Partial to the Truth

"Did you get it?"

Ginny's face was alight with anticipation as Hermione swung into the opposite chair. The place was almost empty that late in the afternoon. They were in their favourite booth at The Leaky Cauldron, the one with an old photograph on the wall of Gilderoy Lockhart and Tom, the owner. Watched long enough, one could see Tom roll his eyes and walk off-picture while Lockhart sought to save the situation by turning to sign an unrequested autograph for diners at an adjoining table.

"I've been given the unofficial word." Hermione glanced around to ensure none of her colleagues were there nursing the pub's famous clover teas, the huge smile on her face already betraying the answer. "But you can't tell anyone until it's officially announced in The Daily Prophet next week."

"On my word as a public servant." Ginny grinned and put a hand across her heart. After leaning over to give Hermione a congratulatory hug, Ginny sat back with a thoughtful expression. She tapped the table to refill her tea and, as the floating pot appeared, suddenly looked delighted. "You know that this news'll upset a certain acquaintance of ours. A lot!"

"He doesn't know yet, of course. I only know because the boss - you know Professor Singh don't you? He took over when Sprout moved to Trinidad - well, he and I were about to Floo to a 10 o'clock meeting this morning when one of the committee assistants accidentally turned up in the grate asking for clarification about spelling 'Hermione' on my parchment of offer would you believe!"

Ginny's laugh was infectious. "I work in the Ministry, you know. We're unfamiliar with administrative stuff-ups."

It was Hermione's turn to chuckle. She dropped a handful of sickles on the table, enough to cover their bill. "I shouldn't really be passing around news that isn't public yet but, well, you're almost family aren't you?"

"Am I now? Any other news you'd care to share?"

Hermione picked up her things and grinned as she stood. "Glad you could come meet me at such short notice. Do you feel like a pre-emptive celebration dinner? I hear there's a new chef at The Harpy's Roost and she does a killer eggplant stack."

"Wish I could! Just wanted to drop by and get the goss but I've got to work late tonight so I might just Floo back to the office from the public grate."

"That would be working late with Under-Secretary Neal Whitham, right? The man tipped to take over the top job next year, and my future boss?"

Ginny's severe blushing didn't stop her swatting her friend. "We're just good friends."

"Of course." Hermione shrugged on her coat. "And I'm the next Seeker for the Chudley Cannons. See you at the schmooze-fest next week."

"Is Ronnikins coming with you?"

"He's in Banff. Apparently investigating intense activities that required the attention of the Three Musketeers. Harry and Dean were there a whole week ahead of him. I think Muggles call it the 'ski-season'." Hermione's tone was arch and her expression affectionate.

"Three Musketeers? That would make Colin D'Artagnan then?" Ginny smiled.

"You're just showing off now you're in Muggle Artefacts with your Dad."

"Too right!"

* * *

"I would be pleased to hear of a positive outcome within a month. Your custom with our organisation would then be assured. Yours, etc." He gestured languidly and turned to face his assistant. "Read the whole thing back to me."

Draco's gaze wandered out the window as Sam's soothing tenor filled the office. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw the jostling flutter of memos outside his door. He'd deliberately warded off all internal messages this afternoon, determined to clear his desk before he took leave next week and to stop being distracted about the interview's outcome. All of it, however, paled in comparison to what he hoped his holiday held in store for him. Already, he could imagine the long, slow evenings of reacquaintance and the delicious intensity of their bodies' warmth as they disregarded the chilly mountain air-

"Sir? Should I owl it immediately, sir?" Sam's earnest prompt sliced into his reverie.

His supervisor's expression fell into place and the slight smile vanished.

"Yes. Do that." Draco worked hard to keep his voice level. "Anything come in from the Under-Secretary yet?"

"Not yet, sir. Would you like me to owl-"

Draco cut him off with a small wave. "No. Forget it. Just make sure all my travel bookings are ready for next week. Did you get the executive chalet?"

Sam bobbed his head in acknowledgement. "Yes, sir, and just in time, too. Dean and Harry were about to book it and my owl managed to get there first!"

Draco was suddenly still, his voice low. "Dean and Harry missed out, did they? Such a pity."

Having worked with him for almost a year now, Sam knew the danger signs. The softer he spoke, the more serious the situation was. Situation status right now? Very serious. He waited without comment.

"That'll be all for today. I'll be back in a few weeks. I expect everything on that list to be done when I return."

"Of course, sir. Happy holidays, sir."

Draco nodded, picked up his engraved raven's quill and turned back to the scroll on his desk. "Thank you, Weasley."

When the door shut behind his assistant, Draco shook his head. Who would've thought there'd be a day when a Weasley would be working for him? Granted, Bill's son had almost none of the Weasleyisms that most irritated Draco but that enthusiastic sincerity was still disconcerting, not to mention the constant reminder of his fiery hair.

