Chapter Text
Narcissa
It was their second meeting of the week. Narcissa lectured as she always did. Notes precise, arguments sharp, voice even. Hermione, as always, sat in front. Attentive, diligent, and quick to raise her hand. The model of consistency
It should have been ordinary. Routine. And yet, as the room emptied afterward, Narcissa caught it, a murmur from the back, light but pointed: “Of course she’s staying after. She always does.”
The words were casual, barely worth notice. But they still lodged in her mind. Already there was a remark. Already eyes had begun to mark the pattern. And if mere diligence drew attention, what would come should the truth surface before its time?
By the time the last of the students filed out, Narcissa’s resolve had settled like armor.
“Miss Granger,” she said, her tone carefully even. “Stay a moment.”
Hermione obeyed without hesitation.
Narcissa drew a folder from the neat stack on her desk and set it before her. “There is an intercollegiate seminar next week,” she explained, tone formal. “The department is sending a representative. I have been volunteered. And I am required to bring a student.”
Hermione’s brows arched, curiosity lighting into a spark of mischief. She picked up the folder, fingers brushing against the edge like it was a gift.
“You chose me.” The words were not a question so much as a tease, her lips curving into the smirk that always threatened Narcissa’s composure. “What is this, Professor? A chance to spend more time together?”
Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. Regina suggested you.”
Hermione bit back a laugh, though the smirk remained.
Narcissa pressed on, her voice steady. “That said, I’m not displeased. You are competent, diligent, and reliable. I trust you to represent the department.”
The humor softened in Hermione’s face, replaced by something steadier, fiercer. She closed the folder, her gaze fixed on Narcissa’s. “You can trust me. I won’t let you down.”
Narcissa studied her, searching for any trace of mischief. There was none. Only resolve, bright and unyielding.
She inclined her head, the smallest nod. “See that you don’t. This seminar is not an indulgence. If you are to come with me, you will behave yourself. You will focus on the work.”
For once, Hermione did not smirk, did not tease. She only said, firm and certain: “I will.”
And Narcissa believed her.
Hermione
Hermione held the folder to her chest like it was a prize, though she schooled her expression into something calmer.
As much as she liked Narcissa, she wasn’t about to risk an opportunity like this by appearing reckless. An intercollegiate seminar was no small matter, and being chosen to accompany her professor was an honor she intended to prove worthy of.
Still, she couldn’t help the flicker of warmth beneath her ribs. Even if it hadn’t been Narcissa’s idea, even if Professor Mills was behind it, she was the one holding the folder. She was the one Narcissa trusted enough to bring. That had to mean something.
“I won’t let you down.”
Narcissa inclined her head, satisfaction flickering across her composed features. But then her expression shifted, more measured, almost wary.
“There’s something else,” she said. “You can’t stay after class anymore.”
Hermione blinked, her smile faltering. “What? Why not?”
Narcissa’s gaze was level, precise. “One of your classmates remarked on it today. They’ve noticed you linger. I won’t have rumors beginning before their time.”
Hermione frowned, reluctant, the folder still clutched tightly in her hands. “Fine,” she said slowly, though the word was steeped in disappointment. Then, after a beat, her eyes brightened with a spark of mischief. “But if I can’t stay after class, I’ll just have to find another way to see more of you.”
Narcissa sighed. “Miss Granger—”
Hermione smirked, leaning just slightly closer, savoring the crack in Narcissa’s restraint. “I’m very resourceful, as you already know.”
Narcissa’s mouth twitched, the barest threat of a smile she refused to give over to. She exhaled slowly, as though summoning patience, and said, “You are incorrigible.”
Hermione tilted her head, her gaze steady and a little too bold. “Is seeing me more not something you want?”
Narcissa stilled, and Hermione caught the flicker, the tightening of her mouth, the faint flush at her cheekbones. When she spoke, her words were careful. “Wanting and allowing are not the same. Whatever else may be true, we need to be cautious.”
Hermione pouted, the expression almost childish in its petulance. “God. When will this semester be over so I can take you on a proper date?”
One of Narcissa’s brows arched, elegant and sharp. “A date?”
“Yes,” Hermione said at once, a little smirk curving her mouth.
Narcissa leaned back slightly, voice cool but laced with the faintest amusement. “Hmm. A date. Very well. If we were to go on this hypothetical date, where would you take me?”
Hermione’s eyes sparkled. “Somewhere simple. A quiet café, maybe. Or a little bookstore. Nothing fancy. Just us, no eyes, no rules. And afterward, I’d walk you home. And kiss you.”
Narcissa’s composure cracked, not fully, but enough. A laugh slipped past her restraint, low and warm, edged in disbelief. “You are outrageous.”
Hermione’s grin widened, triumphant. “And yet, you’re smiling.” She tilted her head, studying her professor with gleaming eyes. “I think you’ll kiss me back.”
For the briefest moment, Narcissa’s gaze faltered. A flicker, quick and sharp, down to Hermione’s mouth. When her eyes lifted again, her voice was lower, roughened by the effort of control. “What makes you so sure?”
Hermione’s tongue darted across her lips, slow, deliberate, her pulse thundering at the way Narcissa’s eyes followed the movement. “I just know.”
The silence stretched, taut and charged. Narcissa’s jaw tightened, her composure trembling at the edges — and then, with a voice low and utterly serious, she struck back.
“Well then,” she said, “you had better take me on this date of yours. So you’ll find out.”
Hermione’s breath caught, heat flooding her face, but her grin returned, irrepressible. “Gladly. After this semester.”
For a heartbeat longer, Narcissa held her gaze, the air between them alive with everything unsaid. And then, at last, she looked away, smoothing her sleeve with practiced calm.
“Go,” she murmured.