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Chapter Text

Hermione stared at the invoice for her semester at the Wizarding University of Great Britain.  

Paid: 1009 Galleons.  Owed: 1991 Galleons.  Fuck.  Fuck-fuckity-fuck-fuck.  

She’d been one of one hundred wizards and witches admitted to the university from around the world.  After the war, she’d gone back to Hogwarts for her seventh year.  With so few students returning, she’d had time to write and write about her interpretation of the Deathly Hallows.  The professors had helped her edit her writing into a slim volume of literary analysis and a first hand account of her experience with the artifacts.  The book had been well received, but hadn’t sold as well as she’d hoped.  The proceeds from the book had paid for part of her education, but money was in short supply in the wizarding world and people weren’t exactly buying books when they needed money to help put their lives back together.

After Hermione found her parents in Australia, they decided to continue their “retirement” down under.  Hermione had set them up financially with the sale of the practice and their investments.  She didn’t ask them for help and they didn’t offer.  It was a possibility that the relationship she’d once had with them was damaged more than she cared to admit.

How am I going to pay for this?

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Draco had half an hour before his Healing Potions class and he needed caffeine.  He ducked into a coffee shop for a quick cup of coffee.  He stood in line behind the other sleep-deprived students, thinking about the assignment he was going to submit.  When it was his turn, he looked up to find himself looking at Hermione Granger.  She wore an apron and seemed just as surprised to see him. 

“What can I get you?” she finally asked.

“Black coffee, please.”  

Even at Hogwarts, he’d never been able to ignore her.  Seeing her on this morning, pouring coffee and getting baked goods for customers gave him a thrill.  He had no doubt he would make this part of his regular morning routine.

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Fucking smarmy ferret!

Malfoy had thrown her off her game at work.  She’d been like a well-oiled machine, getting coffee and muffins, taking money and giving out change, when that ridiculously handsome face was staring at her with an expression of bewilderment and then…glee?  He was probably inwardly crowing that she was serving coffee like a modern day wench.  Arsehole. 

Hermione grabbed her book bag and ran from the coffee shop to her first class of the day, Architectural Transfiguration.

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The Wizarding University of Great Britain was one of two post secondary wizarding schools in Europe.  After the difficulty of the war and her year on the run, Hermione couldn’t imagine being stressed by something as banal as tuition money, but she loved her classes.  She knew she could get a job at the Ministry if she couldn’t afford school, but her goal was to further her education.  She knew she had so much to learn.

Finding out that Draco Malfoy had also been accepted to the WUofGB had been unexpected, until she toured the campus and found the Malfoy name on two buildings, a sculpture and a section of the library.  Of course he was admitted.  His family had clearly financed enough to allow him entrance into the prestigious university.  

Hermione made her way to the library to get in some studying after her last class of the day.  She’d stayed up studying the night before, woke at five a.m. to be at work by six a.m., worked until just before ten a.m., went to two classes back to back, had a sandwich underneath a tree while she read, went to long potions lab in the afternoon and knew if she didn’t start studying now, she’d never be prepared for her classes this week.  

She cleared her mind and began unpacking her books.  

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Draco made his way to The Oasis, the coffee shop where he’d seen Granger working the previous day.  With any luck, she’d be there this morning and he planned on getting a seat and watching her work.  

He stepped into the café, a full two hours before his first class at nine a.m.  Granger wore her long hair in a French braid, jeans and a navy blue long sleeve v-neck tee that hugged her curves.  Her look was simple.  Utilitarian.  

The shop was fairly empty and he was able to step right up to the counter.  She didn’t smile at him, but she also didn’t scowl.  

“What can I get you, Malfoy?”

“Black coffee and a blueberry muffin,” he said, taking a few coins out of his pocket.

She got his order and took his money, then gave him change.  He took his coffee and muffin and sat at a table, getting out a book to peruse as he covertly studied his favorite Muggle-born.

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Hermione knew Malfoy was watching her.  She didn’t catch him looking at her, but she felt the tickle of eyes studying her.  Since they were eleven years old, he’d watched her.  She knew he did and figured she was some kind of circus oddity to him.  It certainly wasn’t any kind of real interest, to her knowledge.  

She had an earlier class and said goodbye to the other employee, a middle-aged witch named Dawn, and hastily made her way from the shop.  

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Draco grabbed his things and followed Hermione, easily catching up with her.  

“Where are you off to this fine morning?” he asked conversationally.  She’d always been high strung, but her behavior was beyond that.  She was stressed.

“Class,” she said, continuing her brisk pace.  He’d done this when he was younger, followed her and engaged her in conversation, only to insult her when he was in earshot of his friends.  She’d learned that outright ignoring him made him pursue her even more doggedly, so she would speak to him in a clipped way.

“Why are you working at that café?  The work load here is tremendous.”

“Why do you think, Malfoy?”  What a prat!  She needed the money, obviously.

Finally, she reached her building and opened the heavy door.  Unfortunately, he followed her.

“You won’t be able to pay for school with what you make there.”  

Hermione finally turned her whiskey-colored eyes on him.  She didn’t look angry, just resigned and kind of dejected.

“I know.  It’s a last ditch effort, until I can get a job that will cover my tuition.” 

With that, she entered a classroom, the door closing behind her.  He didn’t follow her, although he wanted to.  An idea wormed its way into his mind.  She’d balk at first, but he knew she’d come around.  

Chapter Text

Happy to ditch Malfoy at the classroom door, Hermione found a seat at the front of the classroom and took a few deep breaths before class started.  He’d always unnerved her with his attention.  She was the kind of woman who didn’t exactly draw attention from other people.  Generally, if anything, they resented her intelligence and excluded her.  She knew her level of intelligence was an anomaly and accepted a somewhat isolated life.  While she didn’t think Malfoy wanted to harm her, his intentions were never nice.

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Draco knew Hermione wouldn’t accept his proposition until she was feeling desperate, so he planned to bide his time.  He needed to study her: find out where she was living, what her class schedule was, and most importantly how much she owed to the school for the semester.  

They’d both attended Hogwarts the previous year and he’d noticed how withdrawn she’d been.  He’d regularly seen her speaking to the professors, for her book, he now assumed, but otherwise she hung with Looney Lovegood, Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley.  Potty and the Weasel had gone on to Auror training.  

He was almost positive she didn’t have a boyfriend.  That could be an obstacle, but not a difficult one.  He knew Hermione found him attractive.  Her body signals-- blushing, quickened breathing and general awkwardness-- gave her interest away.  She might not want to admit it to herself, but she fancied him and Draco planned to capitalize on the friction between them.

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All week, Draco would get to the café bright and early, order coffee and some sweet breakfast treat and watch Hermione.  He noticed her hands were rough, as if she did manual labor.  Odd.  Her clothes were relatively clean, but he saw her wearing the same things throughout the week.  Maybe she was more hard up than he had previously thought.

He found out she owed almost 2,000 Galleons to the school.  At the very most she was earning 100 Galleons a month with this job and the proceeds from her book.  He’d read her book three times and it was quite brilliant.  It was a pity she wasn’t making what she should off of it.

He didn’t follow her to class now, since he’d obtained her schedule off a ditzy, young witch in the Records Office.  Her address on the documents gave an owl post office box.  He knew she studied at the library every night until the building closed at midnight.  Maybe she Apparated to a home in the Muggle world?  Draco didn’t know, but he vowed to find out.

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Getting out of bed had been difficult this cold October morning, but his large flat had fireplaces in every room and he had a fire roaring with a flick of his wand.  After a hot shower and dressing in his fine cashmere sweater and wool trousers, he made his way to watch Granger serve coffee to students and staff.

There was a line this chilly morning and when he got to the front to order his drink, he noticed something odd about Hermione.  She was pale and…shivering?  Why was she shivering?

“You shouldn’t serve food to others if you’re sick,” he drawled as he watched her get a scone for another patron.

She shot him a glare.  “I’m not sick, I just couldn’t get warm last night.”

“Why didn’t you use a warming charm?”

“I did.  They wear off after an hour or so.  What would you like, Malfoy?”

“Coffee and a piece of quiche, please.”  As she put down his plate, he quickly grabbed her hand.  It felt icy.  She stared at him in shock before yanking it back.

“Dawn, will you take care of this customer?  I need to check something in the back.”  

The other witch ended up helping Draco, eyeing him suspiciously the entire time.  He supposed his perusal of Granger throughout the week hadn’t been particularly secret.  Oh, well.  What did he care if some old bint didn’t like him?

He found himself a table and ate the quiche, waiting for Granger to reappear behind the counter.  When she did, he could tell she had applied a glamour.  It was well done, but he hadn’t known her to use the daily tool of most witches.  The glamour made her skin appear smooth and her cheeks rosy.  She was still shivering, but it appeared she was warming up.  It wasn’t even that cold last night, so why did she look like she’d slept outside?

Bloody hell.  He knew the year the Golden Trio was on the run they had camped in remote areas of England.  Gods, when she had been brought into the manor by the Snatchers, she looked painfully thin and dirty.  Well, she didn’t look that rough, but she didn’t look as hearty as she had at sixteen.  Was she trying to save money by staying in a tent at night?  He hated to think of her alone, braving the elements.  She’d obviously take precautions for her safety, but after all she’d been through, it was just wrong for her to have to do this.  And the weather only promised to get colder and wetter as the months went on.

He knew where she’d make camp.  There was a heavily wooded area thirty kilometers or so from the WUofGB.  He’d confirm that she was living in a tent and make his case to her.  How could she refuse?

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Two nights later, Hermione Apparated back to her campsite when the library closed at midnight.  Sleet fell from the sky, leaving small chunks of slush in her hair and on her coat.  Her hands and feet were freezing, but she needed to put up her tent and get some sleep.  She pulled the tent out of her extendable bag and used her wand to assemble the tent and create protection wards around the campsite.

Draco had Apparated to the forest a few minutes before midnight and wandered around, trying to figure out where she might be staying.  He heard the telltale pop of Apparition and quietly made his way in the direction of what he was sure was Hermione’s campsite.  He found her using her wand to assemble an old, canvas tent.  Her face was exhausted as she got it set up and put wards around the site.  

With his confirmation of her situation, Draco walked a fair distance from her tent in order to Apparate back to his luxurious flat.

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Draco continued to watch Granger, noticing the dark circles that had developed under her eyes as the combination of cold and stress wore her down.  He rarely saw her interact with other students, except in the most perfunctory situations.  Though he’d never cared for her friends, he knew they gave her a measure of support.  For whatever reason, she didn’t have that anymore and she needed it.  

He was fairly isolated as well, but after being surrounded by psychotic murderers for the past few years, the peace was welcome.  His parents, who cared for him in their own way, were licking their wounds during their house arrest at Malfoy Manor.  He had absolutely no desire to step foot into that house again.  He enjoyed a bit of female companionship over the past few months, but that was more for relief than anything else.

Draco made his way to Hermione’s library table and sat across from her.  She looked up, nodded at him in acknowledgement and went back to her book.  She always gave him enough attention to ease his interest for a short time, but not enough to truly satiate him.  He hoped tonight that might change.

“Granger, have you had dinner?” he whispered.

She looked at him in confusion.  “Why?”

“You intrigue me.  Always have.”  

Hermione looked at his face, seeing the honesty in his response.  She knew he was fascinated by her, but Malfoys always had ulterior motives.  What did he want from her?

“I know I do, but I think I’m forbidden fruit to you, nothing more.”

“Maybe.  But at least you’ll get a decent meal tonight.”  

If she were his friend, she’d speak to him with more kindness, but since they were barely on speaking terms, her bluntness was better than an outright rejection.  He knew she wouldn’t trust him if he didn’t at least tell her part of the truth.

She started to pack up her bag.  Draco expected her to tell him to bugger off, but he underestimated her need for food, warmth and even the tiniest bit of familiarity.  

“Alright, I’ll have dinner with you.  I could use a break from studying.”

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Draco’s flat was posh, modern and surprisingly warm.  She could see he spent time here.

“How long have you lived here?” she asked.

“I bought it after the Wizengamot cleared me, so just over two years.  I came here when we had breaks last school year.”

Draco led her to the gorgeous chef’s kitchen.  Glass fronted cabinets reached to the high ceiling, marble countertops gleamed and a breakfast bar called to Hermione to make herself at home.  She sat on a tall metal stool and watched Malfoy collect food from the ice box.

“You can cook?”

“If you’d taken Muggle Studies last year, you’d have learned Muggle survival skills such as cooking, using the telephone and driving an automobile.”

Hermione began laughing.  “Those are actually useful things to know, Malfoy.  I don’t know how to drive.”

“Really?  It’s great fun.  Your friend Longbottom is an atrocious driver, by the way.”

“No doubt.  It never occurred to me to take Muggle Studies.  I do know how to cook, though, if you need help.”

“Thank you, but tonight I’m going to heat up soup I made yesterday.  It’ll be better today, since the flavors had a chance to meld.”

Draco got out crackers, a soft cheese and wine.  He placed the plate near her and poured her a generous glass of wine.  Hermione sipped the dry vintage while snacking from the plate.  She watched him heat the soup on the Viking stove.

When the soup’s aroma began to fill the air, Draco ladled it into deep bowls.  He handed Hermione two spoons and walked her to the dining room.  He placed the chicken, rice and vegetable soup in front of her after she sat down.

She waited for him to sit down and take a spoonful, then began to eat her own food.  She ate regularly, but her food consisted of canned goods, fruit, and peanut butter sandwiches.  This was about ten times better than anything she’d had in weeks. 

After watching Hermione Granger for several years, Draco knew a few things about her.  She thirsted for knowledge, in both academic and experiential ways.  She yearned for praise.  While she could function alone, she needed a few close relationships to be content.  She liked to have people to fuss over—she had a strong protective instinct.  What he’d realized was that Hermione was missing several of these aspects in her daily life.

“I read your book,” Draco said.

“You did?”  Luna had read it, but to her knowledge none of her other friends had.

“Fucking brilliant, Granger.  I heard those tales over and over growing up, but I never would have connected the stories to the Dark Lord’s plan.”

Hermione was taken aback by him compliment.  “Thanks, Malfoy.”  She gave him a truly genuine smile.

“Would you care for dessert?  I have a box of chocolates I picked up at the new chocolatier in Diagon Alley.”  

All day Hermione had felt depressed over her situation.  She was disappointed she couldn’t raise the money she needed to pay for school, let alone a small flat or dorm room.  She hadn’t made any friends at the university.  Even after her heroic acts during the war, people still treated her with aloofness.  She had sacrificed so much to assure herself a place in this world, but it didn’t seem to matter to most.  Hermione had considered asking Harry to loan her the Galleons, but the demands on him were so great that she was reluctant to add to his burden.  No, she needed to figure out the situation herself.

“I’ll make us tea, yeah?” Draco asked as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Okay, Malfoy.”

She sat in his lovely dining room in contemplation of her situation.  Draco came in a couple of minutes later with a silver tray laden with tea and chocolates.

“Let’s sit in front of the fire in the sitting room.  It’s been so cold the past week, I’ve enjoyed reading in front of the fire in the evening, sipping a hot drink.”  He wanted her to contrast her situation with his.  It may have been cruel, but when he made his proposition, Draco wanted Hermione to feel the full force of her desperation.

A down-filled couch was across from the roaring fire.  Hermione sat and felt the velvety fabric of the couch embrace her.  Gods, this was bloody luxurious!  Draco placed the tray on the table in front of them and served her tea. 

“Cream and sugar?” he asked.

“Neither.”  He handed her a delicate white and grey teacup.  She inhaled the comforting smell of Earl Grey.

“Have you found another job?” Draco asked.

“No,” Hermione said, taking a chocolate from the tray.  She bit into it to taste a refreshing raspberry burst of liquid.  Delicious.  “I plan on finishing the semester, but I don’t think I’ll be able to continue after that.”

Draco looked at her sharply and frowned.  “Giving up so easily, Granger?  Doesn’t seem like you.”

“I have to be reasonable.  I’ve exhausted my options for paying my tuition and I can continue my studies on my own.  Minister Shacklebolt offered me a job working directly with him when the semester ends.”  She shrugged and took a sip of her tea.

“You know, I don’t hate you.”  He gently moved his hand to the exposed back of her neck, very lightly stroking the skin there.  As if he was petting a wild animal, he watched her every breath for signs of distress.  He added minute pressure and felt her breathing quickening.

“Why are you touching me?” she whispered.

“I’ve always wanted to,” he murmured.  

She shifted away from him and stood.  “I have to go.  Thank you for dinner,” she mumbled.  

Draco didn’t push her, but she’d been receptive to his touch.  He followed her to the door.

“May I escort you home?”

“No, but thank you for the offer.  Goodnight.”  She finally made eye contact with him.  She thought he looked sad.  “I had a tough day today, but this was…nice.”  She gave him a small smile and walked toward the stairs.  

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Hermione Apparated back to her campsite.  The night was clear, cold, and windy.  She put up her tent and protection wards and got into her cot.  She applied a strong warming charm, but she could feel the wind cutting through the canvas tent.

When she’d been in hiding with Harry and Ron, she’d never been this uncomfortable.  The boys had been opposed to sharing a bed with each other, but neither had a problem with spooning with Hermione for warmth.  Ron had timidly touched her belly and clasped her hands, but it had been mostly for comfort.  He’d reconciled with Lavender at the end of sixth year and she often found him looking at pictures of the vivacious girl on their hunt for Voldemort’s horcruxes.  

Harry had been a different story.  When Ron had left them, he’d climb into Hermione’s bed and stroke her breasts and finger her folds until she’d give in to his desires.  She’d never thought of Harry sexually, but he’d been desperate to feel anything but the crushing weight of expectation of the people depending on him.  Letting him use her body had been the least of her worries.  Eventually, she’d reciprocated with him.  It was a situation born from need and when Harry had destroyed Voldemort, he explained that he wanted to be with Ginny.  It had been a relief to Hermione.  

When Draco had stroked her neck while they sat before the fire, she’d felt his need, too.  But unlike with Harry, Hermione was attracted to Malfoy.  She wasn’t fascinated with him as he was with her, but she could imagine him touching her and she wanted to touch him, too.  He’d been oddly kind to her this evening, but she knew he would take advantage of her given the opportunity.  Most likely, he wanted to fulfill some Mudblood fantasy he’d developed over the years.  Yes, that was the obvious scenario.

But what if there’s more to him than that, Hermione?  Maybe he appreciates your intelligence.  He did read your book.  That’s more than all your other “best” friends have done.         

She’d listen to her instincts regarding Draco Malfoy.  Hunkering down under wool blankets, she let the whistling wind lull her to sleep.

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The next morning, Draco surreptitiously cast an additional warming charm over Hermione while she worked.  She was dressed for a blizzard, wearing a thick sweater over a turtleneck sweater, a scarf and corduroy pants.  He saw her relax marginally as the effect of his charm helped her body temperature to stabilize.  

When she made her way out of the coffee shop to go to class, he followed her.

“Hey, Malfoy,” she said, continuing her brisk walk to class.  

“Hey, Granger.  What’s with all the wintery gear?”

“I haven’t been handling the cold well this year.  I’ll adjust in a few weeks.”

Draco handed her a note before he went into his building.  “See you soon.”

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Granger,

Go to my flat when you’re done with classes today.  Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’ll be back about 7:30 this evening.  I’ve keyed you into my wards, so you can Apparate directly into the flat.

D.M.   

What was this about?  Going over to his flat when he fed her dinner was one thing, but to have him ask her to go there and wait for him was another thing.  Hermione didn’t know what to make of Draco Malfoy.

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Out of burning curiosity, Hermione decided to comply with Malfoy’s request.  But she had an ulterior motive as well: taking a long, hot bath and doing some badly needed manicuring.  She’d been sneaking into the ladies’ Quidditch team showers ever few days and spelling herself clean on the days she couldn’t get into the locker room.  

Once her last class had ended, Hermione Apparated into Malfoy’s entry hall.  It really was a beautiful flat, with big windows overlooking the small town of Framlingham.  Hermione spent a few minutes walking through the rooms, looking at Malfoy’s books and knick-knacks.  His hallway bathroom contained a large shower stall, but she really wanted to soak in a tub.  Against her better judgment, she opened the door to his bedroom.  It was a sumptuous room, with a large bed dressed in silky dark blue bedding.  The wood floors were partially covered by a fluffy grey flokati rug.  

Is the painting above his bed an original Gustav Klimt?  Bloody Malfoy.  He’s got a priceless piece of art hanging above his bed.

Just like his fastidious personal appearance, Malfoy’s home was organized and gorgeous.  She felt a stab of bitterness that she’d sacrificed so much during the war, only to lose her most important relationships and now had to sleep in a tent to pay for a fraction of her classes.  Where was the justice in that?

She moved through the room and entered the bathroom.  It was…wow.  Gleaming marble tile covered the floors and walls.  A deep clawfoot tub stood under an opaque window.  A large basket containing fluffy white towels had been placed next to the tub, along with another basket containing an assortment of soaps, shampoos, conditioners, bath salts and bath oils.

She took off her clothes, folding them in preparation to don them after her bath.  The tub filled as she unbraided her hair and combed her fingers through her tresses.  Dipping a foot into the steaming water, she climbed in and sank under, soaking her body and hair.  She squeezed a dollop of shampoo into her hand and began to massage her scalp, letting the thick lather wash the metallic smell of the cold from her.  The scent of the eucalyptus and lavender shampoo was perfect, sharp and slightly medicinal.  It was exactly the kind of clean smell that helped her feel like she was Hermione Granger—meticulous, fair, “brightest witch of her age”.  Not like she’d felt lately—uncivilized, penniless, dispirited.  Hermione closed her eyes and tried to appreciate the small gift of a few hours of solitude and luxury given to her from an unexpected source.

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Draco Apparated to his flat and smelled…breakfast?  He followed the smell to his kitchen where he found Hermione Granger making pancakes and bacon.

“Smells good, Granger,” Draco said.  She turned and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Oh, hey, Malfoy.  I hope you don’t mind, well, you said I could use the kitchen.”

“I don’t mind, if you’ve made enough for me.”  He could see she’d washed her hair since this morning.  Her long curls hung down her back, shiny and bouncy.  

“There’s enough for you.  Do you have maple syrup by any chance?”  Hermione had the worst craving for pancakes and bacon over the past few weeks.  The last time she’d been to The Burrow, Molly had made buttermilk pancakes.  The Weasleys had fallen on the food like a swarm of locusts, but she’d been able to eat two and ever since that day she’d yearned for a pancake meal.  Malfoy’s kitchen was stocked with great ingredients, but as soon as she’d seen the bacon, she’d decided to satiate her breakfast desire.

Draco opened a high cupboard and reached in to grab a glass jar of the dark brown syrup.  He handed it to Hermione.

“A bit hidden,” he observed.  

“Thanks.  I’ve had a terrible craving for pancakes with proper maple syrup.”

Draco sat at the breakfast bar and watched Hermione cook.  For the first time in several weeks, he thought she looked relaxed.  She served him a stack of golden pancakes topped with warm butter and maple syrup and a couple of strips of bacon.  He took a bite of the bacon.

Hermione put her plate down next to his and began to eat.  “Mmm.  I haven’t had proper bacon in ages.”

“It’s a treat to come home to food I didn’t prepare.”  He put a piece of pancake into his mouth.

“You know about my situation, don’t you?”  Hermione tilted her head a looked at him.

He nodded and continued to eat.  Hermione felt a wave of humiliation wash over her.  She tried to continue eating, but found her appetite had fled.  Dealing with Malfoy over the years had taught her two things: don’t give him a big reaction and act with impunity.  She stood and began to clean up the kitchen.

Draco cleared his throat.  “Do you want to continue to attend school?”

She stopped washing a pan and dried her hands.  Her back was to him as she quietly answered.  “You know I do.” The phrase deal with the devil kept running through her mind.

He walked behind her and put his arm around her shoulder and led her to the velvet couch.  She smelled of his favorite shampoo, but something warm and feral underlied the soapy scent.  Even after all the years he’d spent observing her, he’d rarely had the opportunity to be so close.  It was intoxicating.

They sat on the couch facing each other.  Hermione stilled her features and calmed from his touch.  There was something exhilarating about giving yourself over to the enemy.  She knew if their world had been different, this crafty, intelligent man might have been her friend, but as it stood, he was not.  But he wasn’t evil.  She’d faced true evil and knew Malfoy wasn’t even close, but his agenda would trump what was good or right.  

“After the war, I was cleared but my parents have been on house arrest.  The Malfoy name is now synonymous with treachery and the Dark Lord.  Your name, however, is equivalent to bravery and brilliance.  My family can do little to change that perception and you, for all your intelligence, don’t know how to capitalize on yourself.  Your book was a good start, but it’s obvious your daily struggles prevent you from making a name for yourself.”

Draco took a curl between his fingers and felt the silkiness.  Hermione let him, finding his words compelling.

“What do you propose?” she asked.  

“Total access to you and in exchange you’ll live here and I’ll pay for your tuition and any other needs you have.”

“Total access?”

“Access to your mind, your body and your time.  You underestimate my fascination, Granger.  I want to understand what’s so special about you that I’ve never been able to ignore you.”

“And when you tire of me in a few weeks?”

“I’ll pay your tuition and living expenses for the full school year whether or not I want to continue our arrangement.  But I’ll expect you to fulfill your part of the bargain to the fullest extent.”

“If I agree to this, I want an Unbreakable Vow to ensure my safety.”

“I agree to that.”

“The end of the school year will be the end of this?”

“Yes, with the option to extend it if we both agree.”

This was Hermione’s opportunity to continue her education, live in a beautiful environment, and have the company of someone who was intelligent, at the very least.  She’d lived under worse conditions.  A part of her was just as curious about Malfoy, although she’d never admit that to him.  Her only control over the situation was his infatuation.  

She wondered what Harry, Ron and her other friends would think of this turn of events.  She’d had so little contact with them since she started school, she thought they might not even care.  

One question niggled at her brain.  Would they be physically compatible?  She didn’t want the following months to be a repeat of what happened with Harry, money be damned.    

Draco could practically hear the wheels turning in her head and was shocked when she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.  Her hand held onto his shoulder as she gently brushed her lips over his, breathing in his scent.  His hand came up to cup her face and he coaxed her mouth open with his lips.  Their tongues met, slowly at first then with more passion as the seconds ticked by.  An unfamiliar feeling of weightlessness, of not knowing where her body ended and his began accompanied the kiss.  Her arms went around his neck to hold him to her while his hands delved into her loose curls, indulging his fantasy of wrapping himself in her hair.  Malfoy began to pull her into his lap, but she broke the kiss.  For the first time, she let herself look into his eyes.  He wanted her, with an intensity that surprised her.

“I had to make sure we’re compatible,” she murmured, pushing herself away from him. 

“Are we?” he asked with a smirk.

“It appears so.  When do you want me to move in?” 

Chapter Text

Draco Summoned a bottle of champagne and two flutes.  

“Care to toast to our agreement?”

She took a flute of effervescent champagne from him.  

“Cheers to you, Hermione,” he said, trying out her name.  He’d thought it plenty of times, but he hadn’t had the chance to say it.  

“To us,” Hermione said, taking a sip of the slightly fruity, dry alcohol.  This was the weirdest occasion she’d ever celebrated.  

To prostituting myself to Draco Malfoy.  Cheers!    

Draco was into his fourth flute of champagne when he began asking her questions.

“Are you a virgin, Granger?”

“I don’t have to answer that,” she said, pouring herself a second helping of champagne.

“Our deal is that you open yourself to me and I want to know who you’ve been with.”

“Whatever information passes between us needs to stay between us.  If you share my personal information, we’re finished.”

“Fine.  Same applies to me.”

Hermione nodded.  “I’m not a virgin.  I slept with Harry a few times.”

“You two were together?”  

Did Potty get to everything Draco wanted before he did?  Fucking Harry Potter.  

“No.”

“Are you still friends?”

“Yes.  But we’re both trying to move forward.  Our paths have diverged.”

“He didn’t know you were struggling?” Draco wondered.

“It’s not information I wanted anyone to know, even my friends.  The only reason you know is because you’re here and you noticed my predicament.”  

He noticed, Hermione.  Of all the people in the world, the one who offers you anything is someone who made you cry at least once a year for the first five years of your life as a witch. 

“What about your family?”

At his question, Hermione face took on a somber expression.

“They’re gone.”  They’re gone to me.  Want nothing to do with me.

Draco had the stark realization that Hermione didn’t have a support system.  This was to his advantage.  While he didn’t want to make her situation worse, he wanted her to need him.  As it stood, what he could offer was more than anyone else would or could.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t know.”

She took a long drink of her champagne, changing the subject.  “Where should I put my things?”

“We’ll turn the guest bedroom into your office, but you’ll stay with me in my room.”

“Um, alright.  Why?”  

“It’s what I want.”

This is the deal.  Make it work, Hermione.

Hermione put her hand in Malfoy’s larger one and let him lead her to the bedroom.

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As they laid in bed, Draco combed his hands through Hermione’s long hair.  She didn’t take care of it as she should, but he’d make an appointment with his hair witch for her.  She lay on her side with her back turned to him.  Her long men’s t-shirt left a lot to be desired.  He’d take her shopping over the weekend.  The idea of her looking like a pauper while he looked like a son of privilege didn’t appeal to him.  Her appearance should reflect her status as his partner.

Hermione wondered what Malfoy was thinking about as he raked his fingers through her hair.  His behavior had been decent thus far, but she didn’t know what to expect form him.  They’d made the Unbreakable Vow for her safety, so she knew she wasn’t in danger.  The fine bedding, warmth and Malfoy’s surprisingly relaxing ministrations lulled her into sleep.

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“Stop!  I can do it.  Please don’t hurt her!  I need more time.”

Hermione bolted up, the thrashing body to her right waking her.  

What the…Gods, Malfoy’s having a nightmare!  

She put her hands over his so he wouldn’t hit her.  “Wake up, Draco!  It’s Hermione.  You’re having a nightmare.”

He pleaded with his dream foe.  “Please, you don’t understand.  I’ll figure it out.”

Hermione raised her voice.  “Malfoy!  You’re having a nightmare.”

His eyes opened, wide and scared.  “Granger?”  

“You were having a nightmare.”  Hermione removed her hands from his and moved back.

Sitting up, he took a deep, shaky breath.  “Sorry, Granger.  I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“It’s alright.  Those dreams…we all have them,” she whispered.  

She nestled herself in the blankets and pillows.  Tomorrow was Friday and she needed to get to work for a few hours in the morning.  It would be her last day there, since Draco wanted her to focus on her studies and their arrangement.  After a few minutes of Malfoy tossing and turning, he sidled up to her body and wrapped his arm around her waist.  Hermione willed herself to relax into his embrace and eventually nodded off.

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Draco woke to an empty bed.  He stretched and fisted his morning erection. 

 Mmm, Granger is mine, for at least the next few months.  

His hand began to pump up and down remembering the kiss they’d shared.  Her body was made for sex: just-shagged hair, long legs to wrap around his waist while he pounded into her, enough breast to fill his hands, full lips he couldn’t wait to feel kissing their way down his body.  He used his other hand to massage the broad head of his cock, using the drops of liquid emerging from the slit to lubricate his hand.  

Hermione had been in the bathroom getting ready for the day when she quietly opened the door from the bathroom to find Malfoy wanking.  She stood in the doorway, hardly breathing for fear of alerting him to her presence.  

Merlin, he really is gorgeous.  

All lean muscle and stark angles.  His white blond hair feathered over his forehead.  His eyes were shut, his long lashes making him appear almost angelic.  His breath hitched then he let out a low groan before his long, smooth penis erupted over his hand and onto his stomach.  Hermione’s hand was covering her mouth.  She’d never seen another person so uninhibited.  

He opened his eyes to find Hermione standing in the doorway watching him.  He grabbed his wand and spelled himself clean.

“I apologize for intruding on your privacy,” she finally said, moving to the closet to grab her bag.  

She hurried out of the bedroom, embarrassed to have been caught.  Somehow, her act of voyeurism pleased Draco.  The rapt way she had been staring at him, her cheeks flushed and her hand over her mouth, as if she was afraid of what sounds might come out.  

What an exhilarating way to start the day.

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The coffee shop was busy by the time Draco finally got there.  He’d eaten breakfast at home and had stopped in to escort Hermione to her class, which was an hour before his first class.  He found a seat and took out a book when a cup of coffee was placed on his table.

Dawn, Granger’s middle-aged co-worker, stood before him.  She looked at him knowingly.  He wondered if Granger had said something to her about their arrangement.  Unlikely.

“Take care of her, Mr. Malfoy.  A war heroine shouldn’t have had to work for Knuts, not after everything she’s done.”

Draco nodded, meeting Dawn’s perceptive gaze.  “I’ll take care of her.” 

“She doesn’t know it, but she’s treasured amongst many a wizard and witch.”  Dawn gave him a small smile before making her way to the counter to assist a fresh wave of customers.

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“Your last class ends at three, right?” Draco asked as they walked to her class.

“That’s right.”

Hermione was shy with him after what she’d witnessed that morning.  He guided her into a little-used pathway and pressed her against a wall.  He tilted her chin up, forcing her to make eye contact with him.

“Did you like what you saw this morning?” he murmured, his lips slowly descending on her cheek.  He kissed her face slowly, kissing her brows, her nose, and then lightly bussing her lips.

“Hmm?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said breathily.

His lips traveled to her ear.  He whispered to her, causing her body to flush.  A hand came up to smooth a lock of hair from her forehead.

“Come on, Granger.  I know you don’t want to be late.”

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When she had time between classes, Hermione ran to her owl post office box to pick up her mail.  Another bloody invoice from the school.  She slit the envelope open and stared at the paper.

Paid: 1,509 Galleons.  Owed: 1,491 Galleons.  

Malfoy had made a 500 Galleon payment.  She breathed a sigh of relief.  She wouldn’t have accepted his proposal if she didn’t think he’d uphold his end, but she thought he’d toy with her before he began to pay her tuition.  Oh, she knew he’d find some way to play with her, but he’d shown her actual kindness and that was somewhat perplexing. 

The building holding her owl post office box was next to a large courtyard of exotic plants and places for students and staff to sit and enjoy the flora.  A wooden bench nestled amongst ever-blooming rose bushes was a perfect place for her to sit, eat her sandwich and take a few moments to think about the situation she had agreed to.

Malfoy was “fascinated” by her.  Sex would be part of the equation.  She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit to her physical interest in him.  The kiss they’d shared had given her the faith she needed to know she would enjoy sleeping with Draco.  But it was more than sex for him, she realized.  He wanted to know about her, share ideas.  

She thought back to the Advanced Arithmancy class they’d shared the previous year.  Padma Patil had been her partner and while Padma was bright and diligent, the way Malfoy had explained his solutions to the class had been inspired.  No one had wanted to work with him, but the work he’d done had been better than any other pair in the class.  Since Malfoy didn’t spend their seventh year belittling her, she found it easier to appreciate his intelligence.

Considering his other motive, improving his family name, made Hermione want to giggle.  Her Muggle name was held in regard by the public more than his ancient, magical name?  After all her difficulties, she highly doubted the tides had changed so much that people preferred an outsider like herself over a pure-blood son of privilege.  He seemed to think this was the case and she knew Malfoy was perceptive of things such as public sentiment.

Even being woken due to Malfoy’s nightmare, her sleep was better than it had been in weeks.  She’d been trying to figure out how she’d continue to live in the tent during true winter, but her adapted warming charms had been a hot flash of heat followed by uneven warmth over her person.  Her feet might be toasty, but her torso was cold and her head would be burning.  Even the cheapest dorm rooms at the university would have required almost all her monthly earnings from the café.  She’d briefly considered asking Harry if she could live at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, but she needed some distance from him.  He could be self-absorbed and moody and it was hard to appreciate his good qualities when they were living together.  

She finished her sandwich and Vanished the paper she’d wrapped it in.  

Constant vigilance, Hermione.  Especially in the face of someone as crafty and hot as Draco Malfoy.  He is, for all intents and purposes, your employer.  Not a love-stricken boyfriend.    

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The smells of tomatoes, basil, and garlic wafted through the flat.  Draco made his way to the kitchen to find Hermione sitting at the island, books spread before her.  

She heard his footsteps and turned.

“Hi,” he said.  

“Hey, Malfoy.”  She thought about what she’d say to him if he hadn’t tormented him for several years and decided to try that behavior.  “How was your day?”

“I had a test in Business Arithmancy.  I’m not sure how I did.”  He went to the ice box for a bottle of water, one of the Muggle conveniences he enjoyed.

“You’re a natural at Arithmancy.  I imagine you did well.”