So. Harry and Dean in Banff. Interesting.

* * *

Crowds of Ministry executives milled around the long tables, helping themselves to the canapes and flowing barrels of alcohol. The air was abuzz with the new round of promotions and appointments. The news about Hermione's position had appeared in The Daily Prophet that very morning and owls had been soaring into her office all day.

Early in the evening, the trio of pond fairies who were hired as entertainment for the event proved to be a disaster. They'd hardly played two sets when the bass player started in on the guitarist about shagging his girlfriend and letting him know what happened to the last fairy who crossed that line. A little later, Sam found the nubile lead singer face-down in a bowl of water-skimmers, an empty shot-glass at her elbow. Fairies and whiskey don't mix. He'd always wondered whether that was true.

"Nice do, Sam. I hope they pay you enough."

He smiled. "Ms Granger!"

"Merlin, Sam. Stop calling me that or I'll think you're channeling Snape. It's Hermione at the Burrow, and so it is at work too."

He blushed.

"Where's your lovely boss?" Hermione scanned the room and finished eating the morsel of bruschetta she'd picked off a nearby tray.

"Oh, you mean Mr Malfoy?"

Hermione had to laugh. "Sorry, didn't mean to confuse you. Yes, I meant Draco."

"He's on leave for a few weeks. Travelling." Sam snagged a few mini-hamburgers from a passing elf. "Where's Uncle Ron?"

"He's on leave for a few weeks. Travelling." Hermione couldn't resist echoing him, softening it with a grin.

"Isn't that a coincidence?" Ginny had joined them quietly and had raised her eyebrows at Hermione. "Didn't Ron and Draco also holiday in Tasmania a little while back? And Morocco before that? If I didn't know better-"

"Yes, Ginny, you're onto him. Your brother's getting off with Draco on the side. I wasn't sure how to tell you."

Sam's ears were well and truly ablaze now and he didn't know where to look.

"Poor Sam!" Ginny hugged him hello and laughed. "Hermione, you've got to stop carrying on like this now that you're a Senior Advisor. It just won't do."

"The promotion! I forgot to say congratulations!" Sam blurted. "Er, congratulations, Hermione. It's great news."

"You're too sweet, Sam. I know Draco had his frosty little heart set on the position so I'm not at all surprised that he chose to be out of the country for the announcement."

"Oh, no, he'd actually booked his leave a long time ago, way before the interviews. He'd booked it straight after Easter." Sam's young face creased with concern that facts might go awry. "I think it was April 5th. I did the paperwork."

When he was urgently summoned by one of his colleagues before the speeches started, Ginny turned to Hermione with a sigh. "It's so unfortunate that he's more like Percy than Bill."

"Now that's not fair, Ginny." Hermione grinned while choosing a goblet of wine from a proffered tray. "Sam has all of the smarts and none of the sanctimoniousness. He's just a little more, er, precise than you other Weasleys. I'm looking forward to seeing how he takes to our department. From initial accounts, he and Draco are working very well together."

Ginny snorted. "I'm sure they are. Draco works well with anyone who follows orders and doesn't ask questions. Sam's a dear but he's also a bit naïve."

Hermione couldn't argue with that.

* * *

"Did you see Draco while you were off on your boys' own adventure?" She was leaning against Ron after several hours of homecoming sex.

"You sure know how to spoil a mood, love." His laugh was drowsy and his hand trailed against her cheek. "Should I be worried that you're thinking of Ferret while we're in bed having a very nice time?"

Hermione propped herself up on an elbow and looked at his dear, open face. The un-tannable Weasley complexion was ruddy from snow-reflected rays. "I know he was there. Maybe Harry or Dean saw him?"

A sudden shiftiness entered his manner. Ron cleared his throat, something he did only when nervous or lying. "No, no, I don't think so. We had quite a bit of work to do there you know. It wasn't a junket."

"Harry seemed pretty relaxed when I saw him the other day. Hardly the result of a stressful week's work." She peered at him and spoke gently. "Ronald Weasley, we already know you're the worst liar in both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds put together. Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"As I said, nothing's going on, love." He sat up and yawned. "I need to sleep. Work tomorrow and all. Be right back."

She watched him pad towards the bathroom, falling asleep before he returned.

* * *

"Why would she want to know that?" Harry stared at Ron in consternation.

"Curiosity and Hermione. Do you need a 'why'?" mumbled Ron as he attacked his pea and ham soup.

"How does she know that Draco was there?" Harry was suddenly very interested in the table-top. The lunch crowd at The Leaky Cauldron was dense, with the buzzing of conversations pressed all around them.

