated twist, her beautiful dress that was an absolute showstopper. But it wasn't even the accessories that made her beautiful, it was the happiness radiating off of her face, and the smile that made her gorgeous. Her voice snaps me back to the present from my reminiscing.

"I just need some peace and quiet... Why can't he leave me alone? I don't want to even him ever again at this point; much less go back to him!" She turned into his shoulder, and he tensed awkwardly before patting her shoulder.

***

"I just need some peace and quiet... Why can't he leave me alone? I don't want to even him ever again at this point; much less go back to him!" I'm mumbling at this point, and the stress of the still-young day and the feeling that I won't ever be in control of my life just hits me like the Knight Bus and I lean (fall, really) into his muscular shoulder for support. He tenses, but then soothes me for a while, murmuring nonsense words of comfort and calm. After I've relaxed a bit, I straighten up, aware of how awkward this position is. Brushing the non-existent dust of my dress to try and hide my prominent blush due to embarrassment at what just happened, I smile apologetically as I straighten up, hoping the red on my cheeks has disappeared by now.

"Sorry, Mister Malfoy. That was terribly unprofessional of me." He stammers a little in his response, clearly not having expected me to apologize.

"That's- that's fine. Don't ever worry about asking for help and support, Hermione, or taking a break and letting loose. It's not a bad or weak thing."

"I'll remember that. However, I apologize again; I shouldn't have treated your poor vase like that." I gesture to the shattered vase that lies next to the wall.

"Well, isn't that when magic is useful." He smirks, grabbing his wand and repairing the shattered shards nonverbally. I frown.

"I could've done that myself."

"Let me do at least one thing to make your life a little easier."

"Mister Malfoy, that wouldn't have been any trouble at all."

He winks."Well, what's done is done." He swipes the reviewed papers from my desk. His demeanour changes immediately, from flirtatious to businesslike.

"These are finished?"

"Yes, Mister Malfoy. Everything has been finalized and reviewed."

"Excellent. I'll send you an email with a couple more things that I need you to finish up, and then there's a meeting in thirty minutes that I need you to be there for."

"Of course, Mister Malfoy."

"All right. I'll get you that email right away." He winked once more before exiting. Was he That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, considering the fact that I also like him, but there was no way I was the kind of girl he'd want, his type. I remembered catching up a few years ago with the tabloids, and seeing a list of Draco Malfoy's recent exes; most of them were showgirl-type girls. Big boobs, big butt, tiny waist, layers of makeup, very sexy.

All the things I'll never be.

More than a little confused, I'm snapped out of my thoughts by a on my phone, indicating that my work email (which is synced with my computer) had something in my inbox. I open my laptop, shaking the past thirty minutes out of my mind.

***

The meeting is over; thank Merlin this potential client is so much more reasonable than Marsentuago. I've finished all my paperwork, and I'm just waiting on an email from Malfoy with requirements to begin a rough draft of the contract. Taking full advantage of my small amount of free time, I grab my headphones and phone and scroll through my playlist, a hodgepodge of musical favorites, classical works and pop music, almost all of which have sad undertones.

I click on a personal favorite, by We The Kings and begin to hum quietly.

By the end of the song, I'm definitely singing; not at the top of my lungs, but probably loud enough to penetrate the walls.

I can't really tell in the moment; I'm so caught up in just relaxing before I have to get back to work that my ability to judge my volume is impaired.

Oh well. Hopefully no one notices.

***

I'm just about to send Hermione the email (muggle things really are wonderful, I can't believe that we haven't ever utilized this stuff before) when a noise catches my attention. At first, it sounds like a quiet hum, then a low mumbling. But it slowly gets louder and louder until it's relatively clear in my ears. It's a muggle song, that's for sure, and it's some bloke talking about how much he loves and needs his significant other to feel complete. I smile as I realize that it's Hermione singing, and that she hasn't just put on the radio.

The message of the song is sweet. In my ears, though, what's sweeter is the sound of her voice. She's clearly enjoying herself at the moment, and I wait until the singing stops before I click send on the email. She deserves at least that... How much time was it? Three minutes? To let loose a little.

***

I look around the office once more before locking it up and glance down at my phone as I walk out, catching up with Pansy, who has just gotten herself a phone. She's sent me a text, and I smile. She's asking me what this Instagram thing she's been hearing about everywhere. I shake my head, texting her back

As I step outside my office, I collide into a dark form. I fall backwards, missing my step in these goddamned heels. However, I don't hit the ground; I'm caught by a strong muscular arm that catches me in the small of my back before I make an absolute fool of myself by landing on my arse.

"You okay there?"

"Yes, just fine." He brings me back up, his silver eyes staring into mine, and I know he can see me blushing in the dim lighting. I cover my face in an attempt to hide it, but his index finger and thumb catch my wrist and bring it down, leaving my flushing face in full view.

"You're adorable when you blush. Don't try and hide it." His hand ghosts my cheek, making me shiver, before he steps back, letting me exit my office ( falling this time). We take a very awkward elevator ride down before exchanging goodbyes and Apparating our separate ways. Once I'm in the privacy of my own house, I kick off the heels and run my fingertips over my cheekbone, thinking,