That’s the nicest thing she’s ever said to me.  Draco looked at her, noticing her messy bun, red scoop neck t-shirt and black yoga pants.  She was so natural, so herself, Draco couldn’t help but smile at her.

“Thanks, Granger.  What are you making?”

“Lasagna.  It’ll be ready in an hour.”

Draco had made his way to the bar some weekend evenings, if he was in need of a drink and perhaps some companionship, but the little lioness in his kitchen was better than anyone he could pick up in a bar.  He grabbed one of his textbooks and sat next to her at the island.  Watching her study in the Hogwarts Library had been one of his favorite pastimes over the years.  He’d have to learn to quit staring at her while she read and wrote and focus on his own work.  At least now he could examine her at his leisure.  

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The next evening, Hermione stared at herself in Draco’s bathroom mirror.  The hair witch had trimmed, shaped and coaxed Hermione’s hair into a gorgeous, shiny soft mass of ringlets.  The hair witch had been snooty at first, but upon discovering she was styling the hair of The Hermione Granger, she pampered Hermione until she felt boneless.  

Malfoy had gone to “run errands” while her hair was being worked on, which she later discovered was him buying a whole new wardrobe for her.  He’d done a surprisingly good job of buying her things she’d actually wear, but were considerably nicer than any of her current clothes.  The selection of underthings had made her blush from her cheeks to her chest.  Everything was tasteful, luxurious and perfectly sized.

She took a deep breath and donned the aubergine shift dress with a scoop neckline.  The color brought out her dark eyes and made her skin look rosy.  Pointy-toed black heels made her breasts and ass look fabulous in her new dress, Hermione thought to herself.

They were going out for dinner with Daphne Greengrass and her boyfriend, Blaise Zabini.  While weary of the two Slytherins, neither had ever been rude to her.  

“We’ve got to go, Granger!” Malfoy called from the other side of the door.

Hermione steeled herself and opened the door.  She presented herself to Draco for inspection, prepared for him to make her change clothes or…she didn’t know.  Something unpleasant.  But he slowly circled her instead.

“Hold your hair up,” he instructed.

Very gently, he pushed silvery-grey pearl studs into her earlobes.  Hermione held her breath as he focused on the delicate task.  It appeared he might kiss her, but he stepped back and looked at her.

“Shall we?” he asked, noticing her trepidation.  “They don’t bite.”

“I know.  These situations aren’t really my strong suit.”

Draco could understand her hesitation, but besides indulging his fascination with her, he needed her to help rehabilitate the Malfoy public image.  Drawing on the fact that Hermione thrived with praise, Draco put his hands on her shoulders.

“You can do this.  You’re bright, articulate, brave and thoughtful.  I was frankly quite surprised you let me pick your clothes, but you look as beautiful as you ever have.”

Hermione bit her bottom lip and nodded.  

“Thank you,” she murmured, taking his arm.  He was right.  She absolutely could do this.  He was upholding his part of the deal and she would do the same.

Chapter Text

After schooling the bewildered look on her face, Daphne Greengrass reverted to the polished manners she’d been taught since birth.

“Pleased to see you again, Miss Granger,” she said, bobbing her head in greeting.  

Blaise grinned and kissed Hermione’s hand.  “Miss Granger,” he murmured.  

The male Slytherins had shared a dorm for years and Blaise knew of Draco’s fascination with Hermione Granger.  He could understand her appeal.  Once Hermione had grown into her looks, she blossomed.  The Zabinis had stayed out of the Dark Lord’s clutches and he was grateful for the Golden Trio’s courage in the face of such evil and power.  Blaise wondered if Hermione understood how many witches and wizards from different levels of society appreciated what she had done for their world.

“Please call me Hermione,” she said to the pair.

The upscale Diagon Alley restaurant boasted a refined menu of Asian fare.  They sat in a booth with sliding screens to preserve their privacy.  Warm sake appeared on their table in small cups.  The rice alcohol was new to Hermione, but she liked the slightly savory flavor.  Her blond “boyfriend” kept his arm draped around her shoulders, his fingernails scraping against the bare skin of her upper arm, causing her to imperceptibly shiver.  

Draco and Blaise talked, totally leaving the two women out of the conversation.  Hermione thought it was rather sexist, but she didn’t expect anything different from Malfoy.  Daphne seemed used to the men’s behavior and silently watched them speak with interest.  The lovely, dark-haired Slytherin looked at Hermione and winked.  That little act of acceptance helped Hermione relax.  Maybe they weren’t so different from her after all.

A large tray of edamame sprinkled with sea salt and lemon slices appeared on the table and the group popped the pods open to expose the meaty beans.  Blaise looked at Hermione and smiled.

“I enjoyed your book, Hermione.  In the chapter on…”  Blaise continued to speak on a specific chapter from the end of her book, asking her to clarify some questions he had.

Merlin, he read my book!  

Then Daphne chimed in.  “The way you broke down the psychological reasons for…”

Draco watched his friends show Hermione their interest in her book.  The look of astonishment on her face was priceless.  The Gryffindors he knew didn’t put books ahead of their other activities, while the Slytherins were generally a well-read lot.  He’d put money on the fact that her publishing achievement was barely recognized by the majority of her group.  He did realize her set had some admirable qualities, but intellectually she was at a different level than the people she called friends.

“What have you two been doing since you left school?” Hermione asked the couple.

Daphne explained that she was training to be a mediwitch.  She wanted to work in Labor and Delivery.  Blaise, who Hermione was shocked to find out was a half-blood, was interning in the Muggle Liaison office at the Ministry.  His father was a wealthy Italian Muggle, so he’d had exposure to the Muggle world since birth.  Hermione wondered how Blaise had been able to stand Draco when he had been so anti-Muggle as a child.  Perhaps he had reserved his particularly prejudiced rants for her.

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The four stood in front of the restaurant saying their goodbyes.  

“Take care of our mate,” Blaise said to Hermione, lightly kissing her cheek.  

Hermione nodded, unsure of what to say.  Even with the ramifications of the war plaguing him and his parents, he was much more together than she was.  

Daphne took Hermione’s hands in hers.  “It was nice to finally get to have a conversation with you.  I’ll owl you two for dinner at my flat.”

“That would be wonderful, Daphne,” Hermione said, squeezing her hands.  Daphne squeezed back, before stepping towards the dark Italian and taking his hand.

Draco led Hermione to the Apparition point, his hand firmly on her lower back.

“What did you think?” Draco asked.  Blaise was gifted with reading people and putting them at ease, which he had aptly done with Hermione.  While Draco could read people, he didn’t worry about making sure people were comfortable.  He preferred to let people figure out their place on their own.  

“They weren’t what I was expecting.”

“Better or worse?” 

“They were better.  It was a very pleasant evening, Malfoy.”

They reached the Apparition point.  Draco wrapped his arms around Hermione and with a pop, they disappeared.  

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“I was supposed to marry Daphne’s sister.”

The pair was reading before the fire.  Draco had propped his feet on Hermione’s lap and intermittently wiggled them until Hermione took the hint and began to stroke his socked feet.

“Really?”

“Yes.  Astoria ran away with some Hufflepuff in her year after the Final Battle.”

Draco was looking at his book, but Hermione knew he wasn’t reading.  She put her book on the side table and looked at him.

“Did you want to marry her?”

“It’s not that simple.  But, no, I wouldn’t have chosen Astoria on my own.”

“Is Daphne betrothed to Blaise?”

“No.  When the Greengrass parents had to end our betrothal contract, they gave Daphne the option to end hers, which she did.  She and Blaise have been together since fifth year and they’re crazy about each other.  It’s somewhat sickening, actually.”

“I think it’s nice,” Hermione murmured, continuing to massage his feet.

Draco closed his eyes and rested his head on the arm of the sofa.  “I suppose it is.”

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On the off chance that her parents would reach out to her, Hermione had a Muggle post office box in Framlingham.  She checked it every few days, hoping for word that her parents were okay and thinking of her.  It had been empty thus far, but she had to check.

She made her way to the small post office, finding her box amongst the tiny silver boxes and used a key to open it.  For the first time in months, there was a letter.

Charlotte Granger’s slanted cursive graced the envelope.  

Oh, Mum, you have to forgive me!  I did what I had to do to protect you and Dad.

But when Hermione carefully slit open the envelope and pulled out the letter, it was an angry missive.  

Magic is evil!  Renounce your place as a witch!    

The letter was every bit as hateful as the way the Grangers had behaved last time Hermione had seen them.  They hadn’t believed they were in danger and thought Hermione had been exaggerating this “war” in order to take over their minds, for her own amusement.  Charlotte and Benjamin Granger were people who believed in black and white, good and evil, right and wrong, Heaven and Hell.  As a child, she hadn’t known any different.  Hermione thought all families were as strict, demanding, and clear in their beliefs as her own.

What the Grangers couldn’t comprehend was that magic was part of Hermione.  She could ignore it, but eventually, it would come out when her emotions ran high.  Upon first reading the letter, Hermione had felt sad and disappointed but now she was furious.  Was her lot in life to be constantly rejected by every group she should have been welcomed into?  

Fuck everyone!  I’m done with worrying about what everyone else wants from me.  If I don’t care about myself, no one else will.

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When Draco returned to the flat, the door to Hermione’s office was closed, and if he wasn’t mistaken, silenced.  He appreciated his own privacy, so he would leave her alone.  Perhaps she was trying to study something difficult.

A few hours after he had eaten dinner, he heard the door to the office open.  Hermione, red-eyed and grim-faced, came into the kitchen.  He watched her make her way to the refrigerator and grab a cold bottle of water.  She gulped half the bottle in one go and turned to Draco.

“I need a drink.  Something strong.”

Draco arched a brow at her, and then went to the cabinet where he stored his liquor.  

“Elf-made wine or firewhisky?  Equally hard stuff, but the Elf-made wine is easier on the palette.”

“Will you be drinking with me?” she asked.

“Of course.  I’d never pass up the chance to see you drunk.  Why don’t we have the Elf-made wine?”  Draco expected her to roll her eyes or call him “ferret”, but she was absorbed in whatever was bothering her.  He wondered what had her looking so unhappy.

“Sure.  That would be fine.  Do you have any chocolate?”  She opened the cabinet near her where she thought she had seen a box of chocolates the other day.

“Breaking out the chocolate, eh, Granger?  What happened?  Did you get a B on a test?”

She looked at the ground, shaking her head.

Draco poured two healthy glasses of wine and found the box of chocolates.  He walked into bedroom.  A bewildered Hermione followed him.

“Why are we sitting on the bed?”

“Drinking wine and eating on the bed is my guilty pleasure.  You look like you could use the comfort.  Get settled and I’ll grab the bottle of wine.”

Hermione sat against the headboard and took a gulp of the wine.  The wine was like liquid contentment.  Immediately, she felt her body began to relax.  She took another long swig and felt herself warm.  The stab of rejection she’d experienced earlier that day was beginning to feel far removed, as if she’d read about it in a novel.  

Draco came back into the room, noting that Hermione’s glass was only a quarter full.  Her face was becoming more placid by the second.  He settled himself on his side of the bed and took a sip of his wine.  Merlin, this stuff is bloody fabulous.  Every so often one of the Slytherins would sneak in a bottle and within a few sips, the normally discreet bunch would be telling stories and openly kissing and hugging.  

“What happened today, Hermione?” Draco asked, finding a raspberry truffle in the box of gourmet chocolates.

“Do you remember I told you my parents were gone?”

“Yes.”

“Well, technically, they are gone…from England.  Before the war began, I Obliviated them and sent them to Australia, for their own safety.  When I restored their memories, they were so angry they essentially disowned me.”

Hermione took another long drink, fortifying herself to continue her confession to Malfoy.  Since they had agreed to keep each other’s secrets, she knew he wouldn’t say anything to anyone else, but she dreaded him making light of her feelings.

“I keep a Muggle post office box and when I checked it today, I found that my mother had sent me a letter.  She hates me, Draco.”

Being the only son of Lucius Malfoy, Draco was familiar with having a parent who constantly expressed their disappointment.  Though he had never gone as far as Hermione’s parents, Draco had vowed to stay away from his parents once the war was over.  They’d dragged him into a situation that had almost cost him his life and his freedom and had offered him up to the scariest, craziest wizard in all the world.  Yes, Draco certainly understood where Hermione was coming from.

“How could she hate you, Granger?  You saved the world.”

Hermione shimmied down and lay on her side, facing Draco.  Her body was feeling wonderful.  She wanted Malfoy to put those big hands all over her.

“They don’t understand.  And no one cares what I did during the war.  People are trying to rebuild their lives, trying to deal with their own grief.”

Draco lay down, mirroring her position.  They were only inches apart.  He recognized the glassy look in her eyes, but didn’t want to stop whatever would happen between them.  She reached a hand up to his face and gently traced the slope of his features.  

“The first time I saw you, I thought you were the handsomest boy I had ever seen,” she admitted with a small smile.

“I get that reaction a lot,” he replied with a smirk.

“Prat.”

His expression became serious.  “Take it from me, there’s only one person you can depend on and that’s yourself.  Do what you need to do to make yourself happy.”

She flopped on her back and sighed.  “I know, Malfoy, but I want more than that.  I want a family and love.  Since the war ended, I’ve been fending for myself.  I’m sure you think it’s very Gryffindor of me to want those things.”

Draco was reminded of the cool way his parents greeted him after he got off the train his first holiday break from Hogwarts.  By contrast, The Weasel’s mother was all kisses and hugs for her flame-haired brood.  He’d actually felt jealousy for what the Weasleys had, the kind of affection that was so abundant there was no doubt that those children were happy and cared for.  Yes, they were poor, but they were rich in other ways.

“Some people have that kind of familial love and some don’t.  You have to be grateful for what you do have.”

“What are you grateful for, Malfoy?”  Grateful was not a word she expected to hear from the man she had considered a spoiled brat for the last eight years of her life.  

“My life.  My freedom.  Getting away from my parents’ suffocating demands for perfection.  A pretty, drunk girl in my bed.”

Hermione snorted.  “I’m not nearly drunk enough.  Let’s get back to that, shall we?”

The two sat up and Draco refilled their glasses.  

“What do you want to do this weekend?”  Hermione had been warned that they needed to start being “seen” together.  She was dreading the reaction from her friends.  They may not have been there for her recently, but she didn’t have anyone else.  Well, Malfoy was supporting her, but that lasted until he got sick of her.  At least school would be paid for this year.

“Well, there’s a Ministry gala I’ve been invited to attend since I gave an obscene amount of money to the War Orphan Fund.  That’s Saturday night.  Or we can do something more pedestrian, like take a stroll through the Alley.”

“The wine is ambrosia, Malfoy.  How do you stop yourself from drinking it?”  

Laughing, Draco took another sip.  “I wouldn’t be productive if I drank this daily.  I’d want to drink, shag and eat rich food.  You’d probably mistake me for a randy Greg Goyle if I went that way.”

“Eww,” Hermione said, scrunching her nose.  “Well, getting back to the weekend, I guess I’d prefer a stroll through Diagon Alley.  I haven’t been to Flourish and Blotts in ages.  But you’d get better press at the gala, right?”

“I would, but we don’t want people to think our arrangement is a business transaction.  We’re still not as natural with each other as we could be.  Let’s put off the gala since there will be tons of press there.  The Ministry has some event every month.  And I give to other charities, so I’ll be invited to their fundraisers as well.”

Hermione was relieved.  Having their picture plastered all over the Prophet made her uncomfortable, although she knew eventually it would happen.  The vindictive little voice in her head almost wanted her friends to find out about her association with Malfoy by seeing her looking gorgeous next to Draco’s ridiculously handsome self.  Almost.  She needed to send them an owl letting them know about her new “relationship”.  

Something Malfoy said had struck her.  She needed to take happiness where she could find it.  Though he did touch her, and seemed to enjoy doing so, it almost appeared that he wanted her to make the more overt moves.  She wanted him to touch her, but maybe he needed a little push.  Draco’s back was once again against the headboard as he sipped his wine.  She lifted the cup from his hand and placed it on her side table.  He eyed her silently, letting her take control of the situation.  She straddled him and put her lips to his ear.

“I liked watching you please yourself.  Do you want to watch how I do it?”

“Show me,” he growled, his body electrified by her question.  He’d wanted to taste her body, touch her smooth skin, and get an eyeful of the area she kept covered with clothes.

She used her wand to Vanish her sweater and jeans, leaving her in a matching set of ivory silk knickers and a bra.  Ever so slowly, Hermione trailed her fingertips over her sensitive neck to her hard nipples.  Her fingers dipped into her bra to circle the areola, and then she pinched at the peaks.

“Mmm…I like a mix of light and rougher touches.”  Taking his hand, she brought it to her silk-encased breast, letting him explore.

She’s more gorgeous than I thought she’d be.   

Draco explored her breasts through her bra, bringing up his other hand to cups both generous orbs.  She closed her eyes and gave a ragged sigh.  A second later, she felt his breath on her lips, then his firm mouth on her own.  She opened her lips to him and felt his tongue against her tongue, at first a light touch then more passionately until she started to feel dizzy from the kiss.  

God, I can’t wait until he uses his tongue on other parts of my body!

When Malfoy pinched both nipples, Hermione gasped and broke the kiss.  She looked at his face and saw his eyes darkened with lust.  She scooted back slightly and moved his hands to her thighs.  It was awkward to do something so intimate in front of someone else, but when Malfoy pushed her against the wall and whispered his desire to see her masturbate she felt free to let her inner exhibitionist out.  

Her middle finger traced the seam of her pussy over her knickers, leaving the silk noticeably moist.  Draco stared at her hand, mesmerized by her actions.  He couldn’t wait to sink his cock into her and feel her warm, wet tightness around him.  He kneaded her thighs in rhythm to her finger slowly traveling back and forth.  

Hermione grabbed her wand and Vanished her knickers, leaving Draco a view of her neatly trimmed cunt.  She smelled divine: sweet yet tangy, and like a woman.  His hands moved to her arse, rocking her slightly to give his aching cock some relief. 

Dipping a finger into herself for lubrication, Hermione began to gently circle her clit and rock over Malfoy’s erection.  Draco cleared his throat.

“L-lay down so I can see you.”  He’d imagined her body for so long, he wanted to savor this first viewing.  Legs spread so she could lie between them and he could look at her most intimate parts.

Hermione lay between his spread legs, her feet finding purchase near his upper thighs.  She used one hand to rub her hard clit and her other hand pushed two fingers into her needy body.  She groaned and arched her back with her impending orgasm.  

Draco couldn’t hold back and began to rub his hand over his covered penis.

“Gods, Hermione, come.  Let me see you come.”

Her hands began to move frantically.  Time stilled for a moment and then her body clenched around her fingers and her clit throbbed with her orgasm.  Her groan was long and low and so, so sexy.  She rode out the last few tremors and slowly moved her hands to rest on her belly.  

The two former enemies stared at each other, and then Draco took one of her hands and sucked the fingers that had been inside her.  His tongue licked over each digit, while enveloping it in his warm mouth.  Hermione closed her eyes, letting her head rest on the soft bed covering.  He finished sucking her fingers and leaned over her, coming face to face with her.

“You were magnificent,” he whispered before kissing her, allowing her to taste herself on his lips.

Hazy from the intense orgasm, Hermione couldn’t help but think that if this were a real relationship, she’d be falling hard for Draco Malfoy.   

Chapter Text

Dear Hermione,

If you ever cared about me as your friend, you’ll give up this foolish thing you have going with Malfoy.  He’s been horrid to you, me, and Ron for years and for some reason you think he actually wants to be with you?  He’s using you, Hermione!  Don’t forget who your real friends are.

Harry

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Dear Hermione,

The Ferret?  Huh.  Since you’re the smartest person I know, I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt.  If you think he’s different, he probably is.  I’m glad to hear he’s been good to you.  You deserve it, Mione.

Love,

Ron

p.s. Hi, it’s Lavender!  Ooh, Malfoy’s hot!  Details, pleeaasse!

(Gross! –Ron)

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Dear Hermione,

Like an ecosystem, a relationship needs different types to balance and flourish.  You are courageous, brilliant, and lost while Draco Malfoy is adaptable, astute and determined.  I think you two will be good together.

Malfoy and I had an understanding the year the Carrows terrorized Hogwarts.  He’d warn me before those two would do something horrible and that allowed the remaining members of the D.A. to protect the vulnerable students.  I saw him suffer under the weight of Voldemort’s regime, as much as any of us.  He did what he could in his own way.

Send him my regards.

Your friend,

Neville

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Hermione,

So, is it true?  Is he a sex god?  Harry’s pissed at you, but I think you need someone like Malfoy.  He’ll change it up for you, that’s for sure!  You deserve a hot boyfriend to spoil you rotten.

Hugs,

Ginny  

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Well.  Hermione truthfully had no idea how her friends might react to her news, but overall they had surprised her.  Unfortunately, Harry had reacted exactly as she had expected.  After their affair, it had almost seemed to Hermione that he was unhappy with her.  He didn’t want to be with her, but he didn’t want anyone else to want her either.  

Hermione suspected both she and Harry suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  She internalized her fear and anger, becoming depressed and suffering from low self esteem, while Harry, who had always been volatile, became outwardly sullen and angry when those around him didn’t behave as he wanted them to.  Previously, Hermione didn’t have the resources to seek counseling, but perhaps now that she had some extra Galleons, she could find a Muggle psychologist who specialized in PTSD.  

Ironically, moving into Malfoy’s flat had helped her feel more herself than she had in months.  He had some annoying habits, but overall they shared more qualities than not.  He studied almost as much as she did, he liked to read, his cooking was quite good and he was neat and organized.  And he was hot.  Really, stinkin’ hot and for some bizarre reason seemed to find her attractive as well.  Hermione was still waiting for him to turn on her, but so far he gave no indication that he wanted to humiliate or hurt her. 

Hermione sipped a cup of hot cocoa while reading her letters.  

“What did they say?” 

“Everyone but Harry was supportive.  Ginny and Lavender think you’re hot,” she said with a laugh.

Draco grinned.  “I am.”

“Nice, Malfoy.  Very humble.  Um, Neville mentioned what you did during the war for the D.A. members.”  Hermione noticed Draco seemed almost shy about what she’d said regarding the D.A.

“He respects you, Malfoy.  His letter was actually quite sweet,” Hermione said, handing him the note. 

Draco read it as he sat next to her at the breakfast bar.

“Is there more hot cocoa?”

“I’ll make you a cup.”  Hermione walked to the icebox to retrieve the milk.

“Thanks, Granger.”  The pair was quiet while Hermione prepared his drink.

Hermione set a steaming mug of sweet, thick cocoa in front of her flatmate.

“After I let the Death Eaters into the school sixth year, no one wanted anything to do with me.  I can hardly blame them.  One night when I knew the Carrows were planning on torturing a second year Muggle-born, I saw Longbottom walking the halls.  I told him what I knew.  He studied me, I suppose to see if I was lying, then nodded and walked away.  I found out later he’d been able to hide the boy in the Room of Requirement.  After that, when I knew something bad was going to happen, I warned him.”

Hermione watched Draco drink his cocoa.  He looked guilty and sad.  She knew he had been a sacrificial lamb for the Death Eaters.  It was a wonder he’d survived the war.  But she couldn’t absolve him of his sins and didn’t want to.  He’d have to come to terms with his actions in his own time.

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Hermione made her way to the student union for lunch with Malfoy.  She wore a pair of wide-leg black slacks with a purple boatneck top.  The lustrous pearl earrings adorned her ears.  Her hair was arranged in a ballerina bun at the top of her head.  The part of her that eschewed fashion and vanity thought the wardrobe Malfoy had gifted her was unnecessary, but the other part of her loved looking and feeling good about her appearance.  She never would have spent extra money on new clothes, but she understood Malfoy’s reasons for wanting her to improve her pitiful wardrobe.  

She entered the area they had agreed to meet and found a table.  Malfoy had said he’d pick up lunch for them.  Hermione turned after hearing raised voices.  What she saw made her feel sick.  Draco was surrounded by five men at wandpoint.  Since the students at the university left her alone, she had assumed he was left alone as well.  Clearly he was not.

Hermione walked over to the group, making her way to Draco’s side.  She wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed his cheek.

“Hey, love.  I haven’t met your friends,” she said with a bright smile.  She looked at the man who appeared to be the leader of the group.  “We haven’t met.  I’m Hermione Granger.”

The tall, lanky wizard stared at her, recognition dawning on his features.  He immediately pocketed his wand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger.  Have a good lunch,” the offending wizard said, motioning to his cohorts to retreat.  

She waited for a moment, and then whispered, “Home?”

“Yeah,” he said with a strained voice.

Hermione took his hand in hers and led him out of the building.

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As soon as they reached the flat, Draco made his way to the master bedroom and closed the door.  A couple of minutes later, Hermione heard the shower water hitting the marble tile.  It was clear he needed some time to himself.  While they had been getting to know each other, they were by no means confidants.  

Hermione didn’t like to miss class, but she wanted to make sure Draco was okay.  He seemed rattled by what had transpired.  She knew if he had retaliated against the other wizards, the blame would have fallen on him, no matter who started it.  She understood his ego wouldn’t appreciate her interference, but she’d have done the same thing for any of her friends.

After half an hour, Draco made his way to the kitchen.  His wet hair was pushed off of his face.  He wore a loose pair of khaki pants and a sweater.  

“Can I make you a sandwich?” Hermione offered.

“Yes, please.”

He sat at the kitchen island and watched her put together two ham and swiss cheese sandwiches.  She poured two glasses of pumpkin juice while the sandwiches toasted.

“You look nice today,” he said, admiring her small waist.  

She turned to him.  “Oh.  Thank you, Draco.”

He warmed at the use of his given name.  It was obvious to him she was still somewhat wary of his intentions, but he was making headway.

She set their food and drinks down and sat next to Draco.  They ate quietly for a few moments before he gathered the courage to talk to her.

“It’s been a few months since my last attack.  I was under the impression that I was under the radar at the university.”

“Are you upset I intervened?”

He shook his head.  “No.  I’m embarrassed, but not upset.  If it had been one or two attackers, I would have been fine, but not against five.”

“True,” she murmured.  There were questions swirling through her head about the other attacks and how he had dealt with them, but if she knew anything about men it was that they didn’t like to be badgered with questions before they had time to process.  

Hermione gathered their dishes and gave them a quick Scourgify before putting them away.  She turned and saw Draco stifling a yawn.  After a stressful encounter, she often found herself tired by the interaction.  

“You should have a quick kip,” she gently suggested.

“Would you join me?”  After the past few weeks of living with Hermione, he’d learned he was relaxed by her presence.  It wasn’t that she catered to him or fed his ego, but she was thoughtful and seemed appreciative of his kind gestures.  Their arrangement was unusual, but would she have given him a chance otherwise?  He didn’t think so.

She nodded and followed him to the bedroom.

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“Why do you comb your fingers through my hair?”

Every time his fingers made their way through her thick tresses, Draco was reminded of sitting behind her in class and wanting to reach out and pull one of her curls.  

“It’s much silkier than I imagined.  Does it bother you?”

“Well, no, it’s actually quite nice.  But you used to mock my hair all the time.”

“I was a prick,” he murmured.  

She was spooned against his body and he pulled her closer.  The hand over her waist moved under her thin t-shirt and rubbed circles over the soft skin of her stomach.  He wanted to take comfort in her body and forget the events of the day.  

Draco tugged her arm, getting her to turn and face him.  He cupped her face and kissed her.  Her palms rested on his pectorals, feeling his heart hammer in his chest.  Their tongues played, stroking, massaging, suckling.  Hermione gasped when his finger lightly touched between her legs.

“I want to kiss you here,” he said, his finger continuing it’s light path over her center.

She was silent for a moment.  “If you want to,” she acquiesced.  

“Have anyone ever kissed your lovely pussy?” he asked, his finger adding pressure to her moistened core.

“No,” she said with a shake of her head.  Her eyes were closed in an attempt to keep her composure.

“I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”

“I want you to.”  He was not only going to see her, but touch her and taste her.  She had agreed to give him access to her body, so she could rationalize that this was part of the deal.  Curiosity and lust were the real factors in her positive response to Draco.

“Can I undress you?” he murmured.  

“Yes,” she said throatily.  “Will you…um…I would feel…can you disrobe as well?”

Fuck yes.  

They sat up, helping each other out of their clothes.  Hermione admired Draco’s lightly muscled body and his smooth chest.  A trail of hair disappeared into his boxer shorts.  His legs were long with a light sprinkling of hair.  Evidence of the war was present on his body, from Harry’s Sectumsempra scar to what appeared to be the aftermath from a vicious whipping.  Her own body was scarred with Bellatrix’s cuts into her arm and neck, as well as Dolohov’s curse from the Department of Mysteries.

On this cloudy afternoon, Hermione wore a dark purple satin bra and knickers set.  Since he had chosen her underpinnings, it was a pleasure for him to see her adorned in them.  The demi-cups of the bra made her breasts sit high and round on her chest.  

He reached out and pulled her toward him by the waist.  She kneeled between his legs facing him.  Her hands wound around his neck, bringing them face-to-face.  Draco nuzzled her neck, eliciting mewling sounds from Hermione.  He unhooked her bra, freeing her breasts to his inquisitive hands.  He hefted the weights in his hands and used his thumbs to thrum her nipples.  She arched her back, rubbing her hands over his shoulders and neck.

“Gods, Draco!” she cried out when he sucked a nipple into his mouth.

His fingers plucked at the other nipple.  He switched breasts causing her to moan.

Merlin, she makes the most delicious sounds.

Hermione was responsive to his touches and he happily continued to fondle her pink tips.  When he sucked a bit harder, she moaned loudly and her nails bit into his shoulders.  Her hips were rocking and she arched her back before attacking his mouth in a passionate kiss.  When they broke apart, she was flushed and her eyes were glassy.

“Did you just come?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes,” she said faintly.  “It’s never happened that way.”

He pushed her into a lying position and caged her body in with his arms.  

“Your body is like the best bloody present I’ve ever opened,” he growled before he began kissing his way down to her sopping core.

Hermione closed her eyes and let herself get absorbed in the sensation of Draco’s mouth on her body.  She’d had orgasms with Harry, but since she wasn’t deeply aroused by him, the orgasms were somewhat infrequent.  Draco was a different story.  She’d always thought he was handsome, but the reverence with which he regarded her body made her feel uninhibited.  

She opened her eyes when she felt his breath on her belly.  His fingers toyed with the elastic of her knickers, and then nudged her bottom so he could pull her knickers off.  She held her breath as she was exposed to him.  His hot breath washed over her core and then she felt his warm, wet tongue exploring her labia.  He licked her tight entrance as if he was French kissing her pussy.

Hermione was in a haze of pleasure.  Draco was so warm and solid between her legs.  His platinum hair tickled her thighs, adding to the sensations of his tongue and nose nuzzling near her clit.  He pushed a finger into her needy channel and began to stroke her pearl with his mouth.  

“Oh, Gods,” she cried when he added a second finger.

Draco pumped in and out of her wet body while his mouth sucked at her tight bundle of nerves.  Her hips undulated against his mouth and after a few seconds he felt her stiffen.  

“Draco!” she keened as her body clenched in pleasure.  

Draco continued to allow her to ride out her orgasm until she pushed his head away from her body.  He crawled over her, lowering himself into her waiting arms.  They kissed, mingling their mouths and her tart juices.  Hermione could feel his erection pushing into her belly.  The afternoon light was beginning to wane as they lay together, enjoying the comfort of being in each other’s arms.

“You’re not what I had expected,” she murmured against his chest.

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

“It’s neither,” she said with a small shrug.  “I didn’t know what this arrangement would be like for me.”

He frowned.  It had seemed she was happier in the past few weeks than he’d seen her in months.  Perhaps she was making the best of the situation.

“Are you unhappy?”

“No…it’s hard for me to understand why you’ve been so good to me.  Will you be honest when you’re ready for me to go?”

I’m not letting you go.

“Yeah.  Of course.”

Chapter Text

Draco had told her he was studying in the library for a project he was working on with a partner.  Hermione was looking for him amongst the library study tables in the great room of the massive library, but he was nowhere in sight.  She knew there were small, private, by-reservation-only rooms available, so she began to pass by those doors hoping for a glimpse of his platinum head.  She reached the last door and saw him sitting next to a gorgeous, blond witch.  The witch was looking at Draco adoringly and he was chuckling at something she had said.

I am such a fool!

An unexpected feeling of betrayal made her chest constrict.  She quickly ducked her head and walked out of the library.

Why are you upset?  He never promised you a real relationship.  You haven’t even had sex yet.  He needs something from you and you from him.  Don’t make this arrangement into something it’s not.

Despite everything Hermione was thinking, she felt tears welling in her eyes.  She didn’t want to go back to the flat.  She and Malfoy had been spending so much time together, it was clear she needed a break to get some perspective.  

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She walked to her owl post office box and picked up her mail.  The university had sent her another invoice.    

Paid: 2,000 Galleons.  Owed: 1,000 Galleons.  

What more could she ask of Malfoy?  He was paying her tuition and had opened his home to her.  She didn’t have to continue this arrangement.  Hermione was sure he could find some other witch to satiate himself with, maybe another charity case.  This was probably his way of trying to make up to her what his horrid family did to her during the war and get his rocks off at the same time.

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Where is she?

Draco had come home after his study session, hoping Hermione would be ready to have dinner.  He’d waited and waited, finally scrounging up some leftovers from a couple of nights back.  

Since she’d moved in, she’d been fairly predictable in her schedule.  She’d study in her office or the kitchen, but she always made room for him to study near her.  It seemed she understood his desire to be close to her and didn’t make him feel weak for it.  He didn’t want to smother her, but he had the impression she had enjoyed his company, too.

Draco was lying in bed reading when he heard her Apparate into the flat.  He heard her rustling around in the kitchen and a couple of minutes later the kettle whistled.  He got out of bed to check on her.

“Hey.  Is everything alright?”

She gave him a chilly look.  “I’m fine.  I have a paper to finish, so if you’ll excuse me.”

What was this?

“Hermione, what happened?”

“Nothing, Malfoy.”  

“You’re back to calling me Malfoy?”

She grabbed her tea and began to make her way to the office, ignoring his last question.  He followed her.

“Did I do something to upset you?”  He thought back on the past couple of days, trying to think of anything rude or offensive he could have done.  Nothing came to mind.

She gave him a tight smile.  “Would you give me some space?”

Draco found himself feeling irritated with her.  She stayed out late, didn’t leave him a note as to her whereabouts and came home with a shitty attitude.

“No.  This arrangement won’t work if you won’t talk to me.”

She began setting out rolls of parchment and taking books out of her bag.

“You’ve held up your end of the arrangement, Malfoy.  My expectations were unclear to myself, but I’m starting to understand what to expect.”

He stared at her, trying to decipher what she was saying.  “What the hell does that mean?”

“I may not be as well-versed as you are about the opposite sex, but don’t treat me like an idiot.”

“Is…is this moving too fast for you?”  Maybe what they’d done in bed had been out of her comfort zone?

“Or maybe not fast enough for you?” she asked testily.

“Seriously, what are you going on about?”

He’d seen the same expression on her face when The Weasel started seeing that blond Gryffindor bimbo.  Hermione was jealous and felt betrayed.  But Draco knew, without a doubt, that he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Tell me exactly what it is you think I’ve done.  Don’t think I can guess, because I haven’t got a clue.”

She seemed to deflate and sank into the leather desk chair.

“I didn’t know you were going to see other people when we were engaged in this arrangement.  It took me by surprise to see you in the library study room with that witch.”

“Granger, I’m not seeing anyone else.  My study partner is flirtatious, but I’m not interested in her.”

“No?”

Draco walked over to Hermione sat on the desk in front of her.  “No.”

He tugged her up and pulled her against his bare chest.  

“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered into his neck.

He stroked her back.  Intellectually, he’d understood that she’d be complicated and have emotional baggage.  But he hadn’t expected her to be as fragile as she was.  In comparison to her, he’d always thought he was a wreck.  Draco was unsure about what to do.  He wanted her to be content in their arrangement.  Without a doubt, if she felt she wasn’t earning her keep, she’d leave to work at the Ministry and start sending him payments.  He didn’t know what to say.  Instead, he guided her out of the room, his arm around her shoulder.

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Three days later and Hermione was still holding Draco at arm’s length.  She was polite, helpful and agreeable, but Draco could see the weariness in her eyes.  He couldn’t figure out how to bring her out of the shell she had retreated back into.  

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“I’d like to have lunch in Hogsmeade on Saturday,” Draco said to Hermione as they walked to class.