"Sam." Ron took a swig of his butterbeer. "I still can't believe that a nephew of mine's working for a Malfoy. Every time I think about it, it does my head in. Bill seems okay about it but being several countries away will probably do that for you."

There was a long pause and an expectant look from Ron. "Yeah, know what you mean," Harry finally said.

"Something bothering you, mate?"

"No, why do you say that?" Harry felt a flush creeping up his neck and hoped Ron didn't notice.

"You've been sorta, I dunno, broody. Since we came back from the trip actually. Don't worry, though, I didn't tell her about that special investigation you were on while we were away."

"Oh, that." Harry's face shone with momentary guilt and he didn't speak for a while. "It's the coming back to work thing. It seems to get harder each time. I think I need to leave the Ministry for a while, you know, maybe just travel around."

"Serious?" Ron looked up from his lunch. "Good grief, don't look now but speak of the devil."

Harry immediately craned his neck around to see who was approaching.

"Hi, Malfoy," Ron said half-heartedly. "How's things?"

"Weasley." Draco inclined his head a fraction, an odd flush across his delicate features. "Harry."

"Draco. Hi." Harry smiled and nodded. "Care to join us?"

Harry had to kick Ron's shins to stop his pointed looks as Draco assented and went to find a spare chair.

"Something to drink?" Harry was half out of his seat, leaning over and getting some change when Draco returned.

"Whatever you're having." Draco smiled. Harry nodded and fought his way to the counter.

Draco smiled.

Ron couldn't help a certain thought flitting through his imagination. Of course. He coughed and shuffled his chair back. "Well, I'd better be going. Tell Harry I'll see him tomorrow."

"Leaving on my account, Weasley?" Draco asked softly, leaning towards him with a ghost of that notorious smirk. "I don't bite, you know. Unless requested."

Ron rapidly gathered his things and looked anywhere but at the smooth countenance before him. "Gotta go. Leaving work early today."

When Harry returned with the drink, he glanced at Ron's empty seat and quirked a brow at Draco. "Your doing?"

Draco shrugged. "I think he disapproves."

"He knows?!" Harry's voice climbed an octave.

"He's realising." Draco gently touched a hand to Harry's knee. "It's been almost six months. I'm disappointed that wanton rumours haven't circulated already."

"Merlin." Harry put his face in his hands, eventually laughing. "I'm going to have to sit him down and have a chat soon. It'll be as awkward as the time I finally told him I was gay."

Draco's eyes lit with a delicious, hopeful gleam. "You mean we can plan trips away openly? Meet for lunches? You can flaunt me on your arm?"

Harry couldn't help smiling, putting his hand over Draco's. "Just let me have a chat with Ron and Hermione first, okay? I don't want them to hear about it third- or fourth-hand."

Draco nodded, his voice surprisingly tender. "As you wish."

* * *

"Finished that report yet, Amelia?" Hermione looked up as her PA sat down before her desk.

"Almost. I'm waiting on some figures about the exchange rate of Albanian knuts."

Hermione nodded, gave her some folders to file, and asked how Ben the new intern was going.

"He's picking things up really fast and he's already cleared the owls for today." Amelia gushed. "Ben's great!"

His greatness no doubt assisted by the fact that he had a sweep of honey-blond hair and a physique honed by competitive Quidditch, Hermione thought. She'd never seen a wizard more deserving of gracing the front cover of Witch Weekly.

"He came back from getting our lunches at the Cauldron today and seems like he's been star-spotting. He'd seen Newton Figg - you know him, don't you? He's such a good singer. Performed at all the major festivals, including Glastonbury."

Hermione let Amelia ramble on in the background, nodding and making encouraging noises. Her attention was actually focused on the article she'd found in an old copy of the teen-witch magazine, Hepzibah. She would normally never read such a trashy magazine but one article had caught her eye: "Does your wizard's wand point the other way?" She'd cast an obscuring charm over the magazine and it nestled within the covers of a particularly boring manual about owling routes and their coordinates. Not that Hermione thought that the article really applied to Ron but-

"-your Ron and Mr Malfoy as well. And he thinks that he might have seen Una Firkin in the floo queue-"

"What was that?" Hermione's interest snapped back to Amelia's gossip.

"You know, Una Firkin? She was in that two-part play, really violent one, about a bride who was almost killed on her wedding day, tale of revenge-"

"No, no. Before that."

"Oh. Um." Amelia frowned, trying to backtrack through the conversation.

"About Ron," Hermione pressed.

"Oh that! Yeah, Ben saw Ron and Mr Malfoy at the Cauldron. They were having lunch or something. Ben'd never seen Mr Malfoy before but, you know, had heard all about him, like the rest of us."

Hermione went home early that day. It was time she had a chat with Ron.

* * *

She'd only just stepped inside their flat when there was a knock on the door.

