Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love

Chapter 26: Mabon/Being Irritating Is A Love Language

As promised, the next day, Weasley Flooed to the Manor to drop off the birthday gifts that had been sent to Granger's cottage. Granger had already popped off to her laboratory, so it was Draco who had the dubious privilege of receiving him.

Weasley was not a dab hand at Extension Charms, which he demonstrated by arriving with a bulky burlap sack full of parcels, promptly heaved into Draco's arms.

Weasley panted. "Took me ten minutes to pack up that lot."

"Popular witch," said Draco, clutching at the ponderous thing.

"Yeah." Weasley wiped sweaty hands onto his trousers and looked about. "Hermione sounds like she's handling it all right, staying here. Funny that this ended up being the safest place for her, after all these years."

"I suppose."

"Thanks for doing this for her. You're really a decent bloke – only a bit of a twat, after all."

Draco had just opened his mouth to tell Weasley thanks, and to piss off, when Weasley added, "She likes you, you know."

"...Likes me?"

"Genuinely," said Weasley. "Thinks you're enormously competent – eminently respectable – generally marvellous–" he took on a high, Grangery voice "–Rather brilliant, you know, Ron, you mustn't tease him. Can't even refer to you as 'the Ferret' without being corrected."

This had an immense cheering effect on Draco, but he kept his face neutral. "She does like to take up unfortunate causes."

"Yeah. She'll bung together a Society for the Protection of Eminently Respectable Malfoy soon, I reckon. SPERM. Suits you."

So buoyed was Draco's mood that this insolence hardly rankled. He called Weasley a freckly fucker, but without rancour.

"Has she launched a house-elf rebellion yet?" asked Weasley.

"No, but I expect her to start agitating imminently. It's only been two nights."

"Yeah. She has loads of time to do damage." Weasley waggled his eyebrows as he looked about deviously for elves. "I'd better be off. You're on at the lab later?"

"It's Humphreys this morning and Goggin in the PM. I'm with Potter at the safehouses."

Weasley tossed Floo powder into the hearth. "Right – the traps. Make them evil and borderline illegal, won't you?"

"Obviously."

"Bye."

"Off you fuck."

Weasley Flooed out.

The bag in Draco's arms was heavy with expressions of love from Granger's friends and admirers. He felt the corners of books and the squishiness of clothing. Something cinnamony wafted through the burlap.

He cast a few detection spells to ensure that there were no cursed or poisoned items within and called Tupey to take the thing to Granger's suite.

He did not spend a single moment moodily musing upon a gift for Granger to outshine all of these offerings.

The day passed in a series of visits to safehouses, where Draco and Potter hoped to lure any snooping baddies in with false indicators of Granger's presence. They created decoy Grangers, charmed to move between various rooms, and set lights to turn on and off at night. They concealed a variety of wards and ensnarements around the properties.

And yes, Draco's were crueller than Potter's. Potter had all the imagination of a Horklump.

When they had thus baited five safehouses, along with Granger's cottage, they returned to the Office to meet with Tonks, who had spoken to Shacklebolt.