“I have a lot of studying this weekend, but I can take a few hours.  Where did you want to go?”

“It’s not a Hogwarts weekend, so The Three Broomsticks should be fine.  I’ve had a craving for their Shepherd’s Pie.”

They reached her building first.  Draco grabbed her hand to get her attention before she dashed off to class.

“You have an appointment with Madame Monique at three today.  Do you want me to meet you there after my class?”

Madame Monique was an exclusive dressmaker who Draco had contacted to create Hermione’s dress for the Hogwarts Fundraising Gala.  

“No, I shouldn’t be too long.  I’ll see you this evening.”

Draco squeezed her hand and watched her disappear into the building.

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The bells at the door of The Three Broomsticks jingled as Draco and Hermione walked in from the cold.  Hermione followed Draco to a table and was amazed to find Ginny, Luna and Lavender apparently waiting for her.  

“Hello, ladies,” Draco said cordially.  “After lunch, you have appointments at Serenity Day Spa.  Enjoy your afternoon.”

The girls beamed in surprise and murmured their appreciation.  

Hermione walked a few steps with him towards the door.

“You did this for me?” she said quietly.

“I thought you could use some time with your friends,” he said diplomatically.  

Hermione leaned in and kissed Draco’s smooth-shaven cheek.  “Thank you.”

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The four friends had their feet submerged in warm water while their hands were manicured.  The spa staff was attentive and quiet, allowing the group to talk.

“What’s he like?” Ginny asked.

“He’s intelligent.  We spend a lot of time studying together.  He’s a great cook, he’s generous, obviously, he has great taste.”

Lavender sighed.  “He’s romantic, too.”

“Yeah, I suppose he is.”

“You’re withholding your heart from him,” Luna observed.

Hermione considered Luna’s question.  “I find it hard to imagine that I’m a long-term relationship option for him.  He’s good to me, but I don’t want to get overly invested.”

Ginny cocked her head at her curly-haired friend.  “He’s crazy about you, Mione.  And you might not think he’s a long-term prospect, but a man doesn’t arrange this kind of thing for a fling.”

Merlin, if you lot knew the truth about our “relationship”!

“What’s he like in bed?” Lavender could never resist gossiping about her sex life, or anyone else’s for that matter.

“Well, it hasn’t gotten that far,” she confessed.

“How can you resist?” Lavender squealed.  “You two have crazy chemistry!”

Hermione laughed.  “We do have great chemistry, but we’re taking our time.”

Luna studied Hermione.  Between Hermione’s beautiful new clothes, whatever hair treatment had caused her trademark locks to gleam, and the rich pearl earrings dotting her earlobes, Luna could ascertain that Draco Malfoy was trying to make her friend’s life better.  Seeing the way he looked at Hermione in the pub had cemented the hunch that these two were a real possibility.

“You mean more to him than you think,” Luna said in her knowing way.

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Draco was lying on the sofa, proof-reading an essay due the following week.  Hermione had helped him organize his thoughts and had read earlier drafts of his work.  Her academic talent had been wasted on Potty and The Weasel, but he could appreciate the brilliance of her ideas.  Draco thought this might be the best essay he’d written, thanks to her.

Hermione Apparated into the entry and found Draco in front of the fire.  She gave him the first genuine smile she had in days.  

“How was it?” he asked, smiling back at her.

“It was nice to see my friends.  They all thank you for lunch and the spa treatments.”

He put down his essay and beckoned her to sit next to him.  She sat and patted her thighs indicating that he should rest his legs on hers.  

“You need to see your friends more often.  It’s important for you to maintain those relationships.”  

She kneaded his calves and met his gaze.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry for my behavior this week.  Sometimes I dwell on what I’ve lost and what I still have to lose and it overwhelms me.  Our arrangement perplexes me and I’m not good at compartmentalizing my emotions.”

“What about it perplexes you?”

“Probably the same thing that confuses most women—separating love and physical intimacy.  When you do something thoughtful for me, like what you did today, I’m not sure what I can do to reciprocate.”

Draco never would have gotten such a straight answer from a Slytherin.  He wanted to assure her she was reciprocating by virtue of being open and honest with him, and treating their burgeoning sex life as she would with a “real” boyfriend.  What he knew is that he liked her, a lot, despite her numerous issues.  He’d moved beyond his fascination with her and recognized she was a beautifully complicated woman, not some caricature of bravery and genius as she was often painted by the press.  

“You’re putting your reputation at risk by being associated with me.  And even though the majority of your friends took our relationship in stride, you stand to lose Potter.  I know how important his friendship is to you.”

“I’ll always be glad I made the choice to help Harry defeat Voldemort, but our friendship isn’t what is used to be.  I let him use me our year on the run and I regret it.  Our friendship might be too damaged to repair.”

Draco understood sex as a distraction for the horrors life had meted out to him.  He and Pansy had slept together for two years and he could admit he’d had no intention of pursuing anything more with her.  Pansy had fled the country after the war, taking her inheritance and letting her parents sort out their own legal mess.  He knew through Daphne that Pansy was living in Germany, but she’d never reached out to him.  Draco hoped Pansy was able to move on with her life, as he had been trying to do.  

“I didn’t know you felt that way about Potter,” Draco murmured.  

While he was glad she wasn’t as attached to his rival as he’d previously thought, now he was concerned that any chance he had with her would evaporate when their time together expired.  He knew he wasn’t using her, but the deal they’d struck certainly made it seem that way.  

“You charmed my friends,” Hermione said, wanting to lighten the mood.

“Did I?” he said with a smirk.  

“Of course.  If you’d been this nice at school, every girl would have been at your beck and call.”  

“That wouldn’t have been fair to all those other blokes, yeah?”

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t have been,” Hermione said, tickling his side.  He jerked away from her with a shout.

“Oh my God, you’re ticklish!  I finally have something on the great Draco Malfoy.”

She dug her fingers into his side as he pushed her away.

“Stop, Granger!  Stop!” he laughed.  Draco pulled her onto his lap and dug his chin into the crook of her neck.

“Ooh, that feels disgusting!” she said, squirming on his lap.  Draco held her arms at her sides to prevent another attack. 

Having Hermione’s arse rubbing against his groin was producing a most pleasurable effect.  He kept his arms banded about her and began to kiss her neck.  She let her head fall back to give him better access to the sensitive column of flesh. 

“I missed you the past few days,” Draco whispered into her ear.  She’d kept her distance from him and after basking in her attention, it had been difficult to be ignored.  

“I missed you, too.”  He’d become her friend, even more than a friend, over the weeks they’d been living together.  She wondered if it was possible to enjoy the time they had together and accept the inevitable end when it came.  

He freed her arms and she cupped his face, leaning her forehead against his.  Their lips brushed together before Hermione opened herself to him, allowing his tongue to stroke into her mouth.  She ran her hands over his brow and cheekbones as they kissed, memorizing his fine bone structure with her fingers.  

His hands traveled under her shirt to unclasp the front of her bra.  Draco fingered her stiff nipples until she breathlessly broke their kiss.  Their eyes met and Hermione gave Draco a lusty, mischievous smirk.  A small smile graced his lips as she kneeled between his legs and began to unbuckle his belt.  His black wool trousers came undone quickly.  Draco helped her pull his pants and boxers off, exposing his long, thick cock.  Hermione had seen it before, but she hadn’t explored his shaft with her hands or mouth on his naked skin.

“You’re big,” she observed, lightly fingering the bulbous, red crown.

“Gods, that feels amazing,” Draco quietly groaned.

Her digits lightly stroked down his penis to his heavy sac.  The hair at his root was light and wiry, tickling her fingers.  She put her lips to the tip in a gentle buss, letting her hand continue to lightly stroke his length.  Hermione flicked her tongue out and tasted his pre-cum.  She felt him shudder.

“Is this okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he breathed out.  

Taking his swollen head into her mouth, she took in his clean, manly taste.  The skin was so smooth against her exploring tongue.  She relaxed her throat and took him as far as she could before coming up to suck at the head.

“Holy fuck,” he grumbled, Draco’s hands in fists at his sides.  

Hermione took his balls in one hand, gently squeezing and tugging at the twin weights.  The wrinkly texture fascinated her and she loved the way he shivered as she tended to him.

Draco had had blow jobs before, but they were quick, usually part of foreplay and not meant to take him to completion.  The languorous, sensual way Hermione was tormenting his body had Draco struggling to maintain control.  She began to feast on his cock, sucking and laving in a steady rhythm until Draco felt his balls begin to seize.

Hermione knew he was going to come when the muscles of his thighs hardened around her.  She moaned, letting him know he could release into her mouth.

“Keep going, Granger… fuck!  Yes!  Gods, you’re amazing…”  His hands guided her head over his cock as he came.  He could feel her throat constricting around his spurting length and the sensation was mind-blowing.  When he was spent, he removed his hands from her hair and she let him out of her mouth.  She sat back on her knees and looked at him.  

“I would offer to reciprocate, but I can’t move,” Draco said with a grin.  He offered Hermione a hand and pulled her to the sofa.  She snuggled into his side, under his arm.

“I like seeing you come undone.  You’re always so composed.”

Draco adjusted their bodies so she was partially lying on him.  

“You undo me,” Draco murmured into her mussed hair.  He closed his eyes.  “Just a quick kip, okay?”

Hermione nestled into his warm, comforting embrace.  She felt Draco fall asleep, but her mind whirred with thoughts of the afternoon he had planned for her and what her friends had perceived of his feelings for her.  Kissing his neck, she used the quiet time to ruminate on her reluctant feelings for her former tormentor.  

Chapter Text

The expression on Draco’s face had Hermione feeling self-conscious.  She tugged at the modest neckline of her midnight blue dress.

“Is it alright?”

Merlin, she’s breathtaking.

Draco walked towards her, smiling, his black dress robes emphasizing his broad shoulders.  He opened a jewelry box and showed her the opulent jewelry set Madam Monique had suggested for Hermione’s ensemble.  The jeweler had offered to let Draco borrow the jewels for his famous war heroine girlfriend, but once Draco had seen the opal, sapphire, diamond and turquoise stones set in dark gold, he bought it for Hermione.  He knew it was a ridiculous thing to do.  Hermione would never accept such a gift, but he wanted her to have something as original and impressive as she was.  Hermione gently fingered the jewelry that had been presented to her.

“May I?”

Hermione allowed Draco to clasp a modern, chunky bracelet around her wrist.  Avant-garde earrings made their way into her earlobes.  Hermione shivered at Draco’s delicate touch.  Lastly, he put a square shaped ring on her middle finger.

“I’m concerned about how I’m going to fare tonight,” Draco said cheekily.

“Why’s that?” Hermione answered with a grin.

“I’m going to have to fight off all the wizards who’ll want your attention.”

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Draco had been right.  For the second time in her life, jaws dropped as Hermione entered the Hogwarts Fundraising Gala.  

“Miss Granger!  This way!” a photographer called out.  

“Smile,” Draco covertly reminded her.

“How long have you and Draco Malfoy been an item?” a reporter asked, notebook at the ready.

Draco answered.  “We’ve been together for a few very wonderful months.”  He put his arm around Hermione’s shoulder and kissed the top of her head.  

“Miss Granger, tell us who designed your dress…”  

The questions continued until Harry, Ginny, Ron and Lavender entered the line and attention moved to their group.

“Well done, Granger,” Draco whispered into her ear, taking her arm and leading her into the grand hotel ballroom.

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Ginny and Lavender made their way to Hermione, fawning over her dress and jewelry.  

“Harry said he’d talk to you when the press attention died down.”  Ginny looked around and then said in a hushed voice, “He was asked to leave the Auror training program.”

Oh, no.  

Ron had told Lavender the news and she looked sadly between Hermione and Ginny. 

“He needs to see a mind healer,” Lavender whispered.  

Ginny gave her a sharp look.  “Don’t say another word, Brown.  Harry needs to give himself time to deal with the trauma of the war.  All of us do.”

“Of course,” Lavender said, nodding her head.

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Draco and Hermione perused the silent auction offerings.  

“Pick something and I’ll give the donation,” Draco said while admiring an antique broom.

Hermione nodded.  She was getting used to Draco Malfoy’s deep pockets and usually objected to his more extravagant spending, but she wanted Hogwarts to make lots of Galleons on this night.

As she was looking at the auction items, Professor McGonagall approached Hermione.

“Hello, Miss Granger.”

“Oh, Professor!  It’s so good to see you.”  Hermione gave the stoic woman a hug.  

“How are your studies?”

“My classes are quite challenging, but I’m managing.”

“I’m sure you more than manage,” Minerva said with a smile.  She watched the handsome, conflicted Malfoy boy join Hermione.  This was an interesting development.

“Mr. Malfoy.”

“Hello, Professor McGonagall.”  He smiled at her as he placed his hand on Hermione’s back.

“How are your studies?”

“Very good.  Hermione’s an excellent study partner.”

Minerva noticed the way Hermione blushed at his compliment.  She’d worried about Hermione over the past few years.  She had so much integrity, but she was easily taken advantage of by those she held dear.  She suspected Draco Malfoy had a soft spot for her favorite student several years back and would have made a move if not for the eyes watching his every move and his family’s fanatical ways.  Professor McGonagall knew Draco had been granted eighty percent of the Malfoy coffers after the war as another way for the Ministry to punish his parents.  It did not escape her notice that Draco had been giving huge cash donations to help repair war-torn magical England.  

The situation between her former students went beyond one of a boyfriend and girlfriend and she couldn’t put her finger on what that difference was, but she knew Malfoy could offer Hermione some financial comfort she desperately needed.  She only hoped her former student understood her own value as a courageous, loving woman.    

“Aye, she is, indeed.  Miss Granger is a most special young woman.  Good evening to the both of you.”  

“Good evening, Professor,” they murmured in return.

“Have you picked yet?” Draco asked.

“I’m torn between the History of Magic text that belonged to Macallistair Tooley and the tour of the magical area of the Vatican.  What do you think?”

“The tour, definitely.  We’ll go over the holidays.”

Hermione hadn’t been aware that she would be spending the holidays with Draco.  She wondered if he might want to try and spend some time with his parents or his friends.  She’d thought maybe Molly and Arthur would allow her to stay at The Burrow for a few days, although being around the Weasleys was painful for her.  It reminded her of the family she’d lost.

“Will that infringe on your holiday plans?”

“I had thought we could go to the Malfoy chalet in the Swiss Alps, but the tour will be just as novel.  Did you have other plans for the time off from school?”

Other than visiting with her friends, she really didn’t.  She didn’t have the resources to travel.  It was a relief, actually.  Hermione had been worried she’d have to find somewhere to live if Draco wanted a break from her for a few weeks.

“No, I had thought I’d study for classes next semester.  A trip would be a nice respite.”

“That’s settled then.  I’ll put in our bids.  Would you mind getting me a glass of champagne?  The waiter seems to keep passing by with an empty tray.”

“Sure.  I’ll be right back.”  

Hermione began making her way to the bar when Harry approached her.

“Hi,” Hermione said carefully.  The unpleasant look Harry sported put her on the defensive.

“Do you have a moment?”

“Of course, Harry.  We can go out to the balcony if you like.”

Hermione followed Harry out of the ballroom, wishing things between them hadn’t become so complicated.

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Draco finished placing their bids for the silent auction and began walking towards the bar, when he saw Hermione following Potter outside.  His instincts urged him to follow the pair and ensure Potter didn’t encroach on what was his.

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Draco used another exit to slip out to the balcony of the ballroom.  Warming charms had been used and the space was lit with delicate fairy lights.  He stood against the wall, in the shadows, within hearing distance of Hermione and Potter. 

“Men like Malfoy don’t change, Hermione.  You’re so desperate for love you’d believe anything he says.”

Draco saw Hermione shake her head.  “Draco has been nothing but honest with me, Harry.”

Harry gave a mirthless laugh.  “What could you have to offer that prat?  He could have any woman he wants and you think he would choose you?  You’re dreaming.”

How could Potter treat her this way?  She was the only person who had unfailingly stood by him.  Draco would have killed for that kind of love and loyalty.  

“You might not like Draco, but I haven’t done anything to deserve this kind of shite from you, Harry Potter.”

“So that’s it?  You’d choose that Death Eater over me?”

Draco could hear the frustration in Hermione’s voice.  “Why do I have to pick?  Do you think I should be damned to spinsterhood because you don’t think I’m worthy of male companionship?”

Harry tried to pull Hermione into a hug, but she put her arms in front of her to ward him off.  His face betrayed his irritation at Hermione not allowing him to touch her.   

“Malfoy’s going to break your heart, pure and simple.  You’re his plaything and he’ll discard you when he gets bored.  He’ll look good by being with you and when he moves on, he’ll come out smelling like roses while everyone will think of you as Malfoy’s discarded whore.”

“That’s enough,” Hermione hissed.  “Solve your own problems before you try to solve mine.”

Harry stood still, glaring daggers at her.  “Everyone thinks you’re so selfless, but you don’t have anyone, do you?  Your own parents don’t want anything to do with you.  All your sacrifice and you have absolutely nothing to show for it.”

Harry shook his head disapprovingly and walked back into the ballroom.  Hermione sagged against the wall, wiping tears from her eyes.  Draco revealed himself, startling his distraught girl.  

“Malfoy!  You scared me.”  She gave him a tremulous smile.  “I forgot your drink.”

Draco waved her last statement away.  “Are you alright?”

“How much of that conversation did you hear?” 

“Enough,” he said angrily.

Hermione took a deep breath and straightened her back.  “Do I look bad?”

A thumb came up to wipe a tear from under her eye.  “No.”

Hermione took his offered hand and let him lead her back to the party.

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Hermione followed Draco around the ballroom, nodding and smiling, but her thoughts were miles away.  Harry had cruelly called her a “whore”, but he wasn’t so far off.  To complicate matters, she was beginning to have feelings for Malfoy.  She suspected she would feel tenderly towards anyone who helped her and treated her well, but there was an intense chemistry between them that gave her butterflies when she was near him.  

Initially she’d thought she’d be able to treat her arrangement with Draco like a job, but he certainly didn’t treat her like an employee.  If anything, he treated Hermione with surprising care.  Even when she was sharp with him, he took her behavior in stride.  When she’d first started living with him, he’d run his fingers through her long hair and hold her so close at night she could hardly move, she worried she’d be smothered by his attention.  The effect of his attention had been the opposite.  The comfort and security she’d gained from their contact had begun to help her feel emotionally connected.  

“How are you doing?” Draco asked as they made their way to the Ministry’s chief financial officer, Muldoon Gilliard. 

“I’m fine.”  It was obvious to Draco she was not fine, but she was admirably trying to continue the charade of the brilliant war heroine.  If Potter did this to her again, Draco would be forced to confront him.  

“We’ve made a good showing tonight.  Let’s go after we talk to Gilliard.”

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Across the ballroom, Ginny watched Harry scowl at the pair walking hand-in-hand.  Ginny suspected that something had happened between Harry and Hermione during their year on the run, but she couldn’t confront him without admitting to her own brief relationship with Neville.  Neville had been her port in the storm during that horrible year the Carrows ruled Hogwarts.

“I know you don’t believe it, but Malfoy seems to truly like Hermione.”

“I don’t believe it.  Don’t you know better, Gin?”  

Ginny rolled her eyes.  “Hermione is perfectly capable of taking care of herself.  When we had lunch a couple of weeks ago, she was cautiously optimistic about their relationship.”

“He’s using her.”

“Harry, for the first time in a year and a half, she’s not miserable.  You have to let her make her own choices, even if you don’t like them.”

He gave an irritated sigh and raked his hand through his thick, black locks.

“I gave my bloody donation.  Are you coming back to Grimmauld place tonight?”

Ginny had been having a good time until Harry’s demeanor had gone to hell after he talked to Hermione.  She loved Harry and hated to see him in a constant struggle with his demons.  After what he’d done for their world, he deserved some peace.

“I think we can slip out over there,” she said, motioning to a side door.  “Let me tell Ron we’re leaving.”

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Draco unzipped Hermione’s dress and watched her walk around the bedroom in her undergarments while she hung her frock in the closet.  He knew she was preoccupied by the horrid words Potter had said to her, but he liked when she let him see her in a state of undress.  She took care in removing the beautiful jewels before attempting to hand them back to Draco.

“They’re yours,” he said, putting them back into her hands.

“What?”

“They’re part of your ensemble,” he said blithely.  

“No.  I can’t accept these.”

“Why?” 

“These are priceless pieces, Malfoy, not for some charity case you’re helping out.”

He had known she’d react this way to his gift, particularly after Potter called her a whore.  She was proud and the past few years had chipped away at her self-worth.  

“It’s not really charity since I get something in return,” Draco said with an arch of his brow.

“I suppose not,” she mumbled.

“Are you hungry?”

The abrupt change of subject took her aback.  “A bit.”

“I heard some bloke in my Potions class talking about this Muggle pizza parlor that’s open all night.  Might be fun.”  He grinned at her.  How could she resist accompanying him to a Muggle restaurant?

She smiled back at him, pleased to have the distraction of greasy, cheesy goodness.  

“Let me change and we can go.”

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The pizza parlor was dark, with loud music, people conversing, and the smell of baked cheese, garlic, and tomato sauce.  It was divine.  Hermione hadn’t had pizza in months.  She had transfigured Draco’s pants into jeans and his wool cloak into a casual pea coat.  Hermione had put on a pair of jeans with one of the fine cashmere sweaters Draco had bought for her.  They looked more prosperous than the rest of the clientele, but at least they looked like Muggles.

“Smells good,” Draco said.  

“I’ll go up to the counter and order for us.  I have money,” she said meaningfully.  

He nodded and went to find them a table.  Sitting down, he noticed a few men taking notice of his girl.  Her olive green sweater showed off her pert breasts and graceful neck.  She’d plaited her long hair and it hung halfway down her back in a thick braid.  

Hermione made her way to him with two Muggle ales and handed him one.  

“Thanks,” Draco said, taking a sip.  It was different.  Malty and bitter.  

“I haven’t had beer very often, but I like it with pizza or fish and chips.”

A moment later a server brought their pizza to the table.  Hermione put a piece on her plate and took a bite.  Draco watched her pick up the triangular food and bite off the tip.

“Gods, Draco, this is amazing,” Hermione said, her focus on the piece of pie in her hands.

He took a bite.  Wow.  It was an explosion of flavors in his mouth.  He chewed slowly, enjoying the rich, tangy taste and chewy texture.

“Do you like it?” Hermione asked Draco.

He grinned at her.  “Yeah, it’s great.”

She lowered her voice.  “I’ve never seen you around Muggles.”

Draco had wanted to explore the Muggle world since the Wizengamot pardoned him, but he didn’t really know where to begin.  Now that he had Hermione, he would take advantage of her knowledge of non-magical culture.  

“I’ve wanted to explore this world, but I didn’t know where to start.”

She murmured her understanding.  As an eleven-year-old girl, she’d had no point of reference or preconceived notions for the magical world.  But Draco had been told of the inferiority and danger of Muggles since he could understand there were others aside from wizards and witches.  It stood to reason that even as a logical adult, he’d have apprehension about the Muggle world.  Hermione knew why he’d wanted to take this late night sojourn for pizza: he wanted to offer her the comfort of her upbringing and distract her from the hurtful words of her oldest friend.  

She took his hand and squeezed.  “Thank you.”

He understood what she was saying.  Pulling her hand to his lips, he nipped her fingers.  Hermione laughed at his light-hearted action.  

“You’re welcome.”

Chapter Text

Hermione stretched under the warm blankets, feeling relaxed and pleased with herself.  Over the past week, she and Draco had finished their semester exams.  They had stayed up late reading, quizzing each other and writing essays.  Unlike her friends at Hogwarts, Draco kept up with her and encouraged her efforts.  

She had been contemplating an idea for a few weeks after seeing a Muggle woman with an intricate tattoo on her back.  The idea was so not-Hermione that she’d had to sit with it and really determine if she was willing to live with the consequences.  Ultimately, what she’d gain from her decision was well worth any fallout.

Draco pulled her back against his body, rubbing his morning erection against her arse.  He sighed into her hair.

“G’morning,” he mumbled in his rough morning voice.

She rubbed against him, savoring the instinctual way he touched her during the first light.  

“I’m going into Muggle London today.  Do you want to join me?”

His fingers stroked her breast over her thin t-shirt.

“What are you going to do there?”

“I’m going to have a scar covered.”

There was one scar in particular that bothered her and it was the one his psychotic aunt had carved into her arm.  She kept her arm turned in such a way as to not show the word artlessly knifed into her smooth skin.  When she’d catch Draco looking at her arm, she’d cast a quick camouflage charm, but he knew it was a constant source of shame for her.  He felt the same way about the faded Dark Mark upon his own arm.

“I’ll join you.”

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They sat in chairs waiting for the artist to take Hermione to the back for her tattoo.  When they’d arrived at the little shop in a jumble of bohemian shops in Muggle London, Draco was tempted to grab Hermione’s arm and Apparate back to his flat.  The older couple running the tattoo parlor had bright, Metamorphmagi-like blue and pink hair, piercings through their eyebrows, noses and lips, and tattoos everywhere.  But as he thought about what Hermione had said about needing to not hate herself every time she looked at the cursed Mudblood scar, he deeply understood how she felt.  His Dark Mark was a constant reminder of his mistakes and transgressions against every person in the wizarding world.  

“Do you know what you want to have put on your arm?”

Hermione nodded and dug a piece of paper out of her purse.  She’d sketched her arm with the Mudblood scar transformed into an intricate line drawing of a swan with the runes for strength, perseverance, acceptance, and love incorporated into the bird’s wings.

“Will they be able to do something so detailed?”

“I did a bit of research and found out this was the best place for a tattoo in England.  It does seem kind of sketchy, but their work is beautiful.”

Draco slowly pushed up his sleeve.  Like Hermione, he hid his Dark Mark with a spell or clothing.  He examined the faded grey of the skull and snake.  

“Do you want to try to cover it?” she asked, looking at the contemplative expression on his face.

“I’d never thought about it before today.  My load to bear and all that.”

Her finger lightly traced the faded symbol.  She had heard it was incredibly painful to receive the Dark Mark.  

“The procedure is supposed to hurt, but it’s not anywhere near what we’ve already experienced,” she explained.

“What could I cover it with?  Did it take you a long time to figure out what you wanted to have done?”  

Granger was a never-ending source of wonder to him.  Just when he thought he was beginning to understand her, she’d throw out something like this and confound him.  Her plan to cover what was a source of distress was unexpected but brilliant.

“Let’s look at some of their work for ideas,” Hermione said, grabbing a book from the desk.

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Hermione was worried Draco would regret his decision to tattoo his arm, but he had enthusiastically found a design he liked and the artists said they could fit him in. 

“Would you feel like I was infringing on your design if I used the same runes in my tattoo?” Draco asked hesitantly.

Hermione had been walking about the small lobby looking at photos on the walls.  She turned and looked at him with the open, caring expression he’d seen her give her friends time and again.

“I’d be honored to share those runes with you.”

Tara, the pink haired part of the husband and wife tattoo artist duo, came out to retrieve her clients from the lobby.  

“Dan and I can tattoo you two in the same room if you like,” she offered.

Hermione looked at Draco.  “Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah, I’d prefer that.”  He took Hermione’s hand as they made their way to the back of the shop.  There was an odd sense of intimacy about what they were about to do.  They were both scarred by the war and they shared a desire to overcome the messages the markings on their bodies broadcasted.  Neither could get rid of what was emblazoned on their arms, but they could change the message to one of their choosing.  

Dan introduced himself to Draco and led him to a reclining chair with thick arms.  

“You want a shot of whisky before we start?” he asked the young couple.

“Please,” Hermione said with a smile.  She took a small shot glass from the blue-haired man.

Draco took a glass as well.  “Cheers,” he said, lifting his glass.

“Cheers.”  She downed the harsh liquid.  

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“I’ve never seen a tat like this,” Dan said to Draco as he examined his Dark Mark.  “The ink almost looks like it burned your skin.  Did you have an allergic reaction?”

“Uh, no.  A friend did it.  Probably just poorly done.”

“Huh.  The design you picked will take a lot of inking.  What’s your pain threshold like?”

After the violence he’d experienced during his time as a Death Eater, Draco knew the tattoo would merely be uncomfortable.

“It’s high,” Draco said to the tattoo artist.

Dan was looking at the design with the Ancient Runes incorporated into the drawing.  He knew the curly-haired young lady had the same symbols going into her swan tattoo.

“Are you two serious?” Dan asked Draco.  

Draco looked at Hermione who was gesturing to the drawing with Tara.  

“I want it to be,” Draco confessed.  

Dan nodded as he examined the abstract dragon design the young man had chosen.  He thought it was a little Dungeons & Dragons for this serious bloke, but the dragon seemed meaningful to him.  It was better than the creepy faded tattoo his arm currently sported.

Draco turned when he heard Hermione gasp.  She had closed her eyes and was getting used to the needle piercing her skin.  Little droplets of dark red blood appeared in the wake of the needle.

Dan used a pen to draw the design on Draco’s arm.  He watched in fascination as the blue-haired man obscured his Dark Mark in the belly of the beast.  

“You ready?”

Draco looked at the dragon and smiled.  “Yeah.”

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The tattoo work continued for over two hours.  Periodically, Hermione would look over at Draco to find his face calm and resolved.  A few times the needle would hit a spot that hurt more than the others, but overall she would take the pain over the scar from Bellatrix any day.  She closed her eyes and channeled her magical energy into helping heal her fragile heart.  This tattoo and this man, she reluctantly acknowledged, were steps in the right direction. 

She’d never thought of herself as the type of woman to have a tattoo, particularly not in an obvious place, but doing this felt right.  She needed to be in control of what was on her body, not some lunatic who had tried to break her.  

Hermione was glad she could include Malfoy in this healing process.  He needed a fresh start as much as she did.

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The laid on Draco’s bed looking at their tattoos and drinking wine.

“It hurt at first, but after a few minutes the pain felt cathartic,” Hermione said.

Draco agreed.  “What made you go with a swan?”  The tattoo design obscured her scar, but if he knew anything about Hermione, it was that everything had a meaning.

“Are you familiar with The Ugly Duckling?”

“No.”

“It’s a Muggle fairytale.  A cygnet was accidentally hatched with a group of ducklings.  The other ducklings thought he was ugly and teased him mercilessly.  The cygnet didn’t know what he was until he grew up and realized he was a swan, not a duck.  I suppose I’ve always thought I was like the cygnet, since I was the odd one as a child around Muggles, but also as a Muggle-born amongst witches and wizards.”  She looked at Draco and gave him a small smile.

“But you’ve become the swan,” he said appreciatively.

“I don’t think I have, not yet.  But I’m working towards becoming what I’m meant to be.”

He disagreed.  She’d been a swan amongst ducks for years, she just didn’t know it.  

“Did you know swans mate for life?” he asked.

“Yes, I’ve read that.  Do you like your tattoo?” she asked, changing the subject.  She didn’t want to discuss her desire to bond with someone, not with him.  It was painful enough imagining what her life would return to once their deal ended.  

She took his arm and studied the dragon.  It covered his Dark Mark beautifully.

“I wish I had thought to do this sooner.  It was a brilliant idea, Hermione.  Can I look at yours?”

She moved closer to him and let him examine her arm.  He stroked her unmarked skin as he took his fill.

“It’s sexy.”

“Yours is sexy, too.”  She traced her finger over his shoulder and his pectoral.  “One right here would be beautiful.”

He gingerly removed his shirt and handed her one of the Muggle ballpoint pens he had become fond of.  

“Draw your idea on me.”

Very lightly, she began sketching on his skin with the black pen.  Draco loved having her full attention on him.  The pressure of the pen and her body so close to his was an aphrodisiac.  He breathed in her scent.  It had changed slightly since she’d started living with him because she used his higher quality shampoo and soap he kept stocked in the bathroom.  But her underlying smell was still the same, warm and earthy.  To him, she smelled exactly like what a sexy, powerful witch should smell like. 

Hermione balanced herself with one hand on his back as she drew.  What they’d shared on this day felt like a turning point for Hermione.  That he’d wanted to use the runes she’d incorporated into her design in his tattoo had been a way to cement their connection.  But there was one aspect to his design she didn’t want to think about too much.  In tiny letters, along the dragon’s wing, were her initials—HJG.  

“What are you sketching?” Draco asked in his deep, cultured voice.

“It’s an abstract design.”  Hermione Summoned a mirror.  “What do you think?”

He angled the mirror to better see her work.  The swirls and lines of her drawing brought out his musculature.  Draco pulled one leg over his so she was straddling him.  He laid back against the down-filled pillows.  

“I like having your mark on me.  Keep going.”  

They looked at each other as she rubbed her hand over his chest.  She began to draw a phoenix engulfed in flames directly over his heart.  Draco slipped his hand under her shirt and caressed her smooth back.  Her fingers lightly stroked over the flat disk of his nipple, making his erection jump.  She rocked her hips ever so minutely as she continued to add details to her drawing. 

“Look,” Hermione said, handing him the mirror.  

“Why a phoenix?”

“To me,” she began, in a low, quiet voice, “you’re a man forged from the fire of war.  You did what you had to do to survive.  When you came out of the fire, you were reborn as the man you always should have been allowed to be.”

“You believe I’ve changed?”  Please, please know I’m not the person I used to be. 

Hermione cupped his face, rubbing her thumb along his sharp cheekbone.  “Yes, I believe you’ve changed.”  

The entire time she had been living with him, Draco had made every effort to show her he was the type of man she could rely on.  He hadn’t expected her to need the kind of care she did, but he wanted her to lean on him.  Hermione had allowed him to see her as vulnerable, both physically and emotionally.  Draco knew she could take care of herself, but he wanted to protect her.  

“Whether you want to be or not, you’re part of me now.”  Draco looked into her eyes, trying to show her the truth in his words.  Her finger traced over her initials on his arm.

“I don’t have much to offer you,” Hermione said sadly, looking away from his eyes.  

She didn’t know how he longed for the kind of love, loyalty and passion she’d given freely to her friends.  He’d started their arrangement with his initial curiosity about her, but that had changed when she had allowed him to take care of her, too.  For a young man who had always been herded by his elders and society’s spirit-breaking expectations, it was an exercise in trust for Hermione to allow him to help her.  He’d so rarely been on the giving end of a situation, but he loved giving to her.  She might not feel that she could offer him much, but the trust and openness she showed him was already making him into a better wizard.

Draco grabbed her face and made her look at him.  “You don’t have to give away every part of yourself to everyone who wants something from you.  I want you, but not at the detriment of your well-being.  Whatever you have to offer me is already better than anything I’ve been given before.  You’ve given me a chance, not just by agreeing to our arrangement, but by letting me become more than your date at social events and your partner in bed.”

Pulling her down to his chest, he stroked her back.  She liked these moments best, when Draco held her like he cherished her.  

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“I want you,” Hermione whispered into Draco’s ear.  They’d spent the evening in his bed, talking, drinking wine, kissing, and touching. 

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely sure.”  Her hands glided over his chest and abdomen, playing with the waistband of his trousers.    

Draco Vanished their clothes with a wave of his wand, leaving them naked in the warm glow of the fire.  His hands parted her thighs, revealing her succulent pussy.  A finger dipped into her, spreading her wetness to her clit.  He massaged the sensitive bud, wanting her to be ready for him.  She writhed under his attention, her body coiled so tightly she wanted to explode.

“Please, Draco, I’m ready,” she begged.  

He leaned over and kissed her, his tongue dancing with hers.  Hermione could feel the smile on his lips.  The joy exuding from Draco made Hermione grin back at him.    

His cock nudged at her core and pushed into her.  Draco watched her face, his lips just millimeters from hers.  She bit her full bottom lip.  Her body welcomed him as he finally was fully sheathed within her.  They lay unmoving, Draco luxuriating in the tight, hot grip on his cock and Hermione adjusting to his thick shaft.  He pushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“You are more beautiful than I ever imagined,” he said, nuzzling her soft cheek. 

“You make me feel beautiful,” she murmured as she began to sway underneath him, her hands gripping his firm arse.

Soft kisses peppered her neck and breasts as they moved together in a slow rhythm.  Draco felt like time was suspended as every sensation, every moan, every exhalation of breath was imprinted in his memory for life.  

Her undulations began to grow erratic as he pinched her sensitive nipples.  Draco relished how her body responded to his.  Since their first kiss, everything they’d done had been filed into his mental vault of happy memories.  

“Gods, Malfoy, I’m so close,” Hermione rasped, clawing at his back.  Her thighs were trembling with the tightening of her muscles as she got closer and closer to orgasm.  