"Harry!" Hermione tried to school her thoughts. She didn't quite know what to say to him. "Come in."

"Hi, Hermione. Is Ron home yet?" Harry wandered in and automatically headed for the kitchen to put on some tea.

"Not yet. I came home a bit early."

"Right. Sorry to barge in like this but there's something I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted to tell you before you found out from other people."

Hermione noted his nervous tone and it fed straight into her growing suspicion.

"Is it something I need to know about Draco?"

Harry dropped the cups he'd been carrying, quickly muttering Reparo before putting them safely back on the bench.

"H-how did you know about Draco?"

Could it be true? Hermione knew she was gaping at Harry's implied admission.

"Why didn't Ron tell me?" she whispered, settling at the kitchen table in shock.

Harry sat down beside her and looked worried. "Look, Hermione, I know I should've told you earlier but it's kind of difficult. I know how you feel about Draco, and Ron, well, you know what Ron's like with secrets."

Hermione just stared at him.

"We've tried to be really discreet about it." Harry looked a bit sheepish. "You've probably realised some of the work-trips were a cover for meeting up with Draco. But, now, it's been about six months and it was about time you knew."

"Six months?" she echoed, her voice sounding hollow.

"Yeah. I know. It's a long time to be keeping it to myself." He waited for her to say something and when the silence continued, he stood and looked a bit awkward. "Um, I was hoping it'd be ok to tell you. Could you let Ron know I dropped by and told you? I hope he'll be ok with it."

As Harry was preparing to back out of the kitchen, the front door slammed shut.

"Hello? Are you already home?" Ron strode in from the corridor and immediately blushed when he saw who was there. "Harry! Hello. Sorry I left in a hurry today."

"Hi, Ron. I, er, dropped by to tell Hermione about Draco."

Ron flicked a glance at her. She looked terrible and didn't even say hello.

Harry pulled him into the corridor. "Mate, she's taking it really badly. I know you know about Draco and me now. Draco said as much to me after you'd left today. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner but this is precisely the kind of thing I was worried about." Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair and furrowed his brow in confusion. "Though I had thought Hermione would be the one to be better about it."

Ron swallowed and tried to think of something to say. "Oh, give her a bit of time. It's just, well, you know. Malfoy." Ron stopped.

Harry sighed. "I'd better go. We're still on for drinks with Dean and Neville on Friday?"

Ron nodded and saw Harry out.

Back in the kitchen, Hermione was still sitting at the table, pale and silent. Nothing worse than a quiet Hermione, thought Ron as he sat beside her.

"C'mon, love, I know Draco's not your best mate but you'll get used to the idea. We'll both have to."

She fixed him with a silent, furious glare. "How could you not tell me? It's been going on for six months, right? How could you not tell me?" Her anger was palpable and he shrank back against the hard wooden seat.

"Look, Harry told you because we're all close friends. It must've been hard for him to do that."

"Hard for Harry to tell me?" she hissed. "I want to know why you didn't tell me, Ronald Weasley. Why couldn't you tell me you were sleeping with Draco?"

Now it was Ron's turn to gape. "I'm doing WHAT?!"

* * *

She'd just packed away her last few files and sent them with Amelia to her new office.

"I had to come." Draco leaned in her doorway, his expensive robes hanging just so. "It's my last chance to gloat that I have a larger office."

Hermione couldn't help smiling at the only gesture of congratulations she was likely to get from Draco. She started in her new position tomorrow and would be in a beautiful corner-office that dwarfed his by several lengths.

"Ron told you about dinner with Harry and me tonight?"

"Sure." She nodded. "Looking forward to it. I've been wanting to try that restaurant ever since it was awarded three cauldrons."

It was several weeks after those clumsy conversations with Ron and Harry. She still flushed with embarrassment at jumping to such conclusions. There was little reprieve from their constant joy at reminding her of it. At least no-one else seemed to know.

She and Draco had an unusually amiable conversation and compared notes about various new cafes and delicatessens.

"Well, we'd better get going or we'll be late."

"We already know that Harry will be late, don't we?" Draco sighed. "He may have stopped a tide of evil but he can't seem to read an hourglass."

Hermione smiled. "And Ron'll be hoping I get home earlier to renovate whatever outfit he's come up with for tonight."

"He has an, er, honest style." Draco tried his hand at tact.

She grinned. "No-one's ever criticised Ron for spending too much time on his grooming."

"So true." A deep, sly grin edged across his fine features. "However, your Ron's recently been accused of having some very good taste in partners, hasn't he?"

She felt the prickle of humiliating exposure creep across her scalp.

"How might you know that?" she asked, her voice strained.

"Just something I heard," he said with delight.

Hermione could still hear his smooth laugh long after they'd left the Ministry's halls.

-- END --