Her words were his trigger to fuck her so they would both shatter at the same time.  Draco began to snap his hips as his balls began to tingle.  Hermione rubbed her clit against him and moaned loudly as he sucked a rosy peak into his mouth.

“Yes, love, yes, yes, yes,” Draco repeated as she ground her hips against him. 

“Oh, fuck, yes!” she keened as her body clenched around his cock.  She wrapped herself around him as she fell apart.  

He came, filling her body with his hot seed.  His mouth took hers possessively, his instincts to claim her finally satiated.  

After casting the contraceptive spell on herself, Hermione laid in Draco’s arms.  She was in a hazy, relaxing place between wakefulness and sleep as he combed his fingers through her hair.  He whispered something into her thick curls.

“Hmm?” 

“Nothing.  Get some rest,” he said, stroking her back.

Hermione pressed a kiss to his chest and let herself fall into slumber.

Chapter Text

“We should have a party,” Draco suggested.  They’d come back from an amazing three-day tour of the magical part of the Vatican and had another two weeks before their classes at university began.

Hermione’s head was cushioned in his lap as she read.  She looked up at him.

“Yeah, that sounds good.  Who do you want to invite?”

His nimble fingers massaged her scalp.  He thought for a few seconds before answering.

“Blaise, Daphne, Theo, his date, your friends.  Do you think we could pull it together by this Saturday?”

Hermione answered with a grin.  “Definitely.  I’ll send invites to my friends if you’ll take care of yours.”

“Deal.”

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Draco had grown up in a household that threw parties on a regular basis.  From intimate dinner parties, to ladies’ teas, to grand balls, the Malfoys loved to entertain.  His parents’ guests left a lot to be desired, but he’d inherited a talent for throwing parties.

All of Hermione’s friends, save Harry, were coming to their party.  His friends had all rsvp’d their confirmation as well.  Food had been ordered from a fabulous Italian restaurant in Diagon Alley, flowers delivered, and a full bar set up in the kitchen.  

Draco went into the bedroom and found Hermione sitting on the edge of the bed, combing her hair.  

“I picked this up for you, for the party,” Draco said, handing Hermione a box.  

She knew Draco liked to see her dressed in clothes he’d picked for her.  At first, she’d accepted due to the nature of their arrangement, but she’d learned he enjoyed giving her gifts.  Hermione opened the box to find a short, strappy Slytherin-green party dress with black beading.  For the past two years, she’d avoided sleeveless shirts and dresses, but Hermione knew he wanted her to show off her tattoo.  A pair of jet black chandelier earrings were tucked into the box as well.

“It’s beautiful, Draco.  Thank you.”  She stood and pressed a kiss to his cheek.  He caught her lips with his own and nipped at her full lower lip.  

Hermione had also discovered he liked to watch her primp.  Almost every morning, he’d find a reason to enter the bathroom while she brushed her hair or applied make-up.  She’d offered to use one of the flat’s other loos to get ready, but Draco insisted she use the grand master bath.  On this evening, he lounged on the bed, making no excuses for watching her take her large towel off and slip on the silky fabric of the gift he’d given her.

“Bare legs or stockings?”

Draco’s body was arranged casually amongst the pillows and soft bed coverings, but he watched her with an attentive expression.  

He swallowed thickly.  “Are they the stockings with the garter belt?” 

Hermione held up the gossamer thin stockings and fine lace garter.  

“Definitely those.”

Hermione smirked and placed the garter belt around her waist, clearly omitting her knickers.  She slowly rolled on the silk stockings and attached them to the garter with tiny clips.  

“What do you think?” she asked, standing before Draco.  Before she knew what was happening, he had pulled her into his lap.

“Lovely, Miss Granger.”  He stroked her creamy thigh under her dress.  His fingers feathered through the curls at her apex.  

She sighed and relaxed into his touch.  “I’d rather enjoy your petting, but Ginny wanted to come over early to get ready together.  She’ll be here soon.”

The whooshing of the Floo alerted them to the arrival of their guest.  Draco kissed Hermione’s neck.  

“I’ll bring her in here,” he offered, nudging Hermione off his lap.

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As soon as Draco saw Ginny Weasley’s expression, he knew something was off.  She had a better poker face than most of her Gryffindor counterparts, but she had nothing on a lifelong Slytherin.  

“Hello, Miss Weasley,” he said carefully.  Emotional women had never been his forte.

“I see the way you look at my friend.  You can call me Ginny.”  She smiled at Draco.  

“Hermione’s in our bedroom.  I told her I’d bring you over.”

Ginny followed Draco through the luxurious flat.  She had to admit she’d been surprised when Hermione had told her they were living together.  Hermione had always liked her personal space, but Ginny had the impression Malfoy had decent personal boundaries.  And there was certainly enough square footage in the flat for Hermione and Malfoy to spread out.  

Draco opened the door to the master bedroom.

“Thanks, Malfoy.”

“No problem,” he said, closing the door after she’d entered the inviting space.

As soon as Ginny and Hermione made eye-contact, Ginny burst into tears.  Hermione gathered her friend into her arms.

“What’s wrong, Gin?” Hermione gently patted Ginny’s back.  The older girl led her friend to sit on the bed.

“I broke up with Harry,” she whispered.  Ginny had pined for Harry for so long, it had been painful to realize he wasn’t who she had thought he would be.  

“Oh, Ginny.  What happened?”

“You know, probably as well as I do, how miserable Harry is.  After he was asked to leave Auror training, he hardly wanted to leave his house.  He’s barely spoken to me in the past few weeks and didn’t show up for Christmas at The Burrow.  I was furious with him for not showing up and went to confront him.  He said he didn’t answer to me or my family and I told him it was over.  I haven’t seen or heard from him in days.”  Ginny wiped angry tears from her cheeks and pushed her long hair out of her face.

“Do you still want to be with him?”

Ginny looked at Hermione with thoughtful brown eyes and shook her head.  “Not anymore.  I thought all the feelings I’ve harbored for him for so long could carry us through his depression, but I want to be with someone who adores me.”

“You’ll find that, Ginny, I promise you.”

Ginny gave Hermione a watery smile.  “I never thought I’d say this to you of all people, but you don’t know how lucky you are to have Malfoy.  It’s so obvious he loves you.”

Hermione expression shifted.  “It’s not like that, Gin.”

“What do you mean?  He’s head-over-heels for you.”

“We do get on well, but I think he’ll end up with someone from his own background.”  Hermione twisted a lock of hair.  “I’ve had enough loss without adding Draco breaking my heart.  I’ve accepted what we have and I’ll move on when it ends.” 

Ginny gasped and grabbed Hermione’s arm.  “How could I have missed this?”

The redhead examined the swan tattoo, tracing the runes.  

“The scar from Bellatrix was unbearable,” Hermione admitted.  “At least now I have something meaningful in its place.”

“It’s beautiful,” Ginny said, watching Hermione’s face.  “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“No, there’s not.  We should get ready, Gin.  Do you want me to do your hair?”

Hermione had wanted to admit that Draco had his own scar covered and had added her initials to his tattoo, but she herself didn’t understand what the initials meant to him.  In her research on tattooing, she’d read that some people marked life events with tattoos.  Perhaps he wanted a memento of their time together.

Hermione led Ginny to the opulent master bath to complete their hair and makeup.  

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Draco knocked on the bedroom door as their guests began to arrive.

“Hermione, Blaise and Daphne are here.”

“We’ll be right out,” she called, applying one last coat of mascara to Ginny’s lashes.  She wanted her dejected friend to feel beautiful, at the very least.  

“You look perfect.”  Hermione smiled at Ginny as the pair walked into the flat.

The redhead wore a deep purple dress made of soft jersey knit with gathered ruching atop its crossover bodice.  The waistband was wide and flared into an A-line skirt to her knees.  She wore strappy, high-heeled sandals charmed to match her dress.  Hermione had used her wand to add messy, sexy waves to Ginny’s normally smooth strands.  Molly had lent her daughter her heirloom diamond and platinum stud earrings.  Though her eyes didn’t sparkle with determination and mischief as they usually did, she held her head high and planned on having fun at the party.  

Hermione greeted the Slytherin couple with kisses to their cheeks and hugs.  

“Ginny, have you been introduced to Blaise and Daphne?  We had dinner together a few months back and they’re delightful dinner partners.”

Daphne had always admired the fiery redhead and shook her hand.  “It’s lovely to finally meet you.”

Blaise took Ginny’s hand and kissed her knuckles.  “Nice to meet you, Miss Weasley.”

Draco moved to stand by Hermione and put his arm around her waist.

“Come in, you lot, and help yourself to a drink.”  The group followed Draco and Hermione into the main living area of the flat.

Within half an hour, the flat was full of guests.  It had been weeks since Hermione had seen her friends and it filled her heart with happiness to have so many she held dear in her home.  Well, in Draco’s home.  

Walking into the kitchen to grab a platter from the fridge, she came upon Ginny and Neville.  He held her in an intimate embrace, their bodies connected at all points.  The redhead had her head buried in the crook of his neck and was whimpering.  He stroked her back and had an expression of longing on his handsome face.  

My God, he’s in love with her.  

During her last year at Hogwarts, after the war, Hermione had sensed some tension between the two, but she was absorbed in her own issues and didn’t give it much thought.  She understood now.  Poor Neville.  It was obvious to anyone who had been around her that Ginny had been consumed by her relationship with Harry.

She began to back out of the kitchen doorway and bumped into Draco.  Turning, she grabbed his arm and led him a small distance from the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Um… nothing.  Ginny and Neville are in there, but she’s quite upset.”  Hermione lowered her voice.  “She broke up with Harry.”

“They were a couple for a while when you were on the run.  I think it was a quiet thing, but I accidentally saw them together a few times.”

“I didn’t know until I saw them in the kitchen,” Hermione admitted.  

“We’ll give them a few minutes,” Draco said, guiding her back to their guests.

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“Hey, can I talk to you about Harry?” Ron asked when they had a minute alone.

“Is he okay?”

“Not really, Mione.  He lets me visit and do a few things around his place, but he’s really depressed and angry.  Would you come over with me and talk to him?”

“I don’t know, Ron.  Last time I saw him he was bloody awful to me.  Do you think I would help?”

“What did he say to you?  Gin broke up with him, you know.”  Ron shook his head.  The friend he’d envied for years was falling apart and Harry didn’t want to accept support from his friends and adopted family.

“Yes, she told me when she got here.  I don’t want to give up on Harry, but—“  

“No one knows him like we do.  If anyone can help him, it would be us.”

Hermione looked at her loyal friend.  He’d matured so much over the past few years.  She felt a welling of pride for the rambunctious little boy who had turned into a thoughtful and hard-working man.

An idea hit Hermione.  “What if we asked Luna to come with us?  She’s always had a way of getting through to Harry.”

Ron looked at her and nodded thoughtfully.  “Yeah, alright, that might work.  Let’s talk to her and see if she can join us in a few days.”

She put her arms around the tall, lanky redhead.  “You’re a good friend, Ron Weasley.  Thank you for everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was really worried about how you’d react to me and Draco.  I know you two don’t have a good history.”

Ron gave her a half-grin.  “If you can forgive him after how he treated you and he makes you happy now, then I accept him.  You seem better than you have in a long time, Mione.”

“Amazingly, I am.”

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Luna agreed to go with Ron and Hermione to talk to Harry.  She had a way of talking to Harry that told him the truth and didn’t offend him.  Hermione had long suspected an attraction on the blonde’s part, but she never would have attempted anything with Harry when he had been with Ginny.  

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Hermione found Draco with Blaise, Daphne and Theo and they were examining his arm.  Draco motioned her to his side.

“Let’s see yours,” Theo said with an awed expression.  Bloody Griffindors and their crazy ideas.

“You don’t have to show us, Hermione,” Daphne said.  “Theodore has no tact.”

“It’s okay,” Hermione said, putting her inked arm next to Draco’s.

The three Slytherin friends’ eyes widened as they noticed the matching runes.  

“We should do this, cara,” Blaise said to Daphne with a sly smile.  “One on your—“

“Blaise!”

Hermione smirked at the couple.  They were much more fun than she’d ever expected.  

“I didn’t think you could get any sexier, Granger,” Theo said with a leer in her direction.  He flirted so awkwardly she had to laugh.  

“Fuck off, Nott,” Draco growled at his friend, eliciting a chuckle from the irreverent man.

“Not to worry, Draco, you two are clearly marked as each other’s.  How did you get a catch like Granger to agree?”

Hermione was slightly perplexed at Theo’s remark.  She hadn’t thought about what the shared runes would say to other witches and wizards.  Draco would have to field this observation from his friend.

“Some blokes have all the luck,” Draco quipped.

“No shite,” Theo agreed.

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Luna was staring at a photograph of Hermione and Draco taken at one of the fundraising events they’d attended.  Draco had paid the Daily Prophet photographer to send him the original photo.  The picture loop began with Draco and Hermione looking at the camera and then he whispered something to her and she looked up at him and smiled.  Luna had observed the Slytherin over the years and she knew he had wanted some reason to become part of Hermione’s life.  He’d cajoled and insulted her as a young man to get her attention, but as he got older, the looks he gave her were more yearning than spiteful.   

Hermione came to stand near Luna.

“You and Draco make a beautiful couple.”

“Thank you.  How have you been?  We’ve hardly had a minute to talk the whole party.”

“I’m taking a trip to South America in a few weeks.  Mr. Olivander sends an expedition to find rare wand woods and cores to one continent every year and he accepted my application.”

“That’s wonderful, Luna!  How long will you be traveling?”

Luna thought for a few seconds.  “Well, the application said we needed to have at least six months available for the project, but Mr. Olivander said most expeditions take about four months.”

“If I weren’t in school, I’d love to do an expedition.”

“You are where you’re meant to be.  Our world needs your point-of-view to move into the future.  Will Draco continue to pay your tuition next school year?”

“Wh-What?” Hermione stammered.

“He pays your tuition, doesn’t he?  He went to university hoping you would as well, Hermione,” Luna said gently.

“He does pay my tuition,” Hermione whispered.  She felt humiliated admitting the truth to her friend.  She’d never wanted anyone to know about this part of her relationship with Draco.

Luna noticed the tears gathering in her proud friend’s eyes.  “A gift given with love doesn’t have the expectation of repayment.  If anything, he wanted an opportunity to win your affections.  His actions speak louder than his words, if you’re worried about his intent.”

“It’s complicated between us.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”  Luna tapped the tattoo on Hermione’s arm.  “He sees you as the swan you’ve become.”  The unusually observant young woman gave Hermione a sympathetic smile and left to speak to Ginny and Neville.

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When Hermione had been speaking to Lovegood, he noticed her wipe her eyes and wondered what could have upset her.  Draco excused himself from his conversation with Theo to see if she was alright after the blonde had moved on to speak to her friends.

Hermione felt him behind her before he said anything.  He rested his hands on her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her neck.  “Everything okay?”

She let her body relax into his.  “I’m fine.”  Turning herself, she nestled her head under his chin.  Over the months they’d spent together, she’d come to associate the feel of his body against hers with passion, happiness, and safety.

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Draco noticed Neville having a drink on the balcony and joined him outside.  

“Malfoy,” Neville said in greeting.  

“Longbottom.  How have you been?”  He took a warming sip of firewhisky and moved to stand by the humble man.

“I’ve been well.  I’m doing a Herbology internship for the next two years.  How’s university?”

“It’s great, actually.  Hermione and I have two classes together next semester.”

“What’s your area of concentration?”  Neville knew Malfoy was a better student than any of Hermione’s other friends had been.  She probably enjoyed their joint intellectual pursuits.  

“I have two: Arithmancy and Wizarding Business.”

Neville nodded and cast a shield charm when a light snow began to fall.  “How did you and Hermione end up together?”  

He’d noticed Malfoy’s fascination with her over the years, but as a younger man, he’d worried that Draco’s interest was sinister.  After working with him during the war, he realized Malfoy had been in an impossible situation and had done what he could to make things right.  This evening was the first time he’d seen the couple together and Neville realized the interest Malfoy had in his friend was genuine.

“I stalked her until she agreed to have dinner with me.  It wasn’t easy to convince her that I didn’t mean her any harm, since I’d been so bloody awful to her for years, but she gave me a chance.”

Neville chuckled.  “You two must get along well if she agreed to move in here so quickly.”  He knew Hermione had struggled with money and wondered if Malfoy was helping her.

Hermione’s friends knew much more about her and her situation than she gave them credit for.  “Her living situation wasn’t ideal and I’ve got tons of space in my flat.  I likely get more out of the situation than she does.”

“Oh, I’m not sure about that, Malfoy.  She’s happier than I’ve seen her in a long time.”

“I hope so,” Draco murmured. 

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“Now, where were we when those interlopers showed up?” Draco said to Hermione as they sat on the couch.  The last of their guests had left and the flat was theirs once again.  

Hermione shifted to sit on his lap.  “Maybe something like this?”  Her dress rode up to expose the lacy garters.

“Ah, yes, this seems right.”  He played with the thin garter straps.  “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“I did.  Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.”  She began to unbutton his shirt.  “Did you enjoy the party?”

“Yeah, I did.  What did Lovegood say to you?”  Draco had been dying to know what had upset his girl during an otherwise pleasant evening.

Hermione sighed and rested her head against his.  “She somehow guessed what our arrangement was.”

“What exactly did she guess?”

“Luna knows you pay my tuition.”

“Is that it?”

“Yes, but I didn’t think the situation was so obvious.”

“Why does it bother you so much?  It’s just money.”  As a person who’d never had any financial need denied, Draco didn’t understand her unease about taking Galleons from him.  What he’d offered her over the past few months was monetarily almost nothing to him.

“You feel like that because you don’t know what it’s like to live in a tent, Malfoy!”  She squirmed to get out of his lap, but he held her to him.

“Why are you upset?”

“I don’t want people to think of me as a…a…kept woman!”

She was so feisty and so fucking independent and adorable.  Draco couldn’t help himself and started to snigger.  

“Don’t laugh at me!” she said with rising irritation, which only made him laugh harder.  

“I’ll tell everyone you’re my paramour,” Draco said with glee.  “Or my mistress!”  

The wind taken out of her sails, she put her arms around his neck and found herself glad he hadn’t allowed her frustration to escalate into a fight.  He didn’t hold what he gave her over her head.  She still found his behavior strange, not in any obvious way, but because he treated her with care and consideration. 

“Prat.”

He began to pull out the pins that held her hair in an updo and placed them on a side table.  

“Luna did say something else that unsettled me,” Hermione admitted.  

Draco frowned.  “What else did she say?”

“She thinks you pay my tuition and shower me in gifts out of…out of love.”

“Why does that worry you?”  Conjuring a brush, he shifted her so she was facing away from him and began to run it through her thick hair.

“Love is loss in my world.”

“You can’t base your future feelings on what happened with Potter or your parents.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not reasonable, first of all.  Not every situation is going to be the same as what happened in the past.  And second, if someone wants to love you, you have no control over their feelings.  You don’t have to reciprocate, but I don’t think you should not love for fear of losing them.”

She didn’t respond and Draco continued to gently brush her hair.

“Lovegood was right,” he murmured.  He knew she needed love, even if she wasn’t ready to acknowledge it.  

Chapter Text

Hermione gingerly removed herself from Draco’s lap.  Turning, she gave him a brittle smile.

“I think I’m going to turn in.”

He nodded and she retreated to the bedroom.

Fuck!  Why did I say anything?  She told me she wasn’t ready for this.

He wandered into the kitchen and began to fill the sink with hot, soapy water, placing the dishes scattered on the counters into the basin.  In his heart, he had hoped she could trust the connection they’d established.  Though she was reluctant to admit to feelings greater than friendship, she demonstrated care for him on a daily basis.  He would accept what she could offer, for now.  

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Draco woke to the sound of the shower.  Even though Hermione had gone to bed without him, he’d woken to her body pressed against his throughout the night.  He knew she thought of love as the beginning of the end, the inevitable close of their arrangement.  But her unconscious actions betrayed the distance she put between them the previous night.  

He stretched and got out of bed, making his way into the shower.  Hermione stepped aside to allow him to stand in the hot spray.  Draco pulled her against his body.

“Don’t hide from me.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.  I’m aware of your issues.”

“I’m sure there are more of them than you expected.”  

“To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect.  Your fears aren’t unfounded, but they shouldn’t determine your future.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No, just a bit disappointed.  I had hoped you’d be so overwhelmed with my declaration that you would be inspired to reciprocate.”   He said it somewhat in jest, but part of him did think she would feel as he did.

Hermione looked up at him and rested her hands on his chest.  “I am moved by what you said.”  

For a woman most comfortable sitting and reading, she could express her feelings for Draco best through her body.  Hermione found solace in their physical relationship.  She knew it went beyond good chemistry and similar sexual tendencies.  She loved giving Draco pleasure, watching him lose himself with her.  She’d grown to treasure their sweet, small touches throughout the day.

She pulled him toward her and pressed her lips into his.  The relief she felt when he kissed her back was immediate.  Hermione pushed her breasts into his firm chest, letting her nipples graze the light sprinkling of hair on his torso.  Draco kissed her hard, desperate to feel her embrace.  His hands molded to the smooth, wet skin of her arse.  

Her lips trailed down his neck as he pushed her against the shower wall.

“Don’t give up on me,” she whispered into his skin.

Draco hitched her body up, her legs wrapping around his waist.  They were face to face, both breathing rapidly.  Hermione reached between them and positioned his broad head at her cleft.  He rubbed his cock over her sensitive clit, causing her to moan.  She ground down and he surged into her.  

“Oh my God!” Hermione gasped as his large member began to pound into her.  This morning he was proving a point to her, fucking her so she couldn’t ruminate on his confession.  She held onto him, letting gravity and his thrusts bounce her up and down.  His beautiful face was serious and focused as he claimed her with his body.

Her nails dug into his back as her g-spot was stimulated by his vigorous movements and his balls slapped her arse.  A groan was forced from her throat as she teetered on the edge of climax.

“I.  Am.  Not.  Giving.  Up.  On.  You,” he gritted out, each word punctuated by a deep thrust.  His grey eyes were dark and penetrating as he stared into her vulnerable eyes.  In that moment, Hermione comprehended the truth of his words.  She would have those constants she wanted in her life if she would give this man a chance to love her.

“Yes, Draco, yes!” Hermione sobbed as his thrusts became turbulent and his breathing became labored.  Her pussy pulsed around his shaft as he came inside of her.  They clung to each other as their bodies came down from the intensity of the coupling.

Draco carefully put her down and turned off the shower.  He wrapped a large bath sheet around her body.  Hermione opened the towel to him, silently asking him to join her.  Her body was hot and smooth against his.  

“Let’s get back into bed,” Draco suggested, knowing she was uncertain about the state of her heart.  He wanted to hold her and show her he valued her for more than sex. 

“Okay,” she said, letting Draco guide her back to the unmade cocoon of pillows and warm, soft blankets. 

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They woke a few hours later, snow falling in fat flakes to the ground.  The light in the bedroom was muted and made the pair glad they could hole up for the day.

Draco spooned Hermione’s naked body.

“Your hair is strangling me,” he said, spitting strands out of his mouth.

“Is it?  I’ve been thinking about cutting it.”

“You have?”  Draco used his wand to braid her unruly hair and bind it.

“Umhmm.”

“No.  I don’t want you to cut it.”  After years of fantasies about her crazy locks, he wasn’t about to encourage her getting rid of them.

She chuckled.  “It was just an idea.”                                  

“I used to wank to images of you lying naked on my bed, your hair spread out under you.”

Hermione’s eyes widened before she guffawed.  “Malfoy!”

“I’ve wanked to you for so long and now that I actually get to wrap that crazy hair around myself, I refuse to let you cut it.  I forbid it.”

“Aww, Draco, you’re such a romantic!  I’ve always wanted to be a member of your mental harem,” she cooed, reaching back to pinch him.

He slapped her hand away and began to suck on her neck, purposely attempting to leave a purple mark.  Aside from enjoying the feeling of his lips on her sensitive neck, Hermione knew Draco liked marking her.  If they went out, she’d hide it with a quick charm, but around the house she’d let the bite show. 

“Deviant,” Hermione said as he continued to mark up her neck.

“You like it,” he whispered into her ear.

“I do,” she said, rubbing her backside against him.

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“I need to visit my parents.”

Draco never talked about his parents.  To her knowledge, they weren’t allowed to write to him and he didn’t write to them.  Hermione had no respect for the elder Malfoys, but she would never want to be the wedge that would further drive Draco from his parents.  To be honest, her own parents had shown their true colors and she wouldn’t hesitate to visit them if they wanted anything to do with her.  

“Of course,” she said, nodding in understanding.

“It’s important I check on them.  They were doting parents to me when I was a child.  I have some good memories of them.”  He gave her a sad smile.  

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Draco.  I’m sure they want to see you.”

“Maybe.”

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Two days later Hermione, Ron and Luna stood in front of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.  

Ron looked at his friends.  “I should warn you before you see Harry: he’s said some arsehole-ish things to me lately.  Just be prepared.”

Ron used his wand to open the door.  Kreacher came to greet the visitors and led them to the library, where they found Harry reading.  Harry looked up, expecting to see Ron, but was startled to see Hermione and Luna.  

Luna broke the ice by approaching Harry and kissing his cheek.  “Harry Potter, it’s been too long.”  She pulled a chair near him and sat.

Hermione scrutinized the man in front of her.  His normally rosy cheeks were pale and his face was scruffy.  His hair was in desperate need of a cut.  Kreacher kept his clothes clean, but what he wore was rumpled.  Ron put his hand on the small of Hermione’s back, leading her to sit next to him and across from Harry and Luna.  

“Hi, Harry,” Hermione said, making eye contact with him.  After their last encounter, she had no idea how he would react to her.

“Hello, Hermione.”

“Hey, mate,” Ron said with a sympathetic smile.  “Dad sent you some Muggle comics.”  Ron fished them out of his bag and handed them to his friend.

“Thanks,” Harry said quietly.  “So, why are you three here?”

Ron had been waiting for Harry to say something and almost began to speak when Luna, with her calm, airy voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Ron, Hermione, can you two make us tea?”

They nodded and left the room, making their way down the stairs to the kitchen at the back of the odd house.

“You’re depressed and we’re concerned for you,” Luna said in her straightforward way.

“Everyone is depressed,” Harry mumbled.  

“Yes, to a certain degree everyone who was touched by the war is depressed, but your life is moving back instead of forward.”

“My life is a pile of shit, Luna.  You probably think I have some bizarre creature stuck up my arse causing my problems, but I don’t need your brand of help.”

Luna cocked her head at him, considering her words.  She’d always been considered weird, but she did know the difference between psychological and magical problems.

“I’m not under the illusion you’re buggered, Harry.”  She gave him such a serious expression that he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Tell me something good,” Harry said in an attempt to be social.

“I finally got to see a Muggle movie,” she said with a grin.  

“What movie did you see?”

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s.  Do we have a Tiffany store in England?  I’d like to have breakfast there,” Luna mused.

Harry had caught most of the movie one summer evening when the Dursleys had forgotten to lock his room at night.  He had been young, but something about Holly Golightly and her courage to make a new life had struck him as kindred.  

“I think there’s a Tiffany store in London.”

Ron and Hermione listened from the hallway.  

“Let’s wait downstairs,” Hermione whispered to Ron.

“Good idea.”  

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“Did The Ferret get you a Yule gift?”

“Don’t call him that.  And yes, he did.”

“What did he give you?”

Hermione pushed back her hair to expose a ruby earring.  “He also gave me a few books I’ve wanted and a two way mirror for my purse so we can get ahold of each other quickly.”

“Huh.  Those were very Hermione-ish gifts.”  Ron gave her a little smirk.  “Did you get him anything?”

“I got him some books—“  

Ron mimicked a snoring noise.  

“Oh, shut it, Ronald!  He likes to read as much as I do.  Anyway, Draco enjoys music, so I bought him a Muggle music playing system and several music CDs and charmed it to be powered by magic.”  Ron gave her a skeptical look.  “You use the machine to play music off discs.  I’ll show you next time you come over.”

Harry and Luna came into the kitchen.  

“Harry and I are going to see Mr. Ollivander.  We may be awhile.”

“Do you want us to wait for you two?  We can grab a bite when you get back,” Ron said affably.

“Uh, no,” Harry said, glancing at his fellow Gryffindors.  “Hermione, can I speak to you for a minute?” 

Harry walked into the hall with Hermione following him somewhat reluctantly.  Last time he had asked to speak to her he’d said such hurtful things she wanted to protect herself.  

“Are you still with Malfoy?” he asked.

Hermione nodded.  Harry sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face.  

“Why him, Hermione?”

“If I tell you anything about my feelings, you have to promise me you won’t throw it in my face if we break up.”  She gave Harry a serious look.  He stared back at her then jerked his head in acquiescence.  

“He’s different.  The war changed him and he wants to be more than Lucius Malfoy’s son.  Draco’s been really good for me.”

“Hermione, I know it’s flattering to have someone lavish you with gifts, but—“

“Look, Harry, Malfoy isn’t perfect, but he’s not buying my affection.  I’m disappointed you think it would be so easy for someone to impress me with things.”

“I still think something is off about this thing your have going with Malfoy, but it’s your life.  I hope you don’t end up hurt by him.”

Hermione knew Harry had an incredible talent for comprehending the nuances of a situation.  It was one of his innate gifts, like her own gift for putting together the pieces of a puzzle.  He was right in his suspicion about her relationship with Draco Malfoy, but she would rather kiss a flobberworm than admit to Harry why they were together in the first place.  But this thing she had with Draco was too delicate and new for her to dissect, least of all with Harry.  

“It is my life.  I never would have thought Draco would be the one to help me start to move on, but he is and…he cares for me.”

“God, Hermione, you sound like you’re already in love with him.”  As soon as he said it he knew it to be true.  Hermione was a loyal as they came.  If Harry continued to challenge her feelings for the blond Slytherin, he would cut off any chance of a reconciliation with her.  He recognized that he’d been an utter cock to her at the Hogwarts Gala.  His words had been cruel and had played to her worst fears.  

Hermione didn’t say anything in return, a sure sign that her emotional baggage made this conversation difficult for her.

Luna called to Harry.  “We should go now if we’re to catch Mr. Ollivander before the shop closes.”

“Okay,” he called back.

Hermione began to make her way back to Ron.  

“Give me time,” Harry said tiredly.  “I’ll try to wrap my head around what you’ve said to me about you and Malfoy.”

She nodded and gave Harry a small smile.  “That’s all I can ask from you.”

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The last time Draco had seen his parents had been right before he had gone back to Hogwarts for his eighth year.  They had been put on house arrest, but both had been grateful to have escaped an Azkaban sentence.  He had told them in no uncertain terms that he would not be staying at the manor in the future.  

Draco supposed his parents had seen pictures of him and Hermione in the society pages of The Daily Prophet.  He knew they were allowed to take the paper.  Luckily, for him at least, they could not initiate contact with the outside world.  Draco could visit his parents whenever he liked, but he needed to put some distance between himself and the people who he knew loved him, but had put him into a dangerous position as an impressionable teen.  Lucius and Narcissa, for all their money and sophistication, had never sussed out what Voldemort was about until the scary bastard was living in their home, treating them as if they were nothing more than minions.  Which, it turned out, his parents had been.  

Having seen what that kind of blind following had done to his parents, Draco vowed to do everything in his power to make the Malfoy name into something more. 

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Dressed in a warm pair of charcoal grey trousers and a wool navy blue shawl collar sweater, he Flooed into the traveling room of the manor.  Gertie, his mother’s house-elf, greeted him with a smile on her wizened face.

“Young Master Draco!  It’s been so long.  We’s missed you.”

“Hello, Gertie.  Are my parents available for callers?”

“Yes, of course!  We has strict instructions iffin you visit.”

Gertie waved, beckoning him to follow her to the yellow sitting room.  Draco walked to a large window in the sitting room that overlooked the rear garden.  He was surprised to find the large hedge maze removed and what he surmised was a huge potions garden in its place.  While the rest of the land was covered in snow, the new garden was green most likely because it had been magically warmed.

“Son,” Lucius said from the doorway.  The last time Draco had seen his father, he had been thin and his pallor had been poor, probably due to stress and lack of sleep.  The man before him was healthier and dare he say, tanner, than he had ever seen his father.

Draco walked to his father and put out his hand.  “Sir.  You’re looking well.”

Lucius shook his hand and looked at his son.  This was not the unhappy young man he had seen months ago.  This man was…different.

“Thank you, Draco.  Your mother should be here in a moment.  Please, let’s sit.”

Draco took a seat in a wingback chair facing the sofa.  “How have you and mother been faring?”

“Quite well, actually.  I’ve come to believe it’s somewhat of a blessing that we can’t leave the manor.  Your mother and I needed time to regroup after the past few years.”

Just then, Draco heard light footfalls hurrying toward the sitting room.  “Draco!”  He stood to catch her jubilant hug.  “You look wonderful, son.”

Narcissa held her tall, handsome boy by the shoulders and looked at him.  He’d grown since the last time she’d seen him, some eighteen months before.  His hair was a big shaggy, but suited him.  It was his face which was unlike what she remembered.  His eyes were sincere and his mouth was smiling, not smirking or grimacing as he had done so often as a younger teen.

“You do, too, Mother.  I was admiring your potions garden.  Are you brewing again?”

“Yes, I am.  We’ll give you a tour before you go.  How are you enjoying university?”

Narcissa sat next to her husband and the two looked at their son expectantly.  They’d worried about him, but appreciated his need to get some distance from the horrors he’d seen in his own home.  It had taken the Malfoys months to repair the damage from Voldemort’s time in the home.  But after the Ministry took out the Dark objects from the house, it became easier to breathe in the manor.  It was harder for them to get rid of the terrible memories from the past few years, with both having nightmares on a regular basis for the first few months after the war ended.  

“I’m very much enjoying my studies.  The work is challenging, but I find myself up to the task.”  Draco had the uncomfortable realization that his parents were clueless about what was happening in the greater wizarding world.  “Do you still take The Prophet?”

Narcissa shook her head.  “We thought it would be better to take a break from the rubbish they were printing.  Why do you ask?”

“I’ve made an effort to rehabilitate the Malfoy name with charitable contributions and by attending events that show our ability to embrace the new world.”

“Are your gifts accepted?” Lucius asked.  While he and his wife were hiding away at Malfoy Manor, Draco would be subjected to the brunt of the public’s hatred toward their family.  

“Well, yes, generally.  There’s so much need in our community that most organizations are only too happy to accept Galleons from us.”

“How extensive is the damage?” Narcissa wondered hesitantly.  

“You saw some of it before you were put on house arrest.  There’s substantial rebuilding in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and some smaller villages, but the loss of life has taken the greatest toll on the magical community.  Hermione took me to the war orphans’ care center and there were so many children there with no one left in their family.” 

“Hermione?” Narcissa looked curiously at her son. 

Hermione was so imprinted on Draco’s mind he hadn’t realized he had mentioned her until he had said her name.  Fuck it.  In for a Knut, in for a Galleon.  Draco gazed levelly at both his parents.  He would give them no indication that he would be swayed by their reaction to his connection to her.

“Hermione Granger, the witch from Hogwarts.  She attends the Wizarding University of Great Britain as well.  It took some persuading on my part, but she eventually agreed to see me.”

Lucius gave his son a shrewd look.  “Very politic, Draco.  A connection to her and her compatriots would go a long way towards redeeming the family name.”

Draco supposed he could tell his parents he had deeper feelings for the Muggle-born witch, but until he knew of her feelings for him, he wouldn’t broach that topic with them.  

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Hello dear Hermione,

Harry and I had a chat with Mr. Ollivander and he accepted Harry into the expedition.  A motley group of people are going, but I think it will be good for Harry to interact with some new witches and wizards. 

Love to you,

Luna

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Hermione was asleep when Draco got back to the flat after dinner with his parents.  Gertie had given him several packages of his favorite baked goods and candy.  When he’d ventured back to Hogwarts as a student, she’d sent him with enviable treats for the train ride.  Hermione would like the talented elf’s chocolate croissants with her morning coffee.  

He slipped into bed, at first careful not to disturb her rest, but his desire to touch her winning out in the end.  His body curled around her warm, smooth curves. 

“How was your visit?” she asked groggily.  Following the afternoon call to Grimmauld Place, Hermione had been tired.  She ate a small dinner and read for the upcoming semester, but found herself becoming sleepy as the evening went on.  She was prepared for Draco to come back from visiting his parents and ask her to leave the flat.  It was clear he had removed himself from the prejudice he had grown up with, but Hermione knew people could change their minds in the face of pressure from influential family or friends.  It was absolutely exhausting for her to bounce between feelings of fear, worry and love for the man in question.

“It was good,” he said, pulling her hair away from her neck to press a kiss to the fragrant skin under her ear.  “But I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she said in a small voice.    

“Did your visit to Potter’s go alright?” 

Hermione turned and faced him, the light from the moon illuminating his bright hair.  He put his arm on her hip and pulled her closer, so their faces were only centimeters apart.

“Umhmm.  Luna took Harry in hand, so Ron and I didn’t have to do much.”  Her hand rested on his chest, lightly fingering the skin above his heart.

“Did he say anything to you?”  

“Not really.”

Draco knew she wasn’t telling him the whole truth, but he wasn’t willing to start an argument with her over an omission.  In time, he hoped she would feel comfortable confiding in him.  They were quiet for a few minutes and Draco thought she had fallen back to sleep.

“Were they upset?  About me?” she asked quietly.

Draco brushed his lips over hers, his hand cupping her face in an intimate gesture of understanding.

“No.  But even if they had been, it wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”

Chapter Text

Hermione retrieved her mail from the owl post office box.  There were fliers about campus organizations, lecture series and the ubiquitous tuition invoice.  Draco had kept his word, making monthly payments on her behalf.  She wondered what the cashier’s office must make of him paying her tuition.

Paid: 2500 Galleons.  Owed: 500 Galleons. 

He didn’t just pay her tuition.  Every time she went to the store, she’d find a bag of Galleons tucked into her purse.  It was always much more than she needed.  At first she tried to return any extra, but he always waved her off, telling her to use the extra money for some book or other object she’d mentioned in passing.  She’d had money to pay for her spring semester textbooks, but Draco had taken care of the cost when they’d gone to the campus bookstore to get their materials for the semester.  Instead of finding it offensive to her feminist sensibilities, she found his generosity endearing.   

There was one envelope she hadn’t noticed at first, her name handwritten on the front.  She used her wand to check it for curses and found the parchment to be clear of magic.  As she read through the letter, she discovered herself grinning excitedly.

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Draco Apparated into the flat, the sound of Hermione’s sweet voice singing to a disc on the music player she had given him for Yule.  He knew if he walked into the room she would stop her singing with an embarrassed flush of her cheeks.  Her voice wasn’t perfect, but it had a sensual timbre Draco appreciated.  The singing seemed to be coming from the kitchen and he quietly made his way to the doorway to watch her.  She was stirring something on the stove as she swayed her hips to the music.  It was one of the few times he had seen her looking content and happy.  When the song ended, he made himself known. 

She looked like she was about to burst.  “Look at this letter from the chair of the Defense Against the Dark Arts department,” she said, thrusting a piece of parchment into his hands.

Miss Granger,

The Defense Against the Dark Arts Department would like to invite you to speak to the university community about your book and experiences in the Second Wizarding War.  The bookstore will provide copies of your book for professors and students to buy and for you to sign.

We have tentatively scheduled your talk for February 22 ^nd at 7:00 p.m.  Please let me know if that will work for you.

Sincerely,

Mathilda Bijan-Woodcrock, Chair

Defense Against the Dark Arts   

Draco hugged her and kissed the crown of her head.  “You absolutely deserve this, Hermione.”

She took the letter back from him.  

“Thank you,” she said, suddenly looking bashful.  “I’m ridiculously excited but nervous, too.  What kind of questions do you think they’ll ask?”

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They spent dinner brainstorming what type of questions she might be asked about her book and experiences fighting for The Light in the war.  After living with Draco for the last few months, she truly understood how bright he was, but it always came as somewhat of a small surprise that they could connect so well intellectually.  

He had taken their dishes to the kitchen and she was woolgathering.  Draco cleared his throat to capture her attention as he sat back down.  

“You should be prepared to have someone ask why you’re involved with a former Death Eater.”  He looked unsure of himself, almost as if their relationship wouldn’t withstand outside scrutiny.  

“I’ll let them know that my relationship with you is not up for discussion.”  She didn’t have to divulge personal details about her life if she didn’t want to.

Draco shook his head.  “You’re a public figure and you’ve opened yourself up to magical society with your book and our public appearances.  Think about a sincere, reasonable answer for why you’re with someone like me.”

Hermione stood and nudged him with her hip.  He pushed his chair back, allowing her to climb into his lap.  She kissed his forehead.  “Okay.”

He wasn’t insecure, not like she was, but he had moments of vulnerability.  His arms threaded around her waist, holding her close.  Draco’s scent was amazingly comforting to her: warm, musky with a hint of leather and mint.  It was a mature scent, one she could imagine on someone older, but it now smelled like home to her.  It embarrassed her to find her face buried in his chest or the crook of his neck when she woke in the morning.  He probably felt suffocated by her at times.  

While she was musing, Draco had been admiring her breasts through her shirt.  He gently began to graze her full orbs.  Her fingers tightened on his scalp.  Her nipples hardened into sensitive points, his every delicate touch causing her cunt to clench in anticipation.

“Touch me, Draco,” Hermione urged, kissing his neck and nibbling at his earlobe.  

“Stand up, love,” Draco instructed in a husky voice.  He pulled her skirt and knickers off, throwing them to the side.  Hermione took off her shirt and bra, standing before him naked, her long hair curling softly about her shoulders.  “You are so beautiful.”

She wanted to disagree, but couldn’t speak.  His gaze was so predatory and made her skin prickle with anticipation.  He cupped her sex, his thumb lightly stroking over her clit.  Her eyes closed, enjoying the feel of his fingers on her desperate body.    Gods, she loved the way he made her body come alive.  

“You’re already so wet for me,” he murmured.  “Turn around and lean your upper body on the table.”

Hermione did as he bade, lowering her heated chest onto the smooth wood table.  She let her head rest on her arms.  Behind her, she could hear Draco removing his clothing.  At last, he curved his hand over her buttocks, rubbing her smooth skin.

“Have you been touched back here?” he asked, his finger tracing the seam of her arse.

“No,” she said, her voice deepened with lust and a bit of apprehension.

“Spread your legs.”  Hermione obeyed, opening her legs to give him access to her needy body.  “Will you let me touch you here?”  Draco pushed a finger to the entry of her tight back entrance.

She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then nodded her head.  

“It’ll feel good, I promise,” he whispered into her ear, his chest pressed against her back.  His head rubbed against her slick folds, while one hand found her engorged clit and lightly flicked it.  Her hips began rolling in time to his movements.  Her breathy, mewling noises were a total turn-on, as was the ever-growing trust she put in him.

“Oh, gods, Draco, please fuck me,” she begged, a feeling of desperation beginning to slowly torture her.  

“Not yet, pet.”  He continued to flick her stiff bud, but used his painfully hard cock to spread her juices from her pussy to her ass.

“Mmm, yes,” she moaned.  

She rocked back in an effort to get him to impale her.  No longer able to resist, Draco pushed into her tight body.  She was so responsive to his touch, he felt her shiver as he sank into her again and again.  He admired the curve of her back, the skin along her shoulders sprinkled with freckles.  His fingers traveled down her spine to play with the secret area between her cheeks.  She gasped as one finger began to gently rub over her tight hole.  Her body was so wet with need, he was able to push his finger into her after a bit of prodding.  

“Rub yourself,” Draco growled, knowing she would come really hard with all the stimulation.  

Her hand snaked between her legs, rubbing her clitoris in fast circles.  He ground his cock into her as his finger filled her ass.  The feeling was so intense, her eyes began to water as she got closer to orgasm.  Her gasps and moans were interspersed with small sobs and when he thrust into her hard enough to lift her feet, her electrified body exploded in a shattering orgasm.  

“Yes!” Draco groaned as his own body let go.  The intensity of their joint physical exertions created a current of magic between the two of them.  

Instead of her usual keening, she found herself crying from the fierce joining.  Hermione was unable to move and hid her face in her arm.  Removing himself from her body, he sat in the plush dining room chair, pulling her into his lap.  He used his wand to clean them up.  

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, stroking her hair.

She curled into him and hid her face in his chest.  “I don’t know.”

“Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head.  “I just…I didn’t know I could feel so many things at once.”

He could feel her tears on his neck and it made his heart clench.  Gods, I hope I didn’t hurt her.  She’s so brave, but maybe I pushed her too far.        

“What did you feel?” he asked carefully.  

“I think I was overwhelmed by the sensations.  My body reacts so strongly to yours.  I’m okay,” she said, trying to reassure him.  She sniffled and wiped at her eyes.  

Draco continued to hold her, hoping to help her feel secure and calm.  The sound of the fire crackling in the background provided some relief from the silence between the pair.

“Do you know why I love you?” he asked, burying his nose in her soft hair.  

“No,” she replied in a small voice.  It was the first time he had specifically said that he loved her.

“You’re all the things everyone says about you: brave, brilliant, loyal, determined.  But you’re so much more to me than that.  You took a chance on me, not just by agreeing to this arrangement, but by allowing me to become more than your way to pay for school.  I love our late night study sessions, making you tea in the morning, the way you hug me in your sleep, that you laugh at my stupid jokes.”  He trailed off, but tightened his hold on her, hoping his actions would convey the truth in his words.

“Did you feel our magic merging?” Hermione asked, finally looking into his eyes.  Draco nodded.

“I—I love you, too, but I’m so scared, Draco.”  Her dark eyes began to moisten with tears.  

Utterly astonished by her revelation, Draco’s eyes widened.  “You do?”  He was sure she would withhold this affection from him for far longer than he cared to wait.  

“Yeah, I have for a while, actually,” she said, her throat tight with tears and emotion.  “My body, my magic, my heart have all accepted you, but my mind keeps reminding me that I’m disposable.”

He absolutely hated that his girl felt that way.  He wished he could better convey how her care and friendship had made his life infinitely better.  He’d been so solitary before her.    

“I think you’re more loved than you could ever know.”

Chapter Text

“Miss Granger, may I have a word with you.”

Hermione looked at her Obscure Potions professor as she prepared to leave the lab.  She made her way to the lanky, serious potions master after the majority of the students had vacated the room.

“Yes, Professor Giovanni?” she asked as she approached his desk.  

He looked to be in his thirties and had long brown hair he wore in a low queue.  She could admit he was a handsome man, ruggedly charming like Bill Weasley.  The professor had been complimentary of her first completed potion, which took fifty-eight steps done over a five-day period.  

“An assistant position has opened up in the student potions lab.  Might you be interested?”

Hermione knew those positions were generally reserved for upper level students.  It would be a great job, but Draco had asked her not to work for the duration of their agreement.  

“Would you allow me to think about it and give you an answer during class on Wednesday?”

Professor Giovanni looked at her with a confused expression.  “That would be fine.  Do you currently have a job?”

“Well, yes, in a manner of speaking.  But my, um, employer may be amenable to allowing me to do this as well.”     

Gathering up his books, the professor began to walk toward the classroom door.  Hermione walked alongside him.

“Alright, Miss Granger.  Let me know.”

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“Absolutely not,” Draco said as Hermione told him about the opportunity to work as a potions laboratory assistant.  

Hermione reigned in her flaring temper, tamping down the desire to storm out of the room.

“Malfoy, this job pays well and that would help me next school year.  I could save up quite a bit for next year’s tuition.”

“Between your classes and our social commitments, you don’t have time for the lab assistant job.  Be reasonable, Hermione.”  

Draco knew he was making her angry, but he didn’t care.  Yes, things between them had changed, but he felt that their original deal still had to be honored.  How would she feel if he changed the terms of their arrangement?

“I am reasonable, Draco.  Don’t patronize me.”  She gave him a scathing look and left the room.

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The clock was making its way toward midnight and Hermione had still not come to bed.  Draco had murmured Nox to darken the room and had attempted to fall asleep, but their disagreement had bothered him.  He knew it was pragmatic for her to want to save for the next school year, but if he got his way, she would continue to live with him and he’d happily pay her tuition.  

He finally rolled out of the comfortable bed and made his way to her office.  He knocked and let himself into the space he’d carved out for her when she’d first moved in.  She was working on the Defense Against the Dark Arts presentation she was due to give in a week.  

“Come to bed,” he said, walking to stand behind her chair.  

He rested his hands on her tense shoulders.  He hated when she ignored him.  He wished she’d let her anger out by yelling at him or drawing her wand.  This icy behavior made him feel like he would wake up to find her gone from his life, without a backwards glance on her part.  

Hermione wanted to be angry with him, but he hadn’t done anything to warrant her current frustration.  He was right: they had an agreement and mid-way through she was asking him to change it.  His lithe fingers pressed into her tight muscles and she found her eyes closing and a sigh escaping her lips.

“I’ll read your presentation in the morning, if you’d like,” he offered, continuing to massage her shoulders.  In his heart, Draco knew Hermione was more than capable of completing her studies, participating in their social obligations and working part time, but he was loathe to give up their time together.  

“Okay,” she said quietly and let him lead her to bed.  

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The next few days passed with Hermione treating Draco cordially, but with a bit of distance.  She had told Professor Giovanni she wasn’t able to take the job at the current time, but asked him to keep her in mind for the following school year.  The professor had seemed surprised by her refusal, but said he respected her commitment to her current employer.  It had pained Hermione to reject his offer.  

Hermione was learning most potions masters had the serious demeanor of Severus Snape, sans the insulting tirades.  Even though she’d had to refuse the offer of employment, Hermione wondered if she might be a good potions mistress.  It would be challenging work and she could use her penchant for research and inventing to contribute to the field. 

Professor Giovanni had said he’d be happy to discuss what it would take for Hermione to start on the path to becoming a potions mistress.  The professor knew other departments would be gunning to get the brilliant witch to join them and it would be quite the coup if she became his protégé. 

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The day of Hermione’s presentation was grey and wet.  She had hurried home from her afternoon Ethics in Magical Law seminar to relax before she dressed for the talk she would give to her peers and professors.

Draco got home a few minutes after she did, hoping they could talk before she began to get ready.  The strain between the two of them had solidified over the past few days with Hermione doing her coursework in her office until late into the night.  She claimed to be inundated with essays and reading, but he knew she’d disliked letting her professor down.  He’d had Professor Giovanni the previous semester and quite liked the young potions master.  He was fair, thoughtful and a good teacher.

He found Hermione in the kitchen, making tea.  “Hey.  How was your day?”

“It was fine.  Yours?”  She was searching through the cabinets for the bag of orange spice tea she’d picked up the last time she’d gone grocery shopping.  Draco spotted it at the back of the shelf and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she said, skirting around him to get to the steaming kettle.

He sighed, wanting some indication she’d forgiven him.  “Do you think we could talk before you start getting ready?”

“Do you want tea?”

“Uh, yeah, Earl Grey, please,” he said, sitting at the counter and watching her prepare their drinks.  She was dressed in a creamy white sweater dress with tall leather boots.  Her long hair was plaited in a French braid and hung down her back.  She didn’t wear much makeup, but her lips had a pink stain that highlighted her wholesome beauty.  She truly was a stunning girl.  

Hermione sat next to him, taking a sip of her tea.  “What did you want to discuss?”

Her expression was calm, almost professional, as she regarded him.  He wanted to shake her out of this forced civility, but he knew a few hours before a big public presentation wasn’t the time to accost her.  So he did what he should have done when she told him about the potions lab job instead of shutting her down as he did.

“I’m very sorry I didn’t consider your reasons for wanting to take on the job Professor Giovanni offered you.  You’d be able to run circles around the brightest students even holding down five jobs.  I know that.”  He stopped to look at her and noticed her eyes were suspiciously bright.  Draco took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her palm.  He was glad she let him touch her.  It had been a few days since she’d accepted any physical contact from him.  “The two of us have been through so much in the past few years, you more so than me.  I wanted you to have a year where you could focus on what’s in front of you instead of worrying about your safety or your finances.”  

“I…appreciate what you’re saying and you’ve been so good to me the past few months, but I do need to think about the future, Draco.  I don’t have the luxury of not planning ahead.”

“Does that future include me?”  This was really the crux of his concerns.  Would she want to be with him if she didn’t need his help? 

“Of course!  But I’m not your responsibility.  If I can stand on my own two feet, I need to do so.”

“But if we’re together, why shouldn’t I help you?  If one of your friends was in need and you had the means to help them, wouldn’t you?”

“If they accepted my help, then yes, I suppose I would help them.”  She stopped to carefully consider her next few words.  “There’s an inherent imbalance in this situation because of our arrangement.  If we didn’t have this contract between us, I would have taken that job in a heartbeat.  Your opinion would have been taken into consideration, but ultimately the decision would have been mine.”

Draco had never wanted to give as freely as he did with Hermione, nor had he ever been in love.  He could admit it was a confusing situation for the two of them.  It didn’t seem possible he could alienate her with his generosity.

“I’m at a loss,” he confessed.  “It would be hard for me to watch you struggle with your finances when I could help you.”

“I will let you help me with certain things, but not everything.  I know it must seem strange, but it makes me feel proud to know I paid for something I value.”

Draco pulled her off her stool and put his arms around her waist.  “Why do you have to be so bloody independent?”  She leaned into his arms, enjoying the comfort she’d denied herself the past few days.

“I get it, Granger.  I do.”  And he did.  He understood she wasn’t a pure-blood princess like the girls he’d grown up with.  She didn’t expect a wizard to fund a lavish lifestyle.

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Draco stood in the back of the large meeting room and listened to Hermione finish the question and answer portion of her presentation.  She was a deft hand at answering questions in her knowledgeable, sincere manner.  He’d worried the crowd would be small due to the horrid weather, but the room was full.  He saw several witches and wizards holding copies of her book.  

A brawny dark-haired wizard stood to ask her a question.  “Miss Granger, it’s no secret you’re dating a man who fought for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.  How could you date a man who would have rejected your place in the wizarding world?”

Even knowing this question would come up, Draco felt the blood drain from his face.  His lovely Hermione, never one to back down from a challenge, confronted the question like the lioness she was.

“I fought this war with the hope that I would be accepted in the wizarding world.  Although Mister Malfoy was taught to reject people like me, he overcame his prejudices after seeing the hateful, irrational actions of Voldemort and his followers.  He shared valuable intelligence with members of The Light at the risk of his own safety.  Mister Malfoy continues to help in the recovery efforts and has graciously allowed me to direct where some of his fortune is used.  We’ve come to terms with our pasts and I can honestly say I trust him implicitly.”  

A few curious faces turned and looked at him, then turned back to the engaging young woman at the front of the room.  An older professor asked a question, clearly trying to get the discussion back to Hermione’s book.  Draco could not have been more grateful.  

He tried to pay attention to the remaining questions, but his mind kept going back to what she’d said about him.  

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Hermione finished signing the last book and bid goodnight to the remaining staff.  She found Draco sitting at the back of the room, reading through an Arithmancy text.  He looked up as she approached, giving her a big smile.

“Hi, love.  Can I take you out to dinner?”  He wrapped his arms around his exhausted witch and kissed the top of her head.

“That would be brilliant.  I’m starved.”  

“You were bloody amazing,” he whispered into her hair.

“Thank you.  I couldn’t have done it half as well without your help,” she murmured.

“Too true,” he said magnanimously, leading her out of the room.  

“Prat,” she said, laughing.  

The dean of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Department watched young Miss Granger and her handsome beau as they left the room.  As an Auror during the First Wizarding War, she’d fought against Voldemort’s Death Eaters.  They were nightmarish wizards, made even more horrible by their fortunes and access to power.  It was clear Draco Malfoy loved Hermione Granger.  Mathilda thought it must have been unbearable for the youngest Malfoy to have been thrown in with the type of witches and wizards she knew followed Voldemort.  She was glad Miss Granger had given him a chance to prove his worth, even when most of wizarding society wanted to write him off.  They would be good for each other, much like her Magnus had been for her when she’d been an angry, lonesome young Muggle-born witch.  

Chapter Text

Lucius kneeled on the floor next to his wife, waiting for the Aurors and a Healer to come through the Floo.  She had been in a potions explosion and her exposed skin had been badly burned.  It was a small mercy that she’d passed out from the pain.  

He heard the Floo.

“In the potions lab!” he screamed, unwilling to leave Narcissa’s side.  

Ron Weasley and a veteran Auror, Anthony Gould, ran into the room followed by a Healer and two mediwizards.  

“She was working on an experimental potion.  Her notes with the ingredients are on the table, next to her cauldron.”

The Healer scanned Narcissa and said something to the two mediwizards.  They used their wands to levitate her to the Floo.

Auror Gould stopped Lucius at the Floo.  “We’ll let you know how your wife is doing in a few hours.”

“No, I need to accompany her,” he said, stopping Auror Gould with his hand.

“Sir, your house arrest specifies that you are not to leave your home under any circumstances.  We will contact you in a few hours.”

The imposing Auror pushed past Lucius and followed the group through the Floo to St. Mungo’s.  

Ron cleared his throat.  “I can contact your son and ask him to sit with Mrs. Malfoy.”

Lucius regarded the young man from the family he had always considered inferior to his own aristocratic line.  He could see the young Weasley was sincere.

“Thank you, Auror Weasley.  I would be most grateful for your assistance.” 

Ron gave Lucius Malfoy a brief nod and called his destination into the flames.

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Draco sat by his mother’s bed at St. Mungo’s.  Her reddened, scaly skin was covered with a thick, yellow salve.  Her wrists were bound to the sides of the hospital bed.  Draco had asked the Auror to remove her bonds, but he’d been told his mother was a flight risk.   Merlin, what a fucking joke!  Her Healer didn’t even feel that she could withstand the pain of her skin regenerating, let alone get up and walk out of her hospital room.

The hospital door opened and Ron stepped into the room.  “Hey, Malfoy.  Can I get you anything?”

Draco stood and made his way to Hermione’s tall friend.  “Will you let Hermione know what happened?”

“Yeah, sure, mate.”

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Hermione found Ron waiting for her in the kitchen of the flat.  

“What happened?”  She dropped her book bag on the counter and looked at Ron’s serious face, her stomach plummeting to the floor with worry.  

“Malfoy’s mum was in a potions accident, but she’s at St. Mungo’s now.  She was burned pretty badly.  Old Lucius wanted to accompany her to the hospital, but it went against his house arrest.  I offered to contact Malfoy so he could be there for her.”

Though she felt for Draco’s mother, she was relieved something hadn’t happened to Draco or her parents.  God, the thought of something happening to her mum and dad and her not being there for them was one of her biggest worries.  

“I’d like to make sure Draco’s alright.  Let me grab a few things.”

“Okay, Mione.”

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Ron and Hermione walked the long hall to Narcissa Malfoy’s room.  

“The Healers put Mrs. Malfoy in a potion-induced sleep.  Apparently the healing salve to regenerate her skin is really painful, like ants biting you everywhere,”  Ron said with a shudder.

“How long will she be sleeping?”  Avoiding a run-in with Narcissa Malfoy was high on her priority list.  

“The sleeping draught lasts from eight to twelve hours.  She’s been here for about five hours, so you won’t have to deal with her.”

“Okay.”

Ron stopped at a door at the end of the hall.  “They’re in here.  Let me know if you need anything.  I’ve been assigned to her.”

“Thanks, Ron.”  She gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, grateful to have her friend close by.  

Pushing open the door quietly, she found Draco staring at his sleeping mother.

“Hi,” she murmured.

“Hey, love.  What are you doing here?”  He looked tired.  His clothing was rumpled from shifting in a seat for hours.  

“I figured you probably left the flat without anything, so I brought you a few things and some dinner.  And I wanted to check on you.  How’s your mother faring?”

“Her skin is looking better than when I first arrived, but I think she’ll be in quite a bit of pain when she wakes.”

Draco sighed and put his arms around her waist.  Gods, she smelled brilliant.  This room smelled like potions and cleaning agents, but Hermione smelled like lavender and eucalyptus and warmth.  She squeezed him and nuzzled her face into his shirt.  He led her to a small table with two chairs by an enchanted window displaying a field of flowers.

“Merlin, I’m starved.  What did you bring?”  

Hermione chuckled.  He didn’t eat like Ron, but Draco ate very regularly and when he didn’t, he was miserable.

“Just some leftovers from this week: quiche, pasta salad, the chocolate chip cookies I made yesterday.”  She laid out the food on the table and Conjured glasses for water.

Hermione wasn’t very hungry and watched Draco dig into the meal while she sipped her water.  He finally looked up to find her staring out the enchanted window.

“What’s wrong?” 

Hermione turned her gaze on him.  “When I saw Ron in the flat and knew something had happened, I had this horrible feeling you or my parents had been hurt or killed.  I’m so sorry about your mother, but I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened…”  She covered her face with her hands.  “I’m sorry.  I’m overreacting.”

“No, you’re not.  Come here.”  He held his arms out to her and she sat in his lap, burying her head in his neck.  She clung to him like she’d almost lost him.  Hermione had shared thoughts and ideas with him, had offered him her friendship and love, but he always wondered if she worried about him like he worried for her.

“Are you coming home tonight?”

His lips pressed into her neck.  “Yeah.  I have to be out at ten.  Can you stay for a few more minutes?”

She nodded into his neck.  “I love you,” she said, ever so quietly.

“I love you, too.”

What was this life he now found himself living?  It was sometimes unfathomable to him that this woman, this beautiful, gifted, sensitive person, had actually given him a chance and now stood between him and a life of solitude and regret.  He wondered if he could be honest with his mother about Hermione.  Draco intended for Hermione to be his if she’d have him.  A part of him hoped his mother would appreciate how happy Hermione made him and accept her place in his life.  He’d have an opportunity to talk to his mother during her convalescence.   

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Hermione had just sunk into the deep bathtub when she heard Draco Apparate into the flat.  She was irritated with herself for letting her emotions get ahold of her at the hospital when she should have been comforting him.  It was shocking, really, for her to realize how devastated she would be if anything happened to Draco.  It had been a punch to her gut to imagine what could have happened to him.  After he’d been cornered at the university when they’d first begun their arrangement, she’d been aware that he was in danger.  She practiced Alastair Moody’s constant vigilance for herself, but that day had made it abundantly clear that the wizarding world had not forgiven the Malfoys for their part in the war.  He watched out for himself, but the odds were not in his favor with so many wanting to seek vengeance on the Malfoys.

He found her in the candle-lit bathroom and watched her for a moment.  Her eyes were closed as she breathed in the fragrance of clary sage and ylang-ylang.

“Come join me,” she murmured, opening her eyes.  

He began stripping off his clothes while she admired his sleek body.  The dragon tattoo on his arm stood out against all that pale skin.  She secretly wanted him to get another tattoo, along the side of his ribcage or on his muscular thigh.  Body art on him didn’t look cliché or like he was trying to be tough.  He had scars all over to prove his ability to withstand pain.  On Draco, tattoos enhanced his already too-perfect handsomeness with something that was him, but not him, at the same time.

He stepped into the steaming water and sat between Hermione’s open legs, leaning his head back onto her shoulder.

“Hi,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his chest.

“Hi.”  

He let his body relax into her soft curves.  Her hands lightly kneaded the tense muscles above his breastbone.  Her breasts and pebbled nipples were pressed into his back and her soft, hot pussy was pushed up against his lower back.  

“Fuck, pet,” he groaned as her fingers grazed his nipples.  Both her hands continued a path down his torso, kneading and massaging while her nose nuzzled his jaw.  His hands ran up and down her slick legs as her delicate arches slid along his calves.  Finally, Merlin, finally, her hand gripped his erection.

“Gods, love,” Draco murmured, enjoying her slow strokes.  Her thumb caressed the sensitive underside of his head as her hand made its way up and down his cock.  His face turned toward hers to capture her lips.  Their tongues slowly danced while they enjoyed the leisurely pace of the experience.  

Breaking the kiss, Draco let his head roll back onto her shoulder.  “I want to bury my tongue in your pussy,” he whispered into her ear.  Her hand tightened on his length.

“I wanted this evening to be for you,” she argued, her voice breathy with need.

“Suck me while I lick you,” he suggested and nipped at her earlobe.  

She let go of his huge cock and let him help her to her feet.  He wrapped her in a towel and picked her up bridal style, heading to his richly-appointed bed.  As with many things they’d done, this was new to Hermione.  No sooner had she started to consider the logistics when Draco put her feet on the ground.  He grabbed her hand and led her onto the bed, first laying himself down while she kneeled beside him.  His hand came up to fondle her breast.

“Let me taste your sweet, tight cunt,” he said as his fingers plucked at her nipple.  Shoring up her courage she turned away from him then straddled his face.  He pulled her down so he could immerse himself in her sex.  His tongue licked up her seam, his fingers parted her sensitive flesh, and his lips brushed against her hard, little clit.

“Oh my God, Malfoy,” Hermione moaned.

His swollen, ruddy shaft bobbed before her and she leaned down to engulf him with her mouth.  She could taste the musky flavor of his pre-cum as she swirled her tongue over him.  This angle allowed her to take him deep into her throat and caused him to suckle harder at the bundle of nerves at her core.  He added a second finger to her dripping sex, pumping in and out of her tight, moist body.

She used one hand to fist him while her other hand gently rolled his bollocks.  Hermione let her hand wander from his twin sac to the sensitive area below, stroking him with a firm finger.  He curled a finger within her to massage the spongy tissue of her g-spot while continuing the assault on her clit.  It was too much and Hermione felt her body clench, then release an intense wave of pleasure as she came.  She took Draco into her throat and moaned, the vibrations causing him to spill his seed into her mouth.  Hermione swallowed, not ready to end this sexual closeness just yet.  

With the tiniest touch causing her to whimper, she finally let him out of her mouth and disengaged herself from him.  He gathered her in his arms, delicately kissing her sore mouth.  Her taste was on his tongue, his lips, his skin.  The act they’d just engaged in was so primal, so animalistic, but it felt as if they’d claimed each other.  She couldn’t imagine feeling such intense need for someone else, might even find the act of mutual oral pleasure distasteful with another man, but with Draco it was merely a natural expression of her love and desire for him.  She wondered if this feeling would last, like a bank of coals ready to ignite with a bit of prodding or if the fire would burn out with a strong gust of wind.  Hermione honestly did not know, but she hoped it would be the former.             

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After a day spent in his mother’s room, Draco had been appreciative when Hermione had shown up with dinner.  They’d talked quietly as they ate, conscious of the fact that Narcissa needed to sleep through her painful treatment.  

Draco sighed as Hermione feathered her hand through his hair.  His head was cradled on her lap on a transfigured sofa in the hospital room.  

“Her wrists aren’t healing with the restraints rubbing against the salve.”

“That’s unacceptable.  I’ll go speak to the Auror in charge of her case.”

“I’ve spoken to Auror Gould and he won’t relent.  You don’t have to get involved, Hermione.”

“I know I don’t, but the way you described the damage, she might not have sensation on her wrists if they don’t heal properly.”

Unbeknownst to the couple, Narcissa had woken and had been surreptitiously listening to them.

“I would be grateful, but you don’t have to do this for her.”

“You love her.  It would be a weight off your mind, yeah?”

“Well, yes.”  Draco pulled Hermione down to kiss her.  “Thank you.”

When Draco had visited the manor and told his parents he was seeing Hermione Granger, Lucius had assumed their relationship was to help Draco ingratiate himself with the powers-that-be.  Narcissa had seen an unexpected expression on her son’s face when he referred to the famous war heroine, but Draco hadn’t corrected his father.  She had wondered if there was more to his connection to the Muggle-born and now she could see there was.  That the young witch was willing to use her sway to help Narcissa made her heart clench after the torture Miss Granger had endured in their home.  

“I have to run back to the library, so I’m going to go.”

Draco trailed his fingers along her thick plait.  “Please be careful.  Why don’t you wait until tomorrow morning?  Did you need the book tonight?”

Hermione kissed him and stood.  “Yes, I need the book tonight.  I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

She collected her bag and left the dimly-lit room.  Draco began to stretch out on the sofa when he heard his mother clear her throat.  He quickly made his way to her bed.

“Mother, shall I call a mediwitch?”  He held a glass of water to her lips.  She took a sip and turned her head.

“No, son.  I can wait until the Healer comes to re-administer my potions.  Will you adjust my bed so I can sit up?”

He did as she bade, surprised by her improved looks.  Within a few days her skin had gone from scabbed and peeling to red, but smooth.  It was ironic that his mother had gone through a war, had lived in a house filled with absolute psychos and a potions accident was what put her in the hospital.  

“Are you hungry?  I can call for some food.”

“No, but thank you.  Whatever potions I’m on have suppressed my appetite.”  She shifted in the bed, her bound wrists causing her to wince.

“I’ve been by to see Father to apprise him of your condition.  He’s quite worried.”  In fact, Draco had rarely seen his father so upset.  Lucius had been furious that the Aurors hadn’t let him accompany his wife to St. Mungo’s, but he was thankful Draco had been tending to Narcissa.  

“Thank you for going to see him.  I know you don’t like visiting the manor.”  Narcissa gave him a sad smile.  

“I’m glad I’ve been able to help you and Father.”  He gave his mother a reassuring smile.  Narcissa had trouble believing that her son was well and truly a man now.  He held himself with such conviction.  She wondered if some of that had to do with his young lady.

“I overheard you speaking to your Miss Granger when I first woke.”

He quietly considered what she had heard.  “She wants to speak to Auror Gould about the restraints on your wrists.  Hermione’s worried it will impede your recovery.”

Narcissa shook her head in disbelief.  “Is she always so…caring?”

He looked right into his mother’s blue eyes.  “She is the epitome of good, Mother.”

“But I have wronged her, Draco.  She was tortured in my home, by my sister.”

“Would you like to meet her?  I lo—she means a great deal to me,” he finished, knowing his mother had probably guessed what he was about to say.

“Yes, I would like to meet her.  Perhaps she can come closer to the time I will be waking tomorrow evening?”

Draco nodded.  “I’ll ask her to come.”    

Chapter Text

It was awkward.  

“Your parents must be proud of your accomplishments,” Mrs. Malfoy said, examining the young woman before her. She knew the girl was nervous, but she was composed and courteous.

“They don’t know very much about my life as a witch,” Hermione said, looking down at her hands.

Narcissa nodded.  She wouldn’t pretend to understand how a Muggle-born would explain her magical existence to her Muggle parents.  

“Do you live near Draco?”

Hermione looked at him with wide eyes.  He gave her a reassuring smile.

“Mother, we live together.”  Draco knew it seriously violated pure-blood protocol to live with a woman before marriage, but he didn’t care.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you two were so serious.”  Narcissa smoothed her hands over her blankets.  “Son, could you possibly get me a cup of tea from the cafeteria?”

“Of course, Mother.”

Draco squeezed Hermione’s shoulder as he walked out of the room.

Narcissa gave Hermione a small smile.  “I’m not against you being with my son.”

“No?”

“No.  He’s earned the right to live how he so chooses.”

Hermione nodded.  She still wasn’t convinced that she was a better match for Draco than a witch brought up in his stratum of society, but she wasn’t about to give him up.

“Your wrists aren’t healing as well as the rest of your skin,” Hermione said, scooting closer to Narcissa to examine her skin.  “May I?” she said, indicating her desire to touch the other woman.  She had spoken to Auror Gould about Narcissa Malfoy.  He’d been reluctantly accommodating of her request to have the handcuffs removed, but Hermione knew he didn’t care about Narcissa Malfoy’s welfare.    

“Go ahead.”    

Hermione’s touch was cool and light against Narcissa’s inflamed, sensitive skin.  The younger witch murmured an incantation and Mrs. Malfoy felt a soothing moisture settle against her wrists.

“The burn salve and the shackles the Aurors employed created a stasis that didn’t make your burns worse, but also didn’t allow your burns to heal.  I did a bit of research after Draco told me you weren’t healing and, well, I created a spell to ease your discomfort and allow your skin to regenerate at a rate of twice that of the salve your Healer used.”

Oh.  Draco’s love is as brilliant as everyone claims she is.            

 “I hope you don’t feel that was too forward, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“You must love my son a great deal to treat me with such kindness after how you were treated in my home.”  

Hermione didn’t directly answer the question.  “He’d do the same for me.”

“Would he?”

“He would.”

Hermione knew she was being extremely honest with Draco’s mother, but she didn’t think she had anything to lose.  She suspected Mrs. Malfoy had decided she liked her before this meeting, but she wasn’t sure why.  Perhaps the witch understood the anger her son faced and was glad someone genuinely cared for him, despite his past.   

The door opened and Draco came in with a cup of tea for his mother.  Hermione stood.

“Mrs. Malfoy, it was a pleasure to visit with you this evening.”  

Draco looked between the two women, but didn’t think anything seemed amiss.  Narcissa beckoned Hermione closer, as if she wished to buss her cheek.

“Thank you for giving my son a chance,” the older witch whispered before pressing a kiss to Hermione’s cheek.  The younger witch nodded, a feeling of longing for her own mother’s touch causing her throat to close up.  

“I’ll be home in an hour,” Draco murmured as Hermione straightened.  She squeezed his hand and left the dim room.  

Draco sat in contemplation as his mother sipped her tea.  Narcissa mulled over her brief meeting with Hermione Granger and the ingenuity and consideration the girl had offered her.  Even amongst her “friends”, Narcissa couldn’t remember a time when someone had done something so thoughtful for her.  

“You two are shockingly well-matched,” Narcissa said, her finger stroking the rim of the teacup.  “How long have you wanted to pursue her romantically?”

“Years,” he admitted.  

“I’ll work on your father,” Narcissa promised.

“Why?  Father will never accept her.  Do you want a Muggle-born as a daughter-in-law?”  

“It’s headed in that direction, whether I approve or not.  Despite her unfortunate birth, she transcends other witches in her abilities.  And how could we object to someone who has made you happier than I have seen you since you were a little boy?”

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“It’s a fake!”

Narcissa Malfoy pointed her wand at Hermione, her cold blue eyes studying Hermione with disgust.

“You think me so stupid, Mudblood?  Crucio!”

Hermione screamed, falling to the floor when her legs gave out.  “Stop!  Please!”  She looked around frantically, hoping to see something or someone who would help her.  She saw Malfoy sitting in the room and her eyes met his in a plea for assistance.  He would help her, wouldn’t he?  

Curled into the fetal position, Hermione felt at once as if her muscles were being torn apart and her nerves were on fire.  

“This sword belongs to my sister, girl.  Where did you get it?”  Narcissa pushed Hermione’s face up with her boot when the young woman stayed silent.  “Draco, I know you despise this rubbish.  Would you like to finish off the Mudblood?”  

Malfoy stood and grinned.

“No, Malfoy, no,” Hermione pleaded.

“It would be my pleasure, Mother.”  He pointed his wand at the sweaty, frantic girl on the floor.

“Avada—“

Hermione heard screaming and felt herself being restrained.  

“Let me go!” she screamed.  The person restraining her pulled her against a naked chest.

“Hermione,” Draco murmured into her hair.  “You had a nightmare.  Are you with me?”

Tears were streaming down her face and her breathing was ragged.  “Let go of me.  Please.”

Draco released her and sat back against the headboard.  He wanted to comfort her, but when she needed space and asked for it, he had to respect her wishes.  When he pushed for her to do what he wanted instead, Hermione became distant and surly.

“I’m going to get you some water.”

Hermione nodded and continued to look down at her lap and wipe her wet eyes.  Draco climbed out of bed and padded to the kitchen.  The logical part of her mind knew her fear had been spurred on by the nightmare, but another part of her wouldn’t ever forget the horrors the Malfoys condoned in their home.  

Draco came back into the room and handed Hermione a glass of water.  

“Thank you.”

Very tentatively, Draco reached out a hand and stroked her back.  

“It was the same nightmare, but you and your mother were…”  Hermione shuddered, unable to finish her sentence.  She looked so alone and vulnerable.

He would forever harbor guilt about witnessing her torture.  “What can I do?”

“Nothing.  It was just a bad dream.  Can we go back to sleep?”

“Yeah, love, whatever you want.”

Hermione felt some residual resentment towards Draco about that night.  She knew he cared for her, but part of her still thought he would lose interest in her once their deal came to an end.  She’d be making her own decisions and wouldn’t have to consult Draco over employment or what she wanted to wear.  She wondered if he would still want her when she no longer answered to him.  

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“When does your expedition leave?”

Luna smiled.  “In two days.  Do you have everything Mr. Ollivander suggested, Harry?”

Hermione looked at the pair and felt relief that Luna had been able to get through to him.    

“Yeah.  I still need to exchange money at Gringotts and pick up an extendable rucksack.”

“I could charm your rucksack, if you’d like,” Hermione offered.  

“Um, yeah, that would work.  It’s at home, though.”

“Why don’t you meet Hermione at her flat?” Luna suggested.

Hermione nodded dumbly.  “Sure.  You can Floo over.”

Harry got up and gave the girls an awkward smile.  “In about an hour?”

“See you then,” Hermione said and watched him walk out of the café.  She turned to Luna.  “What was that?”

“Whatever do you mean?”  She owlishly blinked her big eyes and gave Hermione a dreamy smile.   

“Luna, Harry intensely dislikes Draco!  And Draco knows how mean Harry’s been to me over the past few months.  He’s very…protective.”

“It will be good for Harry to see you with Draco.  He needs to get used to the idea of you with someone else.”

“He doesn’t care that I’m with someone else, he hates that it’s Draco.”

“Harry doesn’t understand you two and he’s jealous.  He feels like he’s lost your friendship to Draco.”

“It’s complicated.”  Hermione sighed and swallowed the rest of her peppermint tea.  “I’d better get to the flat before Harry shows up.”

“He alienated himself from you, from everyone, because he didn’t think he deserved what you’d done for him.  He’d do anything for you and I know you’d do the same for him, even after how he behaved with you.”

She would do anything for Harry, had done so, in fact, but amazingly Draco had taught her not to discount her own feelings for fear of hurting someone else’s.  She never would have imagined Draco Malfoy was so astute with discerning other people’s motives, but she supposed that was the strength of most Slytherins.  But he was sensitive, at least to her, and had taught her how one person loving you made you stronger.  Harry mattered to her and the loss of his friendship had weighed heavily on her mind and her heart.  Draco and Ron had buried the hatchet, so maybe he and Harry could come to an understanding?

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“Et posuit in eo quod intus est omnium.”*  Hermione waved her wand over Harry’s bag, a look of concentration on her face.  Her wand swooped and flicked with every word of the Undetectable Extension Charm uttered.  

“Here you go,” she said, handing Harry the bag.  

“Well done, Hermione,” Harry said with a grin.  Even after all the years he’d been practicing magic, it still amazed him what a wand could do.  

“How have you been?  I have to admit I’m jealous about your spot in Ollivander’s expedition.”  She began to walk to the kitchen, Harry following behind her.  

He sat at the kitchen island and watched Hermione pull food out of the icebox.   “I’m okay.  Better than I was a few months ago.”  

“The end of the war wasn’t the end of our hardship.  I never thought everything would get so difficult.”  

“Hermione, I know your parents didn’t handle things well, but what else happened?”

Should I tell him?  If I do, will he feel responsible?  We used to tell each other everything.  Will he be upset Draco helped me?   

But, really, what did it matter if he didn’t like Draco’s involvement in her life?  He had to accept what she’d done because it was her choice.    

“Well, I was really isolated at Hogwarts that last year and my first few weeks at uni.  And my book didn’t make as much money as I’d hoped, so I had a hard time paying my tuition.”

“You know I would have helped you.”

She nodded.  “I do, but you don’t have to bail everyone out, Harry.”

“Is this about what happened between us when Ron left?”  

Even when they had been sleeping together, the two of them didn’t talk about what happened between them at night.  

“I didn’t ask anyone to help me, Harry.”

“But I’m like your brother.”

“No, you’re not like my brother!  Siblings don’t sleep together.  And brothers don’t call their sisters whores when they date someone they don’t like.”

Harry stared at her in shock.  “Were you, um, hoping for a relationship with me?”

“No!  I didn’t want to be your girlfriend, but I…I wasn’t ready to start having sex when we did.  It didn’t feel right to me and left me feeling used.  I felt even worse about the situation when you verbally attacked me at the Hogwarts gala.”

Harry grabbed Hermione and pulled her into a tight hug.  “I’m so sorry, Hermione.  I’ve been bloody miserable and I took it out on you.”  She was stiff in his arms, but let him hold her.  His scent reminded her of all their years of close contact.  It wasn’t exactly comforting anymore, but it was familiar.  He continued to murmur apologies and whispered how much she meant to him.

She finally pulled away and sat next to him.  “Draco will be home for dinner before he goes to St. Mungo’s.  Would you like to join us?”

“Malfoy won’t try to kill me?” he asked jokingly.  Luna had told him about the dynamic between Hermione and Draco Malfoy and at first, Harry hadn’t believed her, but Ron corroborated what she’d said.  Ron had told him that Malfoy was extremely considerate of Hermione’s needs, but more importantly, her well-being.  Their feisty friend was more like the girl they had known at Hogwarts than she had been in the last three years.  

“No, Harry, he won’t try to kill you.  You two might get along,” she said with a shrug.  “I never thought I’d see the day that Ron would be alright with Draco, but he is.”

Harry stood.  “Can I call a rain check?”

“Alright, Harry,” Hermione said, standing to walk him to the Floo.  “You’re going to have such an adventure.”

The Boy Who Lived examined his friend as they slowly made their way to the fireplace.  She looked beautiful and at home in Malfoy’s flat.  Harry had figured out Malfoy was helping Hermione, but he found it bothered him less the more he thought on it.  She was safe and happy.  He didn’t know what kind of strings Malfoy attached to his assistance, but Hermione seemed more than willing to accept the consequences.  It was difficult for Harry to imagine Hermione with Malfoy for the long-term future, but Luna had claimed they were shonuachar.  Harry had argued that soulmates didn’t treat each other like enemies, but Luna had pointed out that they had always been intensely drawn to each other.  The end of the war had allowed both Draco and Hermione to deviate from the path society expected of them.    

Harry looked at her one last time before he stepped into the green flames.  “Thank you,” he said, his green eyes saying more than his words.  He knew he didn’t deserve her forgiveness, but he wanted it all the same.  He hoped in the future they could re-establish the friendship they’d forged over their childhood.  

Hermione nodded and watched her friend swirl into the fire, a pressure she’d been carrying around for months relieved from her chest. 

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“Potter was here, in my flat?”

Hermione put her book down and looked at Draco.  

“Luna suggested he come over so I could help him with an Undetectable Extension Charm.  They’re leaving in a couple of days.”

The sour look on his face took her aback.  “How long was he here?”

“About half an hour, I suppose.”  

Draco shook his head in disappointment.  “He used you and said horrid things to you, but all’s forgiven?  That prick can do no wrong, can he, Hermione?”

“We talked and I told him he’d hurt me.  Don’t you want me to have some sense of closure about that part of my life?”

“Yeah, sure.  Glad you two could get some time alone in my home.”

She knew Draco harbored jealousy for Harry, which was made worse by the fact that she’d slept with him.  But did he still consider her a guest in his flat?  Twice he’d referred to the flat at his, not theirs.  The flat was lovely, but she wasn’t represented in it.  Her books were her most personal touch.  Even the clothes in her closet had been chosen and purchased by Draco.  She stood up and grabbed her pillow from the bed.

“I helped him with his rucksack and we talked while I made dinner for you.  I didn’t realize you thought of me as a guest in your home, but in the future I won’t have anyone over unless I check with you first.”

Draco clasped the back of his neck in a gesture of frustration.  “It’s your home, Hermione.  You know that.  I just don’t like Potter.”

“No, Malfoy, I don’t know that.  I have my things here, but nothing in this flat is mine except my books.  And can I remind you that you treated me like shit for years and I forgave you.”

He began to say something, but Hermione cut him off.

“Despite our history, I gave you a chance to earn my trust.  I trust you, but I can see that trust isn’t reciprocated.  Maybe my nightmare about you was my mind trying to tell me something I didn’t want to recognize.”

“That’s ridiculous!  It was a fucking dream!”

“What’s ridiculous is that I was beginning to feel like your flat was my home, too.  I’m not going to feel at home unless I create a place for myself and that won’t be here, will it?”

Draco watched her storm out of the room and heard the door to her office slam behind her.  

Gods, Malfoy, you prize arsehole.  He sat on the edge of the bed, feeling like the progress they’d made over the past months was beginning to erode. 

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A warm body pressed against her in the transfigured office settee turned bed.  

“I can’t sleep without you,” Draco whispered into Hermione’s hair.

He’d read, had a couple of glasses of Ogden’s, lay in bed staring at the firelight flickering on the ceiling.  It was useless.  Hermione was his home and he’d made her feel like he wasn’t hers.  He had reverted to a spoiled, selfish boy when he thought about her and bloody Harry Potter alone in the flat.  He knew Hermione didn’t have romantic feelings for the tosser, but who’s to say Potter didn’t harbor feelings for her?  He’d certainly acted like a jealous twat when he’d found out about Draco and Hermione.

Hermione relaxed into his embrace.  He smelled of firewhisky and the mint of his toothpaste.  She wasn’t so much angry at Draco as she was disappointed.  For some strange reason, her feeling of displacement had made her want to try to repair her relationship with her parents.  Maybe the time she had spent away from them had given them the space they needed to reconsider letting her back into their lives.

“I’m going to go to Australia when we have a break next week.”

“What?”

“It’s up to me to repair the relationship with my parents.”

Draco stroked her belly just under her navel.  “I’ll make the arrangements for us to leave on Monday.”

“No.  I’ve got to do this on my own.”

He rolled her to face him.  Her eyes were red and puffy from crying.  Draco gently cupped her face and stroked her cheek.  

“I understand.”  Please don’t run from us.  Don’t leave me behind because I’m a jealous prick.

She turned away from him, but let him pull her into his embrace.  For the first time in several months, Hermione found herself feeling depressed.  Many things had improved for her, but happiness was once again becoming elusive.  

Chapter Text

To her annoyance, Draco had reserved a room for Hermione at a boutique hotel in Port Douglas.  She had enough money for her Portkey and an inexpensive motel, but Draco knew how emotionally difficult it would be to deal with her rigid parents and wanted her to sleep somewhere luxurious at night.

Hermione recognized Draco was hurt because she didn’t want him to come to Australia with her, but part of her worry was that her parents would be frightened by yet another magical person in their midst.  As it was, she didn’t know if they would see her.  Having Draco see her rejected by her parents…it was humiliating.  She imagined he probably already thought of her as fragile, although she did her best to control her emotions.  Her time with him over the past few months had been somewhat healing, but also brought into stark relief how deeply she yearned for her family.  She truly wasn’t sure if they would ever forgive her, but a part of her knew she could not move forward with her other relationships if she didn’t try to resolve the feelings of fear and distrust with her parents.  

“Any plans for this week?” she asked him as she packed her bag.  He sat on the bed watching her.  Draco looked relaxed, with his hands behind his head, but she could see he was worried.

“I’ll probably hit a few strip clubs, enjoy an orgy or two.  You know I’ve been holding back, pet.”  He gave her a slightly mean smirk.  She turned away from him.

“You’re free to do what you want.”

He sighed.  Of course.         

“What I want to do is come with you to Australia, but you’ve made it clear I’m not welcome in that part of your life.  You barely accepted the hotel I booked for you.”

Hermione wanted to tell him to fuck off, to give her space so she could try to work out her feelings about reconciling with her parents, but she knew his efforts were based on his love for her.  He was unhappy with her decision, but that didn’t mean she had to fight with him.  Lately, he’d been insecure with their relationship and he didn’t always behave his best when he felt threatened.

She got on the bed and straddled him, cupping his face so he would have to look at her.  He seemed surprised by this action.  They’d been at odds the past few days.

“The last time I saw my parents, they threatened to call the authorities if I didn’t leave.  It was really ugly, Draco.  I don’t want you to see me, or my parents, in that light.”

He wrapped his hands around her waist to draw her closer.  “I see you, Hermione.  If your parents are unkind, that’s on them, not you.  We can’t help the family we’re born into.”

Her hands gently stroked the hair at the nape of his neck.  He’d recently cut it and the short, fine hair tickled her fingertips.  His hands stroked the skin of her lower back.  She rested her forehead against his, rubbing his nose against her own.  Hermione knew he relished these little, intimate touches and found herself relaxed by the contact, too.

“I know,” she whispered.  “There’s something I made for you, so we can leave messages for each other.”  She fished two coins out of her pocket and handed him one.  It looked like a Muggle coin.

“The coins have a Protean charm on them.  If you hold the coin while thinking a brief message, the words will appear on my coin.  Here’s your coin.  I’ll show you how it works.”

She held her coin in the palm of her hand and thought Hello, Draco.  He grinned when the words appeared on his coin.

“You try, Malfoy.”

He held the coin in his hand and concentrated on a message.  She snorted when she read nice tits on her own coin.  Draco kissed her neck and smirked.

“The coin will warm when you have a message,” she explained as he looked at the charmed currency.

“Thank you, love.  I actually have something for you, too.”

He used his wand to Summon a small cloth jewelry bag.  She opened it to find a rough multicolored stone ring.  The stones were embedded in silver.  It was more casual looking than most of the jewelry Draco had presented to her, but when she touched the ring, she felt a jolt of power.  He took the ring from her fingers and put it on the middle finger of her right hand.

“The stone is peacock ore and will help protect you from negative energy.  I had a Goblin jeweler put the stones in silver to magnify their power.  The jeweler added his own protection spells.”

Draco preferred finer jewelry, but he wanted Hermione to actually wear the ring on a daily basis.  He had bought himself a plain silver ring that would alert him if she were in trouble.  But he didn’t tell her that, not wanting her to feel he was somehow spying on her.  Because he wasn’t.  He was assuring her safety.

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him to her chest.  “You did this, even though you weren’t happy about my decision?”

“Every time we argue or disagree isn’t the end of our relationship, Hermione.”  He held her tightly to his chest with her face buried in his neck.

“It feels like it is,” she whispered. 

Draco pushed her onto the bed and covered her body with his.  Knowing they’d be apart made him want to immerse himself in her.  Her legs twined with his and her hands began to unbutton his shirt.  He looked down at her flushed face and grabbed his wand, wanting to feel her naked body against his.  He Vanished their clothes with a couple of flicks of his wand.  Gods, her body felt like silk against his.

“Fuuuck.”  The word came out of her throat in a low moan.

“What do you want, my love?”

“Touch me.”

He fell on her like a man at his last meal, sucking and fondling her breasts.  Her taut nipples were so sensitive and he relished the way she writhed against him as he pinched the little buds.  It was his turn to gasp when he felt her hand grasp his cock to rub it against her wet labia.

“Bloody…fuck…Merlin…” He couldn’t even get out a coherent string of words to tell her how amazing it felt to rub against her pussy.  

“Let me be on top,” she whispered into his ear.  

He rolled onto his back and she sank onto his thick shaft.  Usually, their lovemaking consisted of extended foreplay, but both were desperate to connect in the most basic way.  Hermione sat astride Draco, her hips rolling in time to his thrusts.  

“Gods, baby, you’re so fucking perfect.”  Her long, dark curls contrasted against her smooth, fair skin.  He watched her breast bounce as she undulated over him.

“Touch yourself,” he urged, wanting to see her masturbate while he fucked her.  The first time he’d watched her pleasure herself had been one of the most erotic scenes he’d ever witnessed.  Just thinking about that night made his already-hard penis stiffer.

Hermione stared into his eyes while she sucked two fingers into her mouth, slowly plunging them in and out before she snaked her hand between her legs to rub her clit.  Her other hand was braced behind her on his thigh.  

Draco could tell Hermione needed more stimulation.  He lightly slapped her breast.

“Yes,” she whimpered.

“Do you like that?” he asked, slapping her other flushed, heavy breast.  

“Oh my God, yes!” 

Draco cupped both lovely tits, rubbing the pink skin with his thumbs.  Her head was thrown back, her lips slightly parted as her breathing became shallow with her impending orgasm.  When Draco slapped one breast more forcefully and pinched the other nipple, Hermione’s rocking became erratic.  

“Yes, Dragon, yes!  Come with me!”

Hermione’s wet cunt clenched around his cock and he let go, thrusting hard into her tightness.  She used the hand that had been resting behind her on his thigh to massage his bollocks as he released into her body.  

“Fuck, Hermione, keep doing that,” he groaned.  Her touch was prolonging his orgasm in the most amazing way.  Finally, Hermione collapsed on Draco’s chest, their bodies still joined as the last of his climax was wrenched from his body.

“Dragon?” he asked.  She’d never called him that before.  

He could feel her smile into his chest.  “I call you Dragon in my thoughts.  I like it better than sweetheart or dear.”

“The way you screamed it before you came was bloody hot.”  He pulled her up to his mouth to kiss her.  The kiss was languid after their lovemaking, his tongue twining with hers.  Her pheromones made her mouth taste delicious to him.  There was no doubt in his mind their bodies were made for each other.  

He broke the kiss and pushed her hair out of her face.  “I love you.  When you come back, I want us to talk about our future.”

Hermione felt her throat close with impending tears.  She nodded, unable to respond.   

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“I can be in Australia within a few hours if you need me,” Draco said, winding a long curl around his finger.  Hermione stood alongside him, her head on his chest.  She nodded, pressing a kiss to the space where his heart was.

“If they’ll see me, I’ll be back on Saturday.  You’ll probably enjoy having the flat to yourself,” she teased him.

He would enjoy the solitude for a day or so, but he’d been so isolated before Hermione and enjoyed her company.  She was his best friend and he didn’t like being separated from her.  But he had to let her try to repair her relationship with her parents.  He knew they didn’t have a chance as a couple unless she felt some resolution with her family.  Her insecurities stemmed from their rejection of her after the war.  Draco figured they had absolutely no idea how their daughter had suffered while they enjoyed a blissfully ignorant “retirement” in Australia.  The Grangers would be appalled by the hardships their daughter had endured and should feel ashamed that they added a final blow to her troubles.  

Draco pushed a wad of Australian dollars into her hand.  “I didn’t know if you’d had time to exchange your money before the trip.”

She didn’t argue with his monetary gifts anymore, knowing if she rejected the money, she’d find it stuffed into her suitcase or hidden in a book.  It made him feel better to know she wouldn’t skip meals to save a few Knuts.  

“Thank you,” she said, pressing a kiss to his lips.  “I’ll send you a message when I land.”  She stepped back to activate the Portkey.  

He watched her swirl away, his love for her the only thing keeping him from being more upset that she’d not wanted him to join her.    

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After Draco received three owl posts for Hermione from Ginevra and then two from Neville, he had decided to send Longbottom a quick note letting him know Hermione was out of town.  

Later, he heard the Floo activate and a man’s voice called for him.  Draco walked to the Floo and saw Neville’s face floating in the green flames.

“Hey, Malfoy,” Neville said with a bit of hesitation.  “Do you think I could come through?”

“Yeah, mate, come on through,” Draco replied, stepping back to give Neville room to exit the fireplace.  

The once-awkward boy dusted off his shirt with a quick spell.  Draco thought Neville looked both tense and somber, but not unhappy.  

“Firewhisky?” Draco asked.

Neville nodded and followed Malfoy to the liquor cabinet in the dining room.  It was so unusual for one of Hermione’s friends to want to speak to him, Draco figured something serious had happened.  But he knew Hermione was fine, thanks to the ring.

After accepting the generous glass of Ogden’s Finest and downing it in one go, Neville blurted, “Gin’s pregnant.”

Draco’s eyes widened.  He put the bottle on the table and sat opposite Neville.

“Fuck,” Neville groaned, putting his head in his hands.  “My gran’s going to kill me.”

Not able to help himself, Draco barked out a laugh.  Neville gave him a lopsided grin and poured them both another shot of Ogden’s.

“What are you going to do?”

“Merlin’s balls, I’ve never even told her how much I love her, but I’m going to ask her to be my wife.  What a bloody mess.”

Draco had to concur, it was indeed a bloody mess, but he had seen first-hand how well Ginevra and Neville meshed.  The youngest Weasley may have had delusions of life with Harry Potter, but she would be happier in the long run with a man who was so clearly enamored by her.  He only hoped Ginevra felt the same way for Neville.

“How is she taking the pregnancy?”

“She’s worried about becoming her mum.  I think she’s also worried about being as poor as her parents were, but my vault has more than enough for us.”

Although the Longbottoms weren’t wealthy like the Malfoys, Draco suspected the old pure-blood family had socked away Galleons for the future.  He was glad to hear Neville and Ginevra wouldn’t suffer financially.  Having a baby would be enough of a hardship for them.  

“It sounds like she should hear this from you and soon, Longbottom.  If you put off this conversation too long, she’ll think you don’t want to be with her or take responsibility for the baby.”

“I know,” Neville murmured.  “This morning I picked out a ring for her from my vault.”  

He pulled out a small ring box from his pocket and handed it to Draco.  The band of the ring was intricately braided white, yellow and rose gold.  A large pink diamond sat atop the band.  The ring was delicate, original and romantic.  

“She’ll love it,” Draco said, handing it back to Neville.  “I don’t know her well, but it seems like something she’d appreciate.”

The two men sat in silence for a few moments.  Draco allowed Neville to mull over his situation as he sipped his drink.  

“Hermione would be bloody furious if she was up the duff,” Draco admitted.  

Neville laughed.  “She’d probably hex your bollocks off.”

“She has this whole ritual she makes us go through to ensure she doesn’t get pregnant.  Even uses Muggle birth control.”

“Huh.  I suppose if Gin will ever let me touch her again, we need to be more careful.”

“I would think a screaming baby would be enough of a deterrent.”

Neville groaned again.  “You know I’ve never even held a baby?  It’s mental to imagine me as a father.”

Considering that Longbottom was kind, brave, endearingly sincere and at least knew how to take care of plants, Draco thought he’d make a fine father.  Probably a better father than he’d make.  

The Floo activated and Draco heard a woman call for Hermione.

“That’s Ginny,” Neville whispered.

“She can Floo here and I’ll leave, if you two would like some privacy.”

“Thanks, Malfoy.  I came here to talk to Hermione, but I’m glad it was you I got to speak to.”

Draco clapped a hand on Neville’s shoulder and went to the Floo to grant Ginny access.

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Hermione stood on the porch of her parents’ cottage.  Her mother had promptly shut the door in her face as soon as she’d recognized her daughter.  Hermione was taking deep breaths and trying not to cry.  She hadn’t seen her mother in almost two years.  Didn’t they think about her?  Did they worry about her?  Hermione thought about her mum and dad on a daily basis.

She sat on the steps leading up to the house and looked at the ocean.  At least they liked where she had sent them.  They had a beautiful home and enough money to take care of them for the next fifty years, if they continued to live carefully, as they had done their entire lives.  

Benjamin Granger was walking up to the cottage when he found his daughter sitting on the steps of the cottage, wiping tears from her lovely face.  

My, our Hermione has become such a beautiful woman.  Charlotte cries for her every night.  I know my stubborn wife doesn’t want to admit it, but she misses our daughter.  I miss her.

“Hermione?”

She stood and hesitantly approached her father.  “Hi, Dad.”

“Does your mother know you’re here?”

“Yes, but she doesn’t want to see me.  I can leave.”  Hermione gave her father a sad smile and headed toward the road.

“Wait, Miny,” Benjamin called, using her childhood nickname.  She’d been born prematurely and had been absolutely tiny.  “Let me take you out for a cup of coffee.”

They walked along the path into the town center, Benjamin pointing out little facts about Port Douglas. 

Draco would laugh if he met my dad.  He’d see I come by that “know-it-all” tendency honestly.  

She wished her lover were with her in Australia.  Hermione knew she needed to try to work things out with her parents before she introduced Draco into the mix, but he helped her to feel secure and sane.  He might ask her why she thought or did something, but he never made her feel guilty or stupid for her choices.  Even when he didn’t like them.

They arrived at the coffee shop and took a seat at a small table by the window.  She offered to pay, but her father waved her off.  He brought their coffee and two lemon squares to the table.

“What brings you here?” Benjamin asked.  He never did have patience for small talk.

“I wanted to see you and Mum, make sure you were alright.”

“Well, we always wanted to visit Australia and your actions just pushed things along.  But we like it here.”

“Do you thing you’ll ever come back to England?”

Benjamin shrugged.  “We’re not sure.  It would be hard to start over since we’ve just become comfortable here.”

“I understand.”  

“We read your letters, Hermione.  How do you like university?”

Her face brightened.  She loved to talk about her classes.  “My studies are going well.  I’m thinking about specializing in Potions.  Draco thinks it would be a good match for my love of detail and my interest in creating new things.”

Mr. Granger looked confused for a moment before he remembered her mentioning her young man in a letter.  “Draco…he’s your beau?”

Hermione ducked her head with a smile.  

“Are you two serious?”  It was when he thought about Hermione’s life progressing—marriage, children—and not being involved that Benjamin was willing to go behind his wife’s back.  He wanted to be a part of Hermione’s life, even if it was just in a peripheral way.

“It’s serious.  He’s been so good to me.”

“Draco should be good to you.  You’re a catch, Miny.”

“I don’t have much to offer him.”

“Why would you say that?” Even after their estrangement, Benjamin Granger knew she was an extraordinary young woman.  He wouldn’t pretend to understand her life, not in the least, but Hermione was brilliant, brave, and loyal.  She’d make her chosen mate a very lucky man.

“I suppose Draco thinks I’m up to par, but I don’t.  He’s from a very wealthy family and I’m as poor as a church mouse.  I’m awkward; he’s charming.  He’s adapted to life after the war much better than I have.”

Benjamin looked at her, trying to understand what she was telling him.  “How involved in the war were you, Hermione?”

Hermione looked at the table, not really sure how to answer that question.  

“I was a soldier,” she said vaguely. 

“Did you see action?”

“Yes.”

Benjamin shook his head.  “We never should have let you go to that school.”

“Dad,” she whispered.  “My gifts would have come out in a dangerous way if I hadn’t been taught to manage them.  You and Mum knew I needed to be with people who could teach me.”

“Is that true?”

She nodded and took a sip of the cooled coffee.  “I know what you’ve seen of my life seems odd, but I belong in that world.  I excel in that world.  In your world, I’d essentially be the town freak.”

Benjamin remembered how other children seemed repelled by his daughter, both for the unexplained phenomenon around her and for her intense intelligence.  Her friendships at Hogwarts were the first she’d had.  He and Charlotte had struggled with letting her attend the strange school, but had been relieved she’d finally found a place where she could be herself and establish relationships.  

“I want you to be happy, Miny, but what you did to your mother and me was such an invasion.  How would you feel if someone took away your identity, your life, like you did to us?”

“I would rather have you alive and hate me than dead.  You were a target because of me and I needed to know you’d be safe when I couldn’t protect you.  I do understand why I’m no longer welcome in your life, but I just want you and Mum to know how much you mean to me.”

She stood to leave, not wanting to break down at the café.  Benjamin stood as well and pulled his unsuspecting child into his arms.

“Nothing could have been better than seeing you sitting on my porch, Miny.  Nothing.  I’m going to talk to your mother and try to get her to come around.”

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That evening as Draco got ready for bed, he felt his Protean coin warm in his pants pocket.  

Can we talk?

Draco picked up his two-way mirror and looked at Hermione’s lovely face.

“Hi,” she said quietly. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.  Did you see your parents yet?”

“My mum didn’t want to see me, but my dad and I spoke.  He said he missed me.”

“That sounds promising, love.  Is there anything I can do?”

“I just want to talk to you.  Tell me about your day.”

“Oh!  You’ll never guess what happened…” Draco proceeded to tell his girlfriend about Neville’s visit.  He could see Hermione get absorbed in his tale and was glad he could share their story with her.  They both had sought her advice, after all.  

“Ginny must be terrified!  She’s so young to have a baby.  Do you know what happened after you left the flat?”

“I do, but I think I’ll tell you when you get home.  A little enticement to bring you back,” he teased.

“Draco!  That’s just cruel!”  

He smirked at her and reveled in having information about her friends she was not privy to.  He loved the resulting pout to entice him to tell her the outcome of the conversation between Ginny and Neville.

“That pout would work a lot better if we were in the same room.”  He noticed her expression become pensive.  

“Would you…is your offer to join me still possible?”  

Draco looked at her in confusion.  It sounded like she was gaining with her parents.  And she’d wanted to deal with them on her own.  But if he showed her any hesitancy to go to Australia, she would tell him to forget it.  So he was definitive as he answered her.

“I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

“Really?  Oh, thank you, love,” she said with a relieved smile.

She’d thanked him many times throughout their time together, but this time was different.  What he was offering her was himself and she wanted his love and support.  The bond they’d forged was very real, but he had worried she wouldn’t recognize it.  Draco felt his heart expand as he realized she truly did rely on him as he relied on her.

Chapter Text

“Charlotte, I know you want to see Hermione.  It’s been almost two years!  The next time we see her she could be married or have a baby.  If we keep rejecting her she will stop trying and we’ll have lost her.”

Charlotte Granger shook her head.  “We lost her the minute we let her board that train to Hogwarts.”

“I love you, Charlotte, but our daughter is here, trying to make amends for her actions.”  The normally stoic dentist wiped moisture from his eyes.  “Miny’s got scars on her arm.  She’s covered them with a tattoo, but someone carved something into our daughter’s skin.  What we know about that war is just the tip of the iceberg.”

“How do you know she didn’t do that to herself, Benjamin?”

“Why would she carve Mudblood into her own arm?”

Charlotte slapped a hand over her mouth.

“I’m going to have dinner with Miny at her hotel.  I’ve asked God to lead my heart true and it feels right to give our child another chance.  Spend some time with God and you’ll know what you need to do.”

“You’re right,” she murmured.  “Please excuse me.”

Benjamin watched his wife make her way to their bedroom and shut the door.  He prayed she would come to the same conclusion regarding their daughter that he had.

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Draco knocked on the door to Hermione’s hotel room.  International Portkey travel was exhausting and left him feeling slightly nauseated.  Plus, Port Douglas was many hours ahead of England, so instead of going to bed as he had planned, he packed and flew through space and time to reach his girl.  

“Draco!” Hermione said as the opened the door to her room.  She felt like they’d been separated for weeks instead of days.  “Are you tired?”

He wrapped his arms around her, loving the way her head fit under his chin.  “I am.  Do you have any plans for today?”

“My dad is coming to the hotel restaurant for dinner tonight.  Join me for a kip before I have to get ready for dinner?”

Draco let Hermione lead him to the fluffy bed.  She took his jacket as he put down his bag.  They undressed and slipped under the covers.  

“Have you been sleeping?” he asked, noticing the dark circles under her eyes.

“I’ve tried to sleep but, well, you know.”

He did know.  Draco hated to sleep without her, too.  

“So, tell me what happened with Gin and Neville!”

Draco laughed.  “They got engaged.  Left a note saying the four of us should get together for dinner soon.”

Hermione kissed Draco’s neck.  “Thanks for helping them.”

“Neville’s loved her for a long time.  He’ll take good care of her.”

“He will.”  

The tired couple curled into each other and quickly drifted off to sleep.

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“I brought you a copy of my book.  The Defense Against the Dark Arts Department sponsored a talk I gave last month.”

Benjamin was an educated man and knew how unusual it was for a first year university student to be given such attention.  

“That’s quite an honor.  How did your talk go?”

“It was nerve-racking, but it went well.  The room was packed and the question and answer session went on for over an hour.  Draco helped me prepare for different types of questions, so I was ready for a wide variety of inquiries.”

“I remember you mentioning him when you were younger, but I didn’t have the impression you were friendly,” Benjamin said tactfully.  He actually thought his daughter didn’t like the boy.

She chuckled.  “We weren’t friends, but apparently he wanted to be.  He’s a pure-blood and his family believes in blood purity.  Draco doesn’t think that way anymore.  He introduced me to his mother and it seems her opinions are changing, but I think that might be based more on her son’s happiness than her beliefs.”

“Is he here with you?” 

Hermione had said she didn’t have money, but she was staying at an expensive hotel and her clothing looked finely-made.  Benjamin felt uncomfortable knowing his daughter had probably accepted help from her boyfriend.    

“He’s upstairs in the room.”

“Why don’t you ask him if he’d like to join us for dessert?”

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“Please excuse me,” Hermione said to her father and Draco.  She had the impression her dad wanted to speak to Draco alone.

Draco stood as Hermione got out of her chair to make her way to the loo.  Mr. Granger hadn’t seen manners like that in years.  He imagined the boy had had deportment lessons since he was a tot.

When Hermione had come up to the room and asked him to come down for dessert with her and her father, Draco had been taken aback, but he’d agreed.  He was in Port Douglas to support Hermione and he’d eat with them if that’s what she wanted.

“Hermione tells me you’re a student at the university, as well.”

Draco nodded.  “My area of concentration is different than Hermione’s, but we have two classes together this semester.”

“Her mind is a thing to behold.”

“It is.  I’m a decent student, but the way she’s helped me improve my work has been impressive.”

Benjamin nodded in agreement.  “So, what else do you get out of helping my daughter?”

Bloody blunt bloke.  

“What do you mean?”  Had Hermione said something to her father?

“She’s told me she doesn’t have any money, but she certainly doesn’t look poor and she’s staying at the most expensive hotel in town.  Are you two living together, as well?”

Draco felt himself becoming angry with Hermione’s father.  Benjamin had no idea how his daughter had been living before Draco asked her to live with him.  This man had absolutely no right to judge his daughter.

In a low voice, Draco said, “Your daughter was living in a tent in order to pay her university tuition.  When I found out, I asked her to come live with me.  I’ve got more than enough room.  She’s done a great, no, an enormous service to our world, but what she got in return was minimal.  Oh, people appreciate her sacrifices, but there was no compensation for her part in defeating him.”         

“While I appreciate you helping Hermione, she needs to learn to stand on her own two feet.  If she needs a loan here or there, her mother and I can cover her from now on, but if she can’t afford school, she shouldn’t be there.  Hermione shouldn’t be living with a man who pays her bills.  It’s not right.”

Hermione had been walking back to the table when she heard Draco’s angry whispers.  She had heard most of their conversation and felt a stab of betrayal at her father’s words.  Her dad was acting as if she was a spoiled child who needed to learn the value of hard work.  

Draco shook his head.  Benjamin had no idea who his daughter was.  He was treating her like the girl she might have been when she left for Hogwarts, not the twenty year old woman who was a warrior, a published author, and an incredible intellectual in her own right.  

“Draco.” Hermione said, startling both men.  “I’m going to say goodnight to my father and I’ll join you in the room in a few minutes.”

He stood and kissed the top of her head.  

“Goodnight, sir.”  Draco gave Hermione’s father a hard look over her head.  I don’t care if you’re her father, if you hurt her, you will be sorry.  

Benjamin gave a curt nod at the fair young man and watched him walk away.

“Tell me how much money you owe Malfoy and I’ll write you a check.  You can pay us back over the next few years.”

“Dad, I came here to reconcile with you and Mum, not to ask you for money.  I’m an adult and how I live is my business.  That man you just insulted has helped me in ways I could never express to you.”

“Miny, believe me, I know when you fall in love, it’s hard to slow things down, but there are very good reasons to take things one step at a time.  He’s getting the benefits of a wife without actually being married to you.  Have you two even discussed marriage?”

“That’s between me and Draco.  Please let Mum know I’d like to see her before I leave, but I understand if she doesn’t want to visit.  Goodnight, Dad.”

Benjamin would pray for his daughter.  While he did not approve of her lifestyle, she was right in saying she was an adult.  At least Malfoy seemed to care for her.  Benjamin Granger had a lot to think about over the next few hours.

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“You okay, love?” 

Hermione put her purse down on the desk and sighed.

“I’m going to attempt to see my mum one more time and then I think I want to go home.”  

“What did your dad say to you?”

“He doesn’t approve of our living arrangements.  Offered me a loan to pay for school and what I owe you.”

Draco frowned.  “Did you accept?”

“No.”  

“Why?  If you hadn’t had a falling out with your parents, wouldn’t they have paid for your tuition?”

“They would have helped me, but their money has strings attached to it that I’m no longer willing to accept.  They would want input on my area of concentration and how I spent my time.  After everything that’s happened, I don’t want other people dictating how I live.”

He could see Hermione’s mood becoming blacker the more they talked, but he didn’t understand why she wouldn’t accept her father’s money, but would accept his deal.  Draco was beginning to see his mistake in demanding that she give up her coffee shop job and not allowing her to take the job with Professor Giovanni.  She needed to have some amount of control over her financial situation so she didn’t feel backed into a corner.  He didn’t want her to feel that she owed him, rather, he wanted her love and loyalty.

“I’ve dictated how you’ve lived this school year.  You didn’t even like or trust me before, so I guess I don’t understand why you accepted my money.”

She rubbed her eyes and began to take pins out of her hair, letting it fall softly around her shoulders.

“I’m not sure I’m up to this conversation right now.  You wanted to talk about the future and there are some things I’d like to discuss, as well, but not tonight.”

Draco grabbed Hermione’s brush from the vanity and stood behind her, fishing out the last few pins holding her thick hair in a French twist.  Pushing her into a chair, he massaged her scalp for a minute before he began to brush out her curls.  Her eyes closed as Draco gently combed through her strands.

You don’t owe me anything, love.  What you’ve given me in return is worth more than a million Galleons.

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Hermione woke to the phone ringing.  She untangled herself from Draco and grabbed it after the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Hermione?”  Oh my God, it’s my mum.

“Hi, Mum.  How are you?” she said cautiously.  

Draco rolled toward Hermione and kissed her exposed shoulder, and then went into the loo to give her privacy as she talked to her mother.

“I’m…okay.  I wondered if you might like to join me for a walk along the beach?”

“Um, yeah, I can meet you in half an hour.  Would you care for a cup of coffee?  The hotel has great cappuccinos.” 

“Yes, I think I’d like that.”

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“Your father tells me he met your young man,” Charlotte said as she sipped her cappuccino on the sandy beach.

Hermione nodded.  While she was grateful her father had given her a chance, she felt hurt at his behavior the night before.  She should have expected his disapproval.  A tiger doesn’t change his stripes.  

“Despite his feelings about your living arrangements, he liked Draco.”

“Really?”

“Well, like is probably the wrong word…”

Hermione smiled.  “It’s okay, Mum.”

Charlotte pushed her hand into the sand and let the grains trickle through her fingers.  “I read your book last night.”  She looked at her daughter, her beautiful, grown-up girl and felt the last vestiges of her lingering anger melt away.  “What you did was incredibly brave.”

A tear escaped her eye and Hermione quickly dashed it away.  “It was so hard.  And I thought about your and Dad constantly.”

“It was our job to protect you, Hermione.  Dad and I think you could have come to us and we could have figured out another solution.  Maybe our family could have gone to the United States or Canada.”

Hermione didn’t think her parents would have believed the seriousness of the impending war.  They never seemed to comprehend the fear of Voldemort and his supporters as the Ministry, The Daily Prophet, and even families like the Weasleys downplayed the tension in the wizarding world.  

“Draco and I are going to return to England tonight.  Thank you for talking to me.  I know what I did betrayed the trust you had in me, but I did it to ensure your safety.  I’d do it again, if I had to.  Your lives are worth more to me than anything.”

Charlotte nodded, looking into her daughter’s serious face.  This young woman knew things Charlotte had only knowledge of in theory.  She didn’t really want to know details about the hardships her child had faced.  It was enough to know she had faced them and survived.  

“Dad and I are beginning to comprehend why you did what you did.  I’m still not sure you did the right thing, but I don’t want to lose you.”  Charlotte took Hermione’s hand in hers.  She noticed the ring on her middle finger.  “I know you didn’t like what Dad said about you and your beau living together, but he has a point.  Do you think you two will make things official?”

“It’s not that easy, Mum.”

“Do you love him?”

“I love him,” Hermione admitted. 

“I’ll pray for the two of you to have the courage to make a long-term commitment,” Charlotte said, her words sincere.  “Do you think I could meet him before you go?”

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The next morning, the couple woke in their own bed.  They had returned to England following a very civil introduction between Draco and Charlotte Granger.  Though there was still a lot of strain between the three Grangers, Hermione felt hopeful about reconciling with her parents.  

Under the soft, dark blue comforter, Hermione was spooned against Draco’s warm body.  She woke to him pushing his morning erection between her arse cheeks.  

“Good morning,” Draco whispered into her ear.  

The two had been surprisingly quiet since they’d returned the previous day.  Hermione had been lost in thought about all of the things she’d discussed with her parents and Draco wanted to respect her reflective time.  After meeting the Grangers, he felt he had a much better idea of why his lover acted as she did.  They clearly loved their child, but the Grangers were not peaceful people.  Nevertheless, it was obvious Hermione was relieved to have been given a chance to be involved in their lives once again.

Shifting her leg so he could enter her pliant body, Hermione sighed with pleasure when he was seated within her.  One of his hands cupped her breasts, gently rolling a nipple while the other hand found her needy clit.  The hand between her legs stroked in time to his thrusts.

“Mmm, so good,” she moaned as Draco kissed and lightly sucked on her neck.  She was still amazed by the way their bodies fit together as if she had been built for him.

There wasn’t a better way to wake up, in Draco’s opinion, than to be balls-deep in Hermione’s welcoming body.  Their hips rolled and collided in a syncopated rhythm with sighs and breathy moans punctuating the sound of their skin slapping.    

“You’re so wet, baby.  So tight.  Do you like waking up with my cock in you?”

She whimpered.  “Yessss.  Yes, Dragon, keep fucking me!”

A tingle went down his spine as she called him Dragon.  He loved that bloody name.  Her hips began to buck faster as his finger frantically manipulated her desperate bud.  

“Come for me, Hermione,” he whispered hoarsely.  

Her whimpers and moans were music to his ears as she worked to achieve her pleasure.

“Draco!”    

His cock was squeezed by her pulsing channel in the most pleasurable way as her orgasm washed over her.  Gods, sex had never been so amazing before Hermione and it actually kept getting better.  Draco couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.  

“Fuck, Granger!”  He gripped her body against him as he began to come.  

“Mmm, you feel brilliant,” Hermione mewled.  

Draco buried his face in her fragrant curls as he came down from his high. The smell of his shampoo in her hair was oddly heartwarming to him.  He remembered the first time she’d used his bath soap.  When he’d walked into his kitchen and found her making pancakes, her wet mane hanging down her back, he’d had to restrain himself from immersing his face in her hair.  He’d been so pleased when she’d agreed to his deal.  

But, now…he couldn’t imagine life without her.  Before she’d gone to Australia, he’d told Hermione he wanted to talk about their future.  When he’d first proposed a deal between them, there was a chance she’d say no, but Draco had known he could wear her down.  What he wanted to propose for their future was so much more.  He’d been blind to her issues before he really knew her, but there was a very real chance she didn’t want what he did.  Draco knew she loved him, but was that enough for her?  

“What are you thinking about?” Hermione asked, bringing Draco out of his silent reverie.

“Not much, love.  I’m going to make you a smashing breakfast.”  He pulled away from her with a kiss to her neck.

“That sounds perfect,” Hermione said, stretching as Draco got out of the bed.  

She watched his beautiful form make his way to the shower.  Their courtship was most unusual, but it wasn’t insincere.  Draco had approached her due to years of curiosity and attraction and what he’d discovered had been a woman who he could imagine growing old with.  Hermione had accepted his deal because she wanted to continue to attend university, but their first kiss had given her a taste of the combustible chemistry they would have.  Draco had been the healing balm she’d so desperately needed after the war.  A life without Draco was all but unbearable to imagine.   

Chapter Text

Mr. Malfoy,

Would you come by my office after your last class today?  I’m putting together a project and think you might be interested.

Professor Giovanni

Hmm…what could this be?  Draco had a knack for potions, but he had put his academic energy into Arithmancy the past two semesters.  Draco pocketed the note and headed to the library to study for his last class of the day.

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Hermione rubbed her eyes.  There were four more weeks of school ending in a week of grueling exams.  Every night, Draco and Hermione had eaten a quick dinner and then sat at the dining room table and studied until one of them felt their eyes getting heavy.  

On top of studying for her classes, Hermione had been thinking about a conversation she’d had with Professor Bijan-Woodcrock, the chair of the Defense Against the Dark Arts department.  The former Auror had offered Hermione a job as a teaching assistant.  

The idea of working as a teaching assistant was incredibly exciting.  She would get direct access to assisting a professor with their academic work and special privileges with rare library books.  The financial benefits of the job were so much better than she’d imagined.  She’d put off talking about the job with Draco, fearing his reaction to the offer she’d received.  In the past, he’d been alternately supportive or disapproving of opportunities she’d had.   

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“What do you think, Mr. Malfoy?”

In truth, Draco was touched that Professor Giovanni thought enough of his work to offer him a position as a teaching assistant.  The students at the school were top notch and Draco knew some of his professors barely tolerated his presence in their classes.  Professor Giovanni was taking a chance in offering a former Death Eater a coveted job.  How could he say no?

“I’m interested, sir.  But before I accept, I need to talk to my girlfriend.”  

Antonio Giovanni had met his wife, Esme, while studying at the prestigious L' Istituto di Pozioni Italia.  He and Esme had shared classes and he looked forward to her easy-going, free laughter and smiles.  They’d become lab partners and found themselves making up reasons to spend more and more time together.  Eventually, Esme had been offered a job with the Brittish Ministry and Antonio had been unwilling to let her go.  He asked her to marry him and followed her to magical Britain.  They had been married for two years.  

He had seen the way the Malfoy heir watched Hermione Granger and knew she was not merely a girlfriend.  The young man had bonded to the witch and wouldn’t be happy without her.  Professor Giovanni had wanted to ask Hermione to be a T.A. in his department, but he had been told the DADA chair had already approached her with a job offer.  Nevertheless, Mr. Malfoy would be a welcome addition to the staff of teaching assistants with his natural leadership skills and depth with potions making.  

The young professor gave his former student a grin.  “I understand.  Your Miss Granger is a special woman.”

Draco smiled.  “She’s amazing.”

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The next few days passed in a whir of studying as Draco and Hermione prepared to end their school year.  They had yet to have their discussion about the future.  It had, at least to Hermione, become a worry.  She had begun to count up the Galleons she had saved up over the school year and thought she had enough to carry her through the summer as she saved up for the following school year.  

One of the perks of the job Professor Bijan-Woodcrock had offered her was free campus housing.  Her job would require her to be available to students for tutoring throughout the week, so the university thought it better if teaching assistants lived on campus.  Hermione did not have to live on campus, but it really was a great offer.  The decision was weighing on her mind.  

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The weekend before final exams, Draco enticed Hermione to leave the flat for Indian food in Diagon Alley.  

“Put on the blue dress,” Draco said as she braided her long hair.

Hermione hummed her agreement and went to the closet to retrieve it.  Her beau admired her beautiful curves in simple white cotton knickers and bra.  After months of living with him she had filled out a bit.  Either way, he loved her body, but her modest curves were entirely appealing to him.  

“Which shoes?” Hermione asked holding up a pair of wedge sandals and a pair of silver ballet flats.

“The wedge sandals, I think.”

“Okay.”  Hermione sat on the edge of the bed to put on her shoes, but Draco quickly kneeled at her feet to slip the sandals on.

“Let’s go to France when we’re done with exams.  I have a property on the French Riviera.”

“You do?” she said bemusedly.  His hand stroked her smooth calf before he stood and offered his hand to her.

“I do.  The property hasn’t been used in a few years, but I could have one of my parents’ elves prepare it for us.”

They walked to the Floo, hand-in-hand, with Draco noticing Hermione’s reluctance to discuss the trip.    

They whooshed into the Leaky Cauldron and made their way through the Saturday crowd to the small Indian restaurant.  As they approached, the smell of cardamom and curry wafted into the street.

“I’ve wanted to have their saag paneer since we came last month,” Hermione confessed as they walked into the tranquil shop.  A waiter sat them at a table set with a white tablecloth and a simple arrangement of lilies.  

“So, what do you want to do this summer?” Draco asked.

Sipping her chai tea, Hermione thought about how to talk to Draco about things going forward after their deal ended.  He had told her he wanted to talk about the future weeks ago, but they’d never gotten around to that conversation.

“Well, I’ve actually been offered a job for the summer as a research assistant in the Defense Against the Dark Arts department.  It’ll start the week after exams end.”

Draco looked at her and nodded.  He’d gone into her office to look for a quill and had seen two notes from Professor Bijan-Woodcrock.  He respected Hermione’s privacy and didn’t read them, but he suspected the professor would court her for a spot in the department.

The waiter brought their food and placed steaming dishes in front of them.  He served the couple and retreated to leave them to their meal.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Draco said, his face serious.  

“I have to do this, Draco.  This opportunity for summer work will help me pay for my classes next school year.”

He took her hand in his, stroking over the sensitive palm.  “You should have told me.”

“I know,” she said quietly.  “Part of my hesitation is that I don’t know what you want to do when our deal is concluded next week.”

He took a spoonful of chicken tikka masala and held the spoon to her lips.  She opened her mouth, taking the creamy, spicy dish against her tongue.  Chewing slowly, she savored the delicious flavors.

“There’s something I need to confess to you, as well.”

Hermione tensed, having absolutely no idea what to expect.  Draco took a sip of his chai and smiled.

“Professor Giovanni offered me a position as a teaching assistant next school year.”

“Oh, Draco, that’s wonderful!  He’s told me how impressed he was with your work in his class last semester.”

“Will you be working as a teaching assistant in the DADA department?”

She nodded.  “It’s a great offer.  I’ll assist in one class, do research for Mathilda, and tutor students and in exchange my housing will be covered and half of my tuition will be paid.”

“Your housing?  As in student housing?” he asked with a frown.  They’d talked briefly about her continuing to live with him after their deal ended.  He had believed she’d, at the very least, accept that from him.  

Hermione bit her lip, worried that she would hurt Draco.  She wanted to live with him, but paying for her own housing would help her to feel more comfortable with a semblance of equality in their relationship.  

Hermione spoke gently.  “I accepted the position, but I have until the end of June to decide about my housing arrangements.”

Draco opened his mouth when Hermione fed him a spoonful of bhindi masala, and enjoyed the slightly chewy, spicy okra.

“My offer is similar, but I told Professor Giovanni most likely I wouldn’t need housing.  The university will pay more of your tuition if you don’t need a place on campus.”

How do I tell Draco I want our relationship to continue, but I want things to be more even between the two of us?  He’s done so much for me.  I think I’ve helped him, too, but it’s nothing by comparison.  

The two were quiet as they finished their meal.  Draco worried that if Hermione were living amongst other students, the intimacy they shared would be lost.  They’d see each other when they could, but it would be nothing like their contact the past few months.  

“Would you consider living at the flat, at least through the summer?”  He felt like such a beggar, willing to accept any scrap of her affection.  He shuddered to think what he’d be like if she decided to end things with him.  

“I’d love to, if you don’t mind.”  She felt relieved that Draco wasn’t arguing with her about…everything.  She hadn’t a clue how he might react to her job offer and summer plans.

He took her hand and twined their fingers together.  “I’m so proud of you,” he said with complete sincerity.  “You’ve had such a hard go of it the past few years and you continue to dust yourself off and keep working toward your goals.  I never expected you to let me into your life, but I’m so grateful you did.”

“You don’t know how much that means to me.  The last few years, I’ve felt so isolated, but I don’t feel that way anymore.  Not after you.”

“I feel exactly the same.”  And he did.  He’d thought a life of solitude was certainly better than the hellish chaos he’d been immersed in during the war, but he hadn’t known what a life with Hermione Granger would mean to him.  It meant everything.

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“I’m so tired, but I can’t fall asleep,” Hermione whined, attempting and re-attempting to make herself comfortable in the bed.  

Draco put his Arithmancy text on his side table and turned to her.  “Yes, I can practically hear the gears in your head turning,” he said drily.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, but I have all these ideas and I’m stressed.  Why are you so calm?”

“What else can I do, Granger?  I’m studying as much as humanly possible, so I suppose I feel like I’m doing what I can to ace my tests.”

“I’ll go sleep in the office,” she said, sitting up and beginning to swing her legs over the side of the bed.

“Stop, love,” Draco said with a hand to her shoulder.  “Lay on your stomach so I can massage your back.  You’ll be asleep before I get to your shoulder blades.”  

Draco was ready to stop reading and liked that he could help his high-strung girl relax.  She was an amazing student, but she studied as if they’d throw her out of school unless she received the highest marks.  

“Do you want me to undress?”

“Always,” he said with a grin.  “Let me grab some oil from the bathroom.”  

Hermione quickly braided her hair and got into the requested position on the cotton sheets.  Just the idea of Draco’s nimble fingers working out her knots made Hermione’s back tingle.  She sighed as she let herself relax into the soft mattress.

Without a word, dexterous, oiled fingers began to travel along her shoulders.  She could feel bits of his naked skin against hers as Draco’s strong hands glided along her body.

“Mmm,” Hermione hummed in satisfaction.  When he found a knot near the base of her neck and began to knead it, she began to feel herself sink into the bed.  “Gods, Draco, this is heavenly.”

“Try to relax, beautiful.  It’s hard to do your best when you’re so stressed.”  

His hands slid along her spine, warming her cooling skin.  How was he so hot?  Heat began to pool between her legs as Draco worked his magic on her body.  He began to press slow kisses into her neck and back as his hands massaged her.  His fingers tangled in her hair and began to scrape over her scalp.  

Straddling her thighs, he sighed happily as his cock nestled against her round buttocks.  Hermione rocked back against his hardness.  The sensation of Draco’s body pressing against her oiled skin was both sexual and soothing.

“Touching you eases me.”  Touching her calmed, connected, and grounded him.    

“Will you fuck me, Dragon?”

A pillow was shoved under Hermione’s hips in answer, and then his length was pressing into her wet pussy.  

“Merlin, I could fuck you five times a day and it wouldn’t be enough,” he said on a groan.  

At this angle, Draco hit Hermione’s sensitive g-spot on every thrust.  She bent her knees to allow him to sink deeply into her body so he would hit her womb on every slam of his cock.  What had begun as a relaxing massage had become Draco ramming the stress out of her.  It was glorious.  

“God, keep fucking me just like that.  Your cock feels amazing.”

He reached underneath her and began to rub her stiff, little clit.  She writhed against him and gasped as he stimulated her body from both the outside and the inside.  

“Let go, sweet girl.  I want you to cream all over me.”

“Oh, bloody hell!  I’m so close,” she gritted out.  

He began to move his finger faster and harder over the sensitive bundle of nerves, causing Hermione to grind her hips against his hand.  With a hard pinch to her nub, she shrieked and he felt her channel pulsate around him.  

“Fuck!” Draco moaned, letting his seed pump into her body.  He prolonged his orgasm until he fell on top of her.  He peppered kisses along her neck and jaw.

Moving to the side, Draco pulled Hermione into his arms, his body continuing to shelter hers.  His nose nuzzled her fragrant, soft hair.  After a minute, Hermione’s breathing indicated that she had fallen asleep.  He held her close, wanting to immerse himself in this woman for as long as she would let him.  

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Blaise had been pleasantly surprised to hear from Draco.  He knew Draco had been busy with school and with Hermione.  The blond Slytherin had wanted to meet for drinks, but Blaise had thought they could relax a bit more at his flat.  Daphne was working at St. Mungo’s through the evening, so they would have the space to themselves.

The Floo sounded and Draco appeared, finding his old friend lounging on the couch, a glass of Ogden’s in his hand.

“Hey, man.  It’s been too long,” Blaise said, motioning for Draco to take a seat.  

“How have you and Daph been?”

The smile from Blaise, which Draco used to think was kind of sappy, now made him smile.  

“Daph’s doing well.  She’s considered a full mediwitch, as of last month.  We’re going to start looking for a cottage.”

“Why?  This flat is great.”

“She thinks the flat’s a tad bachelor-y.”

Draco looked at the black leather furniture and glass tables and could see Daphne’s point.  Even the modern art on the walls was masculine.  

“I think Hermione’s planning on moving to the dorms in the fall.”  Draco accepted a drink from a sympathetic Blaise.

“Why?”  Blaise asked. 

“Can I tell you something in confidence?”

“Of course.”

“I knew Hermione was studying at the university, but when I finally saw her, I started to notice something didn’t seem right.  So, after a bit of digging, I found out she wasn’t doing so well financially.  I offered to help her, but in exchange she’d live with me and help rehabilitate my family name by being seen with me.  I took advantage of her desperation, but I knew it was the only way I could get close to her.”

“But it turned into more than you expected it to, yeah?”

“Yeah, it did.  I want what we’ve developed the past few months to continue, but the way we started our relationship is coming back to haunt me.  She doesn’t like how uneven things are between us.”

Blaise nodded.  He understood Draco’s predicament more than he could admit.  When Daphne had broken her betrothal contract, she did so at the expense of any kind of trust fund being handed down to her.  At the time, she had told Blaise of the complication of her actions and he had promised to support her once they left school.  And he had.  Every month he’d add Galleons to her Gringotts account, never wanting her to feel like she had to ask him for gold.  He’d purchased their flat and furnished it before they even left Hogwarts.  He wanted them to get married, but Daphne wanted to wait until her career was underway so she “would have something to contribute”, as she liked to say.  

“So, go live in the dorms with her, Draco.  If you love her, go where Hermione will be comfortable.”

“Huh.  I actually never considered doing that.  But I don’t want to stay in a shitty men’s dorm away from her.  The only students who have flats are married.”

Blaise cocked an eyebrow at his friend.

“What about you and Daphne?  You two have been together for years.”

“Soon, mate, if I have anything to say about it.  She wanted to wait to get married until her training at St. Mungo’s was complete.”

Draco was pleased for his friend.  Blaise had grown up with a mother who considered him a bother and had washed her hands of him as soon as he went to Hogwarts.  Before Daphne, Blaise had had precious few people who loved him completely.  And Daphne had put her trust and her future in Blaise’s hands after her parents cut her off.  

“Thanks, Blaise.  You’re right about Hermione needing to be comfortable and I didn’t know how to go about making it better for her.”

“Do what you have to do to keep her.  The ends justify the means, my friend.”

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Hermione stopped by her owl post office box and found a receipt from the university.

Paid: 3,000 Galleons.  Owed: 0 Galleons.

Wow.  The almost-two thousand Galleons she owed had seemed insurmountable when Draco had first approached her with his proposal.  He’d given her a soft place to land after the horrors she’d experienced during the war and the loneliness she’d encountered after.

She was surprised to feel a pang of sadness that their deal was coming to an end.

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After finishing their last exams, Draco and Hermione walked from shop to shop, enjoying the late spring sun and surprisingly warm weather.  Diagon Alley was bustling with shoppers.  Hermione stopped to admire an artistic display of jewelry in a small shop between a cauldron seller and a children’s clothing store.  

“This is where I got your ring,” Draco said, pulling her toward the door.  

“Really?  I love this ring.  The fortification spells are so comforting.”

“You’ll like Grubert’s work.  He likes to craft with unusual gems and precious metals.”

The shop assistant, an older, elegant witch, recognized Draco and smiled at him.  “Mr. Malfoy.  What may I help you with today?”

“Can we see the jewelry in the window?”

Hermione had planned to browse the exquisite gems and then make their way back into the Alley, but Draco had no qualms about purchasing Hermione a piece worth hundreds of Galleons.  Once he made up his mind about buying her something, he could not be dissuaded.  She admitted, the work was stunning, but the rings were more appropriate for an engagement, rather than a gift.  

The assistant put the jewelry on a black velvet tray.  

“Come here, love,” Draco said, motioning for her to try on a round diamond ring in red gold.  

“It’s so beautiful and unusual,” Hermione murmured as the ring slipped on her finger.  She could feel the spells woven through the metal.  It was, from what she could discern from the magic emanating from the piece, an engagement ring.

Draco looked at the diamond and noticed protection runes etched into the surface of the diamond.  They glowed in a kaleidoscope of color, but only at certain angles.  Otherwise the diamond looked brilliant, but normal.

“What do you think?” the chic witch asked Hermione.

“The craftsmanship is perfection,” Hermione said, handing back the ring to the shop assistant.  

“Try on the opal ring.”  There was something about the fiery stone that strongly reminded him of Hermione.  Like an opal, she could appear cool one moment and hot the next.

“This design is called a ghost ring, since the stone seems to float on the finger.”  

Draco took the ring and examined it.  Like the other ring, the metal was red gold, but tiny, perfect diamonds surrounded a band on the top and the bottom of the oval stone, which was also surrounded by the same diamonds.  Taking Hermione’s hand, he placed it on her ring finger.  

“Oh!” Hermione gasped.

The shop assistant smiled.  “The magic placed on this ring only activates when given with pure intentions.  You must have felt the spells when Mr. Malfoy placed it upon your finger.”  She moved back to allow the couple a moment of privacy.

“I don’t understand,” Hermione whispered, staring at the ring.  

“What don’t you understand?” Draco asked, pushing a curl behind her ear.  

“It’s an engagement ring…”

Cupping her cheek, Draco gazed at Hermione.  “I know.”

“You want to…” She bit her lip and closed her eyes before meeting his grey orbs.

“Marry you,” he finished, watching her face closely for signs of wariness. 

“Really?”  Her expression was so open and trusting, but disbelieving, too.  

Of all the ways this afternoon could have gone, Hermione had never expected this to happen.  Over the last seven months, she’d learned Draco Malfoy loved her with an intensity she’d never expected and she very much reciprocated.  He could be difficult at times, but so could she.  He made her feel beautiful, smart, and desired.  If she wanted those things in life she’d always wanted: love, family, and partner with a kindred spirit, she would find that with this man.

Draco fingered the ring she wore and took a deep breath before whispering his question.

“Will you marry me?”      

Chapter Text

Lovely Hermione,

Harry and I received the invitation to your wedding.  I’m so pleased for you, but I knew you were meant for each other.  Draco would do anything for you and I know you would do the same for him.    

After we finished our expedition for Mr. Ollivander, he asked if we might want to find Mishibizhiw, the vicious and elusive underwater panther, and harvest a few strands of its fur.  While we were looking for the Mishibizhiw, we encountered the horned water serpent, Uktena in the depths of the Amazon.  Harry collected two scales from the beast.  We are still searching for the underwater panther.  

Neville wrote to us when Ginny told him she was expecting.  I found my heart bursting with happiness for them.  Neville has loved Gin for years.  And she will be the fun and normalcy Neville needs in this life.  But, the news was hard for Harry.  I think he imagined that after he got himself together, he might persuade Ginny to see him again.    

During our time in South America, Harry has had time to reflect on the past few years.  Some nights he would wake up screaming and I would hold him until exhaustion would take over, but since we begun this journey, his depression and anxiety have started to dissipate.

My dear friend, we won’t be returning to Britain for the foreseeable future.  The trip has been exciting and we’ve both learned so much.  We are where we need to be.  

We stayed with the magical Quechuas tribe in Peru and Harry spent several days with their spiritual leader, Chelsina Domingo.  Harry asked Chelsina to bless the gift included with this letter.  His heart is with you, but he needs to figure out what he needs before he can face you again.  I believe the next time you see Harry, he will be a man you will be proud to call your friend.

My love to you and Draco. 

Luna      

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A tear slipped down her cheek as she unwrapped the present from her friends.  It was an intricate, woven blanket in a vibrant array of colors.  She recognized it as a ceremonial wedding blanket.  The bride’s family would spend months creating the blanket and would present it to her on the night of her wedding.  The blessed blanket was a moving, perfect present on the eve of her nuptials.  

In truth, Hermione hadn’t expected Luna or Harry to come back from their travels for her wedding.  Harry needed the excitement of the hunt and Luna craved the experiential knowledge the world had to offer.  Undoubtedly, they were a great team.  Hermione wondered if they had or would develop a relationship beyond friendship.  If so, they would be a fascinating couple.

Draco pushed Hermione’s heavy curls away from her neck and kissed her cheek.

“They’re not coming,” he surmised from the package.  

“No.  I didn’t think they would, but it’s different to actually know they won’t be here for the wedding.”

Strong arms wrapped around Hermione’s waist.  She leaned back against Draco’s chest as he read the letter over her shoulder.  He was glad Potter wouldn’t be at the wedding.  He didn’t need the most important day of his life marred by Potter’s jealousy and suspicion.  The black-haired man meant something to Hermione and Draco acknowledged Harry’s sacrifice in the defeat of Voldemort, but other than that, Draco thought Potter was an egotistical, cock-sure arse.  

“What kind of blessing was put on the blanket?” Draco wondered.

“Oh, probably fertility.  Are you ready to be a daddy, Malfoy?”

Draco huffed.  “Bring it on, woman.  I’m thinking four kids, minimum.”

Hermione eyebrows shot up.  “Are you joking?”

“I want kids, love.  However many you want.  But I thought we wanted to wait.”

She shifted in his arms to face him.  “I do want to wait.”  Her hands went into his silky hair, combing through the short, blond strands.  “But, I love that you see us with a big family.”

“Do you remember that night we drank elf wine in bed?  The way you talked about wanting a real life, with love and children, I began to think of marriage in a new way.  I was raised to keep my personal responsibilities to a minimum, but with you I wanted to jump head first into that intimidating emotional place.”

“I thought you’d mock me for having that dream.  At the time, I was beginning to suspect I’d spend my life alone.”

Draco shook his head.  “I know it was high-handed of me to proposition you, but I really wanted an opportunity with you.”

“I would have given you a chance.”  

Draco snorted.  “You practically ran away from me the first few times I tried to talk to you.”

His hands played with the hem of her shirt, lightly grazing the smooth skin of her waist.  

“You have to admit, if you had been in my position, you would have been suspicious, too.  But when I kissed you, I knew everything would be okay.”

“Why?”  Using a kiss as a barometer for trust seemed foolish.  

“I trusted my gut and it told me your intentions were honest.  I survived the war by trusting my instincts.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” he responded, lost in thought.  She said she would have given him a chance, but he wasn’t so sure.  

“I have a gift for you.  Well, I hope you think it’s a gift.”  Hermione bit her lip, looking unsure of herself.

“Oh?”  

“I needed to tell you before the wedding, but the information just came through today.  In exchange for three public speaking engagements for the Ministry I was able to arrange for your parents to be at the wedding on Saturday.  Ron offered to monitor them for the Auror department.”

He knew Hermione thought she lacked power, but she could move mountains if she put her mind to it.  He was quiet, which made her nervous.  

“Are you upset?  I know I didn’t talk to you about it, but I thought you’d want them there.  You said they—“

“No, I’m not mad.  Not at all.  I had considered trying to get them to the ceremony, but their house arrest seemed fairly iron-clad.  Father was respectful when I told him of the engagement, but my mother was…really pleased.  Your gift is incredible.”

Hermione let her head rest against his chest as he held her against him.  She was relieved she hadn’t overstepped her boundaries.  

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After an evening of drinking at every Muggle bar they could find, Draco, Blaise, Theo, Ron, and Neville approached the tattoo parlor where Draco and Hermione had been inked.  

“I can’t believe you’re getting married tomorrow, Malfoy,” Ron slurred.  “Do you blokes reckon I should get one of these?”

Theo smirked at Ron.  “How about Ron + Lavender = Love Forever?”

Ron grinned at Theo.  “Very romantic, mate.  She would like that.”

Neville laughed.  “No, she wouldn’t.  She’s girly, not tacky.”

“Whatever, Nev.  If Malfoy has the bollocks to get a tattoo the night before his wedding, I would think you lot could support him in that.”

“Well said, Weasley,” Draco said with a sappy smile.  “The tattoos are on me, if you chaps are man enough to get one.”

Blaise, who had imbibed much less than his friends, saw the hilarity of this situation.  “No, Draco, it’s your bachelor party.  It would be my honor to pay for this.”

The inebriated group of men cheered and began to look at tattoo designs in earnest.

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Two hours later, the group left the tattoo parlor sporting bandages covering their freshly inked bodies.  Even Blaise had acquiesced to a bit of body art and had his nipples pierced.  Theo had blanched in horror at the needle going through Blaise’s dark nipples, but Blaise assured him the pain would be worth it when Daphne saw the gold hoops adorning his chest.  

The men had been in one large room, but Draco had been taken to a separate area for his tattoo.  He wanted to make sure Hermione didn’t get wind of the newest illustration to their story.

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“What are the gentlemen doing tonight?” Daphne asked, smoothing her long, dark hair.

“Ron said they wanted to get Draco absolutely shit-faced,” Lavender said with a giggle.

“Neville promised me he wouldn’t let it get too out of hand,” Ginny assured Hermione.

“I’m sure they’ll sit around and talk about Quidditch,” Hermione said.

Daphne had ordered a sumptuous feast of Italian food for the bridal shower and the party was hosted at Ginny’s cottage.  Hermione would be staying at the Longbottom’s home the night before the wedding.  The ceremony would be held in Neville’s beautiful garden at dusk the next evening.   

“Open your gifts!” Lavender squealed.  

Using her wand, Ginny levitated a pile of daintily packaged presents in front of Hermione.  Ginny sat down and rubbed her burgeoning belly.  The girls had oohed and ahhed over her pregnancy throughout the party.  She had been amused by each woman taking a turn to pet her growing baby bump.  

Hermione chose a box wrapped with shiny purple paper with a black lace ribbon.  Inside was a satin black bra and underwear set.  As Hermione held it up to show the group, she noticed the slit in the crotch of the knickers and holes in the cups of the bra.

“Oh my!” she said with a gasp.  “I can definitely say I don’t have anything like this.”

Lavender winked at her more conservative friend.  “Draco won’t know what hit him.”

“Open mine next,” Ginny said, pushing a hot pink gift bag towards Hermione.

“One moment, ladies.  The night before the wedding, a witch’s female confidants share their best advice for keeping the fire stoked.  You start, Lavender,” Daphne said in her melodious, cultured voice.

“I have this set in pink,” Lavender admitted. “It’s sexy, but when I wear it, I come home ravenous for Ron.  The feel of my nips rubbing against my robes and the air blowing against my…um…lips as I walk, it’s as if I have this naughty secret I’ve been waiting to share with him.  The sex is fabulous because my mind has been thinking of ways to relieve the ache I’ve nurtured all day.”

Ginny fanned her face.  “I’ll just pretend that wasn’t about my brother.  Godric, get me a set after the baby is born, okay?”

The group laughed with the redhead.  The bride-to-be picked up Ginny’s gift and felt a weight much greater than that of lingerie.  She removed the tissue paper and found a camera and a wooden box.

“I don’t have a camera,” Hermione said happily.  The women looked at each other with mischievous expressions.  

“It’s a Wiz-o-matic camera.  You take a picture and it prints for you instantly.”

“Like a Muggle Polaroid camera!  But what’s the box for, then?”

“You can use the camera for anything, but here’s how we use it,” Ginny began her advice to her friend.  “So, when Nev and I moved into the cottage after we got married, I was about two months pregnant.  I’d wake up feeling nauseous every morning and I just felt bloated and not sexy at all.  I couldn’t understand why he kept saying how beautiful I was and initiating sex.  I’d never felt more unappealing in my life!  After a few days of turning him away, he came home with this camera and took pictures—so many pictures—of me.  He said he wanted me to see myself how he saw me.  When I began to get comfortable with being photographed, he suggested taking a few nude pictures.  The pictures were evocative, don’t get me wrong, but the way Neville looks at them, I understand why he desires me.  He says the pictures of my belly and bigger breasts are the sexiest things he’s ever seen.  Says he can’t wait for me to get bigger.”

Ginny looked up to find the women wiping their eyes.  Hermione hugged her friend.

“Thank you, Gin.  For everything.  I promise to put the camera to good use.”

“You Gryffindors are excellent advice-givers,” Daphne said with a sniffle.  

 “So, is the box for your provocative photos?” Lavender asked.  

“Sorry, I forgot to say, but yes.  Only your wand or Draco’s will open the box,” Ginny answered.

“Parvati sent a present,” Lavender said, handing Hermione a small box.  “Did you all know she’s been seeing Theodore?”

Only Daphne nodded, but knew the blond woman and Parvati were best friends.  

“Theo did RSVP for two for tomorrow,” Hermione said.  “How did they begin dating?”

“You know Parvati’s father is Krishna Patil, the defense barrister?  Theo’s got an internship with him.  Parvi works in her dad’s office, so they’ve gotten to know each other at work.  Her dad actually likes Theo and encouraged her to accept his advances.”

Hermione knew the Patil girls needed their parents’ blessing before they could seriously date someone.  She liked the easy-going Slytherin and hoped her old friend had found love.  She opened the box to find a gold chain.  Lifting it out, she noticed three clamps on the y-chain.

Daphne leaned over to Hermione and whispered in her ear.  

“Really?” Hermione said with wide eyes.  

“Umhmm,” Daphne said.  She took the chain from Hermione and showed the women what it was.  “When your partner pulls on the chain, you feel it on both nipples and your clitoris.  It requires a delicate touch, so make sure you communicate what you like and don’t like.”

“Are you sure that gift’s not from Theo?” Lavender asked, making the rest of the women chortle.

“Open mine,” Daphne said, handing Hermione a rectangular package.  

The beautiful light pink paper with silver accents tore to reveal a leather-bound book.  Hermione opened it to find a graphic picture of a man with his head between a woman’s legs.  The shifting picture allowed the viewer to see the man stimulating her clitoris with his tongue and fondling her slit.   

“I know you’re well read, so I thought you might appreciate a magical sex book.  It’s got information on positions and great sex spells.”

True to character, Hermione was ready to delve into the book immediately.  The beautiful illustrations were absolutely titillating.  The other three witches gathered behind her to look at the book.  

“Wow,” Lavender sighed.  “That looks…just…yum.”

“Merlin, look at his tongue,” Ginny said breathily.  

Daphne sat beside Hermione.  “Blaise and I have been together since we were sixteen.  He was my first for everything.  Neither one of us had much experience, but we’ve continued to try new things, and you know what?  It’s been so much fun and it brings us closer together.  So, that’s my advice to you.  Keep it fresh and continue to learn about each other.”

Hugging her new friend, Hermione felt incredibly loved and joyful.  

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“Gin, will you ask Draco to come in for a minute?”

“Is everything alright?”  

“Oh, yes, I’m fine.  I just need to see him.”

“I understand,” Ginny said knowingly.  “Let me get him for you.”

Hermione fussed with her makeup until she heard a quiet knock on the door.  Draco opened the door and found Hermione in a housecoat, but with her hair and makeup illuminating her natural beauty.  He had yet to see her dress, but he knew she would be perfect.

He went to her and kneeled next to the chair where she sat.  “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” she whispered. 

Gently, as not to muss her hair, he pulled her toward him by the back of the neck and pressed a kiss to his lips.  After hours of not seeing him, Hermione felt like she could finally relax.  His soft, firm mouth coaxed hers open and their tongues met.  She loved the way he kissed her, like she was the sweetest treat in the world.  His tongue stroked against her tongue, while her hands softly fingered his face.  He unbelted her robe to stroke her skin and found her naked under the garment.  She moaned into his mouth when he began fondling her stiff nipples.  

A knock at the door caused them to pause.  Draco concealed Hermione with her covering and adjusted the length in his pants, then went to answer the rapping.

“Malfoy, Hermione needs to finish getting ready,” Lavender said with a smirk.  She knew exactly what they were doing.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he said, swiftly shutting the door in the blonde’s face.

Hermione had stood and approached him, winding her arms around his waist.  

“I know I don’t say it often, but I love you, Draco Malfoy.  I can’t wait to marry you.”

Her dark eyes looked at him in a way no person had ever looked at him: with love, lust, interest, and care.  He hoped she understood that he would do everything he could to make their marriage a happy one.  

“I want to show you something,” Draco said, unbuttoning his shirt.  “I was going to wait until tonight, but I think now is the time.”

She moved back slightly and when he revealed a new tattoo adorning the skin above his left pectoral.  A swan emerging from flames was emblazoned on his chest.  It was reminiscent of the phoenix she had drawn on him all those months ago, but so much more personal because of her own inking.

“By the time we did these tattoos,” he said, showing her his arm, “I already knew I loved you.  Even if you didn’t want to see me after that, I wanted a record of what you meant to me, which is why your initials are embedded in the drawing of the dragon.  You were always incredible, but you became even more amazing after all you’ve been through.  You’re mine for life, my beautiful swan.” 

Hermione’s eyes burned with threatening tears and her throat felt tight.  It would always boggle her that her former nemesis had become her hero.  He may have known the potential the two of them had, but she needed the time they’d taken to acknowledge the love she had for Draco and to accept his feeling for her.

Cupping her face and pressing a kiss to her forehead, Draco made his way out of the room.  

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Draco gazed at Hermione as they stood before their friends and family.  Her dark curls were artfully arranged in a romantic knot at the nape of her neck.  Dewy, soft makeup emphasized her dark eyes and full lips.  Her dress was a simple cap-sleeve, square neck gown of ivory lace.  A bouquet of light pink tea roses complimented the gentle picture the bride made.         

They took the traditional wizarding vows, which included fidelity, fertility, and bonding spells.  The Ministry required all newly married couples to reproduce within five years of the marriage bonds.  The war had taken thousands of lives and the wizarding world couldn’t function at its full capacity with such a small number of inhabitants.  Draco and Hermione had agreed to the mandate, which gave them more leverage in case the Wizengamot passed a marriage law in the future with stricter timelines on children.

Hermione’s parents looked uncomfortable amongst the magical folk, despite her best effort to include them in the festivities.  She was grateful for Arthur and Molly’s assistance in getting her parents from their hotel in London to Neville and Ginny’s cottage.  Charlotte and Benjamin hadn’t been around magic in quite some time, but as part of the effort to mend their relationship with their daughter, they had tried to focus on the blessed event of their daughter’s wedding to a young man who so clearly cared for her.  

After the ceremony, Draco led Hermione to his parents.  

“Mother, Father, we’re so pleased to have you here.”

Lucius, who was just as uncomfortable as the Grangers, nodded at the couple.  

“We’re pleased to be here.  I understand we have you to thank for our attendance, Miss Granger,” Lucius said to the young Mud—Muggle-born witch.

“You can call me Hermione, sir.  It was my pleasure to arrange for your visit,” Hermione said, not correcting him on her new name.

Narcissa knew her husband didn’t understand their son’s attachment to Hermione, but she could see this girl was now Draco’s life.  This young lady would bear their grandchildren and help the Malfoy family out of the hole Lucius had dug them into.  Narcissa was nothing but appreciative for the talented witch.  Pure-blood marriages were arranged for money and power, and while the girl didn’t have money, her power would only grow.  That she was a Muggle-born was unfortunate, but the advantages she brought to their family were immense.  The older witch admitted that despite her long-held beliefs, she actually liked Hermione, as well.  

“Where are you going to honeymoon?” Narcissa asked.

“We’re going to Istanbul.  Neither one of us has seen the ruins and we wanted to go to the beach for a few days.”

“That sounds wonderful, son,” Mrs. Malfoy said to the couple.  When their house arrest was over, Narcissa would persuade Lucius to take a trip to all of the places she’d ever wanted to visit.  

Lucius was acutely aware of not being introduced to Hermione’s parents.  He’d so rarely spoken to Muggles and found himself curious about his new daughter-in-law’s parents.

“Hermione,” he said, trying out her name.  “Would you introduce us to your family?”

Narcissa and Draco looked at him skeptically, but Hermione let him take her arm and led him over to Benjamin and Charlotte.  Draco and Narcissa followed them as Narcissa murmured assurances to her son.

“Mum, Dad, I’d like to introduce you to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.”

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Perhaps because Draco and Hermione had overcome their previous antagonism, the wedding guests could overcome their own enmity.  Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, pure-blood, rich, and magical, spoke with courtesy to Muggle, middle class Benjamin and Charlotte Granger.  Arthur Weasley was rendered practically speechless when Lucius complimented him on Ron’s position as an Auror.  Molly then complimented the Malfoys on their son’s highly sought-after job as an assistant in the Wizarding University of Great Britain’s Potions Department.  There was something about letting go of one’s prior hostility that was incredibly freeing and led to a feeling of hope.  

When canapés had been consumed and champagne drunk, Hermione nudged her new husband.

“Everyone was so lovely today.  Do you think Neville put a calming spell on the garden?” 

Draco looked at Theo and Parvati, Theo’s hand making lazy circles on her exposed back, his parents who were speaking with the Weasley parents, Neville, who was lovingly stroking Ginny’s belly as she finally sat and relaxed with a glass of lemonade, the Grangers, who were asking Daphne about magical health care, and Blaise, who was teasingly asking Lavender what she thought of Ron’s tattoo, while Ron playfully scowled at Blaise.  

He squeezed her hand.  “I think they’re just happy for us.  Let’s say our goodbyes before the Portkey activates.”

Kisses, hugs, kind words and knowing smiles were exchanged before the wedding goers watched the couple swirl out of existence.  Narcissa noticed Charlotte wiping her eyes and made her way to the other woman.

“I hope we will have another chance to visit in the future,” Narcissa said.

Charlotte nodded and smiled at the fine-looking woman who would now be family to her daughter.  Since Hermione’s visit to Australia, Charlotte had prayed for Draco and Hermione’s relationship to be cemented in marriage.  She’d also prayed that she herself would finally accept her daughter’s differences.    

“I would like that, Mrs. Malfoy,” Charlotte said, and then took Narcissa’s hand.  “Your son has been a blessing to Hermione.  He is a credit to you and your husband.”

Surprising herself, Narcissa felt tears prick her eyes.  When she thought of the hardship she’d put her son through, she felt as if she was the world’s worst mother.  It was a balm to her to hear Charlotte’s words.

“I can assure you I feel the same way about your daughter, Mrs. Granger.”

The women stood with hands clasped for another moment before making their ways through the verdant garden to find their respective husbands.  

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“Any more boxes?” Hermione asked.

“I’m going back to the flat one last time, but I think we’ve got everything.”  

Draco gave Hermione a quick peck and Apparated back to the recently-sold flat in wizarding Framlingham.  He’d sold the property to two young professors who had just been hired at the university.  The professors were slated to move in the next day and Hermione wanted to set up their campus flat before classes began.  The past three months had been a whirlwind of activity, with her summer employment, the wedding, and moving to a new flat on the campus of the WUofGB.

As Draco made his way through the empty rooms, he felt sentimental about the place he’d called home.  It had been shelter and solitude when he’d lived there alone, but it had become a loving home when Hermione had come into his life.  After his conversation with Blaise, Draco had understood how important it was for Hermione to make their home her own.  He hadn’t comprehended that before and had thought in welcoming her to his flat and carving out some space for her she would be comfortable, but she needed her pictures hanging on the wall and her collections decorating the shelves, too.  

With another quick look through the rooms, Draco headed to the entry hall and Apparated back to their new quarters at the university.

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“Do I smell pizza, Mrs. Malfoy?”

The newest Mrs. Malfoy grinned saucily at her husband and served him a Butterbeer.

“Umhmm,” she hummed in assent, sitting at the kitchen table.  “This is the first time I’ve sat down all day.”

“The flat looks great, love.  We’ll relax tonight and work on it some more tomorrow, okay?”

Hermione put a slice of pizza on a plate and handed it to Draco, then served a piece for herself.

“I know it’s not as nice as your flat in the village, but this place is ours, Draco.”  

“Come here,” Draco said, tugging her into his lap.  Hermione pushed his hair off of his forehead and rested her head against his.  “There is nowhere on earth I would rather be.  I don’t care where we live, as long as we’re together.”

Chapter Text

Christmas

“Wake up,” Draco murmured, lightly shaking his wife’s shoulder.  “Santa came last night.”

Hermione laughed into her pillow.  They had spent Christmas Eve with Blaise and Daphne at their picturesque cottage.  It had been snowing, the fire had crackled, taking the chill out of the air, and everyone had had more than their fair share of mulled wine to celebrate the birth of Aidan Longbottom.  

“Too early, Dragon.  Come back to bed,” she groaned.  

“I made coffee and my mother had the elves bring us a basket of pastries.  Gertie made your favorite: raspberry and lemon curd croissants,” he sing-songed in entreaty.  

“Give me a minute to use the loo and I’ll come out.”

Draco made his way to the compact kitchen and prepared their coffee.  He’d been looking for Hermione’s gift for several weeks and finally a lead had panned out.  Hermione’s gift had been hidden at the manor for the past week and he absolutely couldn’t wait to give it to her.  Besides bringing a basket of pastries and a few gifts from his parents, Gertie had also brought Master Draco’s present to his young wife.

Hermione came out of the bedroom with her curls piled on her head and a flannel robe covering her silk nightie.  She took the offered cup of coffee and kissed her handsome husband in thanks.

“Merry Christmas,” she said, taking a seat on the sofa.  “Santa did come!”  

She realized Draco had held back last Christmas.  The gifts were absolutely piled around their twinkling tree.  She had bought more presents this year, too, but she doubted she would ever give as many gifts as her spouse gave.  He was such a generous man and Hermione adored seeing this side of him.  

Draco put a large, gaily wrapped box with a velvety red bow in front of her.

“Will you open mine first?”

“Of course,” she said, untying the bow and lifting the lid of the box.  As soon as she saw her present, Hermione dropped to her knees.

“Oh, Draco, he’s just precious!” Hermione crooned, lifting the kitten out of the box.  “He looks just like my old cat Crookshanks.”

Draco sat next to Hermione and enjoyed how taken she was with the fluffy, little cat.  

“I know you’ve missed your familiar and I finally found a half-Kneazle, half-Himalayan through Hagrid.  He offered us some other questionable animals, but I assured him the kitten would be as much as we could handle.”

The fluffy ball of orange fur butted his head against Draco’s hand.

“He likes you!” Hermione said happily.  Kneazles were very particular about the people they trusted, so it was an excellent sign the kitten wanted Draco’s attention.  

“I’ll tell you a little known secret,” Draco whispered conspiratorially.  “Your old cat used to come to the dungeons to catch mice and sometimes he would allow me to pet him.  I used to wish he could transmit some of that goodwill to you, so you’d know I didn’t hate you.”

Hermione put an arm around her husband and leaned her head on his shoulder.  He had so many regrets about his treatment of her when they were children, but she didn’t hold a grudge.  

“We grew up in such difficult times.  I know you did what you had to do to survive.  Does this little guy have a name?” she asked, changing the subject.

“He doesn’t.  I wanted you to name him,” Draco said as the kitten made his way to his lap.  He’d never had a pet, but it was already clear that this little furball would be a full member of the younger Malfoy family.  

“What do you think of Leo?  He’ll continue the Black family naming tradition.”

Draco laughed.  “It’s perfect.  Leo looks like a tiny lion, too.  Welcome to the family, Leo Malfoy.”

Little Leo curled up in Draco’s lap and closed his eyes.  

“I’ve really missed Crooks the past few years and I wasn’t in a position to have another cat, so your gift is just perfect.  Thank you for being so thoughtful.”

“I don’t suppose you might want to choose another cat?” Draco asked quietly, looking down at the kitten in his lap who was purring loudly.

“No, Draco, I already love him!”  What could be wrong with this perfect little creature?

Looking abashed, Draco kissed his wife before voicing his suspicions.  “I think Leo has made himself my familiar.”

Hermione stroked Leo.  “I don’t care.  I think I love him more because he chose you.”

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Wizarding University of Great Britain Graduation

“What do you plan to do with your degree?” Mathilda Bijan-Woodcrock asked her favorite student.

Hermione smiled and looked at her husband, who was speaking to Charlotte and Ben Granger.  

“Well, I’m going to work as a consultant to the Auror department and Draco’s been offered a position in the Department of Mysteries, but I hope that in a few years we can start our own consultancy.”

After Hermione began working for Mathilda, she quickly learned the older witch was a person she wanted to emulate.  Professor Bijan-Woodcrock was Muggle-born, had been an Auror during Voldemort’s first reign of terror, had also married a pure-blood and had a brood of children, and began working in the Defense Against the Dark Arts Department and worked her way up to the chair.  She was one of very few women to work in the department and was the first witch to ever hold a chair position at the university.  

“When you’re ready, come back and work for me, Hermione.  I’ll make sure your schedule is flexible when you and Draco start a family.”

Hermione hugged the woman who had mentored her and encouraged her dreams and aspirations.  Mathilda and her husband had invited the young Malfoys to their home on several occasions.  The Woodcrock’s children were a few years older than Draco and Hermione.  Mathilda’s kids moved seamlessly between the wizarding and Muggle worlds.  Hermione hoped her own children would function as well as Mathilda’s.  

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.  I’m going to miss you, Mathilda.”

“It was an honor to work with you, my dear.  Now go enjoy an evening of celebration with your family,” she said, nudging Hermione towards her proud parents and husband.

That evening, after the Grangers had gone back to their hotel, Draco and Hermione sat in their little flat at the university.  They had a few days before they had to be out and Draco knew his wife was melancholy about leaving their cozy home of two years.  Hermione had tried to get Draco to agree to look for a flat they could afford on their Ministry salaries, but he had put his foot down.  Their next home would be where they would start their family and he wanted them to have room to spread out.  With the help of their friends, he had found a spacious townhouse with lots of character in London.  He’d bought in on the spot and had surprised Hermione with it after their spring holiday from school.  She’d grumbled, saying it was “too opulent”, but Draco could tell she loved the home.  He’d moved some of his furniture from his flat in Framlingham into the house, but the two of them would have to do a lot of work to get it fully furnished.  

“Lavender is due this week,” Hermione mentioned as she watched Draco pour himself a Guinness.  After she’d introduced him to beer, he became quite the connoisseur.  The other men in their group of friends liked the drink as well, so they’d often hit a Muggle pub on a Saturday afternoon and try different varieties of the hoppy beverage.  

“I’ve never seen a witch get so big,” Draco said, with a bit of distaste.

“Draco!  She’s having twins, of course she’s huge.  Every woman’s body approaches pregnancy differently.”

“I suppose.  Ron said his mother offered to come live with them for a few weeks, but Lavender thought Ron wouldn’t do his part if Molly was there.”

“Ron’s come a long way, but he always loved his mother’s doting.  Lavender knows he’ll be a better dad if he has to help.”

This was as good a segue as any to speak with Hermione about who he’d found at the townhouse a few days before.  

“I actually wanted to speak with you about something I discovered about our new home.  The previous owner died and didn’t have any family to pass her estate to and she had two house-elves.  They’ve been staying at Hogwarts, but when I was arranging some furniture, they showed themselves and asked if they could serve us.”

Hermione looked thoughtful.  “They must be bound to the house.  I didn’t know their loyalty could work that way.  My understanding was that they were bound to a family.”

“The family supercedes the house in terms of the elves loyalty, but in this case, since there is no more family…”

“I understand.  Do you think they would accept their freedom in exchange for a position with us?”

Draco chuckled.  He had warned the elves, Polly and Jango, about his wife and her feelings on the matter.  They knew of Hermione and had said they’d be honored to work for her.

“Yes, but you should talk to them.”

One week later the Malfoy family, which consisted of Draco, Hermione, Leo, and now Polly and Jango, were settling into their new home.  The elves moved their things into the new home in minutes, leaving Hermione to arrange her books, clothes, and personal affects.  The house was so lovely, she could hardly believe it was her home for the foreseeable future.  Leo rubbed against her legs as she put away clothes.  He was Draco’s cat, a fact that always made Hermione chuckle to herself, but he loved her, too.  She wondered if their children would feel the same way about her.

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Olivia

They had been trying to get pregnant for the last year and a half.  After six months of trying with no results, Draco gently suggested they see a Healer to determine the issue.  The problem was two-fold.  Bellatrix’s torture of Hermione had made her chances of conception extremely thin, while some of the more volatile potions Draco had been working with had the effect of inhibiting sperm production.

He knew Hermione was depressed about the situation.  She would make such a wonderful mother with all the qualities that made him love her.  Draco had moved to a different position within his department to separate him from any potion ingredients which might cause fertility problems, but his wife couldn’t do anything to repair her reproductive complications.  As a last, very unlikely possibility, they had put themselves on the adoption list for Muggle-born children put into the care of the state.    

One grey winter morning while they were getting ready for work, the Floo sounded and a voice called out.  Draco finished buttoning his shirt and ran to the fireplace.

“Yes?” he said to the witch whose face was floating in the green flames.

“Mr. Malfoy, a little witch has been placed in Muggle state custody and the Ministry will be taking over her case this afternoon.  Are you and your wife prepared to take her this evening?”

He froze for a moment, hardly believing a child was available for adoption.  

“Sir?”

“Yes, absolutely!”

With the help of the elves, Ginny, and Daphne, the Malfoys were able to prepare a nursery for the little girl, who was fourteen months old.  At the exchange of the child, Draco and Hermione learned she had been born to a very young mother who had been struggling to take care of the baby.  When the little witch began exhibiting her magic, the Muggle teen became scared of what her daughter could do and eventually arranged for the authorities to take over the girl’s care.  It was the Ministry’s agreement with the Muggle government to leave Muggle-born witches and wizards in their Muggle environment until they were of age to attend Hogwarts, but when a magical child was given up by a Muggle, the Ministry felt it was appropriate for the child to be placed in the magical world.  They didn’t want to chance another Tom Riddle being raised in a loveless, harsh environment around those who didn’t understand his or her abilities.  

The toddler, Olivia, was a tiny, pale little girl with dark eyes and wavy, light brown hair.  The couple felt their hearts contract at the poor condition of the girl’s clothes and ashen skin.  Her big eyes had bluish shadows, as if she had been in distress for a long while.  At this age, it was normal for babies to babble and even say a few words, but Olivia was quiet as Hermione took the baby from the Ministry worker.  The little one clung to Hermione as Hermione murmured sweet, reassuring words to the traumatized child.  Draco had never thought his wife more beautiful.

That night, once little Olivia had been bathed, her nappy changed, and she had been put into a warm set of pajamas, the Malfoys attempted to put her into the newly-built crib, but she was not having it.  Crying, the likes of which neither Draco or Hermione had ever heard, began and did not stop with singing, rocking, or gentle words.  

“You should go to bed,” Hermione said as she tried to comfort Olivia.  

“Maybe the elves can help.  They said they’d helped with the previous family’s children.”

Hermione sighed helplessly.  “Okay.”

Draco called Polly and explained the situation to her.  Polly, the kindest, most helpful elf Draco had ever met, looked at the couple as if they were stupid.

“Master, the child’s magic is exhausted!  You and the mistress must put protection spells on her.  She is young, but Missy Olivia has been fending for herself for weeks.”

Gods, was he an idiot?  They should have taken the baby to St. Mungo’s to make sure she was well.  Hermione had been listening and her eyes filled with tears.  

“Oh, Draco, we should have had Daphne look her over as soon as we got home!  I don’t know what I was thinking.  Is it too late to call her?”

“Mistress, the protection spells will tide over the baby until you can get her medical attention in the morning.  Cast your spells and let her sleep between you tonight.” 

Hermione looked unsure, but agreed to try Polly’s suggestion.  The new parents took Olivia to their room and put her in the middle of the bed.  

“Cast your Protego at the same time as I do.  It’ll be more powerful,” Draco instructed.

Wands lifted, they used their formidable power to cast a spell over the fraught child.  Polly looked on and nodded at the couple.  

“She needs to be close to you for the spell to be its strongest,” said the elf, reassuring her nervous family.

After the long day everyone’d had, Draco and Hermione climbed under the covers and nestled the baby between them.  She nuzzled against Hermione’s bosom, finding comfort in the beat of her heart and her breathing.  Draco thanked Polly and extinguished the lights.  Polly shut the door to leave the family to sleep.  She was pleased for her master and mistress.  They were kind, generous, and interesting, although she thought they worked too much.  Polly wondered if they knew the being they’d brought into their home was already displaying powerful magic.  They clearly didn’t know much about children, but Polly did and she vowed to help them with tiny Olivia and any others they added to their fold.

“She’s a survivor,” Draco whispered to his wife in the dim room.

“I hope we can give her what she needs.”  After the stress of the evening, Hermione worried that she would struggle with mothering this little girl.

“Olivia will be the most loved, included child in the history of the world,” Draco assured her.  

“I suddenly have this newfound appreciation for what my parents experienced in raising me.  They didn’t know about the magical world and I was such an unusual child anyway.  They were strict and had some very antiquated religious ideas, but they nurtured me as much as they could.”

“Your parents love you, they just don’t understand your differences.  You know what Olivia is and you’re a survivor, too.  There is no better person to raise her than you, love.”

“As soon as I saw her, I felt an immediate connection to her, as if I had been waiting all this time for Olivia.  Is that crazy?”

Draco was relieved to hear that his wife was forming a bond with the baby.  Sometimes Hermione’s emotional walls would come up at times of stress or change, but he knew she had yearned for a child for some time.  

“She was meant to be our child, Hermione.  There’s something very special about this little witch.”

They clasped their hands over Olivia’s little body, allowing her to replenish her magic and feel the full extent of the loving family she had become a part of.  

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Blessings

Hermione had recognized the need to nurture the little girl who had taken over their lives six months before.  Olivia had been malnourished and in desperate need of human contact.  Hermione decided to leave her job at the Ministry, which she enjoyed but didn’t love.  Draco had encouraged her to follow her heart and her maternal instincts told her Olivia would flourish if given the kind of attention Hermione could provide.  

At twenty months, Olivia was still slender, but her cheeks were rosy and she gave the most adorable, toothy smiles to her parents, the devoted house-elves, and their friends and family.  The diminutive toddler was still behind in her motor coordination and verbal skills, but she excelled in her magic.  Olivia could make her toys sing and dance in the air, she could make food she didn’t like disappear or Summon treats from the pantry, but the skill that amazed Draco and Hermione the most was her empathy.  Within seconds of Draco returning from work, she would say “Mad?” or “Smile!” for happy.  Draco would always confirm his daughter’s predictions with a nod to Hermione, which made her shake her head in wonder.  

One rainy weekend afternoon, Olivia was attempting to stack blocks while Draco read and Hermione napped with her head in his lap.  Once his fingers had begun combing through her hair, Hermione’s eyes had fluttered closed and her breathing had become deep and even.     

Olivia made her way to her mum, gently laying her head on Hermione’s belly and kissing it.  Draco smiled warmly at the little girl, knowing she loved her mother more than anyone in the world.  

“Baby,” Olivia said, patting Hermione.  

“You’re our baby,” Draco confirmed.

“No,” she said with a stubborn shake of her head.  “Baby.”

Having grown up in the wizarding world, Draco suspected his Livy might be more than empathic.  She seemed to exhibit all the early signs of being a Seer.  He didn’t talk to Hermione about it, because it was still early, but his wife would have to adjust her feelings about Divination with a child like Olivia displaying the gift.  

That evening, after Olivia was tucked into her crib, Draco got into bed beside Hermione.  

“You seem tired,” he observed.

“Hmm,” she hummed thoughtfully.  “I suppose I have been.  You must be tired, too, with us and work.”

“Olivia said something today that might explain why you’ve been exhausted.”

The bemused expression on Hermione’s face changed to disbelief when Draco relayed what had happened that afternoon.

“Do the spell,” she told Draco, lifting her shirt and laying flat on the bed. 

His wand swooped over her flat stomach and when they both looked down, the spell lit up her abdomen with a golden glow.  After years of trying to get pregnant, it had finally happened.

“Do you think the spell is accurate?” Hermione whispered.  

Draco nodded, his own throat tight with emotion.  They’d been blessed with Olivia and now the impossible had become possible.  He pulled Hermione into his arms, wanting her solid body anchoring him to their joyful, new reality.

“I need you,” Hermione said with a kiss to his chest.  

Before she’d become involved with Draco, she’d never known how important it was for a couple to maintain their intimacy, which seemed to renew and honor the promise they’d made to love each other.  When they’d discovered why they weren’t able to conceive, Hermione had wanted to pull back their sexual encounters, but Draco wouldn’t let her.  He insisted on keeping an arm draped over her shoulder, held her hand, kissed her whenever he walked into whatever room she was in, and enticed her with sensual massages that led to long, reaffirming bouts of lovemaking.  And he did what he’d done for her all the years they’d been together: he showed her and told her what she meant to him every single day.

He rolled them over so his body hovered above hers and kissed her.  Her mouth welcomed his and the touch of his tongue to her tongue sent electricity through her body.  She rubbed herself against the bulge in his pants, enjoying the sensation of fabric rubbing her unusually sensitive clit.  In fact, her body felt like it was abuzz with sensation.

Draco broke the kiss and began unbuttoning his shirt.  The two kept eye contact as they removed their clothes and threw them off the bed.  As he began to pull his boxers off, Hermione brushed his hands aside and proceeded to slide the black silk drawers slowly off his lean, muscular legs.  His ruddy cock bobbed, inviting her to have a taste.  She climbed between his legs, intoxicated by the possessive way he stared at her.  

“Your cock is gorgeous,” she murmured, stroking his hardness with practiced fingers.  Draco loved it when she caressed him before taking his thick penis into her mouth.

“Bloody perfect,” he groaned as she used the clear liquid weeping from his cock to glide her hand up and down his shaft.

She leaned down and lightly licked the head, swirling her tongue over the ridged crest.  Her hand continued to fondle his bollocks and as her mouth took most of him in.  She moaned, enjoying the taste and texture of her stunning wizard.  Hermione drew him into her throat before drawing back, using her lips to massage him.  His fingers gently threaded through her long curls, an action she knew helped him focus and relax.  If she didn’t stop, he’d come soon.  Giving him a parting suckle, she lifted her face to find him staring at her with hunger.

“Ride me, pet.”

Draco held her hips and guided her slit over him, letting her use his erection to rub her moisture from her clit to perineum.  She was a nubile goddess with her long hair swaying, her tits flushed with dark pink pebbled nipples, and her lips swollen and red from sucking his cock.  Every time they fucked, Draco thanked Merlin for the chance to immerse himself in this remarkable witch.  

“You’re killing me, love,” he ground out.  Hermione gave him a smoldering look as she every so slowly lowered herself onto him.

“Mmm,” she moaned, painstakingly beginning to undulate over him.  His hands  cupped her breasts, thumbing her nipples.

“My breasts are quite sensitive,” she murmured.  

“Okay, love,” Draco said, amazed that his light touch was causing Hermione to writhe with every sweep of his thumb.  He noticed her tight sheath felt warmer and wetter, too.  Gods, pregnancy is already making her body more enticing to me, if that’s bloody possible.

She leaned down to kiss him, her hair creating a privacy curtain for the two.  Draco’s fingers massaged her ass, probing between her cheeks to rub her tight puckered hole.  

“Fuck, Malfoy,” she said in the huskiest, most desperate voice.  He pushed his finger into her slightly while his other hand plucked her nipples.  “Please, Draco, more!”

She ground herself into him and he let himself go, surging into her body.  Hermione began to shake as her body was expertly stimulated.  When her cunt began pulsing over her husband’s engorged length, Draco let go with a string of incoherent curses as he came.  With the last tightening of her channel, Hermione slumped over her sweaty spouse.

“Oh my God,” she mumbled.  

“I know,” he said, trying to catch his breath.  They began to breathe in tandem as they held each other.

“I love you, witch,” he said into her wonderfully fragrant curls.

“I love you, too, Dragon.”    

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A Wedding Anniversary

At seven months pregnant, Hermione felt like a moving, kicking soccer ball had been lodged in her abdomen.  They didn’t know the gender of the baby, but they called the baby Sissy, since Livy seemed convinced that the baby would be a girl.  At just over two, Livy was beginning to catch up with her skills and would hold precious conversations with Sissy through Hermione’s belly.  

With much trepidation because she’d never been away from her daughter, Hermione was about to leave Olivia with Lucius and Narcissa to take an anniversary trip with her husband.  The Malfoys’ sentence had been reduced and had ended the year before.  Draco and Hermione had worried about introducing Livy to his parents, but the grandparents were enchanted with the toddler.  Livy had immediately taken to Lucius, surprising all the adults.  Lucius’ long hair and strong features fascinated her and she stared at him with affection, which had endeared her to him.  Lucius thought the little one liked him because of his resemblance to Draco, but Draco knew his daughter understood the human spirit better than most.  Lucius Malfoy had turned a corner and his granddaughter recognized his renewed effort to be a better man.

“Old Dad!” Livy yelled when she saw Lucius.  She squirmed out of her father’s arms and ran to her grandfather.  Draco secretly sniggered every time his daughter referred to his vain father as old, but Lucius didn’t seem to mind the name.  

“Olivia,” he said, picking up the excited girl.  “How’s my lovely granddaughter?”

She began to chatter to her grandfather, happy to have the run of the mansion and the attention of Lucius, Narcissa, and their loyal house-elves.  Draco had told Hermione he’d had a mostly happy childhood up until he was a teenager and his parents were once again involved with the Dark Lord.  She could see that time and hardship had softened the Malfoys, because they had come to accept her as Draco’s wife and Muggle-born Livy as their grandchild.  It hadn’t hurt that Draco’s actions in accepting two Muggle-borns as family had changed public perception of the pure-blood family for the better.  

Narcissa stood in the doorway and observed her family.  As a girl, she’d imagined a life of privilege: shopping, exclusive parties, gorgeous jewels, and being the envy of other women with Lucius Malfoy as her husband.  She’d thought her good fortune meant she was better and more deserving than those of lesser blood and money.  It had taken two wars and almost losing her son for Narcissa Malfoy to understand that love and family were the most important things in the world.  She recognized her chance to live again through her son’s amazing family, with his brilliant, loving wife, their treasure of a daughter, and the baby they eagerly awaited.  

Narcissa walked to Hermione, placing her hand on the younger woman’s arm.

“Livy will be fine, dear.  We’ll take good care of her,” Narcissa said encouragingly.  “Go, enjoy your trip.  It’s not every day you can celebrate five years as a married couple.”

Hugs and kisses were exchanged before Draco and Hermione left to celebrate their anniversary and the beautiful, unexpected, life they had built together.